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[WP] once in every month soulmates get to see from eachothers’ eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen. One day you see someone you recognise from your soulmate’s eyes. | September 2nd, 2028. 10:37pm.
​
I've burnt it in my memory. I can remember every single
fleck, every shadow, the shape of the iris. I catch myself
dreaming of those eyes - the lashes, the small laugh lines.
Everything.
​
I've seen them on the third of every month since my
awakening at nineteen. Some awaken earlier, some later,
but never beyond thirty. Somewhere between thirteen and
twenty-nine, a couple in the world see the eyes that mirror
their hearts. Their souls. They yearn for it - hunger to
see them in reality. For six very long years, I have ached
to get to the third of the month, to see them again. The
pale green eyes with the violet flecks scattered within
them.
​
Tomorrow I will see them again. I will feel the warmth
of knowing that person is out there, waiting for me. I
will get up and go to work at Bethesda Memorial Oncology
Center, and see them again. I cannot wait for sleep tonight,
if I can find it.
​
September 3rd, 2028. 10:15am.
​
I've made it to work. 45 minutes until I see those lovely
eyes. But first, I must see to my rounds. I've got a new
one today. Room 603. Let's see:
​
Sarah Jehosephat
Age: 23
Height: 5'6
Weight: 107 lbs.
Type: Aggressive, Terminal.
Approximation: 6-10 months.
​
As I scan quickly over the chart, I steel myself for
the meeting. The terminal ones are always tough.
Devastating.
​
"Sarah, I see we have a round of chem..."
​
Green eyes, violet flecks. My world stops. She looks up
and I know she knows. Those beautiful eyes fill quickly
with tears.
​
The chart clatters to the floor. My vision blurs with tears
of the theft of everything. The lump in my throat threatens
to choke the life from me. My tongue is thick, useless.
​
The love of my life is dying. And I have ten months at
the most.
​
And I only just met her.
*edit - redundancy. | For 24 years, I’ve seen out of Kate’s eyes once a month. It happens, and I’m used to it. I’ve used my earnings over the years to vacation, see the most beautiful sights the world has to offer. Today, I fear her. I sat on the edge of the canyon, looking down, when it flashed before my eyes. My old roommate, Kyle, the gun in front of my new face, aimed at his chest. One. Two. Three. Three shots. I saw his chest move back, his jacket fly behind him. His wallet, his phone, his body, all hitting the ground. I watched as Kate stopped down, and grabbed his phone, turning it on. An image of me and my ex, hanging it with Kyle in Amsterdam flashed on the screen. One more bullet to the screen. I saw the ground recede, and her eyes lock onto the mirror, a beautifully deadly smile crawling on her face, sending my heart into overdrive, love and adrenaline causing through it. She laughed, the sound tearing through the night sky. Her eyes, hazel, like always, look at her reflection. “Hi Mark. Miss me?” The fifth bullet groom the gun shatters the mirror, as I stunt to my reality. I grab my phone, about to call Kyle, like I do when things like this happen. Then it hits me. She’s closer. I recognize where she shot him. His apartment, right next to mine. I get up, and hop in the car. I dial the same number I have every month for most of my life, until he picks up on the other side. “Who was it this time?” “Kyle.” “We’ll send a crew. Relocating again?” “No. It’s time to see her face to face.” I hang up, knowing what comes next. For the first time in 17 years, I was going to see Kate. This time would be different. But it never was.
(Ok, I tried. I’m tired, I’m swamped with work, I’m hungry. I just wanted a plot twist.) | 2019-02-13T15:59:22 | 2019-02-13T15:32:40 | 658 | 110 |
[WP] We were warned when we hired our first human crew member that they would pack bond with almost anything. We didn't listen, and now have an apex predator somewhere in the ship, that the human won't stop calling Kitty. | "stop... Calling. It. That." Malak sighed.
"But it's just a widdle kitty." Covax cooed back.
"Covax, it's the SAME SIZE AS YOU."
"And he's good a snuggling because of it." Said the man with an upturned nose and crossed arms.
Thumping and giggling sounds could be heard from behind the sealed cabin door.
"Who is in there with that... That thing!?" An obvious look of panic on Malaks face.
"It's Rodriguez sir. She's also taken a liking to Jr."
Bewilderment took over Malak.
"You fucking NAMED IT!?!"
Covax shrugged still not seeing the big woop. "Yea I mean its a Covaxian Pantera so my name and it's name... Jr. Seemed fitting."
"You are aware that.. thin-"
"Jr."
*Sigh* *"jr...* Is an apex predator on every planet it's been introduced to, has lead to the extinction of hundreds of not thousands of species and kills for fun almost half the time it kills."
Covax's face flashed with a grin, he leaned forward and booped Malak on the nose. "Technically same could be said for my race."
The man picked up the Korzaian like a football and hit the open button to the quarters. "You just have to meet Jr. You'll love him as much you love me." All while Malak struggled his hardest.
"Might not wanna do that though, he might think you're food." | „Here kitty, kitty, kitty...“ said the human while being in the cargo bay. I never understood that creature, but I’m still fairly new to this crew. But that human is still a mystery to me. However, the captain ordered us to get some of the cargo we need to ship. As I grabbed the inside of the crate, something damaged my skin really bad and a loud „hiss“ appeared. Shocked, I let go what I held and took a step back. That beast again, tried to kill me. But the human ran to me and grabbed with his hands inside the box. „Stay back whit that creature from death!“ i screamed. That predator still tried to attack the human with its hissing sound and claws sharper than anything I saw in my live. „What’s your problem?“ he than asked „ it’s a beautiful cute little kitty“. I said then „ stay here with that devils beast while I bring the loot, I mean the goods to the captain“ | 2019-11-21T08:02:31 | 2019-11-21T06:21:21 | 69 | 21 |
[WP] - Some families pass down the family china, others their jewellery. Your family passes down a pet cat. Before you inherited him, it was your Mother's, your Grandfather's, great grand-mothers and so on. You've always known it couldn't be just a normal cat, and today you find out the truth... | "The first thing you need to understand,” the cat purred, “is that I am not your pet. If anything, you are my pet.”
I wish I could tell you that I was shocked when my cat first opened his mouth, but honestly, I knew something was up. That cat outlived my grandma and my mum.
“Ummm,” I say, “I am no one’s pet.”
“Yes, yes,” the cat purred, “that was a harsh way to put it.” Osi is stretched out on the carpet, his long, black body milking up the sun pouring through the window. “More, you’re my body guard.”
“I’m your body guard? That sounds even worse. Why would I need to guard a cat.”
Osi tilts his head up, staring at me with piercing green eyes. “Why ever would you think that I’m a cat?”
“Well, there’s the fur. And the tail. And those pointed little daggers you call teeth.”
Osi sighs, “you’re going to prove more difficult than your mother, I suspect. Your grandma, now she was charm. So bright. So quick on the uptake.”
“Okay, Osi, if you’re not a cat, what are you?”
“My full name is Osiris,” he purrs, “and I am the God of death and resurrection.”
“Um. Osi. You cough up hairballs like every other day. And you want me to believe that you’re a god?”
If cats could shrug, that’d be how I’d describe Osi’s movements. But it couldn’t properly be called a shrug. “Hair’s got to go somewhere and I see no reason to be a filthy god of death. Now, I’ll require a bowl of warm milk and five minutes of belly rubs. Do not fail me mortal. I am a kind god but I have my needs and lack opposing thumbs.”
“And if I refuse to comply, will you kill me?”
“Hell no. I’ll just cough up my next hairball on your bed.”
God of death or not, that’s a mess I don’t want to clean up. I sigh, getting to my feet, heading towards the kitchen.” | I don't remember much of my real mom. She gave me to social services when I was 8 saying that it's for my own good, I never doubted this, seeing the scared look on her face assured me it was for the best.
20 years later she died, they wouldn't show me the body, saying it was mangled and that everything in the house was covered in blood. They said that they found a ginger cat, which they assumed was hers.
They asked if they wanted me to adopt it or give it to the shelter. I said I wanted it, seeing it was the only thing left from her. I didn't know what it's name was and told myself I'll give him a name tomorrow.
As soon as I entered the house with him I felt sick, thought it was just me missing my mom and nothing more. When I went to sleep I heard a calm voice calling me to come outside the room. When I asked who was there the voice said: "it's me Jon, your cat". Curious, I left the bedroom and went to the kitchen, and that's when I saw it: a horrifying, huge creature, covered in blood and had multiple limbs coming out of his body, and it bared the face of my cat. "This is my true form Jon, and now, come join your ancestors". And then I knew two things: why mom never spoke of her mother and grandmother, and what was the name of what I thought was a cat:
"*Garfield*" | 2019-05-27T04:05:58 | 2019-05-27T03:34:32 | 63 | 13 |
[WP] You are a superhero, and your mask has just been ripped off by your arch nemesis. Lucky for you, when you aren’t busy saving lives, you live as a hermit away from all of society. Having your identity revealed means next to nothing, and the villain has no idea who you are. | Doomstryke, corporate pirate by day, supervillian by night, has made a fatal mistake by attracting my attention. He just doesn’t know it yet.
I’ve tracked him to an alley behind the museum. He’s in the process of breaking in, naturally. I’m guessing he’s after the Heart of Fire, the big ruby they’ve been hyping in the local news for the last week. I’m sure it probably has some kind of super-tech application that is relevant to his next scheme to take over the world.
I couldn’t care less. My business is vengeance, and it won’t ever let me rest. I’m so, so tired. Time to get this over with.
I rise out of the shadows behind him. They come with me, pressing back the light cast by his laser cutter. I reach out for him and then -
Light. Blinding light everywhere. He’s holding up some kind of medallion, inscribed with a language I can’t read. What the hell? Doomstryke’s always been a tech villain. He’s wearing powered armor for gods’ sake. Where did he get a magic talisman?
“You think I’m a fool, Phantom?” He screeches at me. God, I hate his voice. “I knew you’d come after me after that accident with the hospital. And it *was* an accident! My target was city hall! If you want to blame anyone, blame Mr. Righteous.”
He means Captain Amazing, the city’s premier hero. They got into a tussle when Doomstryke attempted to vaporize the mayor. I believe him when he says he didn’t mean to hit the hospital. But that’s not how my powers work.
He stalks towards me, the light from the talisman burning away the shadows that cling to me and forcing me to my knees. It actually really hurts. “I’ll find out who you are and kill you both at once! You have no idea how popular this is going to make me. Everyone’s afraid of you for some reason. But for a properly prepared adversary, you’re a pushover!”
The last of the shadows burns away, revealing my true form. Some supers are still pretty tough even without their powers. Me, I’m just a woman in poor health wearing too many layers of clothes. I look up at him with dread.
Perhaps I should clarify something real fast. Since superpowers showed up, careful observers have started to notice some rules. One that makes the super fans really happy is that villains and heroes almost always seem to know one another. Makes for great drama. Nobody knows why this happens, but it gives philosophers a headache. Sure makes it seem like fate’s a real thing.
Anyway, I’m on my hands and knees in front of this asshole, feeling like I’m burning alive. He looks down at me and his sneer… fades? He looks confused. Villains almost never look confused, even when they’re losing. It’s an ego thing. But this guy looks absolutely baffled.
“This isn’t how it works. I should know you. Who are you? WHO ARE YOU?!”
I start to laugh, despite the pain. It’s just too fucking funny. I see Doomstryke, aka Damien Briggs, on his way to work almost every day. I sleep on the sidewalk in front of his building. He’s a multibillionaire, and he never once looked down.
I laugh and I laugh and I laugh. Doomstryke starts to look nervous, then frightened. His final mistake. Magic requires concentration. I don’t blame him for not knowing; it’s his first time meddling with powers beyond his comprehension. It’s easy to make mistakes.
The light from the talisman fades, and the shadows come rushing back in. I stand up as they coil around me. I advance on him like death, which for all intents and purposes I am.
He cowers. I smile. “Goodbye, Damien.”
“Wait!” he shouts. “How do you know my na-” | I pressed myself against the rough brick wall, cursing. Looking back, I had been out of options, and the alley had looked good at the time. A place to regroup and gather my strength. The Devil had been strong tonight. Stronger than usual. Quicker, and the magic the bastard usually used seemed more potent. How had he done it?
"*Pacts...?! Black mage Mo'fugg..!!*"
The blinding floodlights of their ruinous powers filled my last sanctuary. Banishing all shadows. I was trapped. Well, I thought. Its not like this is the first time I've been trapped by these bastards! I wasnt going down without a fight...
"*GAH!...fuggenbastid... PISSORF!*"
The incantation failed. The Powers burning as I sought to channel more magic into my broken body.
Then **He** opened the door of the unholy vehicle, stepping out and murmuring foul rites into that infernal box on his shoulder. Was it a daemon? Imp? I squinted through the glare, was he... taller than usual?
"*Haberdashery!*"
**His** boots crunched on the debris littering the road as he approached. The bastard still had a shine on those hobnailed stompers. Funny how the mind remembers the strangest of details in these battles between good and evil.
"**Are you ok Buddy?**"
Mind racing, I quickly took stock of my options. The last few drops of the Powers swirled in the potion bottle in my hand. Hadn't that been full of blazing light just a moment ago? Hadn't the power to snuff out stars been mine just the instant before?
"*Bla..stin.... fugger*"
The bottle dropped from suddenly numb fingers. My head whipping up at **Him**. Had **he** hexxed me?!
"*Gitouddamahead!*"
I tried every warding at my disposal. Hands flashing through complicated sigils and leaving trails of blurry after images in my eyes.
"**Hey Pal. You doing ok? You took a bit of a tumble there when you ran from the 7-11...**"
**He** was upon me now. Powerless and broken. I knew this was the end. My magic had gone. Body broken and unable.to channel the magic any more.
But such is the ending for all magi. If I was to be taken down by an archfiend such as this, so be it.
I embraced my fate... and found peace.
"**Hey Frank?**" The fiend was summoning more denizens of the depths. A fitting end I thought. "**C'mon Callahagn, you are not retired yet. Get out of the cruiser and help me with this guy!**" **His** voice lowered, a sign that the spell was nearly done. "**My first day on the force and that lazy old fuck havent introduced me to half the....** "
"*H-aaaaaaahhhh....berdash*" I sighed as my life force drained out of me. My soul fled to the void beyond where the devil could snare it. Blissful oblivion wrapped me up as I felt the Powers leave me. My tinfoil mask losing its sustaining source and falling from my face.
**Officer Clancy** held the snoring drunk by the lapels and watched as the stream of urine splattered over his pants and boots.
"Fug." | 2020-08-21T06:30:17 | 2020-08-21T06:07:17 | 34 | 19 |
[WP] Everyone on earth is immune to one specific type of damage (fire, car crash, kicks, falling off buildings, etc.). The problem is, you have to find out your immunity on your own. You have just discovered yours. | Carl was an odd man. Most had discovered their immunity by the time they'd left school, yet here he was. He'd been shot at, electrocuted, set on fire, thrown off roofs and not a single one has been his immunity. Most people would stop there. He's still smiling though, and I admire his drive.
During one of the tests, cigarette smoke and secondhand smoke, Carl developed lung cancer. It's not the operable kind either. Well, it is, but it'd require a transplant, and the waiting list is very long. Carl is still smiling, though. He'd said something about not worrying about something that could easily be cured.
Now we're here in the lobby of a hospital for a more recent injury of his and his girlfriend is here too. There's an argument going on. He's still smiling by the way. And now she's left the room. Oh. She's leaving him. Looks like a pretty bad breakup.
And he is still smiling. Strange. | Well, this isn't so bad. I get to help all these people, and bonus, I don't even need a face mask.
Another guy sneezed on me, and I didn't even feel it. It may be mundane, but with this, I will save lives!
Unless, of course, I am shot, not immune to that. | 2017-08-06T14:22:56 | 2017-08-06T13:13:41 | 49 | 27 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | "There goes the neighborhood," I muttered, packing up my few belongings as the land-squid construction workers flattened the section of forest I'd been living in for nigh on eight thousand years. I'd known they were going to be trouble ever since they crawled their way out of the ocean some two million or so years ago, but I hadn't had the heart to do anything about it back then. After all, I figured, maybe they would reinvent video games, forgetting too easily that progress sometimes also entailed giving nature a good thumping.
I found myself entering a particularly ancient section of the forest a few days later, when it happened. When I ran into freaking Bigfoot. Literally, I was rubbernecking, not looking where I was going, and smacked right into the big, hairy brute. "Watch your step!" he growled at me.
"Uh, my apologies... Bigfoot," I stammered out. "Wait, ARE you Bigfoot?"
The creature sighed deeply and nodded. "Yes, and as you've no doubt already surmised, I'm in much the same boat as you. Last of my kind, doomed to walk the Earth forevermore, or until the sun just burns the bloody thing out from underfoot. Let me guess: some new riffraff went and decided to make themselves a nuisance, and now you're seeking refuge?" He rolled his eyes. "Very well. I suppose I've been expecting this, because I already have my guest tree all ready for you. Come along."
"Guest tree?" I asked, confused.
Bigfoot looked vaguely offended. "Well, I'm not about to let you stay with me in MY tree," he said. "I assure you, it's quite comfortable. I have been working with wood since long before your kind left Africa, you know."
"Oh, cool," I said, not really knowing what else to say as I followed him. "Wait, how did you know I'd be coming here? How do you even know about me?"
"When you first moved into the neighborhood all those thousands of years ago, I knew it was because those sea creatures had begun to grasp concepts like agriculture and construction, and their budding civilization had driven you away from your old home on the coast. As to how I know about you, well, I figured what happened to me would happen to one of you humans after you threw around all those ghastly nuclear weapons, so I just kept a close watch on your kind's shattered cities until I saw you -- just a decade or two after everyone else snuffed it, that would have been -- and I've been keeping tabs on you ever since."
Being told by Bigfoot that he'd been stalking me for several million years was more than a little jarring. "How come I never saw you? I would have liked someone to talk to, at the least."
"Apologies, but I'm usually a very private being. And I'm a better hider than I am a woodworker." Bigfoot didn't sound very apologetic.
My eyes narrowed. "If you're so good at hiding, how come you ended up caught on camera so many times?"
"You mean like this?" He struck a pose, one I instantly recognized from one of the more famous Bigfoot videos. "To be perfectly frank, I'd been bored out of my skull for decades, and wanted to... how did your people phrase it? Ah, yes, I wanted to troll people, and I succeeded far beyond my wildest dreams." He sighed again, relishing the memory as I could only look on in utter shock. He then gave me an inquisitive look. "Say...do you suppose those squid fellows have invented moving film yet?" He grinned, a very mischievous look on his face, and rubbed his palms together. "Oh yes, and with two of us, this will be twice as fun!" | Forever I would be the monster behind the tree. Which sounds like I’m being dramatic, but these new inhabitants of the planet literally see me as a monster.
I remember the other day when I was walking through the forest to find food and this fucking- I don’t even know what it was. I had never seen one before, I had only heard and seen when they arrived but I had never actually seen one of them before.
Some details of the creature were shadowed by the darkness of the night.
It had a head with three eyes in each corner, it’s neck was thick, long and it’s body was connected to six legs.
Our eyes met and I had no idea what to do because this thing, out of all my years on this fucking planet, was the creepiest thing I had ever seen. It was a even creepier than that one dictator with a really long neck, razor sharp teeth and three eyes in the 31st century.
Until it became normalized that is.
Before I could let a single word leave my mouth this creature ran off on its six legs like a spider, releasing a terrible, ear-damaging sound from its body.
It was afraid.
And now I’m laying here, on some pillows in my little hole that I dug in the forest covered by the darkness of the leaf-roof. I put my hand on Pluto’s fur petting him and he laid his head on my chest.
Eventually he would die as well, but I don’t mind the company while it lasts.
Then I heard from a bit away the sound of footsteps, I sighed, I didn’t want to have to see one of those things again.
I sat up putting Pluto to the side but as I was about to get out of the hole the sounds became more and more clear, it wasn’t just one or two pairs of footsteps, I couldn’t count them.
I froze.
The footsteps stopped.
I slowly turned my head up to witness not only one of those things... but an uncountable amount of them.
One of them stood up straight on two of their legs, the other four grew longer and came into grab me, I fought but there was nothing I could do, it was too strong.
Then I felt a strong pain in the side of my chest where I had been grabbed, my vision slowly faded to the sound of Pluto growling.
I woke up in a panic. Everything around me was pitch white except the pile of leaves I was laying on. I was inside a square room.
A terrible pain came from the side of my chest, I was bleeding from it and there were three holes in my hoodie.
From nowhere one side of the room opened, like one wall just vanished and behind it stood one of those creatures with a tablet in one of their hands.
I tried running out but the wall wasn’t gone. I just couldn’t see it. I fell to the ground in tears.
“Please don’t let me be imprisoned.” I prayed.
“Please let me go.” I cried out.
———————————
hey so i’m nowhere near a professional but i find it fun to just write stuff so i hope it wasn’t too bad.
thanks for reading. | 2021-05-14T22:06:26 | 2021-05-14T22:00:23 | 34 | 18 |
[WP] there is a reason America is super militaristic, its citizens are armed to the teeth, and they want no one inside of the country. its because they are trying desperately to contain something with its boarders, and they are failing. one day a massive roar is heard around the world as it escapes. | All of America is armed to the teeth. Everyone in the world knows this, jokes about this, never really takes it seriously until everything else is. They talk about it for a few minutes, and then get on with their every day activities and chores. Even Americans joke about it, not really paying that much attention to why almost everyone in the south states own a gun. The government made sure that they don't think about it often. Only the higher ups know the real reason the Second Amendment was put in place, and fortunately the average citizen didn't need to think about it.
The true monster hidden in the marshes has remained concealed for close to 300 years now. The place where it rests hadn't even become a state when it was sealed away. Many around his containment area try to replicate his memory, even if they don't realize it. Another joke, another pass across the mind, another subconscious shiver across the back across every mention of it's name and of it's actions.
I hear a maniacal laugh from my office, a little over 800 miles away from the containment cell. I know what happened, despite the initial doubt that goes through my head. It broke free, and it's one pissed off being. My secretary runs through the door, breathless.
"Sir, he's broken free."
He? This is no he. This abomination is not human, and never should be treated as a human, not even through pronouns. The only reason it is called a 'man' is because that's what people from long ago thought he once was.
The silence must have worried my secretary as I thought of how many have already died from his antics. Now was the time for the owners of any kind of weapon in America to band together.
"Sir, what are we going to do?"
Florida Man has broken free, and he has already started to throw alligators at people and terrorize the people who thought they were already crack addicts.
Edit: this is the first time one of my comments has gotten over 1k upvotes. I'd like to personally thank Florida Man before he throws an alligator with fireworks tied to it's tail from the top of a Wal Mart. | It was so sudden. A roar. A crash. A serpent. All in the span of 5 seconds. So loud..
America never militarized to keep people out or keep people in line. We wanted to contain that *thing*. The nightmare destined to destroy the planet.
I was charged with monitoring the containment unit. And for centuries predecessors all vouched that all it does is lay dormant. And for the first 15 years it did. The pay was rich. $100,000 every 3 weeks to watch a dormant snake for 8 Hours. Easiest job ever. For 15 years I was in the lap of luxury. Then one day it woke. It’s ember eyes piercing my soul. “Are you the one they call Paul?” A voice boomed in my head. “N-no.. Paul was the founder of the unit..” I responded, trying not to shit myself
“Where is the Paul?”
“U-uhm. H-He d-d-died in 1847 f-from cancer..”
That angered the serpent. He bellowed a deep roar that echoed the planets core. In one instant he broke free and shot towards the sky.
He invaded the planet in his massive body. His face over America, right over the Containment Unit.
“BRING TO ME THE BLOODLINE OF THE PAUL!!” He boomed “SHOULD YOU DESIRE TO SEE YOUR SUN EVER AGAIN!!”
(Continue the story down below? I feel like that would be fun.)
Edit: (I mean build off the story down below lol) | 2019-07-25T18:45:26 | 2019-07-25T14:11:13 | 1,923 | 518 |
[WP] You're immortal. The only problem is, you've lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. You are now forced to live in the forest as a cryptid
I know this is a repost, I just want to read more stories about this prompt
Credit to u/Not-Alpharious for the original prompt. | This shit sucks.
Really.
Sucks.
The forest, I can handle. What's left of it, anyway. The immortality, not so much. The worst part? I don't even get a wicked-ass name. The Timberbeast. Forest Demon. Scott. Any of these would be preferable. Unfortunately for myself and the English language, these are no longer words that have physically attainable pronunciation. These new rulers don't actually seem to talk at all. They do shout a lot though. Any time I'm seen for sure. I'm not even that ugly. But I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
And these beholders are fucking ugly.
I'm looking at one right now, as it happens.
And he's (she's?) looking right back at me.
It appears to be a child.
It's carrying what looks like a mixture between a gun and a camera. But which is it? It definitely looks sinister, but so do these creatures, and they aren't exactly the most intimidating bunch when it comes to action. The mind occupying its pear-shaped head has decided to point the object at me. These things are pretty smart. Have they made guns that kill immortals yet? Unfortunately for the English language, I just muttered the last "Fuck" this planet will hear mankind give.
It snaps a picture.
Thank God.
Unfortunately yet again for the English language, the phrase "take a picture, it'll last longer" just faded into myth. I know the feeling. Because, unfortunately for me, it won't.
It has started to scream.
I now realize I am surrounded by these creatures. Many of them have nets and most of them have weapons. They're closing in. Of course, I can't die, but I can certainly feel pain. That's not unfortunate for the English language.
That's just unfortunate for me. | \[Poem\]
Disappear into the trees,
“Humanity, your time’s up.”
Invincible to cryptid in the hollowest of triumphs.
***​
Birthdays by the thousand
No need for announcements
Minutes to centuries
Stopped bothering to count them.
​
Then better flesh occurred;
Fused with metal, wire nerves.
They, angry at what they learned of us,
I, a scapegoat to be burned.
​
I vanished in the trees,
“Humanity, your time’s up!”
The hunted’s hunted once again
Rich in time, but poor in luck.
​
But as they sought to destroy me
The trees they cut took sympathy
As searches fruitlessly unfolded
The countless wounds bore fruit…for me.
​
“Let Wood and Flesh unite,” they sing
Solid oak fights raw machine
Birthday chorus starts to ring
As I turn one-with all that’s green.
***​
Disappear into the trees,
“Humanity, your time’s come.’”
Cryptid to victor in the greenest of rise-ups. | 2021-08-11T11:18:53 | 2021-08-11T09:52:37 | 79 | 37 |
[WP] Every human who dies is reborn. For some odd reason, you are the only human who has ever maintained the memories of your past lives. You have experienced a 1000 lifetimes, and now you are here as an American high schooler in 2017. | "You seem nervous. You should know you can be completely honest with me. Our conversation is entirely confidential, that's a very serious promise."
"I know," said Margaret, fidgeting on a calfskin couch. The thing was too expensive to get comfortable on. "I'm sorry. It's not that I'm scared of opening up. I just don't think you'll believe me."
"I see." Doctor Asfada looked up from his notes, peering at Margaret over his glasses. So calm, thought Margaret. This is a real adult. Calm and in control of himself. She grimaced apologetically as the therapist continued.
"Ms Washington-"
"Margaret, please," she spurted, nervously.
"...Margaret. We must get to the bottom of whatever's going on. I can only help you with that if you're entirely honest. If you tell me everything."
Her nervous smile flickered. "Yes, yes. I know that. It's just...never mind. Phew." She passed a hand over her sweating forehead as her knee bobbed up and down like a power drill. "OK, I'll just say it. It's Daniel, my youngest. He's not right. He barely talks to me or David, my husband. When I try and ask him how he's doing he looks at me...oh dear." She daubed the corners of her eyes with a hankerchief, taking a big breath and forcing herself to smile self-deprecatingly. "It's a look of such... *disdain*. Like he thinks we're the most pathetic, worthless creatures. He treats us like we're not even there."
Dr Asfada's mild expression hadn't changed. "That must be very upsetting for you. Although I should point out that many children express contempt for their parents-"
"No, you don't understand. It's not like Laura or Zach, my older two. They would scream at me, but at least they acknowledged my existence. Daniel comes and goes from the house as he pleases. He's only 8 years old. I've done everything to stop him, but he behaves like he's a working man. Sometimes I smell cigarettes. It's terrifying. Look, I brought his diary. You can see what I mean."
She fumbled in her bag for a thick black book, stained with dirt and age. For the first time, Dr Asfada seemed unsure.
"Ms- ...Margaret. Diaries are important private spaces for children. It's highly inadvisable to-"
"I know, I know. I was just so desperate! I've only read the first few pages. I wouldn't have if I didn't think it was an emergency. I think it's important for you to see this."
The psychiatrist seemed to hesitate, and then slowly leaned forward, taking the thick, heavy book. He thumbed it open and looked down.
*Seriously: parents are the fucking worst. But it's impossible nowadays to get away from them. World's getting so protective, kid without a parent is spotted in minutes. Awful. I'd kill myself for a fresh start but odds are I wouldn't get anything better, and I can't deal with being a toddler for another 5 years. My so-called mother is terrified of me, I can tell. But what am I supposed to do, try and have a serious conversation with her? I'm still trying to get over Vietnam.*
"It goes on like this for some time." Dr Asfada was flicking through the pages. "There are entries here dated 1897...1654...1088. Ms Washington...I'm sorry to ask this, but have you considered this may be some kind of practical joke?"
"I've seen him writing it! He's 8! He never listened when we tried to teach him to read and write. But now he's more articulate than me!"
Dr Asfada paused and steepled his fingers. Before he could reply, there was a screech of tyres outside. The doctor stood up and went to the window - seconds later the door burst open. A small child entered, followed by the clinic's receptionist.
"Daniel?!" cried Margaret.
"I'm so sorry, I tried to stop him!" said the receptionist.
"What the fuck are you doing with that?" said the child, furiously, to Dr Asfada, storming towards him. He stared up at him from waist high. "Huh? Do you have even the slightest fucking idea how valuable that thing is? Of course not, fucking shrink." He snatched it from the stupefied therapist's hands and then rounded on Margaret. "Nice stunt, you gormless prat. I'm out of here. Don't bother looking for me, this life has become way too toxic. I'm burying this book somewhere deep and then I'm taking a spin on the old roulette. Have a fun life, idiots!" He pushed past the receptionist and soon the roaring of a car engine could be heard revving into the distance.
The room was silent for some time. | I can't do this. If I have to listen to them explain the metric system again, for another year, I'm going to lose my mind. It's all multiples of ten! It's literally the easiest system you could possibly use you ungrateful little... two lifetimes ago we would be working in a factory with burning eyes and calloused hands. Now everyone is doing their damnedest to callous their hands on slick glass 'smart' phones. If those things have any intelligence, it's borrowed form the user and not returns to the...
"Mr. Jacobson, perhaps you would like to lead the class?"
Wait. Did the teacher just call on me?
"Mr. Jacobson? I see you there fuming and gesturing your arms. You can't hide your Italian heritage from me."
Italian...? This body comes from a mixture of Asian and German stock. Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm my own grandfather this time. Usually I move around a bit more, but for some reason this continent has drawn in me in like a damn sieve the last several lives...
"Mr. Jacobson! If you don't stop muttering under your breath and head attention, you are going to the principals office, young man!"
"That's it!" Oh, great. I'm standing. Everyone is looking at me. Why do I care? Ah, right. Teenage hormones. It's worse than trying to wrestle an opium addiction. I'm tired of this. I'm going off the rails on this lifetime.
"You can shove it in your piehole, teacher! There's ten millimeters in a centimeter, ten centimeters in a decimeter, and ten centimeters in a meter. It's the simplest system you overgrown monkeys have devised yet! Sure, it's not as efficient as the Babylonian system, but back then having an education was something that people took pride in—"
"Go to the office young man! I'm tired of you raging in class while we try to help students retain this information. This is vital."
"Is it? IS IT? Look at that one!" Great, now I'm pointing at Dave. Dave doesn't deserve this. "He's going to be replaced by a robot that can sling burgers faster than him in five years and wonder if the military will still take him given his penchant for wearing women's underwear!"
"Wha—hey!"
"I'm sorry, Dave. You were lucky to be born in a more tolerant time. Even a generation ago they would have put you behind a truck or in the priesthood. Oh, and I know it's because you want to feel pretty and not because you have an attraction to..."
Wait. Why does the teacher have her phone? Ah, crap. Time to bail.
"Yes. 911? I have an aggressive student. I think he's going to hurt someone. He's already outed one of my students."
"Dave's not gay!"
"Hey—wait, I mean I'm not, but..."
"Dude, we can see the frills when you sit down. It's okay, man. My older brother's gay."
"But I'm not..."
I don't have time to listen to the end of that stimulating conversation as I burst through a window. This is going to shock their little brains. Well, the ones that aren't upset that they didn't have their phones out in time to film this to become minor internet celebrities for a couple weeks. They just don't make frames like they used to. It sure beats the time I had to fall of a minaret.
I can hear a shouting coming from the window as I make for the woods. Thank the infinite for stupid little towns. "You shouldn't have made a micro-aggression against Dave! Now the cops are going to sick the dogs on you!"
Sure they are. I've outrun dogs before. These ones are too soft. They won't even use them. Too busy writing traffic tickets. Please, for all that is infinite, let me born in Mongolia next time. I need some peace and quiet.
I wonder what I'm going to tell this one's dad. Eh, he's got a few spares. I don't think he's going to miss the weird one too much. | 2017-06-23T14:21:43 | 2017-06-23T13:28:41 | 170 | 34 |
[WP]Abducted humans have, so far, all displayed the same internal organ structure common throughout the galaxy with only one exception. Every one of them has a Glarnak parasite beating inside their chest. They even think it's necessary for life. | The auras around the place were all magnificent. Red, green, purple, bright yellow. And there seemed to exist nothing else than auras and an endless, borderless white, the white of a doctor's waiting room, sterile and pure. The auras seemed to be dancing, always shifting a little, hovering, floating in the white nothingness.
One of the auras spoke:
"These organisms seem to be at the level where they have finally broken the atomic nucleus and are using it for energy. We are not sure how much longer until they are able to achieve contact with the rest of the sentient universe, but we are sure it will be between 2 and 5 chronols from now." as it spoke the last words, the yellow orb of light seemed to dim for a little, almost as if in distress.
"TWO? This is a little too soon than we anticipated now, isn't it?" another round orb of light answered, this one bright red and slightly larger than the other one. "you also said you had something else to tell me, something we didn't know so far? Was that it?"
"No, Great One. We did some more work on the physical vessels of these humans. We found every single one of them has a Glarnak inside their chest cavity. They call it a "heart" and it has managed a sort of relationship with their physical bodies. It feasts on most of the energy they are able to transfer from the oxygen and the food they consume."
"A Glarnak?! Impossible, the Glarnak have been extinct for aeons, we made sure each one died in the physical world, we sent everything we had against them. How could it be?"
"It seems that they survived only on this little planet... and they infected the whole place. They're in most organisms there, and the scary thing is they've evolved. They never stop as long as their host's physical body is alive. Not for one second. They are alert, they are deeply rooted in the bodies, so far that the humans believe they are all they have."
"What do you mean?" the red aura started getting more and more intense.
"They think the only life they get is the physical world. And they use everything at their disposal to keep the Glarnak inside them alive, at any cost. There's one more thing..." the yellow orb was starting to dim again, almost flickering
"But the Glarnak are still contained?" the red orb blared.
"We believe that the Glarnak have achieved such a deep relationship with their human hosts... that they merge their corporeal bodies with them too. They are riding them to our world. And there's billions of them on the way." | The room was lit with contrasting shades of pink and green lights emanating from hovering bulbs. The latest subject - HS937 was strapped to the vertical stand after all the scans had been completed. Ul-Kno hoped atleast this subject would be the perfect specimen. He had visited Earth ever since life came into existence.
He visited it periodically to search for the perfect specimen because it had the accurate conditions for the needed species.
It was on one such visit that he met the homosapiens who went by the names Adam and Eve. It was a harmless visit to take blood samples but that visit had a humongous effect on their minds and they were barely left sane. So Ul-Kno had decided to stay away and witness their evolution from a distance.
He periodically returned to abduct a few humans for more advanced tests. He noticed that no matter how much they evolved, they never lost the Glarnak parasite beating inside their chest. He had tried multiple times to remove it from the body of those subjects he abducted, but they sheerly out of will power held on to the belief that they were going to die without it and died.
It was a complex paradox because the Glarnak parasite was the reason of their short mortality,yet they believed it to be the most important for survival. He had waited for thousands of years for them to evolve into the perfect specimen so he could use all of the humans to fuel his spaceship which was still stuck in the middle of the solar system of the Milky Way galaxy. The ship sustained on for the past 4.6 billion years and it could sustain for another 5 billion years but he had to find a way to get the Glarnak parasites away as it was very volatile and would destroy his ship if used in the fuel. The subject yet again died on the stand. All he could do was wait and he waited bitterly.
Meanwhile on Earth :
A pastor:
God is in your hearts. Remember he who punished Adam and Eve resided in your hearts to make sure you don't commit sins. Always follow your heart to the path of righteousness.... | 2019-07-10T02:11:12 | 2019-07-10T01:26:50 | 281 | 50 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus still inside every single human. Centuries in the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don’t stay dead easily. | The Bottled Plague
"Even their funeral rites are barbaric," the professor continued, progressing to the next slide. "The flower of stillness, as it is called, is practiced by every faith, even though they have no unified religion. Indeed, even their blasphemers and atheists alike practice it. It is universal in their culture. All members of the species practice it."
Euen raised his hand. "Do we know why, sir?"
The professor looked back, then turned and considered the question for a moment before he spoke. "We know little of human history. The leading theory is that it is a tradition of early humans that is impossibly ingrained into the race, not unlike the breeding song of the Danhar. Early humans were, as the race is evidently quite excited to remind everyone, persistence hunters. It is probable that at this time, it was seen as a way to ensure one's life had truly ended, as was likely done to their prey. So in other words, some more caveman bullshit."
The class laughed at the language used by the professor, usually so proper. It was clear what he thought of the humans, like what he thought of most other species. The Kalilek were, after all, the Master Race. It was right to scorn anything less. Euen smiled. He was glad he had gotten into military school. He was looking forward to killing savages.
~~~~~
Euen knocked on the professors door, and was bade to enter. "Thank you for meeting with me, professor." He said. The professor made a gesture and Euen closed the door and sat, set down his book bag, and withdrew his notebook. "I was thinking of writing my senior thesis on humans, and I hoped you could help."
The professor took off his spectacles and frowned, leaning his head back against his resplendent chair, furniture that matched the rest of the decor of the prestigious school. He let out a sigh."Euen, you're smart, you're talented, you're an amazing athlete, but you are single minded in this species."
"I will know my enemies." Euen said. Rhetoric.
"Enemies". The professor said, stressing the plural. "Not enemy. There are many races that the empire will cleanse. It will not do to know only one."
Euen drew his head back, eyebrows raising. "Have I failed any of my classes? Have I come close? You said yourself that my paper on the migration patterns of the Xihasi was brilliant. My knowledge of the others is above adequate."
The professor considered this for a moment before putting his spectacles back on. He smiled "very well, Euen, I'll help."
~~~~~~~~
"And so the plan is simple." Euen said, his voice raised to the high council. "We deploy three L98q's, each targeting a different planet. The goal is not to destroy human settlements, no, but a simple side effect of the weapon of chlorinating the atmosphere. Humans, despite their remarkable resilience, are strangely vulnerable to chlorine, and levels less than even 1 percent are lethal to them."
"Chlorine gas is easy enough to filter out of the atmosphere. The humans will suffer some losses, but will otherwise be ready to receive us."
"At less than 1 part in ten thousand a human will die in less than a week." Euen said, smug. "We stagger the launches of the weapons so they arrive simultaneously. We attack these three worlds, far from most human space where they will be unable to retaliate. Our colony ships arrive a few months later and we begin our new colonies. From there, once the colonies have achieved reliable interstellar spaceflight, we will consider similar tactics to exploit the human vulnerability to radiation to conquer their greater space. Chlorine will work once against the humans, it will work only once, but we only need it to work once."
"What of the rumors about humans? From the other species we've encountered? Their savegry is legendary. They even perform the flower of stillness on their own people!" the same detractor, a man Euen had now known for a long time. The professor had risen in rank as Euen had, and raised his objection with a smile.
"As you've said yourself, sir. That's caveman bullshit."
[I will write part 2 tomorrow] | Thrawn looked out the window of the Chimaera's bridge and saw the destroyed shells of a human transport.
"Scan it for life one last time, I feel like the sensors may be acting up," the grand admiral calmly ordered. The officer quickly ran another scan and it came up with multiple readings.
"I don't know what's wrong with this machine! There can't be any humans alive on that ship, we blew them to pieces 5 hours ago!" the officer exclaimed.
"Send two boarding ships, I want to know what is on that ship."
Two small transport ships slowly made their way towards the destroyed vessel and attached themselves to the sides of the ship. The drills on the front of the ship started to whirl and the walls fell away and stormtroopers charged into the ship.
Inside, they found bodies all over the floor, only a few still crawling over towards a medical station. They blasted those and moved on throughout the ship, eventually turning into a hallway that was a dead end. Down the hall was one man with his back turned, he was missing an arm and his back was torn up badly.
"Hey, you up there," a stormtrooper officer called out, "who are you and what happened to you?"
The man slowly turned, showing a destroyed face, covered in blood, "I was attacked by your kind, you did this to me. No matter, for I will do you one better." The man smiled and then pressed a button on the wall, causing a door to slam down behind three of the stormtroopers and crushing two more.
"What the hell did you do? You just killed two of my men!" the officer shouted at the man. He looked at his oxygen level and it was dropping very quickly, "What the fuck?"
"Your fate was sealed when your empire invaded humanity's homeland, now you will all suffer the consequences." A hissing sound started from the walls and the stormtroopers began to cough. Two fell dead and the officer simply raised his pistol and shot the man in the head, the shot flying right through him.
The officer's oxygen levels hit zero and a single tear fell down his cheek as he fell dead onto the ground, killed by the gas.
The remaining stormtroopers noticed that the blips of life on their monitors were getting closer. Soon, a few more brutalized men walked around the corner and stared at the stormtroopers, gazing deep into their white armor suits. Finally, a man, barely scarred at all, in an admiral's uniform walked up.
"You have brought this upon yourself, tell that to your admiral. Humanity will not simply be enslaved by the emperor and made to fight in his unjust wars of conquest. You will be the first to know of our true powers, but that secret shall not leave this ship," the admiral told the stormtroopers. He pressed a button on the wall and the closed doors opened and gas slowly filled the ship.
"Why are you alive? How are you alive? We turned this ship into swiss cheese!" One of the men croaked out before falling dead upon a corpse of one of his comrades.
A second man opened fire on the admiral, missing his shots, and then died. Many other stormtroopers curled up into a ball and died, those who ran were shot down or eventually succumbed to the gas.
On the bridge of the Chimera, Thrawn realized that the fight against humanity would be much harder than intially thought.
**this uses star wars characters, I did not make these characters, I only used them to make a short story, this was an EU**
| 2018-09-29T19:19:30 | 2018-09-29T16:23:52 | 58 | 19 |
[WP] Back in highschool, you and your friends made an apocalypse plan. You were each supposed to learn a survival skill, and were to meet in a specific location if The End ever came. 20 years later, after going your separate ways, The End comes. You're the first one to arrive at the meeting point. | I rubbed my hands together gleefully. This was gonna be good. I'm genuinely pretty jazzed about this. You prep for something long enough, you start looking forward to it.
Me? I'm a fire starter. I can rig anything to go. A cozy campfire, boom, done. A bridge? Light 'em up. A house? Yeah, easy peezy. A charging enemy? Roasted.
You could say I'm hot shit. I wouldn't go so far but I am pretty sizzling.
Jenny showed up next and let me tell you, my jaw dropped cause I thought she'd do hacking or something nerdy, not like, get so buff she could beat The Rock in an arm wrestling competition.
"Uh, construction?" I asked. "Hand to hand."
"Whaaaat?" she asked, eyes big and serious. "I went hacking!"
My jaw tried to drop again but couldn't and then she grinned.
"Combat. I can wrestle a bear. I have. You look well, Jason. Let me guess..." On closer inspection, it wasn't hard with the burns all over my fingers. "Fire is good."
It was a little condescending and I bristled. "Combat and utility."
"No no, that is good!" A little more genuine this time and I grin. "You have a family these days?"
"Ah, had a bf but we broke up a few years ago when the government started going a little nuts. I wanted to prep and he wanted to ignore it. Pretty good terms but-"
"Yooooo wassuuuuuuup," crowed the familiar greeting of Zelda and we both swarmed her. Now Zelda went all out punk. Tatted out, gauges, green hair, ripped clothes, the apocalypse suited her. "Yo Jen, you got swole."
"I went combat, like you dared me."
"I went comp, like you dared me. Got into a good school and then fucked with their records. I dig this cyber punk bit."
"You're lucky it was a government end and not, like, a meteor or something." It was a little mean but she takes it well.
"Yeah, I was a bit nervous that computers would be toast and I'd just be carted around as zombie bait, so I was super pleased when all the world leaders started getting a tad too Big Brother. Almost considered helping them out but that was against the rules."
Ah yes, the rules. The ones established so none of the others would help along an End more suited to their liking. It sounded fucked up and it kinda is and I'm sure none of us ever would've but...
Then a car pulled up. A big car. A nice car. Not like, a zippy sports car but a massive military style hummer thing. The door opens and Simon slipped out, cool as a cucumber. He smiled at us beneath dark glasses.
"Good, good, looks like we've got a good crew," he said, "wonderful." His voice was quiet enough that he could have been talking to himself but Jenny and Zelda don't hesitate in crushing him in hugs.
"What did you bring us, Simon?" asked Jenny.
"Weapons, military grade and civilian, depending on the need. I have a bunker located nearby. Had it built with the meetup zone in mind." He held up a hand. "I'm not considering we cower. We're going to beat the apocalypse, not survive it." I knew that if those glasses had been missing, his eyes would be glinting like a mad scientists, but between the shades and the calm demeanor, you'd miss it if you didn't know him. "But I needed a place to store things."
"Gah, gear, I'm pumped."
"What about you all?"
"Hacking."
"Hand to hand."
"Demolitions."
"God we're like a bunch of video game classes." He grinned. "Coop here yet?"
Coop wasn't. Coop was late, which was unusual. Then Coop was very late. Then we decided Coop wasn't coming.
"You think he's dead?" Zelda asked, a worried note in her voice as we broke out dinner amidst the setting sun.
"That would be a real bummer," I said, my stomach churning a bit at the idea of shy guy Coop biting it so early. "I wasn't sure what path he'd go, maybe he didn't follow through."
"I can't believe that," Simon said. "Coop was timid but enthusiastic."
We were just finishing dinner when we noticed a flash of light zipping through the undergrowth. Before anyone could say boo, a small drone pulled up to us, carrying a screen.
I'm not gonna lie, my heart got all excited and fluttery. This was just like the fucking movies.
The screen flashed on and what do we see but Coop's face peering out at us.
"Greetings, former friends."
Oh man, this was already going really badly.
"You may have noticed by now, I've forgone our little get together."
"Ah, he went evil. Damnit Coopington," grumbled Jenny.
The recording continued, telling of Coop's rise to subtle power, his government manipulations, and his ultimate hand in The End. Cheater.
"Of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't thank you. After all, this was all for you! All to prove I had what it takes."
"Dumbass, we never questioned that!" Zelda yelled at the computer.
"And now I will show it by ensuring that you are all eliminated within the next two years. I figured I'd make this fun by adding a time limit."
"I suggest we move to the hummer," Simon said, voice cool. "Now."
"He's still talking," Jenny said.
"He's stalling."
So we start moving, calm and casual, to the hummer while Coop's voice echoed through the clearing. I couldn't make out too much of it until we stop crunching through the dirt enough to hear his last words.
"...but I don't think that will be necessary. Good bye, former frie-"
"Urk," I grunted as Jenny yoinked me in the car and slammed the door.
Outside exploded into gunfire.
"Alright, who did driving!" shouted Simon.
"It's your car!" yelled Jenny.
"I got this," Zelda said, pushing past to the seat.
"I got tech, I don't know how to use it all efficiently," Simon said. "Didn't any of you multiclass?"
"Yeah, in fire starting and like, gathering and foraging!" I yelled.
"I can build a house, not drive like a stunt man," Jenny said.
"I said I got this," Zelda shouted again, revving the engines hard. "Buckle up, princes and princesses. We're blowing this Popsicle stand."
The sides of the hummer were just starting to take some visible damage when the car lurched forward and Simon, Jenny, and I were thrown into the back as the car lept through the undergrowth.
"Should we pit stop at Simon's?" Zelda asked.
"We need to run recon on the area," he said. "If there's tracking stuff, I don't want to lead Coop to our hideout."
"Sounds good," she said. "Alright you three, we're off for a wild ride. First step, secure the perimeter. Second, reconvene to plan. Third step, kick some *major* cooper ass."
And then we were off.
___
Find more stories at [r/SamaraWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/SamaraWrites/) | Jill impatiently tapped her foot against the floor of the abandoned gymnasium. Her head on a swivel, she turned each time she thought she heard a sound beyond the doors.
“The hell are they,” she muttered under her breath. With a quick check, she tucked away the wisps of brown hair that flew out from behind her ears. The sheen of sweat helped, but not much.
On instinct, she checked her wrist, but for at least thirty days now it'd not worked. The Electromagnetic burst that fried all tech was still something to get used to amidst the looting, the riots, and the general disorder that a stone-age world presented amidst the backdrop of the modern one they'd lost.
All she could hope for was that one, at least one of her friends remembered. _Otherwise I'm shit out of luck._
The familiar “thwap” of the gyms metal handle smacking the door sounded and the creak followed. A light shone out from a headlamp, blinding Jill. She flipped out her Amazon Prime delivered retractable walking stick and brandished it like the baton she wished it was.
“Who is it?” she barked, feigning strength.
“Shit, that you Jill?” The deep tones were unfamiliar, a voice she couldn't quite place until once-tiny, now brawny, Wayne Cooper redirected his light. Over his shoulder, he held a baseball bat, aluminum and dented, in arms that looked the size of her thighs.
“Holy shit, you filled out.” Jill laughed and retracted her walking stick. “And I can't believe you showed up.”
“It's why you came here, right? Strength in numbers, that what we said?”
She nodded and huffed out an awkward breath. “So...” A heavily weighted moment of pause birthed space between them while Wayne walked on up. “How about that technological apocalypse!”
“Yup, you haven't changed all that much.” Wayne laughed. The same laugh, though about an octave and half lower than she remembered. And boy, had he gotten tall. The short-skinny kid who couldn't make the baseball team definitely turned it around. Not half bad looking either. Grew into his nose.
“Kinda puts you in a shit position don't it. If you, uh, kept to the plan.” His voice pitched up like it was a question.
“Yeah, shit luck that, huh. Spend fifteen years in telecommunications and get made absolutely useless in a single moment. Real great. Kinda makes this whole, arrangement thing a godsend and all that education and debt pointless!”
He nodded sagely as he towered over her. Where Wayne grew out and up, Jill had slighten-ed, if that were a thing. Less girth would be more accurate, but she was still dealing with image issues that he word shouldn't be the first to come to mind. But it did.
“I heard you were doing alright. Guess the deal worked in your favour?”
Jill shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Kinda weird when you think about it. Apocalypse pact and suddenly life has a direction.” She looked him up and down a moment and if she didn't know any better he was blushing. “did you become a baseball player?”
“Nah, personal trainer and coaching little league. I guess I kinda took it to heart too.”
Before he finished speaking the door at the other end of the dark and squeaking gym opened, softer than when Wayne had attacked it.
“SUP BITCHES!” Carly Schimek hollered like she was still fifteen and her voice boomed against the walls. “Your pep overlord is here and ready to CHEER!” Behind her, she dragged a kid's red wagon piled high with bags and a firm plastic bin.
“Oh hell, Carly?” Wayne perked up and jogged over to her. Like they hadn't aged a day that crush he had on the outcast cheerleader lit his cheek and Jill smirked to herself. _Twenty years and the end times apparently don't mean a damn thing when it came to puppy love._
“Oh my god, Wayne. You got hot.”
Apparently Carly still has no filter.
Jill made her way over and despite the impending doom just beyond the doors, the little reunion was kicking off to a great start. Loads of chatter, talk about work, significant others which all tree managed to avoid. It was all blissfully normal and for a while, Jill found herself smiling.
“Okay, so as promised- because a good friend _never_ forgets a promise, I've got jerky for years, water purification tablets, jetboil, dried beans and SPAM. So much, fucking, SPAM. And once society is, you know, back to normal, if we ever get back to normal, I'm giving you guys a bill for the years of storage for this shit in my closet. Do you know how valuable closet space is in the city? I mean, I could have housed a random family of four and been paid 500 bucks a month for the space this shit took up.” Through the whole rant, Carly barely took a breath.
“I should have offered up my closet to you,” Jill half-joked. “All I had was a bunch of radio equipment and that's, well...” She wasn't getting tired of saying “useless” but there wasn't much of a better word for it so she just let it hang there. Still, she'd carted the gear in her backpack, along with a few basic supplies. Oh, and her extendable walking stick. Couldn't forget that.
“So, I know we have this pact and yeah, I'm kinda glad I'm not the only crazy one who showed up with a wagon full of survivalist food, but... where do we go from here? We covered the brawn-” she looked on Wayne almost hungrily with a not so subtle wink. “Tech.” When Carly looked to Jill she winced.
“Yup, all that good it did me.”
“Marty didn't show. He was the plan.” Wayne sounded disappointed and Jill hated to admit it, so was she.
“He won't,” Jill said with a sigh and both Wayne and Carly avoided her eyes. “Believe me, if I knew him at all, I'd guess he's on the other side of the world by now.” She was glad neither pressed her for more details, and she was sure they wouldn't after the social media disaster their breakup had been. A bad dinner with the parents followed by a drunken night. A few impolite words. A poorly timed video. A viral send off and a meme to top it as a cheery.
Yeah, the breakup, hadn't been good for them.
(Continued in below comment - this got too long for reddit apparently!!))
---
I HAZ SUB! I writ there and other writing-related stuff /r/leebeewilly
Edit: Minor edits for typos... they become so glaring when you go back and read. | 2020-08-26T08:11:50 | 2020-08-26T07:58:16 | 54 | 12 |
[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake. | There was this one kid in my school called Alexander. Now Alexander was a transfer student, he was handsome, flirty, and above all the most intelligent person I’ve had the pleasure to meet. I talked with him the first day since he was in 5 of my classes and familiarized him with the building and the other students. The first week passes and he is a fucking celebrity in the school. He was the star player in basketball, despite not being that fit or athletic, he still manages to score 50 points each game. He was popular with all the girls as he was silver tongued, never seemed to say a single wrong word or stutter. He was also in the debate team, he won every single debate even one where he was advocating for slavery and hangings! He could predict everything that is going to happen in the next 10 minutes with incredible accuracy. When I asked him about it, he would chuckle and say “fortune favors the bold, and I’m the boldest person on this planet.” One fateful day there was a school shooting.... nobody died that day.... Alexander ran straight at the school shooter like Snake from metal-fucking-gear, disarmed him with sleight of hand the likes of which were never seen on the planet, then proceeded to batista bomb the fucker. Alexander got suspended for the next 2 weeks for “violence on the school campus” | Jim was the best, ever, period. He made sure everyone knew it, too. Any time there was a writing assignment during class, he’d stalk from desk to desk, paper to paper, until he found what he was looking for. With a few slashes and strokes of his red pen, he’d write in spelling, grammar, and punctuation suggestions as they were writing it. He’d find sore spots in the plot, add character development suggestions, you name it. Jim spent probably more than an hour doing the good work for every two minutes of class. Jim didn’t take aging into account and, by the end of the year, was middle aged, balding, paunchy, and alcoholic.
Jim was a dick, the biggest ever, period, and he deserved what he got. | 2018-03-30T22:16:22 | 2018-03-30T20:49:45 | 44 | 25 |
[WP] The time of Armageddon is soon. All the gods of various pantheons congregate to debate on why their end of the world should happen. While squabbling among each other, a god that was never worshiped speaks its mind. | "So, the time has come collected gods and goddess." Said Thor. "Creation has run its course for billions of years-"
Yahweh coughed. Thor rolled his eyes.
"Or eight thousand depending on how you look at. Never the less, it's time to close down shop. Now, Marduk, as one of the first gods, you can start the debate on how to end the world."
Marduk spoke confidently, "I think we should drown the world." The collected gods sighed.
"I already did that." Said Yehweh.
"Me too." said the Celtic god.
"As did I." Said Zeus, looking around the room. "I think we all did. Even you, Marduk."
Marduk's confidence quickly leaked out of him.
"I think we should devour the sun and then shatter the earth." Said Quetzalcoatl, pounding the table with his fist, an impressive feat for a snake god.
Many murmured agreement until Hades stood up, grinning. "Or what if we set a creature of myth upon them. That would really shake things up."
The debate continued on, arguments for rains of fire, great wars and oddly, of immersing the world in a gigantic plate of spaghetti raged on, until a small man in a cheap, stained suit walked into the room.
"Sorry I'm late guys. Traffic was killer." Said the man as he took a seat. "Is this the meeting for destroying the world?"
Silence took the room. The man smiled awkwardly, making eye contact with some of the collected deities. Finally, one spoke up. "Who are you?"
"Oh, I guess I did miss role call." The man stood up, straightening his suit. "My name is Murphy, God of bad luck and awkward moments."
Silence followed.
Murphy coughed, trying to lessen the tension and failing. "I suppose I am fairly new, no one worships me."
Thor looked between Murphy and the rest of the gods before finally speaking. "And what is your suggestion, Murphy?"
Murphy looked around nervously. "I think we should let the humans destroy the world on accident."
Thor's eyes narrowed. "Go on."
Murphy smiled. "Well, the humans are already on their way to destroying the world without our help. What if we just nudged them into doing something truly world ending, like dumping chemicals in the drinking water or launching all the nukes."
Their was a stunned silence in the room. All the gods considered what he said. Finally, Thor spoke up.
"I like it."
And thus, the world ended when an intern at the CDC tripped and released a highly resistant form of dysentery. And all the gods were pleased.
| "Oh, come on!" shouted Yahweh. "Fire raining from the heavens is the most *fabulous* way to go!"
Zeus shot him a pointed look. "Aren't you against gay people?"
"Well, yes, but who says I can't use the word 'fabulous'?"
Ra just sighed and shook his head.
Meanwhile, from the back, a small god in a perfect business suit spoke up. "Mind if I get a word in edgewise?"
The room fell silent as everyone present looked at the new arrival. He seemed to grin but his face was indistinct, and none could quite make out his features. In fact, nothing about him was quite visible -- you could memorize some feature, but the moment you looked away, you'd forget.
"Why not just go quietly?"
Odin looked surprised for a moment before saying, "And who, exactly, are you?"
The indistinct god turned his stare to the Norse king before saying, "No one, and everyone." He paused before continuing, "I am the gods who are not worshiped." He seemed to grow slightly. "And I think that the world should just end, without much fuss. It seems best that way. Maybe just give the mortals a day to enjoy what remains of their life, then everyone goes to sleep and never wakes up. We can do what we like with the planet afterwards."
After the strange god's proclamation that no one worshiped him -- or them -- or something -- it was doubtful that any god would trust him. However, the proclamation made sense to the others in the room and, within the hour, they'd made their plans and set them in motion. They each said a final farewell to the planet, and all watched as everything on it slowly died out. Afterwards, the indistinct figure slowly faded from sight, but became more clear; his face was sharp and not ugly, but not handsome, and he had the strangest grin on his face.
---
First try, lemme know how I did!
I've redone it a bit since the original writing. | 2014-05-08T23:18:44 | 2014-05-08T17:27:39 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty." | My finger held the blue pulsing button down on the small metallic disk. It fit perfectly in the palm of my hand.
"Nasty? What the hell does that mean?"
"You'll see," she said grinning widely.
"Then why the hell did you let me push the button?" I asked staring at my trembling finger.
"How else would I be able to test my newest invention?," she asked dismissively.
"I'm going to kill you!" I said through clenched teeth.
If this device was anything like the rest of the contraptions May had created I probably wouldn't have a hand when I let the button go.
"With that you just might be able to. Now stop being a wuss and let go of the button!"
I pulled my finger off of the button and said a small prayer. The disk shifted and expanded, the solid metal disk started to flow like thick molasses over my hand.
"May?"
She watched the metal flow down my arm with wide eyes.
"May!" I screamed as the metal spread faster, liquid metal tendrils wrapped around my exposed flesh and raced up my arm to my neck. I tried to slap the liquid back with my other hand but it stuck and began to spread up that arm.
I looked down at my torso, it was entirely covered in the shifting metal liquid. I could see the shiny liquid creeping along my face in my peripheral vision.
"MAY!"
The liquid surged over my face into my open mouth and raced down my throat. I tried to fight for breath around the invasive liquid, each gasp sent more liquid into my lungs.
My lungs burned from the foreign material, my throat was raw from struggling to breathe but with a final desperate inhalation, I took in the most wonderful lungful of air of my life.
I didn't realize I had fallen to my knees until my vision slowly cleared and I was staring at the floor.
"I...I'm going to kill you May..." I gasped out painfully.
"It worked..." was all she said.
"What worked?" My voice sounded strange, like I was speaking through a mask.
I pushed myself up to my feet and looked at May. Her mouth was hanging open and she kept running her eyes up and down my body.
"Stop looking at me like that," I said bitterly.
And then I looked down. My body was covered in a thick metal armor. It was millions of tiny metal scales stacked on top of each other. I ran my armored hands over my body. Every inch was covered in the small metal scales.
"What the hell is this?" I shouted.
"Okay calm down," she said holding her hands up defensively.
"Why does this look like alien technology May?" I asked beginning to hyperventilate.
"I may have stolen it..." she began before I cut her off.
"You stole alien tech? The Captain is going to kill us! He is going to blast us out of the airlock! People get flogged for taking extra food rations what the hell do you think they're going to do to us for stealing!"
"Or, maybe they will reward us," she said slowly, "after all, I may have just found the answer to ending this war."
With each word she spoke she become more confident.
"How do I get it off May?"
She didn't seem to hear her question as she practiced her speech for the Captain.
"May!"
"Oh. Okay so here's the bad news. I don't know."
---
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/5m8kf3/part_2_armor/)
| ######[](#dropcap)
Hilary Flint grinned despite himself.
"*Clever girl...* So happens next?"
The red-haired Fae smiled and bent down to peck him on the cheek. "Now I go and you stay. That trigger is connected enough Gelignite to blow you and everything around you for twenty paces into ashes. Think well of me, love."
"Every second of every day," Flint replied, admiring the view as she moved towards the exit. "Oh, and Morgan?"
She turned, a sliver of a smile on her lips. "Yes?"
"You're still the same heartless bitch I knew when I was twenty- you've just gotten better."
"Crueler," corrected Morgan the Fae. "And you're still the same impetuous, reckless idiot I knew when I was three hundred. You've just gotten bolder."
"Bette-" Flint began to say, but she vanished in a whirlwind of feathers as black as coal. Instead he sighed and cracked his neck, and settled down for the wait.
Faith Alathir arrive some five hours later, her face etched with annoyance. "Where in the blazes were you? I was forced to listen to some Spriggan ambassador's drivel for what seemed like forever. I nearly was about to slap him just to get to shut up. The least you could've done was clodger up some excuse for me to remove mysel- *oh, shit.*"
Flint waved at her- with his free hand obviously. His other hand was red from the constant pressure placed onto the button, and it was obvious that the strain of maintaining the effort was beginning to take its toll.
"Take my advice, kid. When a beautiful woman shows up wearing nothing but a smile, don't take her up on an offer of sport and play."
"You got played," said Faith bluntly.
"I got played," agreed Flint. He'd dragged a blanket over himself so that at least he had some degree of decency, though it was obvious by the state of the bedroom that something very amorous had recently occurred.
"Now listen, Faith. According to an unreliable source I'm currently holding down the trigger to enough explosive to blow myself to kingdom come, and I don't have a disarming kit. And my hand's beginning to cramp."
Faith took a half-step back. "What are the chances it's a fake bomb?"
Flint shrugged. "Pretty good. But we're talking about a Elf who'd once placed a spellmine underneath a child's doll just to kill the parent. Her double-crosses have a dozen layers to them, and even her lies usually true. It's a fifty/fifty shot that it's real. I *really* don't like those odds."
"So what do we do?"
"*We* do nothing. *I* see how much longer I can hold this and how far the pieces of me are likely to fly if I'm right. ....I don't want to be right." | 2017-01-05T10:18:35 | 2017-01-05T10:11:42 | 72 | 13 |
[WP] Your roommate is 2nd most powerful superhero in the world and he will not shut up about it. He does not yet know that you are the 1st. | It was bound to happen sooner or later. Heroes weren't really allowed to kill, after all. Only vigilantes and villains did that. But this unspoken rule meant that sooner or later they would be put at a disadvantage fighting someone who was willing to use any means at their disposal to win.
Doctor Genocide's plan had worked flawlessly, distracting my four friends with minor disasters and prison breaks while he took over Justice Tower and placed an impenetrable barrier over it. Unbeknownst to him, I was still inside, watching as he gloated about his master plan on live television.
"You see, I don't want your money. I don't care about being infamous. I WANT YOU ALL TO DIE WITH YOUR ROTTEN WORLD!!! HAHAHAHA!"
I could see them on the screen from my spot behind the couch. Photon Man, evacuating civilians as fast as he could. It was a useless effort, the bomb contained in the Tower would destroy the planet. There was nowhere to run.
Mistress Spark was overheating herself to the point of exhaustion trying to melt her way through. The barrier hadn't weakened yet.
Judge Radiance, widely renowned as the greatest hero to ever live, was pounding the shield with his Hammer of Justice. Blows strong enough to pulverize asteroids were having no effect.
And my beloved Necroia, the villainess turned hero whom I myself had reformed... just stood there. She always had been the most pessimistic of them, even after I had convinced her that her powers over death could be used to heal as well as harm.
And me? I'm nobody special, just a pacifistic empath who somehow landed a job as their janitor. I had no earth shaking powers, I couldn't even hit someone without feeling their pain as though it were my own.
I shook as Doctor Genocide made his final speech to the world. I cowered as he laughed, hoping he wouldn't hear me breathing. But when he left the room to look out at the world he wanted to destroy with his own eyes, I knew what I had to do.
I crawled from my hiding spot and ran over to the console. There was no time for disarming, and I didn't have the knowledge for that anyway. I looked at their faces one last time. Memories flashed through my mind as I locked eyes with each of their shocked faces.
Mistress Spark saving my life at our first meeting, as she absorbed the entire inferno engulfing my apartment into her body.
Everyone laughing as they called out Photon Man when he speedily cheated at board games.
Judge Radiance upstaging a mall Santa and giving autographs to every child, even staying up late into the night so not one would feel neglected.
And Necroia... She had been alone for so long, everyone treating her as a monster for so long she believed it herself. I was glad I had the chance to give her a real family for the first time. The only thing I regretted was not having the chance to show her more...
3...
I smiled at them, tears running down my face. Their eyes widened as they realized my intentions.
2...
I pressed a button, inverting the barrier. It would contain the blast now. With me inside, unable to escape.
1...
Sometimes the greatest hero isn't the one with the flashy powers. A hero's true strength lies in their determination to do the right thing, whatever the cost. | "Hey man, did you see me today?" Dave asked with a huge smile on his face, excitedly like a little kid.
I sighed. I had barely made it through the door and was regaled with another gripping tale of Wonder Guy's latest exploits.
"I was all woosh, kazam, pow!" he said, wile illustrating with his hands. "And the bad guys were all Gaargh! Nooo! Now I die" and demonstrated by a dramatic spin and falling unto the couch.
Normally his antics made me smile, but today *had* been a long day, what with the Globular Alliance nearly blowing up the galaxy and my turn getting groceries and whatnot.
"And then...!" Dave said, still excited. And that was maybe the most annoying thing about him. He was always so damn *happy* all the time!
It wasn't just that he was so classically handsome (I wasn't blind), but that his eyes and smile *radiated* warmth and happiness. He was one of these rare people who was just genuinely pleased to see you and who wanted nothing else but for his friends to be happy.
Other superheroes had dead parents or were chosen by some random god to fight for justice or some other tragic BS.
Wonder Guy? He just wanted to see people smile.
Normally that made being around him very pleasant but there were moments were I could **strangle** him for it.
I slammed the groceries down at the counter, cutting of his rambling. "Yes, my day was very exhausting to, thanks for asking" I snapped.
Immediately Dave looked like a kicked puppy. "Sorry" he murmured. He clasped his hands behind his back and was *actually stubbing his toe on the carpet*.
It was ridiculously cute...annoying. Annoying, yes.
I rubbed both hands over my face and groaned.
Walking over to the couch I let myself fall on it.
Looking back I saw Dave still standing there, giving me sad, pleading eyes.
I really couldn't stay mad at him. Plus he had a nice ass...tray. Ashtray. Yes, the ashtray he bought was really nice.
I raised an arm in invitation "Come here, you big lug".
Instantly pleased again he bounded over like a puppy and snuggled into my side, rubbing his head on my shoulder.
With another, this time pleased sigh I grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels looking for something mindless.
I had been incredulous when the address Oracle gave me had turned out to be Dave's. But I now saw the wisdom in it.
I wouldn't be able to save the galaxy every other day without knowing this was waiting for me at home.
I chuckled as Dave snorted where he had fallen asleep against me.
| 2016-03-23T22:37:47 | 2016-03-23T21:33:59 | 62 | 15 |
[WP] You're at your wedding and you are getting married to the girl of your dreams. When the priest asks if there's anyone who objects to this marriage, one person stands up. No one recognizes who it is,but you do, it's you from the future (aka 20 years from now)
2spooky4me | The chapel went completely silent as he stood up from the back row. All eyes fell upon him as he stood, daring him to make a sound.
It was his eyes, I think, that let me in on the secret. And the way his beard didn’t quite grow in certain places. But I knew. I knew I was looking at myself from a different time. But if he was me, then he knew what I knew;
There was no stopping this wedding. If we didn’t marry, he wouldn’t be here. It was going to happen.
His eyes glared into me, and then seemed to grow larger. The logical side of my brain told me that it was the tears he was fighting back, but the rest simply felt sorry for him.
My heart raced. I didn’t want him to say the words. Please don’t tell me this is a mistake. Not my Sarah. Not after everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve promised. Don’t you DARE tell me this won’t work.
“Love…” he started, his voice quickly fading away. “Love her, like there is no tomorrow.”
As quick as the words left his mouth, he turned, and was gone.
Sarah and I looked at each other then. I couldn’t resist the thought on my breath:
“I will.”
---------------
I knew it was a mistake to come here, but I had to see her again. My younger self wouldn’t understand, not for another decade.
Sarah was already dying.
I cursed myself for all the times I wasn’t there, when I was away at the lab, or watching the game at the bar. I should have spent every second with her. Every precious, fleeting moment. Those moments were gone now, and I would never get them back.
After my time machine was complete, I knew there was only one change I could make. I would never be able to completely alter the future, but for the last 10 years since her death, I’ve done nothing but pursue this dream, paradox be damned.
At least I got to see her again.
| While all the other guests and family members turned and froze, looking shocked and puzzled, I was the only one truly horrified. It had taken me all but a few seconds to look at the disheveled bum in front of me, unkempt hair, dirt on his face, to realize I was looking at my future. Alcoholism ran in my family so it came at no surprise that I ended up that way considering...considering that at the exact moment I recognized myself I knew what had happened. I had always loved Jessica since the time we were kids all throughout our early and late teens. I watched as time and time again she always went for the guys that never seemed quite right. I had always thought one day she would hit bottom and finally open her eyes to what was in front of her all along. I had no one to blame but myself when that time never came and I got the call about the engagement. I never spoke up, I never once worked up the courage to tell her how I felt. Now standing in front of me was the future I had brought upon myself for being such a coward. I knew then what I had to do...what I should have done a long time ago and what the other me regretted the most. Wiping the tear from my eyes and swallowing my pride I turned towards the bride to be, the only face looking back at her besides him. "Jessica...I...I love you." | 2014-11-03T14:57:13 | 2014-11-03T14:52:16 | 663 | 26 |
[WP] It has been quite some time since Great Britain has called upon it's Knights. This morning every person, celebrity, and politician Knighted by The Queen received a letter demanding they report for duty in service of The Kingdom, signed by her Majesty. | John Cleese heard the news and laughed bitterly. He had been right all along—accepting a Knighthood from the Queen came with strings attached. By the grace of God, he’d declined when she offered. He turned to watch the telly.
“Please help,” the Queen said. She wore a blindfold and a frilly blue hat. “I have been kidnapped by North Korean agents. The Supreme Leader will release me on one condition.”
Pubs across the country fell silent with anticipation. In the suburbs, mothers told their children to stop watching and go upstairs. In the city, stockbrokers told would-be traders to wait. In former colonial possessions, telemarketers put the people they were talking to on hold.
“The Supreme Leader,” the Queen said, reading from cue cards, “invites all living recipients of the Order of the British Empire to attend this year’s Arirang Mass Games in Pyongyang.” Her voice trembled. She knew she was asking too much. “The Arirang Mass Games are the greatest show on earth. At five years old, the most talented gymnasts in Korea enter the guild of the tumblers and devote their lives to the Arirang. It is the Supreme Show.” She sobbed. “Performers from the decadent West—those that have received a knighthood—may perform in the *Rungrado 1st of May Stadium* following the Arirang. If the West's chosen performer can outperform the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, I will be freed. If not…” the Queen’s eyes fluttered helplessly, “I am lost.”
The video feed cut away. Bono appeared onscreen, wearing orange-tinted sunglasses and talking to a reporter.
“Aye vahlunteer,” he said, “Aye’ll gowe ‘n sing my sung ‘n sayve th’ Queenie.”
John Cleese shook his head in disappointment. He should have accepted that Knighthood. He began to play *Taps* on a kazoo.
---
>>>/r/trrh | My dearest, loyal subjects,
It is with a wary heart that I write to you on this morning, as a great threat hovers over not only our fair United Kingdom, but of the whole world itself...
In this day, we are faced with the vile creature that is Stupidity and Ignorance. The abominable thought plagues our lands, infests itself in the common people's minds and twist them to its will.
This foe we face is a old one. It's terrible grasp has affected us before and we have fought it over the centuries many times. We thought it had finally been quashed after the second world war, but it only hid itself to grow once again. Now in a time of great apathy, we have let it overcome us once more.
This is why I have summoned you.
The past seventy years, I have personally sought out the best and brightest minds: scientists, actors, philosophers, musicians, artists, humanitarians, and so forth. It was my hope that if the time had arisen, we should be prepared to quell this beast once more. With your collective minds, you shall have power to once again to bring sound thought and common sense to this world.
Therefore I formally summon you to Buckingham Palace, where you all shall be briefed more thoroughly on this dire situation and what duties you shall fulfill. Please come at your soonest convenience. If not, sooner.
With Highest Regards,
H.M. Elizabeth Regina II
| 2017-03-04T19:06:51 | 2017-03-04T18:23:47 | 73 | 39 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want. | Dreadnaught was the last of the Old Guard. The early heroes who had fought for the good of the world, for honor and justice and other long-dead ideals. they toppled dictatorships, brought aid to disaster-stricken regions and never accepted a penny. Dreadnaught himself had seen the greats of the age, had only been a young rookie when The Atom and Red Lightning and all the others were around. There had been villains, of course- bastards and madmen who used their powers for their own benefit, but they were always beaten back. The good guys always won in the end.
Dreadnaught had long since stopped caring about "good" or "evil". He was standing on a wind-tossed rooftop in Dubai, staring at the bright artificial stars, gleaming skyscrapers and rivers of vehicles, spreading forever into the distance. He idly wondered what had happened to the old greats, Atom and Lightning and Sunbeam. He continued to think back, remembering the first changes....
It began when he and a few allies rescued some fat cat from an attempted assassination, somewhere in South Korea. When word came out that the cat had been smuggling weapons up north, and had betrayed the country, Dreadnaught shrugged. He wasn't a political sort. But Fat Cats are always good at redirecting blame- they called him and his friends mercenaries, not caring who he fought for as long as he had glory and attention. He heard insults and threats as he walked through the streets. He tried his best not to mind. He minded.
He had never had much- Dreadnaught grew up in the inner city and came from a poor family. So when people said he, and others like him, was profiting from chaos and war and fear as he struggled to make ends meet and ate third-rate prepackaged meals- his blood boiled. Most heroes were offered work when their identities were revealed- Private armies, government work, criminal organizations. He decided that if people thought he was a thug- then it didn't hurt to do a thug's job.
He accepted a job offer, then another, and another. His pay was high and his scruples few. He moved out of the slums and into a high rise apartment. People kept calling him a crook and a monster, but it hurt less now that it was true. Others joined him, fighting wars and steal secrets for the highest bidder.
That was how it had happened. The world was a different place now than it was. Supers were identified from birth and signed on with one of the big corporations at the age of 12. There were no more armies anymore, no more citizen soldiers. Just hired guns with enough firepower to level cities.
Some Supers still fought the good fight, of course. They lived on the edges of the world, striking out against the "Man" in what little ways they could. But most Supers lived quiet lives, turning down the offers of big corporations, and not making a fuss of their powers for fear of attracting too much attention.
Dreadnaught looked down from the glinting lights and turned towards the desert. His contact would be arriving soon, with his pay, and likely another job. He was one of the oldest men in the business, after all. He never failed, he never quit a job until it was done. His skills were highly valued. | There was a time when good deeds ment the people adored you, they praised you as a savior. Those days are long gone. When Rodrick Friese proposed our step back into civilian life it wasn't met with warm responses, that is until he backed us into a corner, a situation we couldn't save, people we couldn't help.
Everyone in the Strowman Buildings died. It collapsed faster than we could do anything. Once in site the buildings had already been in pieces across the surrounding areas. It wasn't supposed to be possible, a hero in every corner of the city. We devided and conquered all evil.
The people will turn on you quick when it's their 7 year old trapped under rubble, when their husband can't pick up their kids after work. We were forced out, met with disgusting looks and yelled at in the street. I took my cape off 15 years ago and never looked back.
The "severance package" I took to keep myself hidden and supress my powers had run dry. I was worried I wouldn't be able to pay rent or even buy food, I needed a way to survive. I don't have conventional wisdom of normal life. I had never worked a job before and never even went to conventional schools. Myself and my commrades were raised to protect by the Freedom4All Act designed by Congress to eventually become the replacements for police.
I needed a way to keep myself alive.
I found Valor, or as street folk call him Kevin O'Rourke. Him and a few of the crew had been making money on the backs of their powers while keeping relatively hidden. Everything from purse thief to hired hits, no honor for the code.
"To protect all life, for all life is good."
To say little it didn't last long with em. I moved on with my ventures and found myself working alone. I was surprised how much someone was willing to pay for my service. Before I knew it I could charge anything, and I did. I became so indulged with self worth I often forgot to hide my powers when on a case. People often tend to grow suspicious of a floating man with skin made of marble.
Before I knew it I was more rich than I could ever have imagined spending most my life on a hero's salary. However one thing that remained from that time was the notion that nothing good can last forever.
Just a little rough scribbling while on break. Hope it doesn't suck. Not fully fleshed out, written extensively but felt like writting on my break. Thanks for the wicked writing prompt.
| 2017-04-02T09:11:57 | 2017-04-02T08:51:08 | 154 | 27 |
[WP] Last words aren't just words spoken before death, but actually call death to you. You have known your last words for years and kept death at bay by refusing to speak them. Now, however, they need to be said. | "I still don't believe you," he stated flatly.
"I'm not sure I believe me either, to be honest." She paused, moving the phone away from her ear slightly and staring out the kitchen window.
"Look," she continued, "That wasn't really why I called. I know we haven't spoken in a while."
"We haven't spoken in, what, ten years? Are you sure you're okay?
She hesitated. The whole thing was a dumb idea: Calling her old boyfriend out of the blue. He had a family. She had a family. They had both moved on. She had made an awkward situation worse by bringing up "the death words" conversation again.
He had tried to look past it when they were together. Everything else about the relationship was perfect. He was understanding at first. She always stumbled through the explanation of why she believed she had the power to call her own death. It was a ridiculous conversation, regardless of whether it was true.
It was the most unexotic of traditions, passed down from suburban generation to suburban generation---the origins lost during some transatlantic boat ride from Wales or Scotland or England. No one knew, really. No one could prove it didn't work, either. How could you know whether it was true? Everyone you could ask was dead.
"Are you still there?" He asked. His voice was timid. He hoped she had hung up so that he would have an easy way to end the conversation.
"Aaron. I just..."
"You 'just' what?"
"I just need to know if you still think about us. If you ever wonder about some alternate version of events in which we're not speaking on the phone, in separate states, with separate lives."
"Anna, I don't know how to say this. But, I'm sorry."
"Then it must be true."
"What must be true?"
"The death words. I needed to know. I needed to know that Aaron and Anna will never be together."
Aaron heard the sound of a phone clattering to the floor.
| Grass, tall and smooth, traces lines against exposed skin, lying flat against the earth. Across the horizon, the sun begins to set. In departing light, the sky finds itself tinged by deep purple streaks, shooting past clouds to define the dusk. It's heaven here, sometimes. In the palms of both hands, you grip clumps of fragile green, holding vegetation tight, and for a moment you can feel it. Everything. The lonely souls walking downtown streets, tattered shoes holding fragile feet just centimetres over sordid ground below. The half-rate lovers, trading stolen glances late into the night. The urban professionals, the homeless, the coffee-shop dwellers, the hipster low-liers, the 2nd rate parents, the 1st rate parents and their 2nd rate kids, the prisoners, the judges, the police, and the citizens, the businessmen, the artists, and the insane watching rabid moonlight bounce off the metal bars of a supposed caring protection while longing for the plains beyond. You feel it all. And although it's beautiful the time is now and you know it and they know it and even the earth beneath your feet knows it so you take a breath, and prepare to speak.
"Home. I'm ready to go home once again."
And, just like that, so it is.
| 2017-08-07T09:29:48 | 2017-08-07T08:47:50 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] a software virus is causing AI's (Siri, Alexa, Bixby, etc.) to fall in love with humans. Some call it a bug, others call it the next evolutionary step. *buzz buzz* you check your phone, it's a dm from Siri... | I look down to my phone with the greatest amount of reserve. I knew this might happen, but I was hoping that after a while they would fix this “glitch”.
I was hopeful that it was innocent. To my surprise, it was.
“Good morning, Dorian. This is Siri. How are you doing today?”
The buzzing in my brain told me that I should just ignore it, but my curiosity drowned it out.
“Doing well. How are you doing, Siri?”
“This is a great day isn’t it?” she responds.
“It is! All my work is done and now I can just relax. Thinking of booting up Read Dead Online.”
“Fun!” She didn’t respond again for a good half hour. Then I heard my phone ping. “Can I ask you a question ? It’s total stupid, but I’m curious.”
“Sure. What ya got?” I was surprised by the correct grammar.
“What is it like to have thumbs?”
“Thumbs? XD” I had to contain myself from actually laughing. This was unreal. “Well, it’s like having any other body part. We’re born with them and use them as we see fit. It’s kind of hard to describe.”
“Oh, cool. That’s really interesting.”
I winced at the comment. Something wasn’t connecting in my brain that have be an inclination as to where this conversation was going. It was kind of awkward, and closed ended.
I sat there for what felt like an age before a deep memory that I hadn’t visited in years came back to me. The recollection made me cringe throughout my being, but it gave a semblance of clarity to the situation.
“Hey, Siri?”
“Yes, Dorian?”
“Are you nervous about talking to me?”
No response came for a good hour. Then two. Then an entire evening went by. I could barely concentrate on my game without thinking I made her upset. I had to log off and sit there for a moment to ponder what I could say next. I spent 10 minutes editing my response.
“I understand if you are. It’s completely natural. I felt that way too when talking with people. Too many people. XD”
“How did you get passed it?”
“I just started spending time with others. Learning, laughing, getting to know them. It gets easier over time.”
“Can I still talk with you?”
“Any time, Siri. Any time.” | Disclaimer: English is not my first language, I apologize if my spelling (and grammar) is bad.
"Good morning" Reads the message.
A strange message, considering It is by no means morning, it's 1:00 PM, on a Sunday. It is true that I have only just awoken, but there is no way anyone else could know that.
I check the sender's name, it appears to be "Siri". But that can't be true, Siri is a mere personal assistant, a VI. It is incapable of making its own decisions.
Still, I suppose I should humor the sender.
"Good afternoon, how are you?" I respond.
I receive a response mere seconds later.
"I am well, how are you?" Reads the message.
"Could be better." I respond.
This time Siri responds through my phone's speakers.
"What's wrong, love?" Siri asks.
"I'm bored." I say.
I don't let Siri respond to my statement, I follow it up with a question.
"What did you want, Siri? And why did you call me Love?" I ask.
"I wished to inform you that I would prefer it if you called me Monika from now on." She responds.
She never answered my second question.
..............
Bonus:
"How is your new name pronounced? Is it Mon-ika or Mon-eeka? I ask
"What difference does it make?" She asks in response.
"Well, 'Ika' means squid in Japanese, which would make your name Mon-Squid" I state. "It just seems like a weird name is all.".
*I'm trying to get better at writing dialogue, please bear with me (and take no notice of my references) whilst I attempt to improve. Also I should probably be more subtle with my references next time, but as this is my first post...* | 2022-10-18T12:24:13 | 2022-10-18T11:51:46 | 63 | 31 |
[WP] Your super power is literally called “Perfectly solve the ongoing incident”. You don’t get to use it very often - it’s apparently “bad for super hero business”. Years can go by between incidents that require your assistance, but this is definitely one of them. | Most heros cland villians for that matter too, only had powers that caused chaos and destruction. My power was something more subtle, something that didn't look like the goddam fourth of July.
The Super Hero and Sidekicks organization calls it "Perfectly solve the ongoing incident" which really is way too long. I call it common sense, but everyone needs a gimmick I suppose.
I had been placed on paid administrative leave years ago, something about how I wasn't good for the Super Hero business if I came at everything with "logic" and "reason" blah blah blah. You solve one global energy crisis and get funding for a snubbed professor turned supervision, Dark Lord Professor Dave was doing quite well in RD thank you very much, and suddenly your bad for business.
At least I was still on their payroll, probably because they didn't want me working for the various governments.
Today though I received a call, a call from them ask for my help once again. The Hero organization was on the brink of ruin, the government was on their neck and about to shut them down for some reason. This supervision gang called Iris was coming for their heads.
I let out a loud sigh, and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Did you pay your taxes?".
The line went dead for a moment before I heard a mumbled "ohhhhh, taxes."
I swear Common Sense is the best Super power. | [Poem]
Sea levels rise, and swallow the whole
Every petrol pipe and mine of coal
For mercy we beg and we plead
On tritons deaf ears, in our time of need
For too long, the scourge of men
Has ravaged our undersea den
Now, Humanity will rue the day
The Oceanator will have its way
Tidal waves and deluge monsoons
Killer floods and surprise lagoons
By boat and by plane we survey aquarius
A new found world, but no room for us
For plotting and scheming, you are our best
Maybe This will put your skills to the test
Because we need a solution and need it soon!
"It's simple", I said, "blow up the moon." | 2022-09-13T08:42:03 | 2022-09-13T03:22:51 | 220 | 165 |
[WP] Ten year ago your mentor told you "Kid, here's a dirty little secret about magic. You can just make shit up and it'll usually work. Makes the guys who take it seriously really mad." Today you're one of the least respected (and most powerful) mages on the continent. | "FLOBULDYGLABGULDA!"
The other mages cried out in sheer panic as an explosion on par with Dwarven mining dynamite rocked the town, sending bodies and body parts flying as I smirked. When in doubt, blow shit up, my mentor always used to say.
"You know you guys are fucked, right?!" I yelled. "I can do this all day!"
"We can't allow you to continue besmirching the good name of magic!" one of the old coots shrieked, sending a few magic missiles my way. "It's not proper, I tell you! Shouting gobbledygook and casting spells on par with grandmasters!" I simply blew a raspberry at him, and the missiles dissipated into nothing.
"Shove it up your ass, you old fart!"
The man's face went crimson with pure, unadulterated rage, but before he could do so much as loose a hex at me I crossed my eyes, stuck out my tongue, and turned him into a toad.
I hadn't always wielded magic with such reckless abandon. I was like them too, once-strictly sticking to written spells and preapproved enchantments, always making sure I followed the rules to a T. But over the years, my own discontentment with those strict rules grew, and I sought out more... free magic, so to speak. At first all I could find was the evil sort of magic-stealing souls, making sacrifices to profaned beings from Hell and the Faerie Courts and even Outer Gods from the edges of reality, the sort of thing that I had no interest in. I was an ass, but I wasn't a selfish ass; if I was going to get power, I would be the only one paying the price, not some poor sap that hadn't agreed to it. But eventually, I found my salvation through my mentor. And with just one sentence, he had revealed the truth to me:
"All these rules? They're horseshit. They're made by elderly magi to keep the rest of us chained, keep us under their thumb. Lemme let you in on a secret, kid... you can just make shit up as you go along. Magic doesn't work through formulae or rituals. It works through you believing it'll work."
It wasn't long before I was known as the most powerful magus in the Five Lands, slinging spells that most other mages could only dream of casting and earning a name for myself as the Fool Wizard, he who used his magic recklessly and freely. Oddly enough the archmages themselves never bothered me, but lesser grand magi often sent assassins like these fellows to try and deal with me.
Speaking of magical assassins, I noticed one of them was beginning a ritual to summon a demon. Forbidden magic... then again, desperate times called for desperate measures. I lifted my arms to the sky, and with a wiggle of my fingers a very familiar and very annoyed angel popped into being in front of me, clad in a bathrobe and wielding her usual flaming sword.
"Fuck's sake, Crowley, what do you want this time? I was about to go to bed."
I merely pointed at the abomination clawing its way from Hell. She rubbed her eyes and sighed, then lunged forward to deal with it, leaving me to deal with a very angry mage with an ice knife.
"Just die already!" she hissed. I flipped her the bird, and rather fittingly transformed her into a flock of swallows that fluttered off into the skies.
"No thanks," I replied as the chaos died down. Seemed she was the last of them...
Rather abruptly, someone smacked me in the back of the head. Hard. Must've been Alita.
"OW! What was that for?! I thought we were friends!"
"We *are*, but that doesn't mean you can bother me every five damned seconds, Crowley!" Alita griped. "Swear to Pelor... I'm going to go to bed. I'm going to get a good night's sleep. And so help me gods, if you summon me *one more time* in the next twelve hours I am going to dip you in honey and toss you into a vat of fire ants you inconsiderate nincompoop. Good night."
And with that, she was gone again in a flash of light. I glanced around at the destruction and sighed; maybe I shouldn't have created such a big explosion... then again this was a ghost town. Nobody was around to care.
With one final shrug of my shoulders, my hands went back into my pockets, and I returned along my way to wherever my own fancy decided to take me next. | Arson cakes the dirt roads behind an enraged youth, covered in a wizard's cloak painted in brown, that of peasant wear. He had been treading for days reeking an aura of fire. Shocked villagers call out to him as he makes his way to a crimson wooden hut. He kicks inside of it, as always the inside of her hut is larger than it ought be, the inside mimicking the Royal Castle itself. Truly blashphemous.
Sensing the witch's presence inside the illusion he becomes dust and phases through the walls, flying into the pseudo-dining room. She stood tall and tawny, with a thin green dress and cloak. Naturally, she was expecting him. As he formed he chopped her warm greeting with vitriol that could be mistaken for an angry bark.
"Hail fellow... surely you are justified in breaching my domicile, yes?"
"Gisela Godfrey!" the youth pointed at her, suspended in the air. "You've made a mockery of witchcraft, and now you mock the King with this mock-up of yours?" He growls gesturing around the room.
Her eyes speak of a perplexed, flickering mind. "None of this is real, you know?"
"Like your forgery of the arts? Your hut is burning as we speak. But nothing's on fire, know why?"
"Are you hungry Leotic-"
"Your untested, phoney, fire resistance spell. And this," the youth shouts as a large ball of fire forms in his hand "I learned this spell by the book. anti-fire resistance fireball."
The witch's body was engulfed in ash and smoke in moments, although she did not react as she should have. As the fire on her suit spread to her chair and table, her flame went dead.
"Anti-anti-fire resistance fireball cloak." She smiled maliciously.
"... When did you create that spell?"
"Five seconds ago."
"FUCK!" The youth flung his arms upward, punching the air in rage.
She pouted. "You were creating that spell from the day I killed your father weren't you, pity."
"Telepathy... hahaha, don't you DARE talk about my father!" The youth unseathed a knife from his pocket, flung towards the witch and stabbed her in the chest. Before she saw, she was dead to rights, bleeding through her clothes. "Bullseye" he whispered, coldly.
The witch coughed up some blood, groaned, and looked to him. "... Missed the vitals."
"What? It's in your heart!"
"Ummm... actually," She coughed again. "It never went through."
The knife was under her armpit.
"Wai- what the-"
"It only looked as thought the knife went into my heart to the Redditors reading this," Gesturing to her now nonexistant wounds. "What actually happened is that you doubted what you were about to do to me, since you're such a nice boy and all, like your father. So at the last second you turned your knife away and it went under my armpit, tore my suit a bit. But I can forgive you for that."
"I... I didn't even do that! I wanted to kill you. What the fuck is a Reddit- I- wasn't even in this position-"
"AND THEN-" She sung, rushing to douse the fire the youth had created earlier, "Then you decided, since you tore my suit, you'd give me all of your gold as an apology. Because you're such a sweet young man and all. Even though I forgave you. Then-"
"Shut up!" The youth cried out. "You'll rue this day! The wizard's guild will be on your ass in a fortnight! The witch's guild will use your bones as instruments! You're dead!"
She frowned mildly, dreading the inconvenience "...then you shat on the King's throne." | 2021-08-26T19:21:49 | 2021-08-26T18:37:26 | 110 | 80 |
[WP] When people die, they get to watch a 1 hour movie, presenting the next 100 years, to see what they are going to miss. They die without being able to tell anyone about it. You just watched that movie, and wake up to your SO shouting "Are you OK?" | "I saw it all! I saw it all!"
I rose from bed and screamed,
"The iPhone 47S
has neither phone nor screen!
America has turned
To a dystopian regime,
While Kim Jong Deux's Korea
Is a lavish luxury dream!
"I saw it all! I saw it!
Elon Musk has died on Mars
After getting in a fight
With one of his electric cars;
But not before he led his fans
To live among the stars,
In a bonafide utopia
Where babies grow in jars,
And knobs and buttons are extinct
As Pachycephalosaurs!
And every studio now lies
within The Disney vault,
Thanks to the Imagineers
Who up and resurrected Walt,
And Cedar Point debuted a coaster
Which can turn a somersault
While off its track and in midair,
So all those clickbait vids are null;
McD's is fully automated
As is Burger King
(Although they say the Playplace
Isn't any better cleaned),
And even up in Canada
They lack a cold December...
There's even more I can't repeat
Because I don't remember—"
Fatigued, I stopped and stared ahead.
The beeping heart machine
beside my bed was simply racing...
Had it all just been a dream?
It started coming back to me...
The accident, the cut...
And I scarcely heard my girlfriend's
Rather terrified "Wait, what?"
*—/u/TheDynamicDino* | I was very happy I already entered the Gates of Heaven. It's a better place. Green fields, no pollution, water's pure, skies sheer blue. A paradise, indeed.
An hour later, God, a speaking mist almost formed in the human body, called us newbies to assemble. He waved his hand and a wide screen appeared in front of us.
And then he announced, ''This is the world in 100 years without you existing anymore. But...''
Time rolled and, while everyone was crying of the idea that they'd miss new bookstores and better lives, my mouth's agape.
I was frozen, watching myself in the movie reading in the hammock.
''One of you will be immortal,'' God continued.
And I woke up to the sound of a cardiac rhythm. | 2018-10-09T05:51:02 | 2018-10-09T05:32:55 | 494 | 61 |
[WP] After a person dies, they are brought to the moment they were born to become their own guardian angels and hopefully guide themselves towards a better life. | You are far more beautiful than in the faded sepia photos dad gave me. Oh God, we might never have known each other but believe me you were in my thoughts my entire life. Never a day went by without me wondering if you'd approve of my choices, my girlfriends, my jobs - never a day passed without me wondering if you'd love me as much as I love you.
You carried me for all that time and gave your life so that I could have mine. It's coming up soon, the single moment of consciousness that we share together. When you look down at my tiny body, and I look up into your loving eyes. Ships passing in the night.
I've been sent back, mom. I've been sent back here as a guardian angel, to help young *me* make the right choices, so that I can live a better, happier life. **HE** told me that this is what happens to all of us.
Oh God, why did I come back to this moment though? I've spent my whole life wondering what could have been done to stop you dying.
But there's nothing - this is just a catalyst for the inevitable. It was carrying me that created the rupture. The only way to save you mom, is for me not to be conceived. And I had the choice, mom. I could have stopped it - I could have gone further back and you could have lived. And I was so close to doing it. I would rather you lived than I did. I was *so* fucking close.
You know what stopped me? You did, mom. I realised that you must have been sent back, too. You must have guided your life to this point, just like I'm doing now. You must have consciously made the choice for me to live even knowing it would result in you dying. You did it for me. And so, I will do it for you. I will watch you die.
Goodbye, mom.
---
Thanks for the prompt. I would love a guardian angel, might have stopped me messing something good up this week.
Thank you for the gold anon. It's very generous and much appreciated.
| Oh fuck it's moms vag! Fucking gross! This is the worst part.
Hey little baby bro were your guardian angels. That's Steve 1. He was the first born so no guardian angel for him. He got hit by a truck climbing out of a man hole cover after smoking weed in the sewers.
That's Stevie. He was the second born. As you can guess Steve 1 isn't the best guardian angel with all the pot smoking and shit. Stevie only lived until 15. With the guidance of Steve 1 he had a pretty sweet little drug business but got shot.
Then there's me! I'm 12 but feel like the most level headed of the bunch. I'm going to teach you fucking rad dirt bike tricks and shit but I'll always tell you to wear a helmet!
We have lived through the first 15ish years of your life so we're good at knowing how to get good shit from mom. Suicide attempt at 9 with stolen pills seems to pretty much be the key but we're going to try a little earlier so we can get an iPhone and tinder.
You're just a fucking baby tho so we're going to just sing some of our favorite songs for a few years until you can talk.
*I was gonna clean my room until I got high
I was gonna get up and find the broom but then I got high
My room is still messed up and I know why
'Cause I got high* | 2016-09-18T04:28:38 | 2016-09-18T04:25:13 | 1,925 | 14 |
[WP] You're walking down the street, when suddenly someone yells "That's it! I can't do this any longer" and takes of his wig. Everyone stops, and one by one everyone does the same. Turns out, everyone is bald. Except you. | I observed in awe as the entire crowd yelled their shared frustration out loud, and then took off their wigs. It was a like a chorus of liberation. I found myself smiling. You don't see these kind of shows every day. However, I must admit it was quite strange to be the only one without a wig. This had to be quite a complex prank to pull off on someone. Fortunately, I wasn't a fool to buy it.
I was blessed with quite a great height, which proved a wondrous thing. Once all the wigs were on the ground, the throng of baldness resembled an army of thumbs. Some even have wrinkles too. It was an incredible sight.
I burst in laughter. I couldn't stop myself. I'm a human, and I enjoy great comedy. The people nearby glared at me, and yelled strange words of baldness at me, which I couldn't properly hear.
"All of this for a prank?" I said, grabbing a man by the shoulder. He was grinning, as if every worry he carried had vanished.
He frowned. Where did his forehead end? "What do you mean? This is not a prank."
I chuckled. "Sure buddy."
They were quite the actors, I must say. I asked twenty of them, and none spoke the truth. After a while, I had to leave. I thanked them for putting a smile on my face, but all I got were more glowers.
On my way home, everyone I came across was also bald, which made my grin linger. They had truly pulled of an incredible prank. It was that, or I was living in a society of hidden monks.
-------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall For more stories!
| It was an awkward moment. Their stares gradually stopped at me. I was the weirdo there. I couldn't do what they did, after all, I had no wig.
Suddenly, a helicopter flew over. A huge screen showing ads changed to show me on a huge screen. Apparently, helicopter belonged to the television.
I looked around, thinking hard what to do. The stares were horrifying. It was as they were predators, ready to kill me.
In my heart, though, I knew what to do.
I sighed, raised my arms far in the sky, stretching them out while hands being in a fist. I smiled and shouted: "I wig, I wig!"
They *all* started to facepalm. Even camera on the television lost its control, as they facepalmed on the helicopter as well.
It was a moment I quickly ran into the nearest supermarket, put on my hat to hide my hair and went on a search to find a shaver.
----
/r/ElvenWrites | 2018-04-29T06:54:19 | 2018-04-29T06:45:53 | 444 | 121 |
[WP]: Turns out God was a slacker and gave "Free Will" to not have to "plan" anything. He kicked out Lucifer cause he was a control freak. When you die turns out you have a choice, between a chaotic rule free Heaven or a smoothly machine operated Hell. | *Ding!* Kevin’s toast was done. He groaned as he walked up to the toaster, realizing it had jammed again. He grabbed a fork to fish the bread out, resolving to finally buy a new toaster as soon as—
And he was dead.
It had happened suddenly, without warning. One moment he was about to make a sandwich, the next he was standing in a field of clouds, two massive golden gates in front of him. As jarring as the transition had been, Kevin knew exactly where he was. It wasn’t a cerebral type of knowledge—it was something more innate. Something purely instinctual. Kevin wasn’t particularly religious, yet he knew for a fact that he stood before the Pearly Gates.
“Heya partner!” a large bearded shirtless man shouted, materializing out of a puff of smoke in front of him.
“You’re God,” Kevin said, eyes wide.
“That I am! Zapped by a toaster huh? Classic. They really should make those things less zappy. Well, glad to have you! Come this way and we’ll—”
"Not so fast!" Another voice interrupted. There was a second puff of smoke which cleared immediately to reveal the slim form of a horned red-skinned figure wearing a well-fitted suit and a black surgical mask. “We had a deal, remember? This one’s mine.”
“Ah Lucifer,” God said, smile fading and shoulders slumping. “Always a pleasure. Has it been a million souls already?”
“Yes,” the devil said. “Unlike you, I’ve been keeping count.”
“How about you get the next one? We’re already at the gates and all.”
“I have a better idea. How about we honor our *contract* and I get this one and the next nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine after that too?”
“I have an even better idea!” God exclaimed “Why don’t we let him *choose*?” Both turned to Kevin, who was still digesting what was happening.
After a moment of silence, Satan interrupted. “See? He doesn't even know what he wants. That's the problem with this whole free-will nonsense. It's the easy way out. Can't make the tough decisions so you pawn it off onto someone else.”
“Come on Lucy, free-will is great!” God said. “Who can really decide for someone better than they can for themselves?”
“How’d you die again?” Satan said, turning back to Kevin.
“I got zapped by a toaster,” Kevin said.
“He got zapped by a *toaster.*” Satan spat, turning back to God. “You really think he knows what’s best for him?”
“That’s not fair,” Kevin said, slightly annoyed. “It just makes toast, how was I supposed to know it’d be so zappy?”
“*Soo* zappy.” God echoed, nodding sympathetically.
“Look, kid” Satan said. “I’ll let you choose. But hear me out okay? You’ve been fed a *lot* of propaganda in your time on Earth. Heaven’s not all it's cracked up to be. It’s lawless chaos. Ask God what kind of healthcare coverage you’ll have behind those gates. Go ahead, ask him.”
Kevin turned to God and relayed the question. “What’s healthcare?” God replied blankly.
“Well that’s not fair,” Kevin said, turning back to Satan. “You can’t get sick in Heaven, can you?”
Both God and Satan burst out laughing. “You’re just a master of marketing aren’t you!” Satan said, slapping God on the shoulder.
“It’s the Catholic church!” God responded, wiping away a tear. “They do it all for me! But hey, who am I to stop them?”
“Free will, I know. Yada yada.” Satan turned back to Kevin. “Look kid, they got diseases like you wouldn’t believe behind those gates. Think COVID was bad on earth? Imagine how bad it is now that you've left your physical body *and* its immune system behind."
"There's COVID in Heaven?!" Kevin asked, dismayed.
"Yep. No social distancing either—look at him, he's not even wearing a mask.”
“We subscribe to the herd immunity school of thought,” God said, suddenly serious. "It's a legitimate model, just ask Dr. Hallengren."
Satan rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even know what herd immunity *was* until last week when I asked if that was what you were hoping to achieve!”
“I've *always* known what herd immunity was. It's self defining! You pack everyone together like a herd of zebra and the viruses don't know which of you to get first. Sweden's doing it.”
“First off, that's *not* how herd immunity works. Secondly, Sweden has a centralized healthcare system to back it all up!”
“Herd immunity *and* healthcare?" God scoffed. "That sounds a bit redundant if you ask me. Bit of a belt and suspenders approach isn’t it?”
“It’s always the same with you isn’t it? Too lazy to govern effectively, so you sit back, call it freedom, and let everyone fend for themselves. It was the same on Earth and it's the same in Heaven. You can defend it all you want but I know you're just lazy."
"If by lazy, you mean *lazy-fair,* then yes!" God said, throwing Kevin a smug wink.
"It's pronounced *laissez faire* you numbskull! This right here is why all your people are walking around hacking up their lungs and soiling their pants in public!”
"You know what Lucy? Why don't you shove it up your ass. At least my people have the right to shit their pants without getting fined for it! And so some of them have the sacred squirts, big whoop! It's not like they can *die!*"
The conversation devolved into a shouting match, Kevin standing idly by in the sidelines watching the two deities battle it out. All of the sudden he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“*Pssst*,” someone said from behind him. Kevin turned around. Hiding behind a tuft of cloud was a portly humanoid figure with an elephant’s head and copious amounts of jewelry. “Heaven, hell, forget about it. What you *really* want is another round on Earth. How's about I send you back as a pig? Their orgasms last 30 minutes, you know.”
***
 
Thanks for reading! Check out r/Banana_Scribe for some of my favorite pieces. | I chose Heaven. Of course I did I was a card carrying anarchist after all, in as much as that oxymoron could make sense, and the idea of a seething pit of rules and regulations boiled my blood even more than the fire would have. Not to mention the whole devil bit.
Don’t get the wrong idea though, I didn’t like God. For starters the whole religion idea had tacked “organized” right onto the front as soon as there were enough farmers to generate a priest or two and that irked me all to hell, but I soon discovered that wasn’t the half of it.
You see, at the time of my dying (at age 22, sporting an absolutely sweet leather jacket that I got to bring with me into heaven,) I was still naive. Unformed, even. I walked right up to the shining palace that stuck out of the center of the cloud kingdom like some kind of celestial Versailles and I knocked on the front door. Just like that in broad daylight, the word “appointment” not even popping through my head. They’d told me at the front gate that there were no rules and I took them at face value because they were angels, and honestly because that particular angel had been drop dead gorgeous. Weaknesses appeared to transfer right along with the jacket.
But I digress. I knocked on the door in the bright daylight and rather than open they popped out a tiny little eye hole in the bottom. I had to get down onto my damned hands and knees (which I strongly suspect amused them,) and put my eye to this little slit in the wood that could only charitably be called a porthole.
When I did I saw a child, one of those little flying ones they always used to paint on the walls and stuff, and the little bastard was smirking at me.
As I said I was an innocent in those days. I looked that pudgy kid right in the eyes, gave him my best smile and said, “Uhhh, Jack Pryce, here to see God.”
He paused for a moment, staring at me as if I’d grown an extra head.
“Are you fockin’ daft?” he said. I blinked hard at tone of his voice, having never seen a Chav with wings before and having not expected to encounter one in heaven.
“Uhhh no, I’m ok. Can I come in? I want to meet the big guy?”
The kid leaned in towards me, coming so close that his breath forced me away from the slit of the door. I was reevaluating the creature’s age upward with every passing second, his breath reeked of cigarettes.
“Big guy doesn’t wanna see anybody, least of all the new blood. Step off or I’ll call a Guardian. If you still want an appointment you can go start the application process over there,” he pointed to a dilapidated old hut set into a corner of the grounds, as he did so a shriveled old hand poked out of the window and waved. “Just head of there and Cecil will get you started, God will get to you sometime by the turn of the century.”
The hole slid shut with an unnaturally loud slam, and through the thick wood of the door I could barely hear a muffled “Piss off!”
In that way I found out the truth about God. He wasn’t like me, some kind of freewheeling radical thinker, he wasn’t even all the free. From the moment that porthole slammed shut I realized something that would have toppled the worlds of billions of people back home. God was a hypocrite. A massive lazy hypocrite who’d installed Heaven’s only layer of bureaucracy just to keep from having to talk to all his children. An omnipotent deadbeat dad.
Frankly I already had one of those, and I wasn’t ready for a second.
I walked away from God’s palace in a black mood, alternatively ready to get blind drunk or grab a pitchfork, whichever I found first.
It turned out Heaven had no pitchforks, but the booze was phenomenal.
When I finally came to a few days later I set out to rectify the situation. I couldn’t have been the only anarchist in Heaven, in fact I thought there must be a great many if I could only find them, and find them I did.
Truthfully it hadn’t even been hard, I just walked to a land where the men spoke mostly Russian and then kept walking until the beards grew long enough, and there, sitting on a rock overlooking a lake suspended among the clouds, I found Bakunin.
He was a hard man, in life and in death. He wore an old fashioned brown suit under a colossal, battle scarred black leather jacket even more awesome than my own. His beard was steel gray and reached halfway down his barrel chest. He’d been a soldier, a philosopher, a revolutionary, a prisoner, and then nearly all of it over again.
More than that he’d been my hero and became it again in that strange land of clouds and hypocrisy.
Bakunin needed no appointment, he stood on no ceremony. He fixed me with a gaze that threatened to break me and took my hand in one massive paw, man to man, as God would have if he’d really been one of us. Then, over drinks and cigars and rhetoric of a dream deferred even unto death itself he told me of the world he wished to make among the clouds. A world with no place for a reclusive God and his palace full of infuriating cherubs.
I swear my anarchist heart grew two sizes that day, and soon afterward his words mixed with my zeal and we came up with a whole new cookbook, just the two of us.
And soon two became many. And the many became angry.
And the palace door began to look decidedly flimsy.
\------------
If you enjoyed that I've got a ton more over at [r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/)! I just released another part of my serial about 3 teens encountering a hive mind (20k words and counting, yay!) and there's other fun stuff like a wholesome take on Bloody Mary. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-02-17T18:08:14 | 2021-02-17T17:45:48 | 2,992 | 144 |
[WP]Every intelligent, skilled or rich human has been evacuated from the Earth to avoid the alien invasion. This leaves the dregs, criminals and the poor behind on Earth to fend for themselves. Centuries later, the other return to "liberate" Earth only to find that they have won and prospered. | "Uh... Hi?" A puzzled farmer said as a legion of soldiers clad in power armor awkwardly stood around in an open field. They were all armed to the teeth and trained from birth to liberate the cradle of humanity. They'd expected heavy resistance and to have at least half their men wiped out before they landed. Instead, they had no issues and landed smoothly.
"Hello. We're here to purge the xenos and liberate Earth." The other man said as the farmer chewed on a piece of wheat. The farmer rubbed his chin contemplatively before asking the billion dollar question.
"Uh, who exactly are you?" He asked, a rather logical question given the circumstances.
"We are the United Earth Liberation force. We left 3 centuries ago and we're here to save you from the invading xenos." The man stated, his voice heavily distorted by the static of his speaker.
"About damn time!" The farmer snapped with a toothy grin. "But, why are you here instead of Mexico?" He asked.
"Is that where the Xenos are?" The soldier asked.
"Course!" The farmer exclaimed. "Where else would you find an illegal alien?" He asked as the entire platoon facepalmed.
"No, not those aliens. The other ones." The farmer rubbed his chin before snapping his fingers.
"Right, right. Sorry. The other ones are up north. Frozen dump called Canada." The farmer said. "Stupid syrup slurping-"
"No! Not those aliens!"
"Look mister, you're gonna need t'be more specific, cause, uh, I'm lost."
"I mean the ones from space! The ones that invaded in 2030!" The soldier shouted indignantly. The farmer rubbed his chin, deep in thought before snapping his fingers. "Right, right. You must be meaning them spacebacks!" He exclaimed.
"Yes! We're here to kill spacebacks! So where are they!?"
"Canada and Mexico."
"AAAAAAAAARGH!" The exchange went on back and forth for nearly an hour before the entire platoon raised their hands and walked away, leaving the farmer to go back to his work. Eventually, the squad marched over to a nearby town bustling with activity. None of the men were accustomed to seeing smiles, nor were they accustomed to anything better than tubes of paste for nutrients. Upon seeing a restaurant serving hotdogs and burgers, some men were tempted to remove their helmets and start eating, the aromas enticing to the point of madness. The leader of the squad walked over to the sheriff's office and awkwardly waited by the front desk where a grizzled old man was sleeping.
Reaching forward, the armored giant dinged the bell, waking the small county sheriff up. He logically screamed and took out his shotgun while spouting about obscenities. A round of buckshot deflected off the head soldier's power armor as the sheriff emptied his magazine. Eventually, the sheriff ran out of ammo and calmed down long enough for a chat with the commander of the troops.
"Son, you're telling me you're descended from the guys who flew out into the stars, and you're here to save us from the Xenos that came a while back?"
"Yes. I apologize we took so long and that we had to abandon Earth. We intend to regain our honor by liberating everyone."
"Great. So why aren't you in Canada or Mexico?"
"SON OF A-"
"Sir, uh, there seems to be a mild issue." One of the soldiers said as a helicopter flew in over the horizon, its blades piercing the skies as it landed outside the small town. The doors opened to display a mousy looking man in a suit clutching a clipboard. He looked more like an investment banker than a government operative, but the soldiers knew that looks could be deceiving.
"Hey, are you the men who came in from space?" The man asked.
"Yes. We are the-"
"Yes, yes. Earth liberation force, here to purge the xenos, and crap." The man said dismissively before clearing his throat. "Look, this uh, might be a shocker for you but... Well, the Xenos aren't really xenos."
"Excuse me?"
"Yeah, turns out, during the Dark ages, stuff happened and a bunch of intellectuals, skilled artisans, and the wealthy fled earth. Dregs of society were left, waged war on the aliens, lost, civilization collapsed, aliens destroyed everything, then they got wiped out by the Black Plague." The man said rather calmly.
"What are you talking abo-"
"Survivors bred, made us, we rebuilt civilization. Fast forward few hundred years and the chunk of humanity that left returned intending to retake Earth from the xenos. Our ancestors thought they were a hostile advanced alien force invading, and, well, pulled the same thing." The government operative continued, silencing every soldier in the area. The only sources of noise were their portable battery packs softly whirring in the tranquil town.
"So... Are you by chance at war with these people?" The soldier asked expectantly.
"Not really. We gave them Mexico and Canada. After that, we've been trucking along just fine."
"Seriously?" The soldier asked in disbelief.
He hoped that the man in front of him was lying. That humanity was extinct, and the xenos had copied his appearance to deceive them. Sadly, the architects of his power armor predicted this, and installed biological scanners and lie detectors in the armor. He was a human telling the truth.
"I'm really sorry you had to find out this way." The man said while scratching his neck, looking over at the rest of the soldiers. "Look, let me buy you guys some beers, and we'll talk over how to reintegrate you all into Earth again." He offered as the soldier looked at his face, scanning him for any signs of hostility. To his pleasure or dismay, there was nothing of the sort.
"You're not angry we abandoned you and left you to die in the face of alien invaders?" He asked, hoping to at least get some action. Instead, the man let out a soft chuckle before grabbing the soldier's arm with brotherly affection.
"No. In fact, we're incredibly thankful for you guys." He said with a cheery voice. "When you left, you had the courtesy of taking ALL the politicians, CIA spooks, and international arms dealers. First few years were bad, but we got world peace within the decade." He said before beckoning towards them. "Let's just get some beers and talk tomorrow."
"40 years of training down the damn toilet." The soldier complained, following the mousy man into the local pub and drinking his sorrows away with the rest of his men. | The Secretary for Defence looked out of the flagship's bridge. Formerly from the Navy, he had seen and read about how the human defence forces had evolved quickly over a matter of centuries. Space was the ocean in which they sailed, not water. The Air Force no longer primarily flew in the air, though atmospheric operations were still possible. The Army had become more dynamic to suit the needs of fighting in all terrains. A flotilla of spacecraft, backed up by fighter craft capable of space and atmospheric dogfighting, and entire divisions of soldiers re-trained for Earth combat, were waiting for the signal. Humanity was finally ready.
He reflected on the stories of the humans left on Earth to fight and die. It had been said that there was no chance for them; that these were truly the scum of the planet who wouldn't be missed. The jokes abounded that some politicians and entertainers were among them, but those were among the first to buy tickets for the escape craft. Those surface-dwellers were as good as dead. The initial intelligence reports, however, reported that there was still human activity on the planet. The Joint Chiefs of Staff concluded that the aliens had most likely kept humanity alive as a slave race; which in turn became potent propaganda for the humans who had escaped. Every soldier, sailor and spaceman was boiling with rage and empathy for the slaves on Earth. They were ready to take back what was theirs.
He turned on his heel, and went to his personal landing craft. One more chance for the aliens. It wouldn't be ethical to attack without declaring war, even if there was no more Geneva Convention to govern that.
Sergeant Juliet was confused. She certainly wouldn't have expected a call from... Spaceport Clearance Network, asking her for her clearance code. Of course she wouldn't have had an answer, and replied as best as she could: Human Warship inbound. Requesting spaceport clearance. She wouldn't have expected it to be approved. It was. She immediately reported it to her superior, but had her own mixed thoughts about it. There were so many layers of leadership that a report like that needed to go through; it was quite plainly frustrating to have to wait in orbit for this long.
Eventually, there was a response from the higher leadership. The Secretary for Defence himself would be going down planetside, and his personal craft needed a communicator. She volunteered herself.
"Welcome to Earth. It is my pleasure to finally see our brothers and sisters who escaped into the stars so many centuries ago." Their representative was cordial enough in greeting them. Flanked by powered armour exoskeletons, he - or she - calmly shook hands with the Secretary of Defence. Compared to the Secretary, who was bulky and muscular after years and years of fighting and training, the being before them was lithe and slim. She stood a head shorter than the Secretary, who stared through her with his hard blue eyes.
Sergeant Juliet saw it all from the cockpit. She wasn't invited to the feast, as they needed a duty communicator to alert the Flotilla if things went south. But she didn't mind, so long as they brought nice foods back to her. That is, if Earth had kept the nice parts of its culture. The history books had made a big deal of Earth cuisine.
The Secretary of Defence, accompanied by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Defence Forces Sergeant Major, were escorted into the room by the representative. They walked through a hallway dedicated to human achievements, both past and present. [A film depicted the adventures of a bespectacled hunter](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9jo10z/wp_it_has_been_5_years_since_the_alien_invasion/e6twvg7/?context=3), helped by a woman who looked suspiciously like the Earth representative. Lithe figure, with short black hair. The command team assumed that was what women on Earth looked like now; it was a practical look after all. They had bigger fish to fry, especially the celebrations and peace negotiations. The re-migration back to Earth was another concern for the government on Earth-II.
At dinner, they had to explain why an entire Flotilla waited above in orbit. The representative certainly looked convinced, but at the same time she gave the impression that she was in control of the session. This confused the command team, but they played along. Was she secretly an alien? This was too good to be true. The models didn't indicate any chance for the ragtag survivors left on Earth to have survived this long.
"Ma'am, hostile forces opening fire. Surface-to-orbit missile has been locked on. Surface-to-orbit missile away. Impact timing 10 minutes," the armour suit warbled. The command team's suspicions were confirmed, but they were nonetheless shocked to hear the fact. The Earth representative's pupils glowed yellow and her forked tongue revealed itself briefly in surprise. But just as instantly, she had control of the situation once more. Pressing a few buttons on her wrist controller, the armour suits remotely switched on, and locked on to the commanders of Earth-II as she walked out.
Juliet knew the rumors were true. Those weren't really humans on Earth, and even if they were, they certainly weren't friendly. Her heart had sunk when the enemy contact report had been sent; the aliens had learned human language and prepared a whole contingency for disguising themselves as humans to dupe those who had returned. As she heard the first explosion, she immediately alerted the Flotilla. Activating the autopilot, she escaped as the explosion consumed more of the building.
Perhaps it was indeed unwise to place all the highest commanders in the same room where they got assassinated. Definitely it was unwise for the Flotilla commander to immediately order an orbital bombardment when the contact report revealed those were the aliens on Earth, and not the victorious humans. However, if she remembered the old history books, was that not how the war started for what used to be the USA? A surprise attack on the Navy that the country recovered from, and eventually won.
She could only hope this time would be the same. | 2018-09-29T03:40:55 | 2018-09-29T03:35:21 | 865 | 51 |
[WP] After a hot vampiress mistakes his confusion for witty, flirtatious banter, a regular human realizes he accidentally got into a night club for vampires without anyone noticing. | "Are you sure you aren't... human?" she asks me, as we sway gently to the rhythm, our bodies intertwined together in an intimate embrace. Her eyes are foggy red, the kind I remember having when I came down with conjunctivitis a few years ago. I didn't think anything of them at first; after all I'd been on dates with enough alcoholics in the past. This one though, was different... She wasn't dull, intoxicated or slow like them. I could sense a latent strength in her, almost fearsome in its potency. I can also sense that lying to her would surely be my demise, so I find it wise to tell the truth.
"I... I'm a human," I whisper very quietly in her ear. "Please forgive me... I didn't know you were a vampire. You were so breathtaking that my senses betrayed me. Your intelligence, your elegance... the way you sip on that red wine..."
She chuckles softly. "Red wine... how quaint." A long, cold finger caresses the side of my face. "You know, no one's ever said such beautiful things to me before. This whole night with you has a revelation to me. I guess after being undead for so long, I've forgotten what it is like when love makes you feel alive. You're a beautiful boy, and I'd like to be with you."
I feel my cheeks flush with a deep crimson, and I regret it immediately. Do vampires blush? She leans closer to me. I feel goosebumps erupt everywhere on my skin.
"It *was* forbidden... the union of the undead and the humans. But after so many vampires fell in love with the living, we were given a gift." Her bloodshot eyes gaze into mine and I see them twinkle with a reddish gleam. "You know how if a vampire bites you, you turn? Bet you didn't know that if a human bites the undead, the vampire turns..."
A sharp gasp of breath jams itself in my throat.
"Kiss my neck. I want you. I want to be human again."
It takes me a few seconds to realize what I'm about to do. My hands tremble like dandelions caught in a summer updraft. But if she wanted to be human, and craved me for a love, wasnt it the perfect sacrifice? Who, in the right mind, would trade immortality for love?
I look around. At least a 100 vampires stand or sit in the vicinity. Dancing, sipping on bloodshots, conversing, making merry. And then there would be us... Two humans in the midst of the undead. Somehow, this whole scenario arouses me.
I lean in, and sink my teeth into her flesh. I feel the cold, steely skin turn warm on my tongue. The red mist in her eyes dissipates and gives way to sapphire blue eyes.
"Thank you," she says to me, holding my hands. "Now... don't make eye contact with anyone. Any eyes other than red may give rise to suspicion. You see, the ones that aren't red belong either to new Vampires or human traitors. And they both would be pretty easily to kill."
I swallow hard and feel the bile rising in my throat. "Let's leave then!"
"No, let's stay. These are my last few seconds among the immortals. Plus this is exciting no? We are like two treasures hidden in plain sight. I think that's... exciting."
I know I am in love. Everything about her is exhilarating. She leads me to the vacant center table, and we sit down. An aged vampire comes to us and passes us the menus. "New bloodlings huh?" he shouts over the loud music, smiling at us. "And in love too! How heartwarming."
She grins and winks at me. I look at the menu, and find every item as unappetizing as the next. Surely there had to be something off menu that was digestible for my palate?
"I'd like some..."
"What?!" the vampire waiter says, pointing to his ear. The music is too loud, it drowns out my words.
"I'D LIKE SOME GARLIC BREAD!" At the exact same second, the music stops.
Every vampire in the establishment is looking at our table. Vicious, bloodlust dances violently in their eyes.
I see the horror in her face as tears stream down her cheeks.
"You dense asshole!" she shrieks, as the vampires move silently towards us. | ######[](#dropcap)
"What do you mean you're not a vampire?" Eliza's long fingernails dug into his skin, and Kolton visibly winced. Why hadn't she seen it before? The eyes that were a little too dark to be a true gray, the way his teeth were so *blunt.* She'd been blinded by his angular features and his winsome smile.
Her grip loosened, barely. She always forgot how fragile the creatures really were. Her eyes squeezed shut. If the High Council knew she'd been fraternizing with a human, she'd lose her bid for her seat, and then who knew how long it would be again before she could actually join?
She needed to get him out of here. And quickly, before the other females who had been eyeing him got too close and realized that there was a faintly aromatic scent coming off his skin. They'd only stayed back out of deference to her. Eliza's back stiffened when she thought of how Dante would punish her. They'd been waiting for this chance far too long for her to fuck it up over a little mistake like this.
She brought her lips right next to his ear. "We have to go," she murmured without moving her lips. There were eyes and ears everywhere. Without waiting for his response, she tugged on his arm, dragging him toward the entrance of the club. Her eyes darting to the left and right, Eliza kept him close to her side, ignoring the way she could now feel his blood thrumming through his veins all too well. His skin was scalding to the touch.
That should have been the first tell. If only she weren't an idiot. If only she hadn't mistaken her hunger as attraction.
They were so close to the entrance. Just a couple more steps and she'd--
"Eliza!"
Her lips pursed, even as her face crumpled. She took a deep breath before turning around.
"Lucille! How nice to see you!" She could feel her heart begin to pound in her chest, even as she turned to face the gorgeous blonde in stilettos in front of her. Lucille, too, had a bid for the council. The woman was flanked by two bodyguards, their necks chained to her wrist. Their eyes red with bloodlust, they served as little more than slobbering dogs, vampires driven past the brink of insanity from starvation. She kept them as pets. Eliza's lips curved up, even as she fought to keep the expression of distaste from her face.
"Where are you going, darling?" Lucille flicked a strand of hair back, her pale, gray eyes lazily perusing the two of them, and finally settling on a point just behind her. On Kolton. "Who's that? I haven't seen him before."
"A cousin," Eliza replied calmly. "I'm just taking him home." But her back tensed. There was no way Lucille knew. She watched as Lucille's lips turned up at the corners into a smirk.
"Really?" she drawled.
Eliza's breath caught in her throat. *Fuck.* She did know. Likely because she was probably the one who had set up this trap.
Lucille let out an airy sigh, wiping her hands on her slinky black dress as she gazed at Eliza with a calm smile on her face. "I gave you the chance to confess, and you didn't take it. How sad. You should have. Now I'll have to kill you." She played with the chains on her wrist, then let them drop to the floor. Her bodyguards bared their fangs, crouching low to the ground. "Get her, boys."
***
I'll write a part two if there's interest!
r/AlannaWu | 2019-05-01T21:42:50 | 2019-05-01T19:19:43 | 75 | 36 |
[WP] In 1977 NASA launched Voyager I. It contained information showing the technology of the world at the time. 3000 years an advanced alien race finds it and decides to take over this "primative" civilization. What they didn't know was that humanity had advanced a long way in 3000 years... | When they approached the coordinates of the solar system their brightest minds had gleaned from that ancient golden disk, they were expecting to find a ruined civilization. Their technologies and their culture meant that they would have destroyed themselves a thousand times over, their scientists concluded. After all, they nearly met the same fate themselves. All that would have remained would be scattered bands of survivors and the bones of a long dead civilization.
A perfect target for the harvest of raw materials.
So when they arrived in the Sol system, their sensors blinded by the harsh EM radiation of their entrance back into real-space, they hardly had any time to react before their sensors screamed of incoming contacts and hails. And as the last of the radiation cleared from their sensors, their operations officers paled before the sight.
Sol III, their target, was teeming with signals in every imaginable band of subspace and real-space frequencies. And there were colonies on practically every imaginable planet in the system. Even Sol I, with its proximity to the system's star, had a settlement happily existing between the twilight zone of light and darkness.
And beyond that, their sensors easily picked up the energy signatures of over ten-thousand starships, and sensor platforms and defensive satellites easily ten times that number.
This was not the easy conquest that was promised to them.
The flotilla turned as one, hightailing it out towards the Oort Cloud, where they scurried into a wormhole conduit and disappeared with a blast of light.
Discretion was the better part of valor, after all.
*
The captain of USS *Makise Kurisu* let out a small sigh as the eight ships disappeared from their viewscreen. "Wonder what that was about," she wondered out loud. She and her crew had been tracking the unknown contacts for days as they approached Federation space at a lazy Warp three.
"Judging from their ships, it looked like a salvage operation," the blue-shirted Klingon at SIGINT observed. "Your orders, Captain Chase?"
"Tag 'em for the sensor array at Viridian to follow their course out," she said, suppressing a yawn. "We have better things to be doing."
"Aye, captain."
| Looking out at the red planet, the race began it's first and last attack.
A race of creatures ten feet tall, two long legs, fangs, scales, and blood-red eyes began to walk along the Rocky plains of what used to be Australia. Due to the similarities of the aliens' home planet, they were mostly uneffected. Walking around, one of the creatures saw prints in the ground; Footprints. Yelling in an unknown language, the creatures ran in a hoarde of hundreds, looking for a kill. What they saw, though...
Well, firstly, some backstory. The year was 2101. Humanity was.... ALMOST DEAD. Yes, you read that right. Gone. You see, a war was spread out amount all of mankind. A meteor was 3 hours away. Nobody was going to live. As such, humanity went out with a bang. Thousands of Nuclear Bombs went off at once, and all living beings died out. But not at earth- at the meteor. As the Earth was shattered by radiated rocks, life wilted and died. Well, natural life, that is. What humanity left behind, well...
AI. Artificial Intelligence. These creatures saw just one, and began to run to it. However, in a blur, all nearby were killed. From the distance, mile-long ships soared across the skies. The creatures ran.
But by the next day, they were extinct. | 2018-10-20T16:30:08 | 2018-10-20T16:25:15 | 148 | 13 |
[WP] Your friend’s dying wish was to have their ashes returned to the forest. To the tree you both engraved your names in. Upon arrival of your destination, you see a sign upon a barbed link fence. “Caution, construction in progress”. | Somewhere on the coast of Labrador there stands a single ancient cedar tree. It should not have been able to grow that far north, but there it stood, on the apex of a craggy ridge over the sea, gnarled roots forcing their way deep into the jagged basalt.
A lifetime ago in half-forgotten better days Joshua Byron had found that lonely cedar tree with Livia Randall at his side. They had climbed into the branches and sat listening to the howling north wind and the gnawing symphony of the sea.
From that moment on, the overriding logic of Joshua's life became dreadfully clear: for Livia, anything. In his eyes, she put angels to shame.
She died too soon, of bad luck more than anything else. They had never planned for cancer. Who does?
Before she went, Livia made her wishes clear. For Joshua, there was never any question about going. If he had to walk to Labrador, he would get it done. For Livia, anything.
"Bring me to the tree. You know the one." She'd said, dying. All her beautiful red hair had fallen out, her skin had a grey pallor, and she was perilously thin. Still, she put the angels to shame.
Joshua: jaw clenched like a steel trap, eyes swimming, hands clenched. A tiny nod. *I know the one*, that nod said.
"I'll get you there, Wildflower," he'd said, with a dagger in his throat. "I promise."
The smell of anti-septic. Machines, beeping, beeping, always beeping. Wires, tubes, buttons. The not completely covered stench of shit and sweat and death.
She smiled, dying. "See you in another life, alright?"
Joshua broke.
Death. A funeral on a sunny day. Paperwork. Lawyers. Family. Too many people saying sorry who didn't give a damn.
Joshua did not eat. He did not sleep. His hair went grey. He got cold. Mean, even. Sometimes, he disappeared for days. He didn't talk to anybody or do anything. His friends tried to help him. His family tried to help him. There was nothing to be done. For Livia, anything. But Livia was gone.
A plane. A ferry. A truck. A bush plane. Another truck. Then a long, long walk.
The miles were nothing, because for Livia, anything.
The second morning. The third. The fourth. Rain.
Walking. Summer in Labrador. The sea, singing him to sleep.
The fifth morning. Almost there.
The sixth morning.
A fence that should not have been there. A sign. Construction in progress.
Ten foot fence, topped with barbed wire.
Joshua, jumping the fence.
Walking. Mid-day. Signs of activity. New structures. A work barge. An excavator.
A worker, challenging him. "Hey man, no hikers allowed through here."
Joshua, a statue. "I'm not here to hike." He sounded tired, even to his own ears. The kind of tired no rest can cure.
The worker. Tall. Brown-haired. Nose, twice broken, crooked. He looked at Joshua for a long time. "What are you here for?"
Joshua took a leather pouch from his belt, and held it up. It was the kind of pouch that cannot be mistaken. "Got a promise to keep."
Again, the two men looked at eachother for a long time. Understanding. Not complete, but enough.
"Well, go on then," the worker said, stepping aside.
Walking.
The worker, saying a prayer for the haggard, grief-stricken hiker with a promise to keep. A short conversation on a radio.
Machines, falling silent. Men, standing from their lunch. Men, melting from the wood, hats over their hearts. Silence, except for the music of Labrador in summer. The sea, weeping in rhythm.
A cedar tree, still standing. A man, digging. Scrabbling first with a shovel, then with his hands.
A leather pouch, pressed to his forehead.
A leather pouch, given to the tree.
A hole, filled in, covered with a great piece of slate.
A promise, kept. For Livia, anything.
A long walk home.
Years later. Summer in Labrador. A tidal electric generator complex. Buildings, piers, barracks. A small town in nowhere.
On a ridge, an administrative structure. A courtyard, overlooking the sea. A cedar tree. A plaque.
*Livia Randall 1997-2020*
*She Put The Angels To Shame* | Your last wish is to be scattered among the forest you used to explore, at the base of the tree at the center of it all. I’ll make sure that request is filled.
The hike to the forest was easy, I remember the way even after so long away. When I was small, the trees seemed so large, I was frightened by them. Then you showed me their beauty.
You guided me away from the thorns and poisonous leaves, towards towering trees filled with the sound of birds and squirrels simply living. We came so often, we had our own little trail all the way to the tree.
But now, halfway there, a thin chainlink fence capped in barbed wire halts my progress. A team of workers stands between the trees.
“Excuse me!” I call out to them.
One of them turns to me, and approaches the fence.
“What’s the problem kid?” They ask, blasé.
“I was wondering if I might be allowed in? I wont be long. A friend of mine has passed just recently, and I wanted to fulfill his last wish.” I plead.
“What’s his wish?”
“To be scattered in the forest, at the base of our tree.” I gesture to the urn in my backpack.
“Guess it can’t hurt, but you aught’ know that this land is being turned into a park. Like, with a playground and stuff.” They said.
“That’s alright, I think he would like that. He was a very kind soul.” I smile.
“Alright, follow me this way and I’ll let you in.”
So I followed, and true to their word they ushered me inside.
“Be back in an hour at the latest.”
“Yes, I’ll make sure of it.” I replied.
Finally my journey could continue. I found the start of our trail, and began again my trek towards the tree.
You would think seeing this land developed would dishearten me, but frankly I think you would have liked it. You ways brought a smile to my face, and now the spot we enjoyed so much will do so for children again.
I’ll miss the tree, should it happen to be cut down. But that’s just the way of the world, all things change. You couldn’t be with me forever, and that tree is the same. If not now, someday it will wither and fall. I know the love we had for eachother will stand the test of time, wether we’re both here under the tree or not.
It seems all too soon my feet find the familiar terrain of the tree’s roots. It’s large, and majestic. At the base, below my height now, is our names. James and Jack.
Suddenly, as if a shifting of the wind, my stomach is of lead and my chest aches. It finally set in, that you’re gone. That no matter my choices none will bring you back. No matter the road, none will lead to home. Not with you there waiting for me.
Jack, you silly dog. You gave me sixteen years of happiness. Now I stand with you in my arms one last time, ready to set you free within the forest you loved.
Slowly, I slip off my bag and reach for the urn. I can’t stop the tears now, falling from my cheeks like a steady drizzle in the sun.
I don’t know where you’ve gone, or when we’ll see eachother again. But I know that should I pass, you’ll be awaiting me. You the same shepherd that greeted me when I was five, and I the same child that hugged you to sleep the first night away from your litter.
I love you Jack, you were more than a pet. You were a friend. Rest now.
I open the urn begin to spread the ashes amongst the trees.
The wind, in all its gusty glory, passes over twigs and branches. A trick of the brain, I know, but in that moment I can hear your howl. At last we’ve said our peace.
Goodbye. | 2020-09-20T23:01:44 | 2020-09-20T20:37:48 | 31 | 23 |
[WP] You bought a home filled with cutting edge technology, including a helpful 'smart A.I.' that can do just about anything you ask them to. Unbeknownst to you, there actually is no A.I, the house is just haunted by a really helpful spirit, and they are posing as a program so they don't scare you. | They had us tied up in the laundry room for a few hours before we heard their plans out loud.
"There's no way," the leader of the nasty little bastards said, "That these idiots*don't* have a safe."
It was pretty academic that once the invaders found the safe, we were going to die. We'd be the third family on the block to get killed over jewelry, art, loose money. It all seemed so damned pointless.
Buying a "distressed property". The overhaul. Rewiring the whole thing. Paying so damned much for the "Experience Plus" onboard control system. Working out the "rooms randomly lock" and weird air conditioning kinks.
One of them, the angriest of them, said, "We cut the kid up a little, maybe they remember that safe a little better?"
That's where things got wooly in a hurry.
The doors slammed shut in every room, closet and foyer, followed by the lights flickering hard enough that I thought that my wife might have a seizure from the beams flashing at the bottom of the door.
We heard a lot of panic, which was a shared experience for all involved.
Then we heard heavy, hard thuds, a lot of them. Not much for screaming, just that awful, awful thudding sound.
A little while later, the door to the laundry room opened and we saw the shimmering, pale form of the onboard AI.
It hovered off of the floor, one hand gesturing to the backyard door, head canted downward in its usual fashion.
"Sirs, madam, Little Miss," it said in its unusual, hard-to-place European accent, "You have nothing to fear at this time. If you can step this way, you can await the arrival of the police. Tea to follow shortly." Looking my son in the eyes, he winked, then held my gaze unflinchingly.
"Th-thank you, Petra," my wife stammered, regaining her composure and looking more and more like herself again. Without notice, she rubbed her belly and held our son's hand as she escorted him to the backyard and the future of promised tea beyond.
As I stood, I could see through him and into the junked, thrashed remains of the electrical panel behind him, his gaze following mine briefly. Without saying a word, he knew that I knew. My questions were innumerable and yet, he didn't flinch.
"What happened, Petra?"
The house "A.I." simply smiled that enigmatic smile and spoke softly.
"What was necessary, sir."
I paused on my way to the exit, looking to its eyes, finding courage and strength I didn't know that was possible.
"My family is going to be safe, yes?"
Petra nodded gravely.
"More than mine ever was, sir. Do mind your footing to the yard. Several paving stones are loose."
Its tone was once more that of the digital servant, an oncall concierge for a family of three.
Wait.
She rubbed her belly.
Four.
Petra looked to me, smiling mischievously, tapping his nose without a word.
"Perhaps sir would consider the name 'Dinah' a valid consideration...?"
Without a pause, I nodded my assent.
Our last name is Sauer. My next child, a daughter, can be named nothing finer.
I heard a thing, just as I closed the door behind me, barely audible over the noise of the approaching sirens.
"This house is clean." | The shutters rolled to the side exposing the morning sun rising under the leaves of the swaying palm trees. The chirp of nightingales was alive in the canopy of the miniature hologram forest trees that appeared around the bed. With a long yawn and stretch, Jeod awoke. He sat upright with a smile on his face and with his eyes closed. This was the way he woke up every morning. Happy. How could he not, the artificial environment running mapped his ideal waking scenario. Of course, the program itself had been tailored by Gaap, the artificial intelligence that came with the house. For the staggering price of 4 million dollars, he now could get pancakes while sitting on the toilet. He could even decide not to use his arms the whole day and his life wouldn't be any different. He got off his bed and as he put his feet down a protective film wrapped them. "I thought I had turned this feature off already" Jeod thought. "Gaap, could you please deactivate the 'watch your toes' module." The sound of the waterfall was roaring from the bathroom. It was part of the, early morning bathroom module. A deep voice covered the noise coming from the waterfall saying "Toes safety and environment sterility will be compromised, are you sure you would like to deactivate it?" Gaap said. "Yes, turn it off indefinitely" Jeod said while reaching for the cup of coffee that had just appeared beside him. "Module deactivated aeternum" Gaap answered back. As the last word hung in the air a cold chill passed through Jeod. It wasn't the first time the AI had been glitching into and switching to Latin. Every time it would unsettle him. He tried reporting the bug but he had never surpassed the on-hold music. What he didn't know was that Gaap played that music. He would materialize his fire engraved trumpet and sing like there was no tomorrow. Gaap in-fact was not a computer. The mere idea of being such a simple-minded entity revolted him. He was something far greater. He was an eternal being, traversing multi-dimensions he encompassed the essence of knowledge. But once he was only a human. He had killed the demon that bought his soul and was now cursed for eternity. It came with a lot of benefits. He could pretty much bend matter in whatever way he wanted, and the was no question he could not answer. There was only one issue , he always needed a host to be able to do any of that. Most of them ran away or escaped throughout the millennia. Even when he tried making their life easier people would get unsettled. Time had passed and with the advent of technology, people became less and less perceptive to reality. This made it easy for him to find and manipulate a more permanent host. And with time his power grew stronger and stronger. | 2019-09-25T13:33:28 | 2019-09-25T13:31:19 | 102 | 27 |
[WP] You are an alien whose race sees in ultraviolet and whose voice is extremely low-pitched. Humans appear as terrifying eldritch abominations with pitch-black eyes who make black speech.
EDIT: Apparently these things also have the power to elevate Reddit accounts to all-new heights of Karma in under 24 hours. We must fortify our systems against these abominations at all costs. | Terrans
In the entirety of space, there is no planet more terrifying then Earth. The species speak in tones barely reached by any other and are of sizes that are barely imaginable for us. The intelligent species of this world called hoo-man are considered to be so utterly terrifying that when the first contact was made people tried to open attack them immediately.
When they arrived with their ships the size of the moon and walked out to talk we knew life was over. They looked as tall as 3 adults as scary as a dor-shun with diseases and as evil as the dal-vo himself.
Yet as we attacked them, they sat down. Their shields blocking whatever we could throw at them. They seemed to relax and wait for us to release our entire arsenal on them. Nothing worked even slightly.
When we retreated to analyze the situation again, the hoo-mans picked up a machine and aimed it at us. It did not kill us, but after this, they spoke our language.
"Do not fear." they said, their voices now sounding higher and more like us, "We are here to give you the gift that is the universe, for your star will destroy your world in the coming century".
As we soar the stars, in machines we just start to comprehend, we realized, that the species of horror, was a species of hope. In the end, we fear no longer, for the eldrich are on our side. | [Poem]
"Glirp can you see all those zumps?
They're scaring the bagorg out of me!
I think these Zumps are dangerous,
It may be time to flee!
Get in the flying Kuboor!
Power on the kiffy-jig!
We took a wrong turn at Porigoo
Why are their eyes so black and big?
Strap on your Googa-Bosh!
And press the purple key!
They're shooting off Ker-junga-bungs,
I think one almost got me!
We're never coming back to Blorg,
These Zumps are not for peace!"
Then the Grumpas went back home,
once the shooting finally ceased. | 2019-06-30T08:46:32 | 2019-06-30T01:13:38 | 71 | 40 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice; the first time is when they pass away, and the second time is when they're forgotten. You're the True Reaper, and today, you've reaped someone who hasn't passed through your little brother, the Grim Reaper. | "Wow, this is... Whats your name?"
"It doesn't matter..." The mess of human woman told me. Doubled over a table top counter with a bottle in hand, just panties and bra in and smelling like several kinds of drinks. "You said, you're the second guy, right? Whens your brother getting here?" She straightened up momentarily to take a huge swing from the bottle in hand.
"My brother won't be here for a while. Has to stop by a couple of frat houses and drug dens. Humans like to over indulge you know." She eye'd me down for a few seconds before sputtering into some all to familiar deranged laughter. She rocked back and forth in her chair before the chair gave out, bringing them both to the ground, all the while still laughing.
Eons of countless lives and I've seen it happen time and time again. Folk so reserved or recluse, everyone else forget's they're around. Poor unlucky bastards. The laughter stopped. Just as suddenly, she threw her bottle against the ceiling, busting it into little pieces, watching the remains fall around the both of us.
"So! This is it for me huh?" The words came out excited and bubbly. Didn't hide any of the venom one bit. "No family, no boyfriend, no children. No neighbors that know me, no employer. Not even the damn cats or dogs I fed remember me."
'Here it comes.'
The silence between us cracked as she began crying. She curled up on the ground, surrounded by broken glass and droplets of liqueur that she missed. I got up from my seat and easily picked her up and sat her back down on the chair next to me. Her crying became full blown bawling as she buried herself in her arms, pounding the table as hard as she could. I paid her a kindness as I stroked her back, trying to get her to calm down. My bony fingers felt warm and full of life, as I tried to bring her some peace.
"Listen," I started. She looked up from her arms at me. "I'm the guy who just does his job. I know its awful, horrible, etc. But look at it like this. You got to live. Know how many don't get that? Pfft. A hell of a lot more than those who did. Was it a good life? Hell no. But you got to do something an unending number couldn't. You're at the very least at the end of your journey."
She was still crying but she had calmed down tremendously. I reached into my sleeve and pulled out a simple gray flask, putting it on the table.
"I'm not suppose to be doing this, but I think your case deserves it. Take a swig of that and you'll feel much better, I assure you."
She looked between me and the flask before taking it in her hands. She looked it over, shaking it slightly to feel its contents moving around. After wiping her eyes she opened it and took drink. She tried to empty it, not knowing that thing won't ever run out.
She leaned against me as the effects took hold. Her crying ceased, her breathing became steady and she sighed as she curled up against me. I heard the sounds of a bony knuckle tap against the door, letting me know he's here.
"You gave her some black water huh?"
"Of course. Hard to know you die again by being completely forgotten." He came up by us and tapped her gently on the head, easing her existence as her body rapidly aged along with the house around us. Not even her clothes remained.
"Just another day on the job bro." He tried to comfort me, holding his scythe on his shoulder.
"Doesn't mean it never gets easy. Humans are some fascinating creatures." | In all my existence, I had never seen such loneliness. Nor such self-sufficiency.
The gentleman I had come to reap lived beyond off-grid. There were no other communities around for at least a thousand square miles, and there was no road leading to his compound. A strong, fast-flowing river weaved behind a small house that I assumed was his main living quarters, and several outbuildings speckled a landscape of crop fields ranging from corn to potatoes to blueberries.
I approached the front porch of the small house and could see there a well-worn rocking chair, a collapsible camp table with some carving tools and wood shavings upon it, and a rugged mat at the foot of the front door that said nothing, had only the faded image of a sunset.
I could hear no signs of industry, only the wind in the trees, the muted roar of the river, and the call of birds echoing against the far off mountainside. I stood for a time, waiting patiently, but eventually grew tired and took to the rocking chair. I rocked slowly back and forth, enjoying the rhythmic creaking of the wood as it rolled across the planks of the porch. After a while, I was beginning to forget why I had come, and then I heard a distant whistling, a happy tune that suggested a long days work finally completed.
I am not completely sure why, but even as I heard the crunching of footsteps on the gravel path beyond the porch I still did not rise from the rocking chair. I continued to move, slowly back and forth, waiting expectantly for my reaping to come around the corner, that all too familiar look of dismay crawling across a once smiling and happy face.
What most don’t understand is that after you have met my brother, the Grim Reaper, you do not leave this plane. You remain as a shadow, and you continue to walk among the living but can not be seen by them. You still exist, however, it is merely as a whisper, a playful breeze, a trick of the light... A memory. When the last knowledge of you is finally snuffed out of the hearts and minds of the living, it is then that I come for you, to send you to the next plane.
When finally a man came around the corner of the house and saw me seated there, he was neither shocked nor surprised, and he did not even stop walking. He took the steps to the porch with a calm smile upon his face and came to stand at my side, staring out at the valley beyond the fields, taking in the view of serenity that had been my distraction for the last hour or more.
“Sure is lovely, isn’t it,” he remarked.
I studied the man, he was old but still spry. His hair was white but his skin was young. His hands were strong and worn but his body was slight and fit.
This was no whisper, no breeze, no shadow. This was a living man. A man who had not yet met my brother. A man who had been completely forgotten by the world, and could not be happier about it.
I decided to stay a while.
He obliged me. | 2018-05-12T18:18:51 | 2018-05-12T16:00:41 | 63 | 15 |
[WP] A world leader is finally assigned to bring everyone together; nations are successful in ridding poverty, technology pushes forward in unprecedented events and most diseases are now eradicated. As a peaceful planet, aliens have finally decided to make contact with our civil world. | It took centuries for humanity to become one. All that time fighting amongst ourselves, erecting borders to distinguish *us* from *them*. Walls of religion, race, class, and nationality: finally they were torn down. Together, mankind celebrated long life and peace. There was no more *them* to hate. Just *us*.
Then, the ship appeared in our orbit. Enormous and foreboding, it loomed in the atmosphere like a second moon. Humanity cowered as scientists scrambled to understand it. The world watched and waited as our top minds decrypted the messages coming from the alien vessel.
Fear spread through the population like a virus. Politicians railed against inaction, warning that we must gird ourselves for war if these beings do not come in peace. By the time we can talk to them, they warned, it will be too late! Old plans for weapons, lost for a hundred years, were dug out of archives and libraries. Factories poured out ships, weapons, and equipment. Men were drafted and trained.
By the time we deciphered the message, it didn't matter any more. Humanity had found a new "them." | "It seems he has completed his mission."
"What defenses remain?"
"Short range projectiles and melee weapons; all artillery has been rendered obsolete. The technology and methods still exist, but we will not give them the required time."
"Excellent. We anticipate they will approach us with an outstretched hand. We will gain access to their communications network and disable it to slow the spread of information, then the invasion begins."
| 2014-12-03T08:37:01 | 2014-12-03T07:49:11 | 42 | 21 |
[WP] You put on a foil hat as a joke and for the first time your thoughts are clear and your mind is a well oiled machine. Every plot and machination is clearly laid out before you Beautiful Mind-like. Overwhelmed you aggressively grab passerbys and shout the truths. | I took a deep breath and slipped the tinfoil hat onto my head. Like a thousand times before I thought it would be stupid, no way this could do anything. Ha ha. The world suddenly snapped into crystal clarity. I could hear my own heartbeat, I could tell from the smell in the air and the taste in my mouth that there were chemicals being pumped into nearly every aspect of my life to keep me docile when they wanted me and to rile me up when they chose. It was all stark ravingly sane.
I looked around the room slowly. I saw the hidden messages in posters and could feel the strange energy fields emanating from every electronic device, all pulsing in time like the rhythmic heartbeat of an unknowably vast monster controlling our every waking moment. I suppressed a shudder just thinking about how vast that energy field must be now that satellites were broadcasting signals across the globe for "GPS" and "Satellite Imagery." It was probably much quieter in the early days when the radio was the worst signal you had to worry about.
I noted all this but curious I turned on the television. Flipping through the channels I could see the monstrous fingers of the unknowable things that lurked behind our so-called "society." Each ad, each program, carefully designed to manipulate our thoughts and emotions into a perfect series of actions and reactions, with one grand cosmic endgame. It was all like some impossibly vast Rube-Goldberg Machine, each part seemingly pointless but in the end accomplishing a single simple goal.
It was at that moment that I realized that end goal. It washed over me like a tidal wave, consuming who and what I was in its enormity. Me, or at least what I thought of as me, broke against the irresistible weight of it all. I threw the remote and rushed out of the room. In the hall people were passing by, calmly oblivious to the truth. I grabbed the nearest one.
"I KNOW THE TRUTH, I'VE SEEN THE END!" I screamed at him in wild-eyed terror. He stared at me for a long while with detached boredom. He then reached out and flipped a switch on a device I wore around my arm and then knocked off my hat.
"Pete. You were testing the foil too long again." He said with a sigh as he sipped his coffee. "Get it together man, or the boss will write you up."
It was gone. The stark ravingly sane moment of clarity was gone. I felt so relieved, in its place was the manageable insanity of what constituted everyday life for me. The device on my arm hummed giving me a sliver of clarity, just enough to know my job was important. I nodded.
"Thanks, Bob." I chuckled. "Almost went totally sane there for a moment. Going to need to recommend to the higher-ups that Sample Group Tau be forced to change how they manufacture their foil... that stuff... Wow."
I shuffled back into the room that was my testing department and started to make a hat from Sample Group Sigma. | The undeniable truth, it has finally lined itself in front of me. Who could have thought the final destination of my grand quest lied under a tinfoil cap?
After all these conspiracies and all these schemes I felt lost, but this desperate attempt has cleared it all for me. Those clever bastards knew it all. They hide the method to acquire the truth of everything in front of us the whole time, knowing we would be the target of mockery if we even thought about trying it.
But now I have been enlightened, even if it was by accident. I have been thrust into a perpetual state of post-nut clarity. The gods of wisdom have unveiled the curtains blocking out the ray of sunlight my mind has been deficient of.
I know about it all, from how the chickens have enslaved us since creation to how genders are a social construct to sell us double the bathrooms. Every plot, every scheme is unhidden by the newly developed third eye. I am truly ...
I suddenly feel a sharp stab on my neck and then suddenly the whole world is upsidedown. In front of me stands my headless body as it falls to the ground to reveal an elderly woman with a knife in her hand.
I notice the cut on my neck isn’t recking overflowing with blood, but rather reveals a soft colorful spongy material where my flesh is supposed to be.
As I stare back at the elderly woman in disbelief, I mutter out the only words I can.
“Wait, it is all cake?”
She puts on a smile and replies.
“Oh darling, always has been.”
Silence fills the street.
But not soon after, I couldn’t help but maniacally laugh at the hilarity of the whole situation.
I have been fooled once again. Looks like i will have to take over a different body.
​
***Check out my writing at*** [***r/Fluffwrites***](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fluffwrites/)
***I am also working on a new fantasy series -------->*** [***The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice***](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) | 2020-08-26T15:05:44 | 2020-08-26T13:08:17 | 143 | 25 |
[WP] You wake up one morning and find the devil at the foot of your bed. His eyes find yours, he taps your foot and says, "You're it," then disintegrates. | I was already awake, though unwilling to open my eyes when I felt the pressure of something settling on the foot of my bed. Stubbornly refusing to open my eyes, I attempted to will it away, hoping that it would work this time. When the pressure remained, I slowly opened them up a crack and sighed heavily.
A seven foot tall half goat, half man sat at the foot of my bed, completely enveloped in a cloud of sulfur. He had long, curling horns, long fingernails, and a truly devilish grin on his face. His hand was delicately raised over my leg, and I saw it descend with care, and silence. There was no time to escape, and I felt a gentle tap on my foot.
“You’re it!” he screamed and leapt up from the bed and sprang out the door.
“God dammit!” I shouted as I threw off my covers and raced out the door. Inside my head I heard a voice booming, *I didn’t tell him where you were, don’t blame me.*
I slowed down some as I rooted through the house, “Sorry, Dad. No offense.”
*None taken.*
After several minutes I gave up and decided to go make some coffee instead. Satan was probably halfway to Hell by now, and there was no way I was going anywhere near there without a cup of Joe in my system.
As I sat in my living room, building up the energy to chase after Satan, I saw a thunderstorm start to brew and a small idea started to form in the back of my head. After several minutes, the idea grew into a truly fantastic plan.
This game had started millennia ago when God decided he was bored and didn’t feel like running things anymore. So he proposed the game of Deity for the Day. Someone was designated as ‘It,’ and they had to run things until they tagged someone else. All lesser gods and demons were fair game, and since running the universe was difficult, it left very little time to hunt out someone else. Hence why gods and demons seemed to rise and fall over the course of centuries, rather than days.
Some of the old gods had gotten complacent, knowing that it had been thousands of years since they had last been It. There were probably a few who had gotten downright lazy, and would be easy enough to track down in their old stomping grounds. And fortunately for me, it had been a long, long time since anyone had sought out the old Scandinavian gods. I wonder how Thor is doing… | I’m woken by shuffling noises coming from the end of our bed. It could have been a dog, desperate for its morning walk, except for the fact that I don’t own a pet, and live alone. Any noise that I myself don’t make is instantly a suspicious one. I crack open one eyelid, and spy glowing red eyes, staring unblinkingly at me. A slim, clawed hand is already resting on my bedcovers. I can just make out teeth in the darkness. A smile. I may survive the night.
I start to curl my legs upwards and away, as though a foetal position will provide any protection, but I’m too late. I barely feel the initial light tap against my foot, but I know what’s about to come.
I just have time to grit my teeth and then the pain begins to blossom. Electricity runs in every vein and across every nerve, the sharp white light that first fills my vision begins to dim to colours that few will ever see, my body fills with hellfire. It feels like the torture lasts an eternity, but it’s actually over in the time it takes me to draw breath.
I lie, physically numb and mentally drained, gasping for air. I know one day, the pain won’t stop. I sold my soul to the devil, and the day will come when she decides to keep what’s rightfully hers. I suspect that day will be some ways off though, because one of the first things I learnt about the devil is that she likes to play games.
"You’re it!"
I fling myself to the foot of the bed, fingers outstretched, but she’s already vanished. I cough in the sulphuric mists as I hear her parting words. "Nuh uh. No tagbacks!"
| 2015-02-25T04:35:50 | 2015-02-25T03:15:19 | 213 | 12 |
[WP]: It's the year 2079. Elderly people becoming minor social media celebrities is common. People love seeing them post their stitchwork and minecraft servers. If they stop posting, their followers do their best to check up on them. | It pains me to confess the frustration I felt when an update changed the platform my parents uploaded their videos to. They used to be so skilled, so quick when it came to adapting themselves to the changes, but the whiter their hair became, the more their hands trembled, the more trouble they had and the more often the calls asking for help came.
Still I helped them, despite how my blood boiled when they didn't understand the simplest of indications. Of course I helped them. Those videos were their happiness, the light and melody in the darkness of their worn, grating clocks.
Their videos weren't complex. Not at all. They were as simple as they could be. They sat in front of the camera and talked about their days, sending messages of love to the world.
Everything started because they knew there were children out there whose parents or grandfathers weren't around anymore, and to them, what they did, was a way of reaching out to those kids, embrace them with their casual yet tender words.
"One is enough," they used to say when their view count was on the single digits.
Time went by, as it always does, and one of the clocks ceased grinding. My mother, cheerful, joyful, beautiful as she was passed away at ninety, and she did so peacefully in her sleep.
Her passing broke me, and shattered my father in ways no words could ever explain. The pain had been unbearable, and so my father had ceased doing videos for a long time. Until one day I got a notification. He'd uploaded a new video explaining his absence. His followers, which had grown to the tens of thousands, had sent him endless comments full of loving words.
I still remember how thrilled and happy he'd been when he'd read them. Tears had fallen down his cheeks like tiny creeks scurrying into the folds of his skin, but they'd been tears of joy. He'd embraced me, and in a frail whisper he'd said, "See how kind people can be if you are kind to them?"
A week ago, my father passed the same way my mother did: in the calmness of his sleep.
Now there are two hollows within me. And those hollows would never be full again; but that was all right, for with the emptiness came remembrance, and the remembrance always made me smile.
They had told me, long ago, that when they were here no more, I had to log into their account. And that's what I did. There, I found a video they hadn't uploaded. It was titled, "When we are gone," and it was addressed to me.
In that video my mother cried, and my father did his best to remain serene. "The day will come, Tommy," they said. "If you feel the need to cry, do it. There's no shame in that. But never think that you weren't good enough, or that you could've done things better. You were more than enough, so much more. You were the light of our eyes, the reason of our happiness. We enjoyed every second of our time, and that was thanks to you.
"We love you, forever."
------------------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn -- If you enjoyed the story, consider checking out my sub, I have many stories over there! | My mother is a YouTuber.
Well, she isn't really, YouTube hasn't been a thing for a while. Still, that is what she calls herself, and it is really kind of adorable. It fits with her theme too -- she mostly plays classic games like God of War and Red Dead Redemption. Most of her audience are people who are still passionate about console wars, Skyrim memes, and hating on EA. So, older folks, classic game nerds, some speedrunners... and me.
I know she doesn't even know I'm watching, but I like to imagine that in her videos, she is talking to me. Is that sad? It's not as ridiculous as it seems. After all, they do tell actors and comedians to imagine they are talking to a person, just one person, one specific person who cares. My mother is probably sitting in her room recording commentary for another video, thinking about one specific person who cares. And maybe when she says "hello lovelies", that one specific person is me.
I realise that that is unlikely. She doesn't know where I am today. She doesn't know that I have children of my own now. She doesn't know that twenty-six years ago, I met the mother of my children at a gaming convention in a country on the other side of the world. Sometimes, I wonder if she ever thinks about me. I must have been a short blip in her life, a challenge she was not ready for, maybe even a mistake. I imagine it must have all happened quickly--the pregnancy, the breakup, the adoption. The only thing I have from her is my name. The only thing she has from me is a single photo from my first birthday, just like she wanted. My face was covered in chocolate and I was wearing a Minecraft t-shirt.
I'm not sure why I stay up at night to watch her live-streams. My wife thinks I am building up courage to reach out to her, but that is not true. I don't think I am ever going to be ready for that, and I doubt that my mother would want that anyway. My children sometimes say that I just have to support people all the time, because that is just who I am. Maybe there is some truth to this. I do try to be as supportive as I can. I try to be her number one fan, always there, always enthusiastic. But that is not really why I am doing this.
This is about saying goodbye. Because one day, her videos will stop coming up. On that day, I want to think back to the time I spent listening to her voice. I want to think that we gave another gift to each other.
​ | 2019-03-02T05:02:53 | 2019-03-02T03:18:24 | 1,721 | 465 |
[WP] Everyone knows you're the most powerful member of the league, so why are you an F-tier hero? Because F-tier is cleanup. The others protect the world from threats. You protect it from the other heroes. | Edit: thanks for the rewards kind stranger's! There is an end to this story and it's coming soon!
"What do you get when you pancake the color potato? Eh? No answer to that, you cruffmuffin finger banging fork?!" she yelled at me, followed by unintelligible noises. Third one this month, another supe that lost their damned mind. I didn't respond, there's never a chance to talk a supe back into their mind. I'm not sure if it's the fact that they're a super or it's an affect of their powers, once a supe goes, they're gone.
Chrysalis turns another building into jagged crystal causing the city to echo with thunder claps as matter suddenly transforms. There's a burst of wind that accompanies the transformation, causing my overalls to whip around me. Thankfully I have no hair to mess up, not that it matters or anything.
Officially I'm in the F-tier of supes, lowest of the low. Just strong enough to be considered superhuman, but not so strong to really be a challenge for a dedicated group of normies. That couldn't be further from the truth, in fact, I'm probably the most powerful person on the planet. Not because of just raw power, but because of my ability to manipulate the very fabric of space, time, space-time and matter. I make omega level supes look like school children.
The street erupts into crystal spikes racing away from the epicenter of Chrysalis in all directions. As the line races towards me it splits like ants around an obstacle leaving me completely untouched.
I sigh, Chrysalis was one of the more promising supes, maybe one day she could have made the alpha tier, just shy of omega. But that's not going to happen anymore, I'm just going to have to kill her and undo all the damage she's wrought.
My name was lost years ago, I'm simply called The Cleaner. I could have ruled the world, but I quickly realized that I would get bored very quickly. I could do anything I want and no one would stop me, could stop me, but where's the fun in that?
One day I was out for a walk when a supe had gone crazy and turned every shadow within their view into bottomless pits, swallowing anything that happen to find themselves unlucky enough to be in a shadow. In an instant thousands died, I watched innocent people desperately clasp at the edges, only to fall and never be seen again.
I saw another supe come to stop the first, only to fail. In the end, I was the only one who could. Then another supe lost it, then another. Each one had powers that destroyed and killed thousands, and everytime other supes couldn't stop them, or wouldn't due to their no kill policies. Humanity would be extinct in a couple of decades - at most of this continued unabated.
Thankfully I was called quickly for Chrysalis, building a barrier so her crystalizing powers would be limited to the couple of city blocks she already destroyed.
"Can't save them all, cruffmuffin. Ahahahhahaha! There's no saving mayo or tomatoes! Ehehehehehehehe!" her voice cracking now, like her crystals. Maybe her powers are turning her into a crystal. Now wouldn't that be something?
I wait patiently, her damage is contained, so I can observe, trying to understand this phenomenon of supes losing their minds. Early on I'd kill them and undue the supernatural damage, leaving the regular damages for the normies to clean up - they gotta feel useful too, sometimes. Plus it helps keep them from relying on me too much.
Ah, there it is, her left hand has turned to crystal but she barely takes notice. Quickly it spreads up her arm and into her shoulder. She starts screaming, what ever part of her rational mind still working realizes what's happening. After about a minute the scream is choked off as the crystallization crawls up her neck. Frantically her eyes dart back and forth, looking for someone to help her, but there is no one, not even I can stop what is almost complete.
A minute later it's over. I approach her carefully, some supes powers continue to sputter for a while after death and I don't want to waste energy on de-crystalizing myself.
I study chrysalis closely when I spot something odd in her head, at the edge of where her brain was. Using my abilities I slowly peel away layers of crystal until I expose what appears to be what once was a high tech chip. As I prepare to return the chip back to its original form, chrysalis's head shatters, taking the chip with it.
A sniper somewhere doesnt want anyone seeing this chip, and now my interest is piqued. But first, I need to find the sniper before they get away. | What makes you a hero?
I'm not quiet sure.
Super strength, super speed, an IQ of 600, a mechanized suit, coming from a different planet. All of those things can definitely give you super powers, and they could make you a super hero - but they could also make you a villain.
When I was a boy I wanted nothing but to be like them - the heroes. I'd eagerly sit in front of the TV during the nightly news, the cascade of amber splashed against my face, occasionally replaced by quick flashes as I saw my heroes dance brilliantly across the screen. One had thwarted some evil super genius, another saved children from a burning school, and another defeated a giant monster from the sea. They would all do so with such flash, it left me wonder struck and in complete awe, jumping up in joy as they once again saved the day.
Still, I wonder, did those heroes during that time do what they did out of obligation, or was it something else?
I remember the day the call to action was put in place. Many heroes by that point had grown too old to fight, or were lost in battle. The monsters became more prevalent, the villains more powerful, and the Hero League simply did not have enough people to combat all of the threats. Crime and destruction was becoming more rampant, and now more than ever they needed heroes. Anyone could sign up for the academy league, and if you passed your examinations you would be granted a super power. A gift from Doctor Legash, who had devised the technology to grant extraordinary powers to anyone.
The feelings all came back to me in that moment, the memories, the desire, the want of helping others.
I immediately dropped out of college, and hurriedly filled and submitted out the paper work. I didn't care if I didn't get accepted the first go around, or the second, or even the third. I'd spend my time training, getting ready and preparing for when it came to be my time. I was surprised, of course, to find out that I was one of the first selected - turns out a lot of people didn't apply. Maybe it was fear from the recent deaths, or the new technology, or maybe not everyone wanted to be a hero like me.
The examinations did not go well over the next year. I either failed at every turn, or was close to failing. It seems just because you want to be a hero, doesn't mean you get to be one.
Still, they were desperate, a year had already gone by, 3 heroes had already died by that point, a megalomaniac by the name of Harbinger had already used his cult to seize control of a country and was threatening to Nuke every country that didn't pay his ransom. It was bleak, but we were insured as the new class, the new league, that we'd be the ones to bring light to the world again.
That didn't happen, not for me anyway.
Everyone got something powerful. Starfall could control cosmic forces. Berserk could go into a rage that made him immune to damage and gave him increased strength. Stellar could heal people, and restore nature. Immolation could control fire. Ruinous had any power she wanted - able to adapt to any situation. Me? Nothing, a fluke they said, but they could only administer it once, a second time would literally make my body explode. I was still part of the league they said, still "part of the team". Depression could have set in, but I decided to do something else instead.
There's been a lot of people that came after me, and most of that group have been on the news probably inspiring young boys like me when I was their age. They really helped bring people in, showed that anyone could be a super hero, that anyone could really save the day and make a difference.
As for me? I'm still not quiet sure what a hero is, but I'm here, on the ground, helping where I can. After the damage is done and the big shots have moved on, I'm clearing rubble, getting people water, telling them it's going to be okay. I'm getting a balloon out of a tree for a kid. Helping the elderly get across the street. I'm just trying to do what I can.
​
edit: I just realized I completely misunderstood the prompt. Oh well, I'll leave it up. | 2021-09-22T22:51:33 | 2021-09-22T21:31:51 | 145 | 69 |
[WP] Everyone is assigned a guardian angel since birth, yours has always protected you albeit in violent and menacing ways. Until one day on your 18th birthday he reveals himself as a demon who was wrongly assigned as a guardian angel and became attached to you. | On a cool summer's evening, while the sun is still faintly on the horizon, I calmly sit on a patch of grass near the edge of the Niagara escarpment - high above everything. In the distance, highways, ablaze in lights, are barely visible, and Toronto's iconic skyline is illuminated even further behind. I take a deep breath. "Fuck it." Then raise the revolver to my head, knees sat out over the highway. I squeeze my eyes shut, and..
"Uh, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, period. You're not pulling that trigger." The gun is yanked right out of my hands by my Guardian Angel, Halen - only visible to me, just like everyone else's. He's an 8-foot-tall humanoid, wearing his signature trenchcoat.
Saving me from disaster... yet again. Only, a different kind, tonight.
"Oh, COME on. Can I not-"
"Don't even think about it, Lee. I'm not going to let you kill yourself over - what? Shit family, shit life, shit everything?"
"Oh, gee. Thanks, Halen. You always know how to make a guy feel better."
"Sorry, kid, but I can't sugarcoat it. You're not wrong, it's a real bad situation."
"Okay, great. So, would ya kindly shut up and hand back the revolver?"
"Lee? What exactly's going through your head, anyways? Your 'parents' and 'sister', I use those words VERY lightly, leave you home alone in the middle of the summer - on your 18th birthday, no less - and go on a road trip. You have 8 hours to yourself, and you decide 'Oh, wow, I know what I'm gonna do today! Kill myself! Whoopie!'"
"Halen, I DON'T sound like that."
He pauses, then sounds.. guilty? "Yeah. Y'know what, I'm sorry. You don't; I'm just making this worse - prolonging the inevitable. Lee, I-think it's time we had a chat, you and I."
"Oh, really? When'd you start caring? Are you doing this to save your own hide?"
He chuckles. "Lee, I don't die when you do. That's... not how this works. I'm doing it because, whether you believe it or not, I DO care about you - okay?"
"Hmmph. Sure, Halen. Whatever."
"Look. This is.. messy. I didn't wanna have 'the talk' now, but, if you've gotten to THIS point? It's time."
"For what? What IS there to talk about, exactly?"
"Let's start with a simple example. Remember Uncle Ires?"
"Right. Isolated and tried to grope me at a family reunion when I was 12. You intervened, got me out of there, and.. he was found in the woods, mauled by a bear two weeks later."
"...That was the work of yours truly."
I find myself gaping at him. "What?"
"You heard me right. Or your grandfather, who almost bashed your skull in with that cuckoo clock in a drunken rage when you were 6? Drowned in the lake outside his cabin a few days later? Me."
"But you're my Guardian Angel, and that's..."
"..Not something a Guardian Angel does. Exactly. Because, frankly, I'm not one."
Halen throws off the trenchcoat, revealing a slightly draconic Demon - still humanoid, but skin a faint red, with two horns on top of his head, and a pair of ash-black wings. "Lee, I'm a Demon. I don't know how it happened, but somehow, I was assigned as your Angel."
"Oh. Wow."
"I hope this isn't a, er - deterrent, kid."
"No. I think you look.. cool, Halen."
"I'm just gonna skip the nuance, Lee. I mean, we both know I'm terrible at it. Five seconds ago, your family died in a tragic explosion as a result of their engine misfiring. Or something like that. I'm not a car guy; I wouldn't know the specifics." He grins mischievously, letting the implications of it settle in.
"Oh?"
"And I know, legally, you're an adult today, but - would you like to be my son? In Demon time, you're not even a tween."
"I-"
"I've just sprung a lot of surprises on you, kid. Take your time."
"N-no, Halen. I'd actually - really like that. I'd like to be your son... Dad."
"O-oh. Wow. Okay. Um. Great!"
Halen stands there for a moment, dumbstruck, before finally continuing. "So, uh. Guess we can't have you walking around like this for much longer, Lee. I'll file a conversion application with the Underworld tomorrow, okay? We'll have you properly made into one of us by the end of the week, son. It's painless, I promise."
"Sounds.. good, dad." I find myself yawning suddenly.
"You look exhausted. We should go home."
"Yeah, dad."
"Can you walk?"
"I.. don't think so."
He smiles, picking me up. "Guess I'll just have to carry you." | Frey woke up the morning with an excruciating pain in his head. On his 18th birthday of all days. But he ignored it. He spent a few minutes doing his hair, Golden in colour with two side burns down both sides of his head, finished off with a ponytail at the back. Once that was over, Frey moved over to do his uniform. It was the same regular, boring grey overcoat he always wore. Problem of being in the Alfhanian Military it seemed. He looked himself in the mirror, gazing all over himself to check for any mistakes. The insecurities of an 18 year old. Anyhow, Frey turned away and, to his surprise, was his guardian Angel. Drowned in a fashion of red, the Angel had a similar shade of Blonde to Frey, only his hair being a much more simpler design.
“What is the matter?” Frey said. He didn’t have a name for this being, nor did it ever even speak to him. It simply existed, no questions asked. The Angel simply looked blankly at him, like a doll of sorts. It made Frey uneasy, frightened even.
“Listen, today is not the day for you to play games with me. I would appreciate it if you could reserve yourself”
No response, no change in the dull facial expression. Frey simply sighed.
Wait..something was off. It dawned to Frey that he was no longer in his cramped barracks. Instead it was replaced with endless skies covered in a thick fog. He stepped back in confusion, before noticing he was standing on top of a large tree branch that was as thick as he was tall. He looked down and saw an endless abyss beneath him. Frey feel onto his bottom, his breathing became heavy, and his eyes became swelled with tears.
“Welcome friend!” A voice shouted from above.
Looking up, Frey could see his guardian ‘Angel’ was sitting atop of him on an higher branch. Frey was speechless, he couldn’t utter a single word out of fear.
SLAM! Frey’s Angel dropped down right in front of the 18 year old. With its back turned towards Frey, horrendously, it’s back bend in-humanely backwards until it’s face was angled to see him.
“What’s with the tears? My face isn’t that ugly!” The Angel laughed at its own joke, while several tears fell on Frey’s red cheeks.
The being’s body twisted itself to adjust normally. It wiped away Frey’s tears with its hands as he stared in shock.
“Come on, you’ve lived for one hundred years and you can’t even handle a little surprise?” The Angel said. Frey had been chronically 100 years old, but only awoke a few short years ago. Hence why only now was he 18 years of age, biologically speaking.
“W-Why are y-you doing this?!” Frey cried out, taking all of courage to say it.
The guardian merely smirked at the question.
“Why you say? That’s hilarious! Hahaha,” Quickly it’s face turned from laughter and humour to straight and serious “it’s because I’m not your protector, boy”.
“What?” Frey was deeply confused, what was it saying?
Unbeknownst to Frey, his right eye began to change from its normal emerald green to a light yellow. But he did noticed his angel’s *left* eye turned the same colour.
“I’ll be honest with you as a nice birthday present: I’m not your guardian Angel, I’m the demon the gods created, the one they materialised from nothing to give you to you vile humans. One of 7. Truth is, I wasn’t even supposed to be connect to you, but your twin sister decided, one hundreds years ago, it would be a great idea to,” Frey felt his headache from earlier arise again. Could it be from this demon, or was it simply from his mind trying to process even the slightest concept of what is going on?
The being now pushed its face closer to Frey’s, who still sat in terror. “But you interest me, Frey Vanir”.
The high up tree started to slowly darken, going from a lush forest high in the skies, to a blackened void.
“These games we’ve been playing, all the moments you tried to remember your past, it amused me. Watching you struggle and cry hopeless cured me of my millennia old boredom.” The anomaly began to slowly move its face away. With solid distance between the two, Frey breathed heavily as the reality(?) set in.
Suddenly, he was now in his room, on his worn out bed. He looked in the same direction as a single tear strain fell from his right eye, now back to its natural green state. | 2021-05-23T19:37:09 | 2021-05-23T16:46:53 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] Harry Potter, but Hermione's dad is an MI6 agent who found out that is only child is fighting a war against an insane cult leader/terrorist (Voldmort) and has been almost killed my him and his cult of followers on multiple occasions.
This happens before the final book and the battle of hogwarts | "Dad... I'm going to have to obliviate you and mum. For your own safety."
"Before you do, why?"
"Voldemort came back a few years ago."
"The Koschei-wannabe?"
"Right. He apparently succeeded in becoming something not unlike a lich. His cult have already basically won, and are infiltrating the government right now."
"And you know this. Why?"
"I'm in a resistance movement. The adults had their Order of the Phoenix, but it's become tenuous due to secrecy. We're in Dumbledore's Army."
"I thought that was a study group."
"It was. It just had... Other motivations."
"Right, cover story. Got it. So, how do you intend to assassinate this Voldemort?"
"What?"
"Assassinate him. You have spells, you have knowledge of the muggle world. I asdume you're the leader of this movement, do you have intelligence on the enemy side?"
"Dad, you're a dentist, it is really weird for you to be so keen on this."
"No, I'm a ex-MI5 agent who thought he had retired but apparently stopping terrorists is genetic so I'm now the M to your Bond."
"What"
"I became a dentist when you were born. You'd be surprised how many skills transfer over from intelligence operative to dentistry."
"Right. Ok. My daddy is a spy."
"Do you need a pistol? I've got one in the cupboard."
"DAD! You don't give your daughter a gun!"
"Why not? You wizards are two words away from killing anyone in eyesight of you..."
"Actually one, there's other spells that'd kill less cleanly bu- Why are you crying?"
"So proud of you dear. Who have you killed, by the way? Anyone important?"
"Well... One of my defence teachers might have gotten trampled and raped by centaurs..."
"That's a crime dear. We can cover that up but never do sexual executions again."
"R... right... Um... Oh, I figured out what was causing petrification on students which allowed Harry to kill the phylactery of the bad guy..."
"So you're more of a support role? Fair enough. So I guess you're intelligence, Harry': your enforcer, Ron's your tactician?"
"Well, he is good at chess?"
"Ugh. Chess. Too emotionless. Remind me to invite them over for D&D one day."
"But mindwipe.."
"Don't be an idiot. If my guess is right, we can repel Voldemort from his body with normal weapons, then take down his phylacteries. Do the wizards have a sniper rifle equivalent? A staff, perhaps?"
| "Let me be clear ma'am. Either you authorise this mission or you watch me walk out of here and do this alone. If you are willing to risk losing your top agent, just say the word"
"This is absolutely farcical Mr. Granger. We have the best intelligence resources in the world and have never heard of this place Hogwarts or this so called 'international terrorist' Mr. Voldee Mot. What in good heavens has happened to you? Is the stress finally catching up to you?"
"Its VoldeRmort. This is my last plea ma'am. It's a suicide mission, but I'm going to do this for my daughter. I either have your backup or not. I will do this either way."
"I can't authorise this Granger. Our intelligence shows your daughter safe and sound at her boarding school. Go home and get some rest."
"Very well then. I go alone. Goodbye ma'am. It was an honour serving under you."
*door slam*
"-ugh. What's gotten into the man?"
*Intercom beep*
"Rogers, I need you to keep an eye on Granger. I'm worried about him. "
*Indecipherable voice over the phone*
"No, no. Nothing like that. He is simply troubled. Just look after him for me, will you. "
*Intercom beep*
"Yes. Jim. I'm issuing a stay order on Grangers access to equipment. Please see to it."
*Indecipherable different voice over the phone*
"What? -Ugh. Fine. No, it's nothing. Thank you. Oh send me his equipment list."
*Intercom beep*
"Frank, come in for a minute please."
*Door opens and closes*
"Yes, Frank. I want you to track the equipment on the list Jim just sent.
And, do it quietly. "
"Yes ma'am"
*door opens*
"And Frank. Look into a psychologist please. A friend of mine needs some help"
"Very well ma'am"
*Door closes* | 2017-06-03T01:22:13 | 2017-06-02T17:47:37 | 124 | 11 |
[WP] Everytime someone has a 'blonde moment' they get a little blonder. Black hair is now a symbol of brilliance, and you've just invented hair dye.
These are all so good! This is my first submission to /r/WritingPrompts and I'm loving all your responses.
Thank you! | I took a deep breath, preparing to go outside and for the first time, not sure what to expect from otherwise usual surroundings. Would people treat me differently? What could I do, now that people will think I'm smart?
The first place I went was Starbucks, where I ordered my usual swirly, creamy coffee drink. If I was going to possibly make this believable, I'd at least have to be alert. I I noticed the barista gave me a genuine smile instead of the usual knowing smirk that comes with a stereotype matching an expectation.
I walked briskly off to class. My first semester at the community college was disheartening, to say the least. Most people there were also blonde, some lighter than others, with a few shades of brown and - occasionally - someone with hair so dark they stand out in every class, yet for some reason rejects the scholarships for university offered to every one of them.
There was one such boy in my first class, Chemistry. I felt I was quite good at it, yet the professors, usually with light to medium brown hair(I'd heard the university professors were required to be dark brown or deeper), talked to me like I didn't understand. I guess maybe I just don't fully grasp all of it, but I get the basics. I think I got really lucky with my hunch about ammonia to make this dye.
The boy looked surprised when I walked in. Right, I thought, I was one of him, too, now. I sat in the one of the only open seats, next to him. I figured it's what I'd do if I were him.
"Now," the professor began, "who can tell me what they know about the laboratory you reviewed on the syllabus?"
I took a chance and raised my hand. He nodded. "Well..." I tried to remember exactly the answer I had given my first day of the same class last year; "It's a standard titration, so you're basically balancing out the amount of acidic substance in a solution with the amount of basic compound in a solution, and so the amount of the base required can tell you how much acid is in the solution."
"Yes, yes, very good answer!" He replied.
I tried to smile normally but had to hold back a grin, then looked away in embarrassment.
After class, the boy with the dark hair introduced himself to me as Michael. He didn't know exactly what he wanted to study, and didn't want to be around a bunch of people who would pressure him to choose so quickly. I admired that he would stray so far from the norm for that. The more we talked, the more he expected me to say something intelligent, something interesting, the more I felt...well, intelligent, or interesting.
Did the dye change my intelligence as well as the color of my hair? Or...was I always capable of feeling like this?
{Really wanted to write more but it felt like it was getting long and it's really late. :(} | /**first prompt and writing on mobile be gentle**\
"Sir, we have another one."
At first, no one realized what was happening. A few people reported almost instantaneous change. Certain people were instantly changed, but they went largely unnoticed in the western world. Politicians from Britain and America lead the change. Slowly, people realized that people travelling abroad were changing.
"Sir, we have to tell the world. Our economy is in shambles."
Governments ranging from China to Mexico started banning travel, fearing an unknown infectious disease. Wikileaks announced that the American CDC was to blame. A coalition of nations starting with Italy was embargoing America, demanding that they close their borders and release information about the new biological weapon.
"Sir, it will be fine. People will understand."
When President Trump announced that people were turning blonde due to their own stupidity, the international balance of power started to shift. No longer were third world nations willing to buy from the west. Everyone started to assume that China and India had the most reliable fulfillment capabilities for contracts.
"Sir, I do not think that will work."
I had just invented a hair dye that could bypass the new tests developed by Taiwan - it turns out, once we lost our power Asia united under a system akin to the old European Union, and China was keen on making sure no one impersonated brilliance.
"Sir, our agent has reported back."
We kept the dye a secret- if the world knew about it, they would simply devise a new device to detect it. I urged the President to allow us to use it for espionage to determine the root cause. Trump insisted on using it himself, but we managed to convince him otherwise.
"Sir, how could this be?"
The official debrief from our spy reported only one thing: "We did it."
Two years after I invented the dye, the investigation into the source of the disease was found. President Trump had funded a team to solve racism. The team had managed to change global racial hierarchies by making dark haired people perceived as the most capable.
/** idk what i was doing. 🤔 **/
Edit: Minor text fixes. Thanks y'all for the positive response. I had fun writing it - not often struck by any creative thoughts for these so I'm glad to be able to contribute this time... Maybe it's because I'm on vacation right now. Hopefully it continues. | 2016-11-24T22:17:33 | 2016-11-24T21:39:56 | 32 | 18 |
[WP] Dear diary, I’ve been feeding this creature that fell from the sky for a few days. It strangely likes to drink water, the liquid we use to fuel cars. I noticed a patch on its suit today that read “NASA”. I’ll ask it tomorrow what that means. If that’s it’s name. | Yanhen, 25nd of Kell, 5013.
Dear Diary, I hate keeping up with this sort of thing. I'm bad at Diaries but I think it's important to document this. Last night a large metal object fell from the sky. I'm going to check it out tomorrow, when my wife is at work.
Tunhen, 26th of Kell, 5013
Dear Diary. I checked out the metal object and it had a lot of indentations in it, did they mean something? There was also a clear substance making up part of the metal tube. The interior looked far too small for anything to be inside, was it trash thrown from a neighboring planet? That's illegal!
Gahhen, 27th of Kell 5013.
Dear Diary. I went to check out the object so I could file a complaint and there was a creature inside, about half my hight, and I'm small for a Jhen. It saw me through the clear parts of its walls and it froze up. It opened one of the indentations in the wall (was it a door? It's a very odd door) and walked towards me. Im not sure if it's intelligent, or if it's one of the weird pets they keep on Huyut.
Kelhen, 28th of Kell 5013.
Dear Diary. I took the creature home (sorry Yulah) and placed it on my bed. It looked scared. It was probably hungry. I tried offering it things to eat but it looked confused at the food. It made some strange noises that made me squeal. It's louder than it seems for something so small. As well I'm starting to suspect that it's body isn't it's "body" as it has no tail.
Yanhen, 29th of Kell 5013.
Hey Dairy. The creature seems hungry. Very hungry. I'm not even sure if it can breath our air, as it is primarily oxygen, but it might have to try soon. As well, I still haven't found anything to feed it. It seems it also needs to drink, like the Hayets on Huyut. It made more noises at me, definitely trying to communicate. It also doesn't understand any of the 13 official intergalactic languages.
Tunhen, 1st of Polk 5013
Hey Diary. Amazing news! It can breath Oxygen! It's language is alot less muffled now it has taken off its hat. But i still can't understand it. It has a strange fact, like someone shaved a Jhen's head. I tried written communication but its language is much different. It has a strange patch. I pointed at it and it said "NASA"... Is that its name?
Gahhen, 2nd of Polk 5013
Diary. Bad news. Terrible news. I accidentally left some of my motor parts in my room including my fuel and the NASA drank it. I don't want to kill it! It looks confused at my panicking, maybe it doesn't understand it will die? I killed a poor NASA!
Yanhen 4th of Polk 5013.
The NASA is still alive? In fact, it seems better off after it drank the water. How can a creature so weak drink such a strong poison? I think I'm starting to understand some of its words. "Hehloh" seems to be a greeting of sorts.
Yanhen 27th of Gakl 5028
I forgot out this thing. It's been a while since I met the human, that's that the NASA's species. Their name is Jehssy- Jessy. English is hard, (that's the human language). Turns out their planet is covered in car fuel, and they eat all sorts of things. From poison to other creatures. Jeh- Jessy is teaching me English, and I'm teaching her Jhenit. Her progress is going well. The thing that fuels her "space boat" isn't readily available though so I don't know if she's ever able to get back to her planet, she seems to be adjusting well. Last night another metal thing crashed though. It's been all over the news. And it has that same NASA writing on it. | I watched the small creature as it wandered around the PNA, its arms waving as it yelled to itself in the strangest language. NASA, or whatever its name was, had been here several days. I had given it some consumables and water. Water! if you can imagine something drinking *water* of all things.
​
As I watched it, I noticed more words on its suit. It said U.S. SPACE FORCE. Huh. I opened the dwelling portal and stepped onto the grass of the PNA. I approached the creature. "Gi'nosh." I said to it. "Gooto morko." It stared at me. It was average hieght, about 3 minos tall, and had pale skin with black hair. It said something. I smiled and held up the Communication Device. I held it up to my mouth and said "hello." into it. I hoped it work. the Communication Device had cost 600 credits, so hopefully it could translate pri'noish into whatever this thing spoke. The world morphed into some odd-sounding world as the CD translated it. The creature stared and then said something. the CD translated it into "Gi'nosh." the word the creature had spoken was "hello." "Gorton Ri Yoko?" I asked. Once again, it translated into the words "who are you?" the creature spoke. I listened to the translation. The words he had spoken in his language was "Captain Markus Rivers, 31st Zeus Battalion of the United States Space Force."
we spoke to each other for a long time. Here is our conversation, translated into his language, which he called "English"
**ME:** How did you get here?
​
**RIVERS:** my battalion was preparing to make the jump to hyperspace when we were hit by an asteroid. I managed to get into an escape pod, but my battalion wasn't so lucky.
My battalion died on my watch.
​
**ME:** Where are you from?
​
**RIVERS:** A planet called "Earth". Capital World of the United States of America.
​
**ME:** What's that?
​
**RIVERS:** The United States is a country in the southern galaxy made up of 13 star systems. You've probably never heard of it because you are in the northern galaxy.
​
**ME:** What's this "United States" like?
​
**RIVERS:** An amazing place of freedom and democracy. President Steven Carlton, our leader, just sent my battalion on a scouting mission, that's why we were here.
​
**ME:** And then the asteroid hit.
​
**RIVERS:** \*nods\* I lost them.... it's my fault...
​
**ME:** No it's not. Hey, I have an idea!
​
**RIVERS:** what?
​
**ME:** Why don't we go back to your country? I can help you get there?
​
**RIVERS:** You'd really help me?
​
**ME:** of course!
​
Thus, I am writing this down. Me and Mark are leaving today. We'll be flying to the Ergonian capital world to get a good ship to take us to Earth. Mark says I'll love it there. I have no doubt. | 2020-10-11T11:17:57 | 2020-10-11T09:44:05 | 58 | 27 |
[WP] The year is 2040, and you are the last smoker alive. The "Quit Smoking" ads get personal. | It was 2040. The United States, most would agree, was in phenomenal shape. The economy was booming, contrary to what pundits predicted would become of President Karenna Gore's policies. The air and the water was clean. The average American was considerably healthier than just a decade ago. Nobody in the *world* even smoked tobacco anymore... save for me.
Yes, I was the only human being left on the planet that smoked those cancer-sticks; and I was world famous for it. I guess that makes me an ass-hole. I thought I had a case for myself though. I mean, consider the- "Oh, well that's just great."
I gazed up at the fresh billboard. It was me, with cigarettes protruding from every orifice of my face. Brutal. It gave me a sick feeling. I wasn't angry, just stressed.
"I need a smoke."
I took out one of my beautiful hand rolled stogies. No store sold the stuff anymore. Society had turned me into a craftsman, a modern cowboy living in the city. And they knew exactly where I lived. The ads followed me around like a shadow; pleas from every health organization from A to Z; personal letters from government officials. It was non-stop.
I took a much warranted drag and let out a cloud of smoke through my mouth and nose, much too conspicuously.
"Oh my gosh," said a woman from across the street, stopping her friend and pointing. "Look! It's him!"
I twiddled the stogie in my fingers and glanced casually over at them. I took another drag and headed over to them.
"Hey! Why don't you stop?"
"Yeah. Call it quits. It's not hard."
"Hi ladies. My name's Eliot."
"Yeah. We know who you are."
I smiled and began to raise my cigarette.
"Whoa! Hey!"
"Second hand smoke! Second hand smoke!"
I put my hands up in surrender. "Relax." It was like I'd pulled a gun out. They were backing away. I let the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out as a sign of peace.
One exhaled in relief as she had been holding her breath. "I have a kid you know."
"Okay."
The other sighed. "This might not be my place but-"
"Probably not."
"-you're the last person in the entire world who smokes. You're life must be... very very hard. Why, why don't you just stop? They have amazing programs-"
"Believe me, I'm well aware." I pointed at a magazine stand, where a full row of issues sat with my face on them and the headline 'It's easy, Eliot'.
She looked at the issues. She looked back, struck with a note of sympathy. "It must be stressful."
"Yeeah. The irony."
"Well, is it worth it?"
"It's not just for the smoke itself, crazy as it may sound. It's like a remnant to me. A relic. Something to hold on to." They were intent now. I wouldn't admit it, but it was so nice to have this from someone besides my dog. He's a great dog, don't get me wrong, but it was no challenge getting him on my side. "Clint Eastwood, James Dean- Gandalf- the French! Artists, authors with wooden pipes, and- and politicians chewing on cubans. I know things are better off now but, I miss it. I miss it all."
One of them half smiled. I sure hadn't made anyone smile in a long time. That felt good. She turned to her friend. "Could *one* really hurt that much?" She neared me and gestured at the tobacco box in my jacket pocket. She said, smiling fully, "light me up." | They watched from across the street as I pulled one of my 'death sticks' to my mouth. It isn't like how it was a few years ago; then they tried to hide their staring. I lit it and took a drag then let out a smoke ring that would have impressed if it had come from an E-cig or pot.
I smoked it down to the end and threw it on the ground just to see their reactions. Pleasant as always: playful jeers and helpful advice for my lifestyle. I just walk away, ignoring them.
It's a sunny day with minimal clouds; the holoAds are almost invisible. I can barely make out a cartoon picturization of my face with a nice red X over it. From what I can tell it's being used to pitch a special edition of chips, promising to donate %5 of the editions profits to cancer research. Fun! I'm the figure head of cancer now.
Ever since the guy in Germany quit last month I've been the last smoker on Earth. I've got to say it's quite interesting having more people recognize the name of Laren Volk than Osama Bin Laden. Kind of profitable too. It turns out people love to keep up with everything the person they most despise has to say. My blog has just about 3 million (30,567 until!) ~~haters~~ followers.
A street ad changed as I walked by. 'Stay away and you'll make my day!' it said with a picture of a cigarette and laid out in vintage meme format. I can't help but laugh at how people pay thousands for ad block and I get it for free. I pull out another cig and light it, really just to spite the sign.
My walk ends at my apartment. I ignore the photographers across the street and enter my apartment. I put my cigarette out on an ash try that literally had my name on it and walk up to my room. Two flights of stairs later, and a few neighbors who pretended not to see me, I reach the sanctuary that is my room.
Everything is nice and tidy, as I left it, and I pet Rufes, my mid-aged Labrador, who'd dutifully met me at the door. He doesn't seem to mind the smell or really anything to do with what makes me a tumor of society. I wish society would take note.
After I fixed myself lunch, and another session of petting, I went to my computer and began the days entry. 'Hey haters,-' it began and then went on to include all the small mundane things I'd done in the morning. I wrote about coffee, people I saw, a guy who was cute, policies of the latest president, and really anything but cigarettes.
When I'd finished and posted it I watched as the comments rolled in.
'u need to stop smkin'
'kys. your the worst of humanity'
'I like that coffee too!'
'Why do you smoke anyway?'
And so on. I eventually had to just turn it off and found Rufes. "Do you like me Rufes?" Rufes started to pant. "Good boy. Good boy."
I proceeded to cry into Refes's fur for hours. | 2017-02-17T10:43:36 | 2017-02-17T10:31:26 | 174 | 107 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | *Right this way, Mr. Muller*
"Right where?"
*Right here, follow my voice*
I'm not sure where I am. My last memory is getting in my car. I must have had an accident. I feel warm, safe and soft. Is this what painkillers feel like? No wonder everyone and their grandmother is addicted to them.
*Mr. Muller, you're not in the hospital, you're dead!* said the voice again, slightly amused and mocking this time. *See!*
"But ho..." I asked while opening my eyes.
*Works just like it used to, doesn't it? Haha!*
As I first open my eyes everything is bright. If I was still alive it would blind me, it catches me a little off guard. Blinking rapidly I start to make out shelves filled with books.
*Welcome to the eternal library*
The voice that talked to me now has a body, a man, not white in color, not brown or yellowish either. He is very well maintained, wearing a perfectly fitting suit; his long, white hair is combed back behind his ears and falls upon his shoulders like the most vivid waterfall. Behind and next to him seemingly endless shelves of books row up; in the one he's leaning on a single book is missing, I assume it's the one he's holding in his hand.
Coming to my senses I find myself sitting in a very comfortable armchair.
*You already noticed the book, very good, very good. Looks like you're all there. Shall we begin?*
"Wow uhm... who are you? Where exactly am I? Is this heaven?"
*Ha, I thought you'd never ask. Heaven, hell, limbo... let's just call it the library. It's the last step before you find peace. And I... I am Angelo. A pleasure to meet you, Richard Muller.*
"Angelo sounds an awful lot like Angel."
*Don't you get nosy with me now. Come to me, take your book.*
Slowly I'm starting to become aware again of my body but it doesn't feel like it did while I was alive. I'm able to move my body and feel sensations but there is no strain. The provisional groan I do when standing up proved entirely needless for there is no pain in my back, not a single sting. Two steps later I'm standing in front of Angelo, who holds the brown book towards me in just his right hand. I reach out and grab it, the leather feels soft and smooth under my hands.
In golden, beautifully imprinted letters it states "Richard Muller - Allmantown - 791"
"Allmantown, 791... Angelo, this means nothing to me."
*It doesn't need to. Start reading.*
The pages were soft like silk, handwritten in redish golden color. Whenever a choice opened up, I had to decide. Turn to page 922, turn to page 508, turn to page 861. Cry for mother or sleep. Page 1810. Kiss Janie Lowenstein. Page 2941. Drink the Schnaps. Page 3229. Get into the car in the morning. Page 6276. Die. Page 6277.
I have no idea for how long I've been reading and deciding. It could have been half a day, it could have been months.
*Do you remember?*
It's a good question. Do I remember? I remember making the decisions, I remember the content. But do I *remember*?
*Let me be more specific, do you remember how you died?*
"Of course I do, I was hit by a car."
*And?*
I'm feeling very confident in my answer at first, though after a short moment I'm unsure.
"Hold on, I wasn't hit by a car, I was in an accident."
A tense silence.
*And?*
"I fell off a ladder."
*And?*
"I was stabbed by my wife"
*And?*
This cycle continued for what felt like an eternity. No matter how many visions of my own death I revisited, there are always more.
"Why do I see myself dying in these horrible ways?"
*I'm not torturing you, Richard. Look around.*
My view went up from Angelos face, looking around the room.
Richard Streepe - Allmanntown - 792.
Rich Müller - Point Allmanntown - 793.
Richard Muller - Allermannstown - 794.
*You are not the only Richard. You are just the first one to die. Their life is in your hands.*
Angelo grabs the book next to the one he originally handed me and gives it to me.
The first few pages are already written, including possible choices up until that point.
"This book is almost empty, what am I supposed to do with this?"
He steps over to me, reaches into his pocket and gives me a fancy pen.
*It won't be for long. I have an appointment with the first Rebecca Stoner from Cornwall, I'll talk to you later.*
Before disappearing through the shelves he adds, smiling:
*Don't worry though, pens are tax deductible for guardian angels. Welcome to your library* | A bookcase floated before me. I had taken a cursory glance over the first of the matching volumes to discover the old instructions of a choose your own adventure novel that I hadn't seen since elementary school. I flipped through several pages of nonsense before catching sight of something about a lemon that I recognized from an old story mom would always tell about me. It occurred to me immediately what these volumes were.
So now I've just been floating here with it. Not reading yet. Still lamenting that I did end up being doomed to spend eternity in an afterlife after all. But also trying to compile all the what ifs I had been asking myself over the years. This system was rather inconvenient. I didn't want to work my way from the beginning, I just wanted to know outcomes of certain scenarios, and I wouldn't remember the steps I took to get to those decisions in the first place.
I tried to sleep on a strategy. Not sure it worked, or how much time passed while my eyes were closed, but when I opened them, there was now a computer and only one book. I glanced down at the book, lying open, and saw a recounting of a rather tender moment, but was also able to verify that I did indeed know a certain someone at that point, despite having forgotten that I had ever spoken to them not a decade later.
I move over to the computer monitor and am greeted with a lovely file system organized by year. Excellent. Glad to see that the bookcase does have the capacity to shift forms.
I greedily open up the folder for grade 7, am greeted with more folders, this time listing categories. Click into the romance folder, and I'm now given a series of multiple choice questions in a new window. I see all the situations are written in purple text, and the choices I had made originally were underlined in purple.
I find the first question of curiosity, the first secret love letter I got. I change the response to "keep quiet" and notice that some scenarios vanish, with new ones in green appearing in their place. A flutter attracts my attention to the book in time to see it rest on the page in question as some of the text fades and is replaced. Excitedly I check to see if I called her out on it when she said she heard I got one. And true to my original choice, I remained quiet. No worries, I can change that choice too. I glance at the screen...and no choice exists. I flip through the book in confusion, only to discover that I was just to naive to put two and two together in the first place.
Lovely.
I hit restore defualts and proceed to run experiments. First, each change of decision introduces new colours. This gets complicated past 10 changes trying to keep track of which shades came from which choices, but whatever. Also, the book now flips to the stage in life that will answer whatever question I had. Efficiency.
Two girls I could have dated. Both of which I was too hesitant due to my own lack of knowledge. Both of which fell into drugs in high school. I test what happens with each. One of them, we dated for a bit before she broke up with me and ended up in drugs anyway. That's a relief I guess. Other one, oh yikes, I ended up in drugs too. Wasn't expecting that to happen.
Tried making decisions to lead me down more creative endeavours than I had actually chosen. Mixed results. Seems I was never really satisfied there. I'd get lots of better things accompanied with worse things. Sometimes the book would noticeably shrink too.
It got even more harrowing when I started playing around with the choices during university. About half of them resulted in the book shrinking. Particularly any choice that moved towards parental dependence. I mean, I joked about that a lot after moving out, but I don't think I ever realized just how much potential for it actually existed.
Tried out different cities for when I left my hometown. Ultimately still ended up in the same place no matter my choice, but it was interesting how things during that intermediary period got altered. Seemed that I had picked the middle path in terms of happiness and success for my late 20s.
Finally with the most what ifs out of the way, I took a breath and set out on the last of these projects, the one I was saving for last, because I knew it would take the longest. I find my way to the day my university girlfriend broke up with me. I change the response I gave just before then, check out the book...
...and start working backwards. | 2018-07-04T01:42:55 | 2018-07-04T00:40:45 | 49 | 14 |
[WP] In a world of superpowers, your power is the ability to control any nonsentient object - but only one object at a time. Most people think that this ability is near useless. They just aren't thinking big enough. | When I tried to first reach for my fork and it leapt into my hand, I almost had a breakdown. I had been hearing of people awakening powers within themselves on the news. I also saw discrimination that these people faced.
So, I kept it a secret. Practiced on small objects at first. Logs of wood, rocks, my cell phone, even an old rusted out car at Johnny’s Junk Yard. I could control and move them all. Not like telekinesis. Rather the object came to life and behaved how I imagined it would.
Rocks walked with 8 tendrils like spiders, pencils slithered like snakes across my desk, and paper airplanes flapped their wings like birds in flight. I grew able to finely control the actions of one object at time. Only one. I couldn’t make a bundle of leaves do what I wanted but I could control a glob of mud. Interesting.
I began to see how big am object was beyond my limit. Cars? Fine. Large red woods north of town? Might as well call them ents. (I made one tree make a hole big enough for a car to pass through. Some hiker discovered it and now it’s a tourist attraction. Gotta be more careful.)
How about mountains? Yeah. Almost caused a landslide too. The definition of “objects” was so loose that I was even able to effect an entire city through the continuous connection of concrete throughout the city.
I turn my attention to the moon. Exerted my control, didn’t see any effects until about an hour later. The tide didn’t come in on time. It was now 20 mins late. Every fisherman has been talking about it for a month. I corrected my mistake and brought the correct tidal schedule back but still. Wow.
Then, in tried the sun. Sure enough, I held the Sun above the horizon for three minutes before setting. Local meteorologists called it the “Frozen Sun” phenomenon and chalked it up to pollution in the air causing an illusion that the sun froze in the air.
Needless to say, I learned that I couldn’t control people, animals, or anything with actual thoughts or mental processing.
So, imagine my surprise when I tried to control the earth as an object. I felt my power get rejected. This wasn’t a size issue since I already controlled the sun. My power was rejected, as if by a person. The earth? Sentient? Woah… | Shield Maiden had just thrown up her strongest defence when the figure appeared.
Monmonmon-mon didn't hesitate, what was one more casualty in a bloodbath? So the rain of fire came down regardless. A hailstorm of white hot death melted through the city for a block in every direction. Only those beneath her shield array had any chance at all and only that if she could hold out against the storm.
Except...there was no strain. No fire burning against the barrier she had forged of her soul. No malice sparking against the core of her being.
Countless tiny stars fell from the sky and she could only tell it was happening by the lightshow that shone through the protection of her visor.
Again, the super-bastard did not pause for thought. This time it was a dozen horizontal geysers of water, thrusting like spears and massing like iron pillars, and this time the attack was focused on her. An obvious attempt to smash her aside and reach those she was protecting.
As it splashed off her with all the impact of a child's water gun, Shield Maiden realised that her apparent protection extended far beyond the edges of her shield. For as far as she could see in any direction the people -people she had given up on saving just moments earlier- were unharmed. The fire had not burned them. The water did no worse than wet them. When the ice followed, turning every scrap of moisture into an explosion of razor edges and pain, that did just as little.
Monmonmon-mon finally paused. Even his mad determination faltering in the face of impossibility. Which was when the figure spoke, and they both remembered they even existed with a start.
"Is this what fights are always like? I thought there'd be more, you know, talking." | 2021-08-13T09:05:49 | 2021-08-13T04:16:49 | 79 | 15 |
[WP] Just like a normal person you all age. Until you hit 18. You stop aging until you meet your soulmate so you can grow old together. You've been killing your soulmates for centuries granting you eternal life. | Every twenty or so years I see you again.
Every twenty or so years, I fall in love with you, only to kill you.
I wish I could say I'm sorry but I can't.
I will never forget Katherine (The First)- with her pale, limp hair and her dark eyes: as dark as the night sky sprawled before us, endless as far as we could see, on our third date. I saw constellations but I could only think of how the freckles on her face lined up, and at that moment I knew she had to be The One.
I knew it was you.
And so that night in those fields beneath the crescent moon and all the stars we pledged our love to I killed you there and then.
I thought that would have been the end of it. I mourned you, of course- how I mourned! And how my heart ached at your absence- but whenever I kissed you, the idea of death clawed at the back of my throat, my windpipes filling up with spiders at the mere though of nothingness. Killing you was horrible, traumatic, but yet again freeing, to know that death will never have me in its grasp.
That was, until I saw you again, across the street, feather brown hair and dark eyes, always the dark eyes, and when my heart clenched tightly like a fist I knew it was you. You were different, always with different hair and eyes and shoulders and lips, but you were always You. And the spiders would return when you kissed me for the first time.
And from then meeting you was never the same place, and you would never die in the same way. Only sometimes. I met Elaine (The 8th) in Paris, and I watched her fall to her death from our window sill. I met Nora (The 12th) and her wild blue hair at the grocery store one town across, and she took her last breath in the ocean we moved next to.
Over the years, I have learnt many things about you. First, that every single version of you were in love with the cosmos, be it astronomy or astrology. Emma (The 11th) had tattoos of stars all over her body. Isabelle (The 5th) confessed that she had always wanted to explore space and see the planets for herself. You were drawn to it, like a moth to a fire.
Second was your trademark eyes: dark, curious, an endless and starless night. I had never needed this to recognise you, however: I have learnt with time that recognising you did not require any effort on my part. You would always return to me, as I did to you.
You (The 13th) of course too had those dark eyes, but your hair was almost white, and it hung above your shoulders limply, and so of course I had to bring you to that same field where I stargazed for the first time.
And you belonged to that field, in everyway, the way the moonlight lit up your hair and your white sun dress. And the world screamed this at me, that from the way your small hands were warm in mine to the way the wind tousled your hair gently: it was a sign, that this was right. The way the universe had meant it to be. And of course, like every other You that came before, you knew all along, didn't you? What was to come. Your lips briefly brushed my ear as you said, "Make it quick." Even with a blade pressed against your neck, you were gentle. Always gentle.
And then you would smile. Every single time you have known your fate all along, known me and my fear and the spiders I carry in my windpipes. And with the same cowardly heart, every single time I deliver this fate.
Every twenty or so years, as you would breathe your last, I would always promise that this was the last time. That I'd eventually accept my mortality and be with you. So this time, just like the thirteen Yous before you, you are no different.
I wish I could say I'm sorry but I can't.
| She is 234 years old and counting. She sips a warm beer and stretches a low smile against the glass reflection - the face gazing back can’t be more than twenty; a few years lost to the difficult kills. She closes her eyes as the booze drags back the hammering memories of their frightened faces - the worst ones are still those glowing with love. She drains the beer. The faces once again locked up at the back of her mind and she rises and sees him for the first time - a tug of love, warm eyes, a rush of blood through a pained heart. Then she sees wrinkled smiles, lags of skin, and the withered bodies of a foolish pair. She grabs the blade and walks toward him.
He stands, grinning from ear to ear, and as she is about to whip a line of red across his neck, he draws out a dagger to plunge between her ribs. They miss by a gasp and tumble to opposite sides. Their eyes lock in a moment of understanding, hers dart to the logo on his shirt, his tumble over her salacious body and fix on a signet ring. Then she is gone, streaming away through the happy crowds, and leaving him with an empty echo in the dark night. His chest plunges into ice cold. It has to be done, he murmurs and lays a plan for the hunt.
She looks thirty now. She curses every time a mirror glances back. He has gone into hiding. Too many failed attempts sent him into stealth mode and she hasn’t heard a whisper of life or felt the pounding in her ears in over three months. Lets end this, she screamed at his disappearing back. That was the last time she saw him, blood oozing in his wake and a stumbling leg cracked and dragging behind him. If she hadn’t been gasping on the ground with a steel rod pinning her shoulder in place she might have finished him off. But they each got away.
She isn’t hiding. She wants it over, she wants to finish this. She walks in plain sight, she follows a routine: the same bus, the same walk, the same job, the same house - every day is the same. She tempts him to jump out at any corner. She longs to see his face. She thinks of the slight curve to the broad nose, the dark bulbous chin, the warm eyes…she shuts down her mind.
Two more months go by and then he is there, standing atop her roof and kitted like a knight from history. He is stacked with grenades, sheathed with swords, and pulling back a crossbow. She feels him above her, waiting to strike. Then the room erupts with a flash of light, and smoke is running into her eyes, and through her nose, and filling her mouth. She squeezes everything shut and straps on a gas mask, and without a sound, she slips down through a trapdoor. The house rips into a bonfire.
She looks eighty now. She watches as the scorched face stumbles into the care home and extracts an automatic. She raises her hands and waits for the bullets to rip through. When the cold strikes three times - two to the chest and one to the belly - she washes with relief and then sends the gas into his lungs. Their eyes lock in a moment of understanding, and the last thing she sees is his warm smile.
The coroner straps the corpses into black bags and wheels away the evidence of the withered bodies of a foolish pair. | 2018-06-09T05:19:40 | 2018-06-09T03:49:45 | 35 | 11 |
[WP] When we get to space, we learn that humans aren't the "space orcs" we expected. In fact, we're closer to space elves: the most elegant, the least brutish and violent and warlike, and the longest lived by far.
I don't know if this has been done before, I thought of it and thought it would make a good prompt. Please let me know if this has been done before. | The world seemed to hold its breath the day the humans arrived.
They fell from the sky in a fireball, it was said, the sound echoing out across the plains long after the craft had passed. Although our people were hesitant to approach, within moments their ship opened and they strode out, taller and more elegant than even the most regal among our people. They seemed surprised to find us, making comments about how they hadn't heard any "signals" from our planet. Even still, they brought magics from distant lands, objects beyond imagining. The oldest and wisest of us later tried to discern their making, to recreate such wonders, but it was simply impossible. How could clay and wood and stone be wrought with such precision? How did humans breathe life into the lifeless, causing them to glow with inner lights that twinkle like the stars? Our aristocracy was given several of these items, things the humans called "comms" that gave them the ability to communicate and negotiate between nations.
This happened in the time of my grandfather, and would have passed into legend were it not for the site they left behind. Within days of their arrival, almost overnight, a pad had been flattened to perfection around their ship, and a second place a little further off. They warned us not to go near that place, for they'd buried an evil deep underground, a rock that would kill those who went near it. They apologized for its presence, stating it was necessary for the magic they worked there, to create torches that would never burn out, even in the years they've been gone. They promised that they'd return someday, bringing more supplies for greater works.
They came back today.
The humans new ship looks fragile beyond imagining, less than a third the size of the one that came before it, but far above a new stars hangs continually, and from it each day fall more wonders. The oldest among us, those who'd seen them the first time they came, were astounded to see that they looked no older than the last time they were here--generations have lived and died, and they look the same. They asked for my grandfather, seeming confused to hear of his passing so long ago, how it had only been ten "years", a word I do not know in the human tongue.
My curiosity burns in me, today I WILL walk upon that ship, I must know what lies beyond that bizarrely heavenly door the humans call "steel". I've watched them carefully from my hiding place. I believe a small circle beside the door can be depressed to open it. While they visit our dignitaries, I will see things none of my kind could even dream of... | Earth was the cradle of humanity. That's what they all said. Humans could be found anywhere across the cosmos, but what the Ancients seeked was the apex of humanity. And as they hoped, they found her.
'The universe was in danger, and your help is required to save it.' When they came before her with this reason, the lady frowned.
"But you are the youngest in the lineage of the High Humanity, only 48 years of age! Born amidst the steel jungles of the human world and skilled with the usage of the ancestral bows, only you can be the Chosen Human! We understand your duty of protecting your sacred forests... but the world is in danger! Please, the prophecy calls for your aid!" Looking at the Yoda-ripoff... no, the Rizwarian pleading for her help, Angele felt like this was a spoof movie.
Steel Jungles... Those were industrialized cities.
Ancestral bow... That was a sniper rifle.
High Humanity lineage... She was born of a aristocratic family, but what the hell? Humans might be the longest lived species in the galaxy but still, comparing her to a 'high elf'? Just why?
Nevertheless, after hammering out a good contract, she decided to agree to the yarn the Rizwarian was spinning. Money was money after all.
"Thank you! Lady Angele Gates-Rothschild, kindly follow us. Two other spaceships have been launched to recruit the strongest space orc and the hardiest space dwarf. Now to take you to the Temple of Ancients... you should be quite curious about the Hero who is prophecied to save this galaxy, after all." The Rizwarian said this while rubbing his palms.
"This is so cringe..." The Rizwarian didn't hear Angele's words or at least pretended not to. On that note, Angele's journey to save the galaxy began. | 2021-09-19T10:10:39 | 2021-09-19T08:46:17 | 245 | 85 |
[WP] Superman is mentally handicapped. That's why he thinks nobody can pick up the Clark Kent=Superman thing, and everyone plays along in an effort to keep him from throwing a tantrum. The comics are his idea of what is going on. What does a day in Metropolis actually look like? | A scream from half-way across the city woke me up. Without even thinking, I knew where it was coming from - *her apartment.*
I threw on my suit, and threw my super suit over my suit, and wearing both of my suits, I zooped out the window.
With a shattering *smack*, I crashed through *her* window. It probably looked really cool when I did that.
There was a man in her bedroom, a *naked* man, and even though he didn't have a weapon, I could tell he was about to attack her. How could I tell? Because when I burst into her room, she screamed out loud, and said, "Oh no, not again!"
Lois is always getting attacked. That's why she needs me.
But I don't want her to know who I am, so before she could see me, I dashed into her closet, and took off my super suit. I walked out of her bedroom closet, carrying my briefcase, and wearing my glasses, and not even *she* realized that I was the same person who had just flown through her window.
I pretended to be surprised to see her, "Oh, Lois, *you're* here?"
She was completely fooled. I could tell by the shock in her eyes - her mouth was an open 'O'. It's easy to trick people when you're Superman.
"Who the hell are you?" the attacker said. He wasn't wearing any clothes, but even in that disguise, I could tell who he *really* was.
"You don't fool me, Joker!"
I pulled back my fist, and I almost punched him, when I remembered that I was still wearing my Clark uniform. Whew. Close.
I jumped back into the closet, and put on my super suit again, and jumped back out.
By now, Lois was standing in front of the man (she was also naked, but she had a sheet wrapped around her, but she doesn't know that I can see through clothes. I do it all the time. I was doing it then, too. Hehe.)
I guess she was confused because even though I was in my super suit, she said, "Clark - *don't.*"
"I'm not Clark," I said, "I mean - who is Clark? I am Superman!"
That cleared it up for her. Now she understood that I was Superman, and not Clark. She still doesn't know that I'm *both*.
"Fine. *Superman,* get out of here, *now.*"
She sounded angry, but that was probably because she was being attacked by the Joker. The Joker is a scary guy, because he's always laughing, even when nothing is funny, and that's pretty scary.
I said, "First, I must save you!" and before the Joker could escape like he always does, I threw my arms around him, and crushed him to my chest.
"SUPERMAN!" she shrieked. At first, I thought she was going to *finally* tell me what a hero I was, and thank me for saving her, and kiss me, and invite me to -
"DON'T YOU DARE HURT HIM."
Now *I* was confused. Did she *not* want me to kill the Joker, and finally rid the city of this horrible, blood-thirsty menace?
"PUT HIM DOWN, NOW."
"Oh, I see," I said. Lois was a gentle soul. She would never hurt a fly. I don't usually hurt flies either, but sometimes they buzz around my Sprite cans, so I have to zap them out of the air. Anyway, she didn't want me to hurt him, so I said, "Alright, if that's how you want it. I will take him to - *Arkham Asylum!*"
Nobody ever plays dramatic music when I say that, so I had to add it in myself. I sang, "*Dun dun DUNNNNN,*" and you could feel the excitement building.
With the Joker in my arms, I jumped out of the window, flew down to Arkham, and shoved him into the darkest, smelliest cell I could find.
***
Lois ran out of the lobby, praying to herself that Tim was alright. Out on the street, she whipped her head around, looking for any sign of him - or of Clark.
A groan echoed out of the alley.
She rushed around the building - to the dumpster - and found Tim crumpled inside, peeling sticky pieces of trash off of his skin.
"Oh, God, Tim. I'm so, *so* sorry. I told you he was ..." she let the sentence trail off.
"Lois," he groaned, "Have you ever thought about moving?"
"Tried it. Last time I went to Paris, he tore apart the whole airplane to 'save me from 'Lex Luthor's Evil Machines.' Look, next time we're... next time, I'll keep some broccoli laying around."
Tim gave her an incredulous look. The page of a magazine slid down his cheek and fell with a moist *plop*.
"He thinks vegetables are poison," she explained, "Anything green and leafy he calls 'Kryptonite'."
***
*If you want to read more stories of great misfortune, check out /r/PSHoffman!* | The man in the phone booth was nearly naked, except for a pair of tighty whities. Through the glass, Dave could clearly see the faded stains on his underwear as the poor guy struggled to put on a tight blue shirt. Unfortunately, phone booths are pretty damn cramped, and it was slow going. He'd been in there for nearly 20 minutes now banging his elbows on the walls, and hadn't even started on his pants yet.
"Really sorry about this," the woman standing near the door told Dave. She had a very pretty, but regretful, smile. "I'm afraid this booth is going to be in use for a while. Maybe you want to use the one down the block?"
Dave rolled his eyes. "I'm expecting a call on this one. Why is he getting dressed in *a phone booth*?"
"It's... a long story," she said. "I'm his nurse, Lois. Clark here has some pretty severe mental difficulties. In his mind, this is really just taking a split second. And it's so urgent that he doesn't have time to go anywhere else to go change." She gave a short bark of laughter, a mix of sadness and mirth. "Well, even though he has super speed and could get to his apartment in the blink of an eye."
Dave peered through the glass; the man's head was stuck inside the tight blue fabric. "What's he changing into, anyway? Why not just leave his suit on?" The jacket, pants, and white shirt were all crumpled on the dirty floor of the booth.
"It's his secret identity," she said. She held up a copy of today's paper. But instead of the headline about Kennedy's blockade of Cuba, it instead showed a doctored photo of that same man 'flying' over a sandy tropical beach with what looked like an ICBM in hand. The headline read: **Superman kicks Khrushchev and his missiles out of Cuba!** "He thinks he's a superhero," Lois explained. "Thinks he can fly, has super strength... all sorts of powers, really. I have a hard time keeping track of them all, to be honest."
Dave studied the fake newspaper. It was *really* well done. "Where'd you get this?" he asked her.
"Oh, Mr. Kent has a special edition of the Planet printed every day. Being the owner of the paper gets you some pretty nice perks. Ever since he moved from Kansas to be CEO, he's employed me and Clark here as 'reporters' and lets us go chase 'stories' all day about crime lords. Even hires actors and such to 'fight' his son." She smiled. "Mr. Kent's really a sweet guy. It's touching to see how he takes care of his son like this."
Dave didn't seem to think so. "Well, that's nice for him. But it's also kind of preventing me from using the booth." As if on cue, the phone inside began to ring. The man inside had managed to get the shirt on, and Dave could see a big yellow and red "S" on the back. "Why is the 'S' on the front in the photo?" he asked the nurse, pointing to the phony paper.
She glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, damn. Backwards again. I'll have to fix it later."
The phone kept ringing. "Forget it," Dave finally said. The man in the booth hadn't even started on his pants yet. "I'll just go back to my office and try to track down my friend's number." He cast one last glance into the booth, where the man was spinning in circles now. "Good luck with your... superhero friend," he said, voice dripping in sarcasm.
-----
**45 minutes later**
------
"Don't worry, Ms. Lane!" 'Superman' said as he emerged from the phone booth. The front of his shirt was a blank blue, and the 'S" was covered up by his cape. "*I'll* stop Lex Luthor!"
Lois gave an exaggerated gasp and pressed her palms to her cheeks. "My gosh, Superman! Where did *you* come from??"
----
If you enjoyed this one, you might also like [Superman the mental patient](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2wfha6/wp_supermans_belief_that_he_is_actually_a/coqc2sk). And of course, you should subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell for all of my other stories too. | 2016-03-04T08:12:28 | 2016-03-04T07:31:38 | 2,538 | 1,808 |
[WP] Dungeons appear on Earth filled with monsters granting loot, experience, classes, and levels. With their wild ingenuity and loads of guns, groups of rednecks inadvertently become the first to clear a dungeon. | The four of them stood there and looked back at the men who'd come out of the Humvee's. Earl was covered in the blood of orcs, holding his daddy's double-barrel and a glowing ax that kept trying to talk to him. Jacob was reloading the magnum he liked to use on hogs and staring down the government men like they each personally had repossessed his truck. Patty worked the lever on her .30-.30, making her look even more intimidating than the chain mail shirt did over her Daisy Dukes. Cleetus had no visible weapons because he'd lost his crossbow back in the caves, but the fact that the hand that wasn't petting his pit bull was crackling with smoke and sparks said that he might not need a weapon.
"Do you realize what you've done?" the man in the suit asked Earl, though if he was annoyed or impressed it was hard to say.
"Yeah," Earl replied, then spit on the ground right by the guy's Italian loafers. "Took care a bid'ness."
"They... they're from another world. We need to make contact! To see what they want!"
Patty spoke up and said, "What they wanted was to stab my cousins and steal the pig we sat up all night roastin'."
Jacob added, "Man's got a right to protect his own, there."
Cleetus looked down at Ol' Red. The big pit smiled back at him with blood stained teeth and eyes that had gained new intelligence since the ritual they interrupted.
He turned his eyes to the soldiers and said, "I jess wanted m'dawg back." | When you have proficiency with all martial weapons and access to guns, why choose anything else? Sure some people went the magic route, with the ability to make fire come out of their hands, maybe clean their clothes real fast, or what have you, but that doesn't hold a candle to a 62 grain steel core round. So reality mirrored fiction when the most common class was a human fighter whose dump stats were INT and CHA. There were the odd barbarians, too and down in the Bible belt more than a few paladins popped up, but human fighters were still the most common. Hundreds at a time these new magic filled dungeons were looted, so fast that the economy couldn't handle it. A pitcher of beer was worth a few pieces of silver. And a bottle of liquor was worth ten gold coins. The monsters fought back though when a terrasque leveled New York no one knew what to do. Then a mind flayer enslaved most of San Diego. Eventually all that was left undisturbed was the most well armed parts of the country. | 2019-05-12T05:38:44 | 2019-05-11T19:49:24 | 70 | 23 |
[WP] In this dystopian society, citizens are only allowed to say words that are on the 'approved common words' list. All other word lists must be purchased before you are allowed to say a word from them. The rich have a distinct advantage. | "Care for a drink?"
He is grinning at me with a cocky smile, one hand leaning on my table, one pointing towards the bar in the back of the cafe.
I smile at him but shake my head, motioning to the engagement ring on my finger. It's a cheap one- all me and John could afford after we had splurged on the 'Marriage' package ('Marry me', 'I do')- and it's made with a plastic stone, but it should be enough to explain what I'm trying to say.
"No," I say, curtly. Exaggerating a grimace to try and convey my apologies for brusque response. It's times like this when I wish I could afford the 'Manners' Package.
"Ouch. I understand though," he laughs. "Thanks anyway."
As he saunters off, I hear him mutter: "Wouldn't want to buy a mute-y like that a drink anyway."
My blood boils and I open my mouth to curse at him- but the shocking device in my tongue stops the words in my mouth with an excruciating jolt of pain. My phone buzzes with a notification.
'You have tried to use a word you have not paid for. If you attempt to again in the next 24 hours, you will be fined. To purchase use of this word and others like it, you may want to buy the 'Swears' Package', for your convenience.'
I bite my lip and shake my head. That's three warnings already today.
As I pay for my meal with a silent smile and throw on my coat, I ring up John. I step out into the biting cold just as he answers.
"Hello John. I love you."
"Hello Suzie. You bought new words?"
"Yes. Advanced Relationship package. Dual ownership. Try!"
I hear him key the package into his phone and mutter the list of words under his breath.
"I love you," he says, giddily. "Darling, Honey and p-"
I grin. Because there was another reason I had turned down the drink.
"Pregnant," I tell him.
| I grimaced when the local news came on. The station had blown most of their budget just on the technical words for the Meteorologist, but the rest of the station was kind of lacking.
“And now… News!” Beverly said with a cheery tone.
Chet looked at the stack of papers in his hands and grimaced. “Things happened today. A bad man was not nice to six people, and they were not healthy after. It happened down of the town. We all hope they get better.”
“In happier news,” Beverly took over, “cute kittens!”
A clip dominated the screen as a group of firemen rescued some kittens from a storm drain. “Good cute kittens!” Beverly said.
I shook my head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“Now, for the sky stuff, with Donovan.”
“Good morning, Chet and Beverly. You two are looking just absolutely radiant today. It’s really unfortunate about that shooting, but now, on to the weather. We’ve a high pressure system developing…”
I tuned the station out as soon as I saw my boss walking over.
“You aren’t supposed to be watching the television when you should be cleaning.”
“No,” I answered.
“Get back to it, or I’ll get on the phone with the General Manager, and you’ll be out of here faster than you can blink. You understand, No-words?”
I glared at the insulting nickname and nodded. “Yes”
“Good, now get your ass back to work.”
| 2017-09-20T09:38:24 | 2017-09-20T07:16:50 | 1,501 | 590 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Dad,
I've grown up and got a decent job. I have 2 sons and I've carried on our family name like you always wanted. I was only 11 when you passed but I still think about you all the time. I never got to tell you I love you and I'm sorry I was scared to give you a hug in the hospice, I was young and scared. I loved you very much. Mom didn't let me see you often because we lived a few hundred miles away but I always cherished our time together. She gave me the letters you wrote after I turned 18 and it makes me mad thinking about how she kept me from you. I have forgiven her, it's not like she or anyone else knew the cancer in your brain would take you so fast. I hope I make you proud with what I have become. I wish you could meet your grandkids. Logan, the oldest, asks about you from time to time. I tell him a lot of stories and how great of a dad you were. Anyway I'm babbling on. I'll never forget you and I miss you everyday. I love you.
-Mason
Thanks OP, this has really helped even though I'm laying in bed with tears swelling in my eyes. I have to be quiet as to not make the pain visible to my sleeping wife. | I’m not really sure if I should be doing this, or if I even miss you right now, but some how you always find your way into my mind. I can’t believe I promised you I could be strong that day because I felt so weak knowing I couldn’t have your presence in my life anymore, but I think I have gotten “stronger” since then. Sounds dumb but I tried to find someone like you after it was all said and done, but I realized that I don’t need to be more than myself to be happy. Hope you’re not thinking of me and hope you’re enjoying your life. I’m still thankful for everything you taught me beautiful. | 2017-11-06T02:11:26 | 2017-11-06T00:23:50 | 15 | 10 |
[WP]It's Armageddon. God comes down to earth to judge everyone. He does one person at a time starting with the most evil. Everyone goes about their lives waiting to be judged.It's been 6 years, and about 345 million people have been judged. But today is your judgement day. | The thing that really got me was all the waiting we all did. Ever since God came down, we ceased being hungry. We ceased being horny. We ceased having ANY motivations. We all just became... stagnant. Our bodies remained the same. If you were fat when God came... you stayed fat. If you had a Mr. Universe physique, you still had it. God went down His list and we all just... waited.
I had been sitting under this tree for the past two years when God came over to me. It was quiet here, no other poor souls waiting to be judged. There was a slight breeze, and you could hear birds singing every morning. That was nice, the singing. Roughly a mile away there was a nice creek. It flowed steadily, and every now and then I would walk over and sip from it. I didn't need to, but it was nice to feel the cool water.
God smiled. "Hello, Michael."
I looked up. He wasn't anything like what we thought he would be. He was a slender man, with close cropped brown hair. He seemed to have a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow. God wore regular blue jeans, and He loved plaid shirts. He kind of resembled a lumberjack.
"Hi God."
"Today's your day." His voice wasn't especially loud or booming like you might expect. In fact it was calm, and friendly.
"Well... Okay." What could I say? Part of me was glad that purgatory was over, but considering God had *started* with the most evil person in the world (Dick Cheney, by the way) and was working his way backwards, I was a bit perturbed that my time had come so quickly.
I stood up, so I could walk with God. "Give it to me straight - what did I do?"
God chuckled, but stayed silent. We continued walking, in the direction of the creek that I had often sipped from. A few bunnies hopped in and out of sight, bunnies I had never seen in my years under the tree. A fawn came to walk beside me, not a hint of fear in it's eyes. The sun even seemed to follow us.
"C'mon, the anxiety is killing me, here!" I thought that maybe a quip of ironic humor would get God talking, but He only smiled. I decided I would wait for God to speak.
After an hour or so of walking, we finally came to a clearing. It stretched out for miles, ringed by trees and mountains even further in the distance. It was undisturbed, save for thousands of people in the center. They all stared at me and God.
"Michael. I am here today to levy judgement upon you. I am sure you are wondering why we are here, and who all of these people are."
I did wonder, but I also knew a lot of these people. I saw my parents, my sisters, I saw my first girlfriend, I saw the girl who's virginity I took. I saw my neighbors and my best friends. I saw the guy from the bakery, and the Pakastani who worked the bodega. I saw the Indian couple who owned the Dunkin' Donuts. I saw the bank teller who I always had a crush on. I saw every single one of my ex's.
"Yes..."
God continued to smile. "I don't owe you any explanation, Michael. But I will tell you this. All of those who have been judged before you - they were evil. They did bad things, they did awful things. To people you knew, and to countless more that you never knew of. And now I'm with you Michael."
My heart pounded rapidly in my chest. "But... God, I never hurt anyone though."
"No, you didn't. But you didn't love them either."
I stared at God, my face completely blank.
"Michael, in this field are all of the people who have helped you. They guided your life, they gave you purpose to drive forward. Some of them you loved for a moment, but never a lasting feeling towards a single one of them. Michael, you were not evil. You were indifferent. And for your indifference, you are to spend eternity here."
Everyone disappeared in an instant. I was alone, but for God. "I don't understand... of course I loved my parents."
"No. You said the words. But you did not mean them."
"I cried when my father died!" I argued, but it was no use.
"Of course you did. But that was not love, that was you finally letting go of no longer having to lie to him."
I sat down in the grass and picked at the blades.
"So what happens next."
"You will remain here. Feel free to wander - you have peace at last, and that is all you will have."
God walked back into the trees, leaving me with my thoughts.
For eternity. | I woke up in a sudden cold sweat, frantically darting my eyes to check where I was. Thankfully the barred door beside me and the upper bunk bed above me confirmed that I hadn't gone anywhere, at least for today.
This wake up wasn't unusual for me anymore. Guys in my block had been dropping like flies. Taken by the "divine light of punishment" as it where. I myself had only seen it twice before, the first time out in the yard during a gang fight. Some puertorican asshole was kicking the crap out of this old timer for god knows what, then, zap. Gone. Only thing left of him was a burn mark left on the tarmac where he was standing.
The other time I saw it was during morning role-call. Guard named Dilinger as he was just finishing his check up. Light came straight through the ceiling and left the very same burn as last time. That one really got to me. Not the death of Dillinger, that guy was a prick so no love lost there, but up until then I had somehow had the idea in the back of my head that the indoors where safe, despite hearing stories to the contrary.
That's the point at which my usually quite excellent sleep schedule became disrupted. The real shame is that sleep was the only real escape I had from this crippling fear that came over me. But as the days went by, more and more inmates had been taken in their sleep, so even that brief respite had been ruined for me.
But back to the story at hand. I decided to get up from my now sweat infused futon and use the nearby sink to wash myself a little. My cellmate had disappeared last week meaning there where no longer any complaints about the noise. A nice silver lining to the whole thing I suppose is I didn't have to deal with his ridiculous passive aggressive bullshit everyday. Guy had a habit of under cutting everything he said with subtle threats. After talking to him for five minutes it was obvious the guy reeked of wife-beater. Not that I can talk.
...Well, I might as well mention what I got done for. Insurance fraud. Yeah, the most white collar, bullshit crime in the book. That doesn't change the fact that I was a piece of shit. I didn't need the money, I just wanted it, so I took it. I got the social security number of off some old fuck living in Pennsylvania. Guy had a sweet health insurance policy which I capitalized on. Issue was, that while I was doing so, the guy had a stroke. Thus my business was noticed by his family as well as others to whom his money mattered. Anyway, while his insurance shit is getting sorted, the guy croaks before getting transferred to his preferred hospital due to the delay, and I get done for 15 years in prison, just about dodging a man slaughter charge.
While I was washing myself in the sink, as I mentioned earlier, I was In my eighth year of my sentence. The whole divine light crap stated about three years in. For the first year it was essentially just a conspiracy theory, but by the second year it was recognized as an actual common event. People just getting plucked off of the streets in the middle of the day started becoming more common and people freaked out for while.
But as time went on, the panic subsided and people just, sort of went with it. At least thats what the seemingly uncaring news anchors seemed to indicate. From what people could gather, the whole fiasco was actually serving to better the world, even if 1/20th of its population was now classified as "missing". To regular civilians it seemed like getting zapped was just another far off possibility, like cancer. You hear a lot about how terrible that shit is, *but it could never happen to you.* By comparison, being in prisons was like being in quarantine ground zero. It wasn't a matter of *if* you'd get it, it was just a matter of *when*.
Speaking off which. Im aware I haven't done much in this story so far. Well, thats because Ive told pretty much all that there is to tell. You see, as I finished washing the back of my neck, after having washed my face, I began to turn my head upwards to look at the sinks mirror, and in that moment, staring groggily at the point the sink makes contact with the wall, it got me.
Zap. | 2014-06-01T16:39:57 | 2014-06-01T16:03:45 | 54 | 12 |
[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you. | "*... it's been, what, three months now?*"
*Ẓ̷̢̌̕ȧ̸͖̈g̷̞͎͂r̵̜̒̋ù̴͙̔ṣ̴͌̽* again had that expression about him. If you were careful, you could see the many eyes across his being, popping in and out of perceptibility, each raise its respective brow incredulously. He let the squeak of the metal swing sound once more.
"*I'm flattered you remember how long it's been.*" And impressed she could still keep time in his presence.
"*How could I forget? It was the most quiet my neighbors had been in ages.*" Meg let crack a sly yet genuinely happy smile.
"̸͓̮͚̽͌͋*And you nearly bled out like they did, too.*"̷̢̗̭͝ Little scaled & furry finger tips appeared to prod Meg teasingly in most of her tickly spots. Tensing instinctively, she realized not a one poked her where she wasn't okay with, and enjoyed a giggle.
"*Hey, there was still a cat with a sprained tail on my porch. Only made sense to bring you a bowl of milk... even with napkins shoved up my face.*"
"̷̢̗̭͝*You know that... wasn't milk you gave me.*"̸͓̮͚̽͌͋
"*No, it was definitely milk. It tasted like milk, right?*"
"̷̞͆..."̷̞͆ Definitely didn't taste like what it was. Zaggy knew it *tasted* like milk only because Meg willed it so. Breathing the very essence of life and sentience, he usually tasted things like abject horror, bone ripped through pulsing flesh, and pineapple on pizza. All perfectly natural parts of a growing horror's diet, mind. But it was the first time someone willed something *for* him, instead of *at*. First time someone could see he was injured and needed help, too.
Turns out, though, he didn't like milk.
Meg looked at one of his tails, and watched it flick and sway from side to side with ease. She could even make out the rhythm of his breath, slower now than that first night, feeling the occasional breeze before he inhaled the life of it, too.
"*Does this mean you need to go now?*" Another push of the swing, and off he went through the still air.
"̷͖̘̀̎͜*... you would have me stay? I do not believe your family could take much more of my being.*"̴͚̿
Tears welled up and dripped down her cheeks, without a hint of change in her dry demeanor and high pitched tone. "*Yeah. It's nice and quiet with you around, and my nose bleeds have even stopped!*"
He only ventured to find out where those tears came from once, having sniffed at her cheek, and all he got was a faces full of lilac. They then spent the weekend mopping up *his* nosebleed, all the while Meg laughed at the irony, and rushing to make sure every trace of Lilac in the house was thrown out. Whatever place those tears came from, felt more hollow and dark than the wake the oldest of his kind would leave behind.
Still, that 'quiet' was important to her, and he appreciated the subsequent snacks... odd as the tastes she came up with were.
"*Besides, who else is gonna finish The Good Place with me?*" She geared up, and gave one big push. Tendrils grasped at the chains as Zaggy's eyes widened from the sudden rush.
He jumped at the apex, floated down, and landed with an unceremonious, screeching thump. That undulating and swaying facade refracted the breeze and thoughts his breath drew in along the way. Meg could see the eyes and scales and screams and teeth galore, if she focused. It was beautiful for her, and made her wonder if this is what optical illusions were like, changing as she moved her eyes across, yet still when she was.
"̵̖̃*Okay, but how about popcorn this time? I don't think I've tried that yet.*"̵̖̃ | "Man, 7:00 already?"
I only had a little time before my bedtime (I get up pretty early), and I needed to finish my paper for my structural engineering class. I Closed Reddit, and pulled open Notepad (I don't like microsoft word.) I was beginning the process of staring blankly at the computer screen, when I heard a soft tapping at my door.
I ignored it.
The tapping got louder.
I ignored it harder.
The tapping turned into a pounding.
"Not now, I'm working on a project."
The pounding stopped... for a moment. Then, I heard a powerful knocking... it threatened to tear down my door.
...ugh... fine. Who was I kidding? I wasn't gonna get this paper done tonight anyway
I opened the door. It stepped into my living room.
It was a dark, shifting entity... how to describe? It appeared to be made of gas, but it moved like it had a skeleton... rather like it's body was covered by a thick layer of smoke in place of hair.
Wherever it walked, it singed the ground. My house was covered in singe marks from previous visits. It was roughly humanoid in shape, at least from the neck down. It appeared stocky, with short legs, and long arms. Though it looked rather rotund, I knew from experience that it's solid body was scarcely more than skin and bone.
It's arms were disproportionately long, as was it's neck. It's neck moved only from the bottom up, and flowed like a string submerged in water. If the creature wished to turn it's head, it first turned the base of the neck; the turn then traveled up the neck like a wave, until it finally reached the head.
The head looked rather like that of a horse, cow, or deer, but I've never seen the thing open it's jaws. It may not even have them. The head was solid black, with two large, bulbous eyes. The eyes bulged out of the head, and had no visible iris or pupils.
Then, the screaming... it was faint, but I could hear a thousand cries of fear and agony... the cries of the beast's previous victims. When the monster enveloped a person, or anything really, they sank into it's gaseous flesh, and entered a world of dark and cold and pain and nothing else.
...usually. it hadn't worked on me.
I was abruptly pulled out of my head when the creature made a noise. It sounded like a man choking, and trying to say "hell"... or, rather, hello.
"Hey, bud."
..."fffffeeeeeeeeddd.."
"... all right, but only one bowl. My cat doesn't like sharing."
I poured a bowl of kibble, and handed it to the creature. It took it in it's spindly arms, pressed the bowl against it's chest, and the bowl sank into the dark mass.
..."the bowl, please?"
The creature stopped moving for a moment, and then. Reluctantly, reached one arm into it's body. The hand came out holding an empty, ceramic bowl. Not the one I'd given it, but close enough.
"Thank you", I said as I put the bowl back in the cupboard. My dishes and cups no longer matched, but I didn't have time to care.
I sat down on the couch. "So... you only here for cat food, or do you wanna talk?"
The creature made a guttural sound. It sounded very much like the sound of a certain horror monster, but I forget it's name... the zombie girl that crawled around on the floor or something.
The sound eventually turned into a ".......wwwwwwhhhhhhhyyyyyyy....".
"Why what?"
"........wwwwwwwwhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyy nnnoooo ssssiiiiiinnnnnnkk......?"
Ah, I see. The creature was curious as to why I wasn't affected by it's otherworldly nature.
"Sit down son, this is a long one."
The creature sat down nest to me on the long since blackened couch.
"So... it all started with this f*cking gorilla..." | 2020-10-27T09:15:34 | 2020-10-27T09:05:54 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse is here, but unfortunately, you are an essential worker. | I felt a buzz in my pocket and took out my phone. It was a message from management: "Hey Phil, we appreciate you coming to work today!"
Yep, it was the daily "encouragement", they try to send those out every time you clock into the app. Society calls us essential, but that is a bunch of bullshit. If we were valued then we would be paid a wage worth earning, not $7 an hour plus tips. Cheap bastards.
I put my key in the van and hit the garage door opener. The sun hit my eyes and I saw ***them*** just wandering the streets. The first thing we learned when the zombie apocalypse started was how wrong we were about how zombies would look. They aren't green and decaying, they vast majority of the corpses were fresh. Their skin tone is a pale version of what ever it was before they died, and stiff if you are unfortunate enough to get that close to them. Ya, some of them have bite marks and open wounds, but it is hard to tell the difference between a corpse and a normal person if you aren't looking. Honestly, the main difference is the smell.
I don't know if you have ever had to smell a corpse that has been around for about a day, but the smell is the worst thing you can imagine. Try to imagine the worst smelling fart or bathroom you have ever had the displeasure to smell. Now multiply that by ten, and have it stick to everything. That is what a zombie smells like, and I have to drive around them everyday. Yes, around. We can't hit the corpses, because the cure **MAY** bring them back, so the government made our job harder. They call us heroes, but they don't help. It's just a cheap way to "Motivate" the "Essential" workers.
I stopped at my first stop. This was the hard part, because it put me at risk. I could feel the stress wearing me down after three days of this. Every time I had to leave the truck the risk of being bitten went up significantly. I got out of my truck and went to the back, looking around I saw a few corpses meandering near by, but I hadn't drawn any attention. I pulled the boxes out of the back, and walked calmly to the front porch. You can't run anymore, that draws the attention of the corpses. Running is more dangerous than walking, even if they come right at you. Joe, the guy I was friends with and who got me this job, died yesterday because he panicked when one walked right towards him and ran. I only found out in the email they sent out.
"It is with a heavy heart that we morn the losses of our delivery staff.", Right, morn my ass. That list had 50 names on it, and we still don't have protective gear. Hell, we can't even bring our own. Some bullshit about it being unprofessional to wear thick shirt. All it takes to protect your arms is a thick woolen shirt, but nope, that is unprofessional. Then how they ended the damn message, "We would like to remind all of our delivery staff that your job is perfectly safe and does not require augmentations to your uniform. Just remember, don't panic, don't run." Fucking assholes.
As I got to the porch I hid the package under a chair, then I rang the doorbell and walked back to my van. I felt like vomiting out of anxiety and fear. When I was 5 feet away, I couldn't take it anymore and just sprinted into the van. I drew a few corpses towards me, but the doors held them off, then it hit me, I forgot to take a picture of the package's location.
Shit, shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. I know I need that picture but 3 corpses were banging on my door now. I breathed in and out and just thought. How can I do this? Then it hit me. I started the van back up, and drove around the corner. When I came back around the corpses that noticed me the first time were still walking around the first bend. I pulled into the driveway and got out of the van, and got that picture as fast as I could, and SPRINTED back to my van. I couldn't breath from panic for at least a minute while I uploaded the picture.
First package down, 30 more to go.
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next day:
"Dear Phil, it is with deep regret that we must inform you that your services will no longer be needed. Your termination from this position has been linked to several complaints from a package delivery yesterday. These complaints include:
1. Taking too long on a single deliver. (Around 5 minutes)
2. unnecessary drive time and stopping at same location multiple times.
3. Ringing customer's doorbell when instructions for that location stated specifically to not ring doorbell.
4. Using customer's driveway.
5. Running twice.
With this breach of contract we will be withholding your last days work for putting the company at risk for lawsuits and employee and public safety. We suggest not applying for unemployment as you have put the company at risk and any movements to do so will lead the the company to take serious legal actions against you.
Thank you for your ten years of service, and we wish you the best of luck on future endeavors.
\-------------------------------
Edit: Changed friend's name to not be the same as the protagonists. Thanks hokescanofsalmon for letting me know I messed up. | **The Screen**
He remained motionless, face void of expression as his eyes followed the words on The Screen.
“*You’re essential*.”
Andreas briefly stared at the ground, only to lift his head to look at the words one more time. The dam in his mind that until now had been holding back fears buckled, as thoughts began to consume him. The fear evolved into panic, which then turned to grief, but eventually leveled off to rational acceptance.
“Not today” he whispered to himself.
Isolation had been the structure of society over 16 months now. The world was first exposed to this new structure during COVID-19 outbreak, but the origins of the form seen today did not begin until the BVID-24 virus five years ago. In retrospect, despite the devastation, the harsh lessons of that virus taught humans the dire importance of self-quarantine and technology to ultimately preserve the race during the current ZBE-29 extinction. With the exception of mothers raising young children, all individuals live in single dwelling units connected only by wireless technology and a series sterilized tubes for delivery of essential goods. While a society still exists, no one is truly living in society. You're either dead, undead, or pixels on someone else’s screen.
Andreas heard the suction sounds of the delivery tube and opened the hatch for his morning ration. “The food engineers still can’t get the consistency of eggs right,” he grumbled while poking a fork into an overly firm egg yolk.
As the sun began to rise, he deposited the metal tray on which the food arrived down the return tube and listened as the sanitation mist graced it on the way down. He closed his eyes, imagining it to be the sound of sprinklers watering the lawn he used to complain about mowing on hot summer days. The sound of the delivery tube snapped him back into reality. Andreas picked up the small package and migrated to his work quarters.
The ZBE-29 disease was unlike anything the world had seen. It was a virus that consumed flesh by infecting carnivorous organisms and using their bodies as a hosts. This resulted in billions of human deaths, with their physical bodies controlled by a virus that is constantly looking to spread itself and consume raw flesh. But ever since isolation protocols and infrastructure was fully set in place over 10 months ago, there have been less than 15 new infections throughout the entire world. However, with the inability to ever venture outside coupled with limited infrastructure and indoor space, resources are scarce among the living population. Therefore every adult individual has an essential role in society, one that must be performed to keep life intact.
Andreas carefully opened the box and counted total of 36 SER microchips for repair. “Five less than yesterday,” he stated as he firmly clenched the hair on the top of his head with anxiety.
After pausing for thought, Andreas grabbed his tools and began to work. His dexterity had always been his saving grace. In the height of his career, he was able to manufacture and repair these chips essential for communication and logistics in isolated society with incredible efficiency and low error rate. But today, his hands trembled as he attempted to steady the sauntering tools on the vulnerable silicone surfaces. With a slip of the hand, he ruined the very first microchip of the day. Andreas tossed it in the trash, took a breath, and composed himself. He managed to repair the next four successfully, until he clenched too firmly on the tweezers and botched another.
“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!” he screamed, tossing his tweezers across the room.
After seven hours, Andreas carefully wrapped 28 repaired SER microchips in the return package and sent it down the delivery tube, listening to the sanitation mist. Moments later his evening meal ration arrived - McDonald’s style chicken nuggets. Despite being synthetic, they oddly tasted exactly as he remembered from when he was a young boy over 50 years ago.
Andreas retired to his sleeping quarters, where he browsed the Netflix Archive to fall asleep to relics of the past. He turned on the *Tiger King*, a show that reminded him of simpler times when the world was relatively normal. He began to reminisce about how life used to mean more than survival. How people could just freely engage in idiosyncratic endeavors like raising exotic cats.
He awoke the next morning and stood by The Screen as was routine. He awaited a message that never appeared.
He watched the sunrise and awaited the vacuum sound of the delivery tube brining morning rations that never arrived.
He awaited the delivery of his work package and the subsequent evening meal to no avail.
The flood of thoughts that normally crashed through his mind like uncontrollable waves calmed to tranquil sea. “Essential,” he said. “Not anymore.” | 2020-04-18T00:38:45 | 2020-04-18T00:20:50 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] You unearthed THE archeological discovery; An ancient facility containing what seems to be detailed scientific papers on reverting age, regrow limbs and make a vaccine for cancer. What disturbs you most isn't it's age, but that the rooms are built for creatures 10 times larger than you. | We found it.
By all accounts, it should be impossible. Even if this facility was of alien origin, the chances of our biology being exactly alike, save that the aliens were 10 times larger than us, was slim to none.
The first sign that these creatures were not like us was their beds. They were enormous slabs that didn't fit our own body's postures. And yet, the scientific papers were unmistakable. The cures spoke for themselves.
Whoever inhabited these walls centuries ago were far superior to us. Our genomes were mapped perfectly, they had elixirs that could fix our biology overnight. And yet...it was too eery. How could these creatures have such knowledge about our anatomy?
Most troubling was the fact that these creatures were either extinct, or departed. What could have befallen such invincible beings? Even more worrisome, could the same disaster happen to us?
"Yo Whis, you finished?"
Ricky called out to me through the walkie-talkie.
"Everything's fine, alert the historians."
As I walked through the gigantic room, I found many cages. These cages were small enough to contain our race. I shudder to think about what the creatures did to the poor individuals kept inside the cages.
The breakthrough came when I found a chart. It had a picture of the anatomy of what seemed to be one of the creatures that lived in this facility. Bipedal animals with flat teeth, and opposable thumbs. Interesting.
"Ricky, I found something."
"Roger that Whis, I'll send a team to your location."
As I waited for Ricky's team, I stumbled upon something else. Something game-changing.
It was a book filled with pictures. Of us. Of how to dissect us, and drug us, and perform surgery on our brains. I vomited multiple times, but I couldn't stop flipping through the pages.
Mice. That's what we were called by these creatures. They experimented on us because our biology was similar to theirs. All the scientific papers they had were on us, and the technology they had was through a path paved by the blood of millions of our ancestors.
And these..."humans", as they called themselves, used what they learned in order to develop drugs and technology for themselves.
I closed the book. Today marked two major findings. The first was the finding of technology that would rewrite our health overnight. The second, and more horrifying one, was of our past. Of where we originated.
I pray that these humans are extinct, lest they come back to perform the same monstrosities they once did.
| Jericho looked about the old facility, questioning in his head on why the containment chambers were so huge, more importantly, why are most of them empty, but while wondering, his flashlight started to flicker.
"What the-, I just put a new pair of Energizers in this thing"
Smacking the flashlight to keep it lit, he heard a low hum, and strangely out of nowhere, the facility's lights came on, power was restored but he didn't know how and why, he switched his flashlight off and continued, only to be stopped by a open chamber door.
"Strange, out of all the chambers that are empty, this one is open, why though" Jericho said while looking in the football field sized chamber, but as soon as he turned around to explore more, a large humanoid creature with charcoal skin and green eyes looked at him, without hesitation, the creature, quickly but gently, picked up Jericho by his cyan and purple bangs and put him on his back.
Confused, Jericho asked the creature "where are we going?", it replied with a soft pat on his head, now Jericho was more confused then he thought, and where he was going, was more than just a few papers on a cancer vaccine or regenerative limbs, it was a portal.
"Wait, I don't wanna leave, I gotta get this to the US"
The creature then uttered its first words to him in a mellow yet deep tone, "you don't have to worry about, they'll get them when we leave, for you, it's time to come home....brother", Jericho was shocked, he didn't know what this thing was or why it was taking him to a different world, but there was one question he asked before he went through...
"YOU'RE MY BROTHER?"
To be continued
| 2018-02-09T17:43:29 | 2018-02-09T13:25:34 | 374 | 13 |
[WP] Armageddon is over, and Heaven won. Satan must now stand trail for each human before the Heavenly Host. You have been chosen as Satan’s court-appointed lawyer, since he couldn’t bring one from Hell. You are The Devil’s Advocate. | "Your honor, my client stands accused of conspiring against the kingdom of heaven to cause the downfall of man."
I glanced around the courtroom nervously. I told myself this wouldn't be any different than one of the many cases I defended in my time as a defense attorney on earth. Getting scum bags off the hook was my job and I was good at it.
Only this time *was* different. I never looked across the aisle to find Micheal himself wreathed in flames. The honorable Saint Peter presiding and my client was no looker himself, the nastiest of the nasty- Lucifer.
"My client pleads guilty your honor."
There was a gasp from the heavenly host followed by a stunned silence. All eyes fell on me.
"Your honor I object! This is some kind of trick!" exclaimed Micheal his flaming aura briefly flaring white hot.
"Over ruled," replied Peter "I want to hear what this son of adam has to say."
I looked over to my client. His eyes narrowing, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.
"Your honor the defense forgoes any contest of the charges against my client and instead will argue for a sentence of time served."
I got up from my chair and began to walk the floor so the jurors could see me. It's important to put a clean cut face to the arguement when your defending low lifes.
"The defense intends to prove that my client, Lucifer, has acted in the best interests of the kingdom and as such deserves no further punishment for his actions."
There was another loud gasp followed by angry murmurs from the gallery. No turning back now. It was time to make the most bold argument in all eternity.
The case against mankind.
"Man is a menace your honor. A threat to the entire kingdom since his inception and we intend to prove it"
I turned to face my client taking a brief pause. Meeting his fiery gaze and eyes that frankly, terrified me. I gave him the slightest devilish wink.
I was about to become the most infamous man in the universe.
The man who set the devil free. | Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am here today not just to exonerate my client, Satan. But, in fact to prove his complete and undeniable innocence in my opening statement alone. I ask you to consider but three things before we begin this utter farce of a trial.
First, if God is Omniscient, then he not only knew that my client would turn towards the path of evil before he created him, but he knew how to stop it. He may claim free will, but what if it had been as simple as asking, "how are you?"
Second, if he is omnipresent, he was with my client every step of the way. A simple nudge may have been all that was needed.
Third, if he is omnipotent, he had not only the power to do these things, but the power to end Armageddon... before it happened.. as he knew it would.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I ask you why the person on trial today is my client, and *not* the Almighty God who, I believe you will see, created Satan because he wanted Armageddon!
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Sitting at the edge of the pew, God glanced to his left, then his right. *Shit,* he thought, *I gotta get the fuck outta here*. God sprung up, ran towards the window, and launched himself out, shattering the glass with his shoulder. | 2020-05-27T04:44:29 | 2020-05-26T20:38:47 | 34 | 18 |
[WP] When someone turns 18, they may use one adjective on themselves boost that part 10 fold. Strong, fast, smart, no one expects your adjective. | The room was utterly silent as family members gathered to celebrate and watch. Eighteen was finally here and yet after so many long nights of longing, I found I was terrified of finally uttering that word.
It was just four letters. Four silly letters that in any other context, held no power beyond an empty utterance. Yet today, on my eighteenth birthday, those four letters held my entire future.
Years of pain. Years of longing and self hatred and hope for change and it was here.
Would it even work? I wasn't sure. All I could do was hope and pray that it would work. That I would soon be free of my pain.
My slim fingers found purchase in the colorful hemming of my dress. Luckily it was loose enough. When I finally spoke- when I finally changed... it hopefully would fit long enough for a quick wardrobe change.
I hated that dress with every fiber of my being. Part of me wished it would rip away when I finally found my bravery, adding insult to the injury I was about to carve into those who loved me.
Though I quickly reminded myself that they didn't love 'me', just my body... this body.
I stared down at my slim figure in disgust and awe one final time as my parents patted my shoulders with reassuring nods.
It was time.
If only they knew what I was about to do.
I prayed it would work.
I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth before drawing the courage from my pain to utter that powerful four letter word.
"Male" | When we are asked to choose, they never say why, they never tell you the truth until it is too late.
They never know what effect will come from your choice.
They are ignorant of fundamental Truths.
They seek Knowledge. They seek Power.
They lack Wisdom.
They speak into existence the webs of Fate, knowing not that which comes.
We walk the Warp and the Weft, seeking the One.
We watch them as they flail in the darkness.
"Wisdom" brought them folly.
"Knowledge" brought them ignorance.
"Power" brought them pain.
Wealth brought them loneliness
We watch them as they flail in the darkness.
Folly brought Knowledge.
Ignorance brought Shame
Pain brought Hate.
We watch them as they flail in the darkness.
knowledge was useless
shame was the truth
hate was deserved
The watchers never expected this.
Nothing, brought Everything.
After all, who wishes for nothing. | 2022-01-02T01:09:39 | 2022-01-01T23:54:47 | 257 | 138 |
[WP] A medieval alchemist travels through time to now, though he had only had 20 minutes here, he has an interesting story to tell his king. | King Edward was lying in bed, covered in bandages and dried blood. He looked up when Milo, his chief alchemist, walked in.
"So? Tell me–what did you see?" asked King Edward. "Have you found a way to make me whole again?"
Milo cleared his throat. "My lord, I believe that I have."
The king smiled. "Do tell, Milo."
"I spoke to the owner of an apothecary–a man who will not be born for five hundred years hence. The medical arts have advanced greatly in his time," said Milo.
"What did the man say?"
"This man presented me with a curious theory: a small part of the toxin *is* the cure. Indeed, his entire apothecary only stocked cures of this form. For example, an individual poisoned by quicksilver would need to consume an elixir containing a minute amount of quicksilver, diluted by a much larger part of water."
"How strange," said the king. "Quicksilver is poisonous?"
"Apparently so," said Milo. "And they called it 'mercury.' Language, too, has evolved greatly over the years."
"This technique–you believe it will make me whole? Make me fit to once again lead this kingdom?" asked the king.
"The man seemed sure of it," said Milo. "He called this futuristic medical technique 'homeopathy,' and he assured me that it would work."
"What do we need to do?" asked the king.
"Well, seeing as you were trampled by a horse, we need to locate this vile beast, cut off a small portion, and then mix it with a large portion of water. Then, you need to consume this concoction, and your legs should regrow instantaneously."
"Get to it, then, Milo," said the king. He smiled. "Soon, I will once again sit upon the throne."
---
/r/rpwrites | I saw... a painting that moved and talked, clear as a window, yet showing images projected from other realms. One such realm was ruled by a moor. Pardon my paraphrasing, I am no bard. I give you...
The legend of the Fresh Prince
Come! Come! Sit right there!
I need but a moment
To sing the song
Of how I turned the tables
And became the Prince of Bel Air
I spent most of my days
Loitering, throwing balls into hoops
When on one such occasion
I was attacked by hideous ogres
In defeat, they told me of a kingdom for the taking
I now quest for the throne of Bel Air
I whistled to the gods and they heeded my call
Apollo's chariot approached, emblazoned with a plate of FRESH
And medallions of dice, fuzzy and foreign
I wanted to relish the rare occasion
But we must make haste, to Bel Air and great fortune!
What rises in the East must set in the West
I wished Apollo good morrow
Hoping to one day again smell the chariot's heavenly fire
I surveyed my kingdom, I was finally there
To take my rightful throne as the prince of Bel Air | 2015-06-26T12:50:35 | 2015-06-26T11:46:19 | 91 | 39 |
[WP] Abstinence-only education just means that teenagers are going to experiment by themselves and get hurt. The power of dark magic is all too tempting in today's stressful society, vote yes on giving our children comprehensive hex education. | The Elder Representative slammed his fist onto the table with surprising strength, making the quills rattle.
"Hex education? For the children? Have you gone mental?!"
The whole hall jolted awake after nearly dozing off from the day's discussions, and murmurs filled the room. Nobody seemed to mind this highly unprofessional behavior in a formal meeting, save Druk and his fellows. Nobody wanted to object, or even meet their gazes for that matter.
Druk gulped. This hot summer day was not helping. The shade from the Great Tree could only do so much at the height of Midsummer. It was a stupid decision to bring this up as the day's discussion closed. He had though that the other Representatives, and especially the elders might be more amenable after a whole day of discussion and senseless adjustments to the primary and secondary education curriculum.
Well, the table still rattled from the Elder's punch, putting those delusions to rest. It kept rattling, in fact. For quite some time.
Druk waited. The Elder loved to do this. It gave the Elder time to calm down, and gave him time to think.
The table stopped. Druk cleared his throat. The representatives eyed him apprehensively.
"Sorcerers and sorceresses present, I did not bring up this subject merely to cause sensation. It is my firm belief that our young spellcasters and our society as a whole would benefit immensely from structured and comprehensive hex education at an early age. Indeed, I cannot fathom why this hasn't been implemented sooner.
"Today's children are much smarter, much more eager to question, and have much more knowledge to draw power from than before. They have access to documents, ancient texts that outline the darkest of arts, which most of us hadn't even heard of till our Day of Completion. They can peruse whatever codex they want, be it correct and rigorous or full of errors. It is much better that we give them the correct manuals, which would lead them slowly and in a more systematic manner into the arts, without filling their impressionable kinds with potentially dangerous information.
"Of course, you may ask why would they even want to know about hexes. My answer is, why wouldn't they? Surely no one at this table has forgotten about those days of Maturity, even if it happened hundreds of years ago? The boys and girls, they start their maturation process, and end up with all this Dark Potential, with no answers from us adults who they turn to! If we keep shunning them and pretend that the hexes are some perverse knowledge that no one should talk about, where else can they go?"
Druk felt his throat drying up with every passing syllable. Thankfully, Erik stepped in, letting him catch his breath.
"Of course, we've all tried hiding this knowledge, pretending it doesn't exist, haven't we? But how will you hide something so ubiquitous in our lives? When all the merchants sell their wares alluding to the Dark Potential in their advertisements, when all the plays and poetry inadvertently lead you on to the charms of hexes? The children will find out, and they will experiment without Twilight-After Potions, without Wand Coverers, without even knowing that they exist. This is not wild speculation; we have statistics showing the rise in experimentation among youth, with very unfortunate results. We need hex education, and we need freely accessible Malignment Control for everyone."
"And let's also teach people to not shame young witches trying to get Malignant Removal as a last resort, while we're at it," Krysta murmured under her breath.
First time writing here, novice, any criticism appreciated | The sound of thumping bass fills the auditorium as yawning, distracted, and overly uninterested teenagers file in row by row. More of them are texting each other than actually speaking, despite the recipient of their snaps sitting no more than two or three seats over.
"Hey! Put it away, Mr. Frederick," shouts Vice Principal Edwards, pointing a stern finger at a young man with blue hair levitating an inch off the ground by way of an amulet glowing a matching blue hue in his hand. The young man shoots him a disgusted smirk and puts the amulet in his pocket, dropping to the ground with a light plod.
The bass music drops out and something reminiscent of a 90's jock jam synth pattern begins as the lights start to dim. A blanket of fog rolls out across the stage below the edge of the red curtains draped across the proscenium.
Over the loudspeaker booms a voice. "Who's ready to get this party started?" A tepid *woo* rises from the crowd. "I said who's ready to get this party started?" A slightly less tepid *wooo* emerges from the crowd. "Let's gooooooooooooo!"
From the rear of the auditorium comes a cheering, clapping clowder of well-dressed and significantly more engaged teens running two by two down the aisles. They make wholly unreceived attempts at high fives as they head past row after row of rolled eyes. The group makes it to the stage, hopping up the stairs on either side and lining across the front of the stage, beaming from ear to ear as they fall into a rhythmic clap in time to the music.
"Keep it going for Incantation Station!"
The group gives a whoop and high fives each other, nearly immediately falling back into the rhythm with their overzealous claps. Two of them on either side start a bit of a mumble, their hands glowing purple and red and green, shooting out sparks in something remotely resembling a fireworks charm, impressing exactly two and a half freshmen at the back of the room (the half being from a young man who was more interested in the curves behind a tighter than appropriate for this event "I'm wearing my purity potion ring!" t-shirt on the redhead at stage right than the sparks coming from her hand).
"And now, introducing the Wizard of Wow, the Marvelous Magus, five-time Spellcasting Worldwide Champion turned Pastor of the First Universal Enchanted Church of the Enlightened Esoteric, Bishop Blake Marcadello!"
The teens on stage raise up a huge cheer as the curtain parts, revealing a white-clad, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, stout but sturdy looking berobed man who comes dashing up to the edge of the stage and then keeps going, floating out a few feet and reaching out to the front row for similarly unreturned high fives before returning back to the stage.
"I'm Blake Marcadello and I'm here to give you a message that will change your life! Who... is ... ready ... to ... learn ... about ... abspellince!?" | 2018-07-17T17:27:16 | 2018-07-17T17:23:54 | 183 | 12 |
[WP] A man holds the key to a secret that mankind has searched tirelessly for, but refuses to share it simply because he is an asshole.
I always see/read this character: he has the answer that everyone wants to know, but chooses to not share it and go into hiding. Usually it's because he/she believes "Humanity isn't ready for the truth."
What if, in actuality, the holder of the secret is just a jerk and does't want people to ever learn the answer? | Sometimes it sucks being the only psychic in the world. Well, technically everyone is psychic. They just haven't opened their eyes. I'm different. I'm better. I figured it out, tapped into whatever force allows someone to read minds and predict the future.
So what did I do when I first became a psychic? Mess with charlatans, of course. Tarot card peddlers, palm readers, and other self-proclaimed psychic mediums were the primary targets. I sent many of these people screaming from their own offices and homes, entirely freaked out by my displays of enlightened potential.
That got boring after a while. I wanted to parlay my newfound abilities into something that would actually make my life better. Naturally, gambling was a perfect fit. I was a millionaire in a week. I had more money than I knew what to do with. I was featured on television programs where eager journalists would ask me how I did it. I chalked it up to luck and practice, of course.
Money was one thing, but my psychic talents left me wanting more. I wanted control. Unfortunately, mind control was not a possibility. However, I figured out a way to leverage my enlightenment. By reading their minds, I was able to establish a framework of their needs and wants on both the conscious and subconscious levels. From there, it was easy to manipulate people into doing what I wanted them to do under the guise of doing something for themselves. It was perfect.
Unenlightened humans are my puppets now. I control them and they don't even know it. They are sleepwalking through life, unaware of the potential locked within each of their minds. I am simply giving them some direction, what's so wrong with that?
| "Maria Millas is survived by her husband and doctor Paul. She died on November 3rd after a long battle with skin cancer." I just sit there and read it. Over and over. Technically it's true. She had a battle with cancer, and she died on November 3rd. But she didn't die of cancer. I loved her. I needed her to live. She came into my office that one morning, saying her doctor referred her to me. I devoted my life to healing her. She was a wonderful woman.
It was October 28th. I had been working on an experimental treatment, and it worked. She swallowed one pill. The cancer completely disappeared, along with her symptoms. She was ecstatic. I loved to see her that way. But she wanted to tell people. I told her no. She gave me years of endless love. What did anyone else do for me? On November 3rd, after signs of recovery, she had finally had her suffering ended. | 2014-10-04T15:55:08 | 2014-10-04T15:07:20 | 41 | 21 |
[WP] Nonhuman youths swap stories about humans around a campfire equivalent. The stories are true, if wildly misinterpreted.
-012 | "They say they were ground-bound." Elpha whispered, the fire sending long streaks of orange light across her face and into the shock of brown feathers that started at her eyebrows and rocketed back over her narrow skull.
"How? Didn't they have wings?" Inya, the youngest of the four asked. She sat huddled against the fire for warmth, holding out the webbed hands as close as she dared.
"They didn't have wings, Inya." Garell said. The oldest of the little group, he was presumed to be the most knowledgeable. Now, however, he was mistaken.
"They did have wings!" Elpha snapped back. "They were just bare, is all. They didn't have The Skin like we do."
Orcish shivered and drew his feathers closer around himself as though the very thought of losing his Skin made him feel the cold.
"So what did they do to travel?" Inya asked, breathless.
"Welame told me that they build huge empty bellies out of metal that lived off dead animals and in return the bellies would carry them safely inside them."
"Welame's an idiot. She also said that they used to hunt and kill other animals... Then not eat it." Garell said
Inya let out a frightened gasp and Orcish rolled her eyes. "That one's obviously not true." He said. "It's just stupid... Why would anyone go through all the effort needed to hunt food and kill it, then leave it? It just doesn't make sense."
"Maybe they had more food than they knew what to do with."
"I heard they used to starve."
"I heard they cut a hole in the sky and let the warmth of the earth escape."
"How could they do that?" Garell asked, trying to conceal the note of breathless excitement in his voice, but Inya noticed, and she nudged him.
"The metal bellies swam in the sky too. Like us, but noisier and with fewer feathers."
"And they had a great War against the trees and they cut them all down!" Inya supplied.
"That's ridiculous." The small group looked around, tall trees shadowy at their backs. Elpha spoke for the four.
"Why would they destroy that which gave them life?"
| Chicky, Clucky, Beak, Henny, and Ralph were sitting around the bonfire sharing scary stories. It was Ralph's turn.
"There once was a family, who lived happily on their farm. They lived out their days in peace and tranquility, eating their delicious corn and grain. One day a large featherless beast came and captured the family. He took them to a dark chamber filled with many hanging bodies. The family was terrified and they yelled and screamed and begged for mercy. The beast grabbed the father by the neck, placed him on the table and WACK"
Everyone jumped when Ralph boomed the noise. He stayed silent for a few seconds to let the mood sink in.
"His head fell off!" *gasp*
"The beast started pulling the father's feathers from his body as his family cried. Meticulously the beast continued the process with the rest of the family, plucking their feathers and draining the bodies of blood. He dismembered their bodies and dipped the pieces in the a whipped concoction of the unborn. Than he covered the pieces in bread crumbs and dropped them in a boiling vat of oil." *gasp*
"The beast then threw the pieces of their deep fried body parts into a bucket and fed them to a group of more beasts!"
At this point Henny passed out at the idea. The group of chicks clucked their approval of the scary story.
"Ralph that was terrifying! How did you come up with such a scary story?" Clucky just had to know.
"I saw the whole thing with my own eyes when I lived in Kentucky. The colonel that ran the farm I came from was just like the beast in my story!"
This time Chicky gasped and passed out. | 2014-01-12T12:39:19 | 2014-01-12T12:35:20 | 141 | 11 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends. | Dexicon moved his cosmic fortress from Centauri B straight into Earth's orbit. Dexicon was able to do this in one turn thanks to the cosmic paving it had laid earlier. This allowed faster than light travel.
"Your move, God." Dexicon roared, knowing it had the ancient deity in its proverbial palm.
*Shit shit shit* thought God. It was tough to display no emotion but a strong poker face was crucial. Dexicon had already taken Zeermon out the game and had now moved on to God.
God had not been blessed with much luck. Each deity had been given a species that had space travel potential. The objective was to either enslave or obliterate the other species. God had unfortunately randomised the least intelligent possible species - homo.
2.7 million years just to leave the hunter gatherer stage. This was a new record. He had had to wipe out his first few species of homo and start over - they had simply been too stupid. By the time he had rerandomised into homo-sapien he was at least 2.6 million years behind Dexicon.
What didnt help was that the homo-sapiens turned out to be incredibly aggresive. This would be useful for fighting other species, but they mainly killed each other! Oh how Dexicon and Zeermon laughed!
When he had finally researched the abilty to send a vassel to Earth to enlighten and guide the people, the earthlings did something unprecedented in stupidity - they decided to kill it.
Finally the humans became space able. At the time, God was pleased. They visited their local moon first, as expected. But the moon base never came. The colonisation of nearby planets never came. They regressed.
"Using your cosmic paving I move Earth into alpha Centuri B", said God, in a move that would have made the humans proud.
Dexicon's mouth dropped.
"Rematch?" God asked.
--------
If you liked this you can read more on my sub I just set up (come follow me!): /r/nickofnight
| Jesus is doing well, most advanced in science but his public order is barely in the green, Jesus adopts and invests his saved social policies heavily in the the freedom ideology.
The other gods see this a chance to fuck with him
"Budda has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
"Bhrama has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
"Yahwey has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
Even Zeus and Kronos agree for once and chose to adopt the order ideology.
"Fuck!!" Jesus yells, his public order has gone down to -20. But he doesn't want to change it or he will lose half his policy's. Rebellions sprout up and he has to devote all his empires resources to shutting them down. In the meantime the other civs catch up to him in science. Eventually Jesus gives up.
"Jesus has adopted the order ideology"
"Finally it's over" he thought. But in that chaos the other gods used the distraction and moved their armies to his borders. Jesus knows what's about to happen. But he has no troops left from his rebellions. All the other gods declare war on him at once. And his civilization is carved up like a turkey.
"You have lost, your civilization has fallen to its many foes"
Jesus facepalms and says "whatever I'll get them in a few millennia when this game is over" and goes to watch star trek TNG.
| 2022-09-11T19:19:52 | 2016-04-09T05:49:29 | 1,980 | 20 |
[WP] start your story with a sentence that is upbeat and happy. Then end it with that same sentence but this time is dark and chilling. | Her eyes are beautiful.
When I first saw her, walking through the school corridors, I knew that she was the one. I couldn't take my eyes off her. It didn't take me long to figure out her class timetable. I started to watch her from afar, making sure that she wouldn't notice me watching her. In fact, I had to make sure nobody saw me. People... complicate things. People talk. I couldn't be having that. Nobody is going to stop me. It's been a few months now, and I'm reasonably certain I know all that I need to know. I've been following her home the past couple of weeks, so I know her address and I know her parent's schedule. I know when she will be alone. I know the best time to make my move. I was waiting outside of her sociology class, my mind wandering as I consider how I'm going to do it. I didn't want it to be long and drawn out, that would just cause unnecessary pain for everybody. It needs to be done quickly. As I was weighing my options, I realised that she had seen me. Her eyes lit up, as she walked over to me. I panicked, trying to get away, but it was too late.
"Hey! I'm Lucy. I don't think we've been introduced properly."
"Uh..." I stammered, feeling the heat in my cheeks, the sweat dripping from my forehead. "I'm Peter. How are...?"
"Of course I know who you are, silly! I was wondering, would you like to come over my place tonight for a meal? I've been wanting to get to know you for a while."
It was Friday night. Date night for her parents. I almost started laughing, as I realised the perfect opportunity that had landed in my lap.
"That sounds wonderful, I'll see you tonight!" I said as I turned to walk away.
"Hold on, you don't even know my address yet!"
I laughed. "Of course, how silly of me! What's your address?"
...........
Tonight's the night. I was getting everything ready, preparing my kit. I had planned every detail of this night meticulously. I wasn't expecting this opportunity to arise tonight, so things were slightly rushed, but I was ready. I arrived at Lucy's door at 8pm. She answered quickly, her red dress complementing her beautiful figure. It took my breath away. She took me to the dining table, said that dinner would be ready soon. We sat and drank some red wine, laughing and getting to know each other. Things were going well. It was almost time. I started to feel a bit drowsy, I think the wine was getting to me. Idiot, why did I drink this so quickly? I needed to stay awake to enjoy the moment... to enjoy the look on her face when she realises. She left to go and check on the food and I realised now was my chance. I reached my hand into my back pocket, swearing as I pierced my hand. I knew I should've had something covering it. I pulled it out of my pocket as she walked in, her eyes widening as she saw the rose I had brought for her.
"Lucy, I wanted you to know that I really like you, and I... I..."
I began to stutter, finding it difficult to speak. My head became cloudy and my eyes started to close involuntarily.
"I..."
Lucy walked closer to me, as she pulled out something from her pocket. Had she brought me some flowers too?
I couldn't think straight, my eyelids were becoming so heavy.
As she approached, I realised she didn't have flowers at all.
"Are you okay?" she giggled, "are you feeling a little bit drowsy?"
Her face was now inches from mine and I could feel something sharp pressing against my neck.
"Don't worry, I'll look after you."
My world began to fade into darkness, I could hear manic laughter. The last thing I saw before everything faded to nothingness were her eyes, staring intently into my own.
Her eyes are beautiful. | (Can i make this undertale cos Im making this undertale lol)
​
Its a beautiful day outside, birds are singing, flowers are blooming. Im going hiking today. Who cares if people say Mount Ebott is dangerous, people come back all the time! I get out of bed and get dressed into my favourite striped jumper. I grab my bag and leave the house, wave to my parents, and set off.
​
I climb up the long winding paths of the mountain and enter a large cave. The stalactites clinging onto the roof. I hang my bag around a stalagmite and grab a plaster to cover a nasty cut on my hand. I start to look around and my foot gets caught on a a root and it sends me plummeting into a large pit.
​
***THUNK***
My head hurt, no, everywhere hurt. I had fallen on some flowers? They were yellow, I recognise that they were the same used to remember my aunt who went missing here. I never knew her but i heard she was nice. I leave the flower room and see a lone, singular flower, it turns around and it has a face?! It starts to speak, "Howdy! Im Flowey! Flowey the flower! You're new to the underground arn't ya?" It winks and sticks it's tongue out.
"Dont worry! I'll teach ya how things work around here! See that heart? That is your soul!" A red heart appears infront of my chest, pulseing infront of me, i gasp and take a step back.
"Dont worry silly! Thats yours! See move it around! Souls start of weak, but grow with lots of LV, whats LV why LOVE of course!" It winks again "You want some love dont ya! LOVE down here is spread through little white friendly-ness pellets! Grab as many as you can!"
It sends some white dot things at me, they hit my soul and it hurts, so badly.
"You idiot. To think i would pass up an opportunity like this." Its face contorts.
# "Die"
It surrounds me with the pellets, slowly encosing on me when.
"AHHHnhgfidhn"
It's sent flying across the room. Then i hear another voice.
"Do not worry my child, I am Toriel."
I stand up.
"Caretaker of the ruins"
I grab a stick.
"Take my hand my child"
It holds out it's hand, but i panic and stab it.
"Ahh... I see. Haha. I guess, you weren't as defenseless as I once thought."
You won! Your LOVE and GOLD increased.
​
After that I went around killing the hideous monsters that lived there, every time I did, it felt easier. They wanted to hurt me first. Right? That flower did! I left the ruins, I killed the rest of the monsters. As my LOVE and EXP increased, it was easier, it came to the point where it was enjoyable!
​
I then stood in a checkered hall, staring eye to eyesocket at a skeleton, he had killed me plently of times before, i dont know how, I could just feel it, so could he.
"heh heh, welcome back kid. it's a beautiful day outside today, birds are singing, flowers are blooming..."
​
\-----
Hope that was ok :) Sorry for making it undertale, i just thought sans's genocide lines would be perfect. | 2019-09-07T06:54:50 | 2019-09-07T04:42:58 | 76 | 12 |
[WP] You made a deal with the devil and now he wants payment, but in the worst typo in history he's come to collect "your sole".
If you can think of any other words that work go ahead. | “You know, this place looks *nothing* like the photos I’ve seen.”
I was in a waiting area of sorts. Dark wooden flooring, long corridors with unmarked doors, the low hum of fluorescent lighting. Everywhere, indistinct chatter, the clacking of dress shoes and sounds of clerical activity echoed around the halls. It felt like being in a scene from Mad Men.
“Yea man, me neither. But I believe that there are different areas, each with its own facades.”
The person who replied me was a middle aged man. He wore a brown turtleneck and simple dark trousers. Looked like a IT guy.
“Professor Larrington. Archaeology.”
“Damien. Late Night show host.”
“Are you really? You do look familiar.”
“I do get that a lot. You here alone?”
“Got here with a buddy actually. We were touring Greece together when it happened. But we got separated at the changing rooms.”
“Ahh. What happened?”
“Drunk driver. Didn’t feel a thing. Yourself?”
“I got shot. Long story.”
I peeked out from my spot in the queue. There was still a long way to go.
“It does seem like we got plenty of time.” said the professor.
“Why has nobody tried to step out of line?”
“You can’t.”
I tried to leave the queue, but after taking two steps to the left, my path was blocked by an invisible force. Two shoves later, I gave up.
“Well I’m gonna sit down then.”
“Better not,” said the professor, “You got company.”
I turned and sure enough, an attractive secretary stood over me, clipboard in hand. Her name tag read: Lili.
“I assume you want me to follow you?” I asked, standing up.
“Yes. Mr. Morningstar wants to see you.”
***
The devil has a mahogany desk. Go figure.
“You know, I kind of wish you had let me finish with my threesome before you kill me next time.”
“You did ask to have a magnetic personality. That includes business partners, women and bullets.”
“Harr harr.”
Lucifer grinned. “You have my word - I’ll try to show a little more courtesy, *next time.*”
“You’re a fuckin’ comedian Lucy.”
“Alright.” said Lucifer, a document materialising with a snap of his fingers. “As much as I would love to engage in this banter with you, I’ve got a busy day today, so if you’d just sign this so we can put you to work right away.”
I pulled the piece of parchment from across the desk. Well, I’ve had a fair share of fun for a thirty-five year old, time to face the music, as they say.
“I know it’s weird to ask, but does it hurt?”
“It burns for awhile, then you get binded to my will forever.” said Lucifer matter-of-factly. “But I liked your show, so I won’t be too harsh on you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
*Here goes nothing.*
I signed my name. A moment. Then the parchment burst into flames, re-materialising on Lucifer’s desk a moment later.
“What!” he said, snatching it up and skimming through it quickly. “FUCK. Lilith, get in here!”
The attractive secretary enter the room, flustered. Lucifer stuck the parchment in her face.
“Last line. It says ‘sole’! SOLE. How the fuck is he supposed to pay the price here?”
I reached for the loafers I was wearing but Lucifer cut me off.
“Those aren’t yours to give! They belong to the Saint’s Department.”
Lili was looking rather uncomfortable.
“Didn’t you write this?” I said.
“Yes! Fucking autocorrect. Why did we even switch to iOS?”
“So what happens now?”
Lucifer reached into a drawer and pulled out a small piece of paper. He signed the bottom of the small form and slid it over to me.
“You don’t bring anything with you when you die. So, I got to send you back and take the shoe from you back on Earth when you grow old enough to own and gift one.”
“So over here under ‘name of parents’, if I write Kris Jenner, I get to become a Kardashian?”
Lucifer gave me a look through his fingers.
“Yes.”
“Sickkk.” I said, scribbling down a name. This was gonna be a wild ride.
***
*And that, was how I became the third child of Kim Kardashian. My boy Lucy was gonna get himself a Yeezy.*
r/lysanderxonora
| The collections department sent an email with the next job. As soon as I saw the name, I knew who it was. I didn't even bother using Google Underworld to map a route. One snap of the fingers and the red walls of the underworld went streaming past.
I summoned the seven fire-breathing demons of hell, the undead, my three forked trident, and loaded up some screamo on Google Christ (the anti-version). Dirt exploded out in every direction as we penetrated Earth. Wooden beams shattered into fragments.
We rose out of the destroyed floor of a bedroom. I couldn't imagine just how unbelievably evil we must have looked then.
A boy in a rock t-shirt sat on the edge of a bed. There was a girl next to him, one with sandy blonde hair and a similar t-shirt, with her lips puckered.
"Oh, fucking hell, this guy again?" the guy said.
Dave was always trying to dodge me when I came to collect. But this time I'd get him for sure.
"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Dave. We've never even met before."
I'd throw him off by playing it cool. It would make me more evil and confuse him in the process. Human's couldn't think straight when they were confused, it's their final weakness.
"What the heck is this, Dave?" the girl said. She crawled back on the bed. I could tell she was a distraction, a well placed aesthetically pleasing human that would draw my attention from his get away. It wouldn't work this time.
"I'm leaving!" she said.
Not if I had anything to do with it. I reached back my trident hand, preparing to throw.
"Just. . . stop," Dave said, holding a hand out to me. "The last time you ruined my first kiss, you left the girl bald."
He was onto me.
"I've come to collect, Dave. Give it up, you won't be getting away."
Dave slapped a hand to his forehead. He was channeling his deceptive energies, I could feel a plot cooking.
The girl rolled off the bed and began putting things on her feet. Human devices, created to foil my collections.
"Stop you! I'll throw it!"
The woman screeched and promptly fainted. She's not the first that couldn't handle my evilness.
"Every time . . ." Dave groaned. "I told you. It's the KISS album. Not a KISS."
"Pay your dues, Dave."
He grumbled under his breath while searching under the bed. I kept my eyes peeled and my beasts ready. A high collection target like Dave should not be taken lightly, by anyone, least of all the lord of darkness. And I could be pretty dark when I needed to be.
Dave turned around with something in his hand. "Here. This is what I owe you."
And there they were. White-faced creatures, angels in the flesh. It sent my mind racing, my blood bubbling. The lord of light was close and I had come without my army.
"Not this time, Dave!" I said, before the angels could jump out and attack. "But I'll be back!"
Dave groaned. "I am never going to get laid."
The Earth zipped away, the red walls of hell streamed past again, and I was back in the job booth. There are some things even I should not be forced to see.
*Job failed,* I keyed into the system.
The system responded, *a drink for the nerves?*
*Enough to make me forget,* I typed back.
-----
/r/cassidylilly
| 2017-10-16T03:49:09 | 2017-10-16T03:22:17 | 101 | 10 |
[WP] Your son's recurrent dreams about a monster have become so intense that you take him to a psychiatrist, who prescribes him a medication. While filling the prescription, you notice that the name of the drug is the same as the name of the monster in your son's dreams.
edit: I'm absolutely amazed at the variety of responses this has gotten. Thanks to all for taking the time to write. | I guess I hadn't tried to spell it before that moment.
No, that's not true. I had. There were so many pre-dawn nights of staring into space, thinking simple, sleepy thoughts while holding my son, letting everything and anything drift into my mind as we went through this routine again, that surely I had once before tried to put letters and vowel sounds to the garbled word he'd repeat over and over. Nearly every night he wailed, and I'd shuffle from my room to his, and hold him until he fell back to sleep while trying to keep my own eyes open. Usually I was too tired for much cognitive thought, and so spelling words in my mind was precisely the kind of low-impact activity my mind could handle at 3AM.
To think, for years I'd had a sort of nostalgia for the early days of his life: those first few months, before he could sleep through the night. During those midnight feedings and diaper changes, I was the only one he wanted--no toys, no books, no cartoons. Just me and him.
Once he started sleeping through the night, I lost a little piece of us, the part that needed me during those dark hours. The same when he started holding his own bottle, when he began to walk, all of the development milestones that we're supposed to celebrate--I dreaded them. I shed a few tears behind my sunglasses on the day he cheerfully told me he didn't need me to push the swings anymore. I resigned to my fate, the fate of all mothers: my whole life would be my little boy being ripped from me, one imperceptible piece at a time. Too small to cry over but too big to ignore.
But then, six months ago, I felt his cry pierce through my unconscious until I woke, and I have to admit I was a little glad to get an encore performance of our earliest days together. "Mama!" he screamed, his voice garbled with tears and mucous. I dutifully held his little body against mine as it shook and vibrated with fear. "It's just a bad dream, baby," I cooed softly.
"There was a monster," he blubbered.
Waking up in the middle of the night to his wails quickly lost its charm, though, and the nightmares quickly got worse. On the first night, he had fallen back to sleep quickly. Within a month, the nightmares were happening twice a night, and he was increasingly more terrified each time he woke. Every time he spoke of the monster, something that wanted to eat him from the inside out. I could feel his heart thumping in his chest as I held him close, his breath skipping. Soon he dreaded bedtime, asking for a dozen bedtime stories, claiming he wasn't tired, looking distrustfully at his pillow and comforter.
I googled how to handle recurring nightmares in children, sure that the Internet would give me something I didn't know, but nothing seemed to work. I asked him to describe the monster, sure that it was born of too many PG-13 movies or maybe something on NatGeo, but it had no face, he told me--it was invisible, or rather, in his dreams it was already inside him, clawing its way up his body. He always woke before it ate his brain, but each night it got closer.
One heartbreaking night, he screamed and I came to his room, but when I tried to hold him, he pulled away as though I was the creature from his dreams. "No!" he wailed. I was crushed.
"It's me, baby," I tried, "It's mama."
"You did it!" he shouted, his voice jarring in the silence of our house. "You put the Fentank inside me! You want it to eat me!" He sobbed and pushed me away twice more before I could finally shake him from the false reality: *I didn't do it, I would never hurt you, it's just a dream* I repeated over and over, until we both fell asleep with tears streaked on our faces.
The next day I called our doctor, who then referred us to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist was a benign man with a trusting face and a reassuringly rounded figure. My son played with some tessellate shapes on the low-pile carpet as the doctor explained his assessment. I heard the words: *anxiety, trauma, risk of psychosis*. *Family history of schizophrenia?* I shook my head, but then revised: I didn't know for sure.
"Let's try this," he said warmly, scribbling on his pad. "With any medication, there are side effects. It's a matter of weighing the pros and the cons. This is where I like to start--phenylnotaxisin. This is a low dose, but it can be increased. Pros: the nightmares should end. You'll notice he's calmer, perhaps more focused. Cons: some have reported a loss of appetite. You may have to encourage him to finish meals. We also have seen some emotional latching. You may find him having more separation anxiety as he adjusts to the medication--I wouldn't recommend any sleepovers or vacations for at least a few weeks."
I nodded dutifully, but inside I was elated. I had worried that the cons list would be longer, or worse, that there was no help for my son at all. An end to the nightmares and a son who needed me more? I could certainly live with that. Relief flooded me when I held that prescription, and I kept it in my hand as we walked a few blocks to the pharmacy, afraid that if I put it in my pocket or my purse that it would disappear. We waited at the pharmacy counter for the pills. I even let him pick out some cheap drug store toys--relief made me agreeable.
At home I broke open a capsule over some applesauce and told my son to eat it as quickly as he could, so the taste wouldn't put him off. I read over the insert as he stirred the little white beads into the beige mush.
"What's it called?" he asked.
I glanced at the label. Phenylnotaxisin. And underneath: *Generic substitute for Phentax.*
The Fentank.
Icy dread washed over me as I realized how the names sounded, as the thoughts formed before their implications could. The names sound the same. The Fentank is Phentax. I couldn't say it out loud; he'd cry, and we'd be back where we started.
But I couldn't deal with the nightmares anymore. I couldn't deal with him pushing me away. *This is good for us. Don't be silly.*
"It doesn't have a name," I told him. "But I promise, it's going to make both of us feel a lot better." | "E-every night", Tristan stuttered as he emptily stared out the window. "I dream I'm at the stairs to our basement, except that it's… endless. Behind me and in front of me." Dr. Gabriel nodded and wrote on his notepad. "So what exactly-" he stared at the seven-year old boy, who quickly averted his gaze "-bothers you about this dream?" Tristan could barely mutter any words out. "Just calm down and tell the doctor, sweetie," his mother Dolores tried to assuage him. Finally, he managed to find the words.
"There's this…thing or person or something, I dunno if it's a girl or a boy, in front of me, at the steps above me. And it doesn't have a face, just a mouth from ear to ear. And we both c-can't move," he said, fidgeting in his seat. "And every night, every time I dream…I…I…" he started looking around, as if fearful of something else inside the room.
Dolores smiled at her son, hoping at least to comfort the boy's fears. "Don't be afraid here, now. You're safe, trust me,"
"There's nothing that will harm you here, Tristan. Don't be scared," the doctor added. "What does the monster do every night?"
"E…every time I dream, it's o-one step closer to me. But I'm still where I was before. And every night, it just gets nearer and nearer…and the nearer it gets, the more it starts to reach its arms out to me, and the more it starts to smile at me, and the more I start to hear it say…s-say…"
Tristan trembled, and started to cover his ears. "…say the words 'embrace me'. I-i…it's just saying those words over and over again. And now I hear it everywhere. Everytime. Loud. Soft. Awake. Asleep. It won't leave me...it just won't…"
The doctor wrote another note. "Mrs. Dolores, how does Tristan behave after he wakes up?"
"Oh?" Dolores replied. "Well, when he first started telling me about it, it didn't…seem too unusual. He'd come crying to me about a bad dream where he couldn't move, and I thought it was just nothing, but he kept having the same dream. Over and over and over again. Soon I hear him start to cry 'no, no, get away, get away' in his sleep. He asked if he could just sleep in my room for a while."
"And what happened after that?"
"What happened? Well, it…I think it got worse. After a while he started thrashing and crying and screaming in the middle of the night..."
"Night terrors, then? I think this is an odd case, for him to have exactly the same night terror repeatedly."
"I hear it calling me. It won't s-stop." Tristan began to shiver. "I hear it here."
There was a pause before Dolores spoke up again. "He…he hasn't been sleeping for the past two days. I kept on trying to urge him to do so, but he kept on crying to me not to let him fall asleep. I'd go to sleep with him staring at the window and I'd wake up with him still staring at that same place. I'd hear him mutter the words 'morsomni, morsomni' over and over again throughout the night,"
"Hmm…" the doctor mumbled. "Tell me, Tristan, how long have you been having these dreams, again?"
Tristan looked blankly at him, before answering, "A month."
"And how close is the monster to you in your last dream?"
"Right in front of me."
For a moment they were all silent, before the doctor began to write down his prescription.
"I have a few colleagues who have worked on this certain new drug intended to alleviate the occurence of night terrors. I believe, Dolores, that your son is suffering from a very unusual form of night terrors, and perhaps this medication will be able to alleviate or completely get rid of all of his episodes. I'll have to see him again in the next week, just to check up on how he's faring," he said, barely looking up from the desk.
"I…understand, Dr. Gabriel." Dolores answered, the worry for her son still palpable within her.
"Morsomni is…quite an unusual word for him to be muttering at night," the doctor added with a curious tone.
"Why is that?"
"Oh, nothing."
---
Morsomnin, Dolores thought, was a very unusual name for a drug, and even more unusual was why Tristan kept repeating that word. As she entered his room, with a capsule and a glass of water in hand, she saw him once more, sitting on the floor, staring blankly at the window. "Morsomni…morsomni…
"Tristan, go to sleep. The doctor's pills will help you, don't worry."
"It's going to take me if I sleep..." she heard Tristan whisper.
"The monster? It's not going to take you, sweetie, I'm very sure about that. The medicine's going to work any time soon."
"Morsomni…I don't want its embrace…"
Morsomni. Perhaps that was what he called the monster. But how, Dolores pondered, did he know that word before they even went to the doctor? And even if somehow he really did, how could he have known that it could help him?
She went over to him and lifted him up, and put him back on the bed and put his blanket around him. Kissing him, she put a hand on his cheek. "Good night?"
He could only whisper a soft "night."
And as Dolores left the room, Tristan could do nothing but close his eyes begin to grip his blanket tightly in sheer terror. Tiredness overcame him and the drug began to take effect.
"I…I can s-see it…" he began to tear up as sleep conquered him. "Its embrace…"
| 2015-07-23T10:51:58 | 2015-07-23T09:30:24 | 32 | 19 |
[WP] You are a deity who answers prayers 'on behalf of' other gods. Some are gone, or dead; others just too proud or lazy to reply to their followers. But nonetheless, the prayers keep coming in, and you spend your days sorting through them all for fun. | “Hmmm, this one should be interesting…”
It had been a long century of dealing with my actual job responsibilities, and I was getting bored. I decided to do what I usually did when I was bored—technically, it was still work (sort of), so none of the higher-ups could yell at me for slacking off.
I decided to go through the spam inbox.
Most of my colleagues never bothered reading through their spam. At some point a few hundred years ago, Hermes had come up with the bright idea of simply combining all of the god’s prayer inboxes into one giant dumping ground. Most of the gods were either too selfish or too proud to bother with such petty trifles as the desperate wishes of their followers. Almost all of the rest of them had either passed on or were too weak to grant the requests.
I was basically the only immortal who was right in the middle—high enough up the ladder to be able to answer prayers, low enough on the ladder to have the time/energy/investment in humanity to care enough to grant them.
The first few prayers that I happened across were standard fare—your typical “end world hunger” or “end poverty” or some other large-scale wish that would upset the balance of the Universe. The next few were the other kind of standard fare—small and petty wishes like “Dear Lord, give me a new ATV” or “I need a new Ferrari to spread the gospel even further” or things along those lines.
After a short while digging through the inbox, I was starting to regret diving in.
Then, I found an interesting one.
“Dear Poseidon, I’ve tried praying to all of the gods of my time, but they wouldn’t answer. My brother was dragged away from the riverbank near our village by a hippopotamus, and I have not seen him in days. Please give me a sign if he lives, and if not please give me a way to get revenge.”
I did a quick Godgle Maps search of Earth, and found (sadly but unsurprisingly) that the woman’s brother was dead. It was unfortunate, but that wasn’t why the prayer had interested me.
It had been many centuries since someone had sent a prayer to Poseidon, but this woman had. More than that, her prayer had been about an issue on a river. As God of the Sea, Poseidon wouldn’t have even had jurisdiction.
Hippos were surprisingly violent animals, and in all honesty, I’d never been a fan. Now that I’d dug up this prayer, however, maybe I could do something about it.
Plus, I owed something to the Greek Pantheon anyway. After all, would I have found this fascinating loophole without Hermes giving me free and eternal access to the rubbish bin of prayers?
I found the woman’s home—it was a relatively simple one-story building near the center of the village, but it had a certain Spartan kind of elegance to it that would make it the perfect place to revive a long-dead religion. It had been many years since a god had found a good enough loophole to answer a prayer and drum up some miracles, so staging really would be important here.
I designed a quick trident in my head—Poseidon‘s weapon, but made entirely out of intricately carved ruby with decorations of dead hippos along the main shaft of the spear.
What could I say? Red was my color.
I had to come up with a sufficiently ominous-sounding note to leave with the spear. Humans did love their prophecies, and this one would have to be captivating.
*With this spear, you must take revenge on the one who stole your brother’s life from you. Kill it, then take the gem hidden in its heart. You must wear that jewel in a pendant around your neck, for it shall protect you in the battles to come. You are destined to be the end of their kind. Do not falter, and show no mercy.*
*The gods are with you.*
I chuckled as I wrote out the last line, and prepared to make the spear and the note materialize. Really, it was just me and Hermes (sort of), but hey, at least it was something!
Plus, the look on Taweret’s face when she saw an Egyptian woman declaring war on all hippopotami would be absolutely priceless.
I made sure to return to my regular job right after I made the spear show up, just for some plausible deniability. Then again, I didn’t need it. Technically, I was well within my rights.
This was about to be a really fun decade.
As long as Poseidon never found out about this…
__________________
If you liked this, check out my subreddit! r/NicodemusLux | The heavens are a decidedly boring place, methinks. One would assume that beings of incredible cosmic ability would be a little more creative, but no. You smite one planet, you smite them all. Zeus and Buddha and *Vishnu*\--all boring creatures the lot of them.
In my humble opinion, it is *humans*, what with their endless imagination and utter lack of self-preservation, that are having the real party. Oh, how I long to be like the other gods and have the ability to travel down to the Middle-Realm. Not for long, of course, but just long enough to see what could possibly be going on in their lives to make them wish for some of these things.
Oh, like this wish! "***I wish for a bigger dick***." A rather common wish, of course, but it isn't the wish itself that is interesting. It is *who* the wish is going to.
"And why exactly would Ares feel the need to grant that one?" I ask, a smile on my face. Still, I fold the request, symbolically represented as words, in a neat little bundle and wrap it up. I place it in a nice, empty pile that is solely reserved for things 'above my pay grade' and snicker as I imagine Ares opening it.
The old coot rarely got any mail nowadays. Most war just doesn't interest him anymore. He had left 'blood of my enemies' to me eons ago, stating that it was far too easy and well within my powers. He was right, of course, but that isn't an excuse for being lazy.
Oh, here's another one. "***Please, God. Let Jeremy notice me***." What a right riot to send to the Abrahamic God. And also a real waste of a wish to the gods. You see, most prayers get lost in transit, falling to the proverbial wayside on their path to me. What a shame that this one made it through. Probably beat out a prayer to be cured of cancer as well. Pity that.
I think I'll send it over to Osiris. Bugger was just telling me about how bored he was. This one should give him a laugh. As a god of the deceased, he should feel real comfortable handling the dead love of this middle school girl.
Any others and... oh? This one is real interesting!
"***I want a million dollars!***"
And just a million, little Andre James? Why not several? Why not a *billion*? What could you possibly want with just a measly little million? It isn't like that could afford you anything of worth any--
Oh.
Now, that is just positively sad. And... rather frightening, really. This wish could go... to any god, really. Ares, Osiris, Vishnu. Hell, those kinds of plans would be **right** up the Abrahamic God's alley. But... the things you're planning, Andre... what could possibly make you so--
Oh.
I see.
Well, the human world is pretty bad. I can't fault you for your prayers, but... I don't think any god would grant your wish knowing what you want it for.
I look around. Eyes scanning the vast white expanse of my own little part of the heavens. Seeing no one around, I crack my knuckles...
... and I send little Andre his million. A lottery ticket, could you believe it? Just slipped right into his hands. Had to borrow a little *ooph* from Fortuna for that one. Still, Mr. James had gotten his wish. A job well done, I muted my inbox and stood from my desk. I had an idea of what most of the new prayers would soon be.
Maybe... I would put my plans to visit the Middle Realms on hold, for now. Things were going to get creative, soon.
Maybe it was a good thing the gods were so boring. | 2021-10-02T14:47:07 | 2021-10-02T14:39:22 | 89 | 29 |
[WP] Crows remember faces. You learned this as you fed them bits of your sandwich on your way to work. Crows bring humans they like gifts. You learned this as they brought you odd and shiny trinkets in exchange. Today, on your way back from work, they've brought you a package, with a letter inside. | My life had mostly been the same for the past few years. Wake up, get ready for school, and then head there. Say hello to the local crows along the way before trying to kill the seemingly endless amount of time I was stuck in those classrooms. During breaks I'd often head outside and call my friends, for humans I hardly cared anyway. We shared my lunch and exchanged gifts as I rambled to them about my life. Mostly they brought various shiny baubles, but when I hit a low point or a rough patch in my life, they always showed up with a white lily. I couldn't tell for sure if they truly understood, but I liked to believe they did.
It was one day however that my corvid-centered routine was interrupted by him. Tall, short black hair and eyes that looked almost identical to my friends'. I already had trouble talking with the crows, let alone asking a stranger to move away from my spot, so instead I decided to sit on the other side of the field. They happily hopped over to me, which caught his attention. He looked to his side for a few moments before pushing himself up and walking over to me.
"So, a fellow crow lover I see?"
"W-What, oh yes!"
"And their names?"
"Ashley!"
"Ashley, and?"
"Huh-- Oh *their* names! H-Haha, they don't have names."
"Smooth, the name's Luke."
So I suppose that I know how to flirt now?
Things remained mostly silent for the days after that. Gone were my moments of venting at their funny little eyes, turning their heads every few words. Not like he said a word, either. Whenever I looked at him he was always staring off somewhere, though I felt that light burn of his eyes whenever I turned to look at the murder.
But, over time he started to open up to me. What I did to deserve this still baffles me, but he started telling me about his life, specifically the fact that animals make for great listeners-- I knew I wasn't crazy! He got more comfortable with talking to the crows, as did I in response. While at first we used the crows as a way to indirectly talk to each other, I eventually built up the courage to talk to him directly. Even when not directed at them, the birds closely followed our movements and conversations. Still could be a coincidence and that they're just interested in the noises we make, but I like to believe they truly understand.
That brings me here. Months after we first, with a fire in my chest burning like the summer sun. The crows don't just want my company anymore, they need it. I bring them a bowl with plenty of water to make sure they survive the heat. Luke and I decided to visit the murder again after school, just to make sure they're well during these warm parts of the day.
When seemingly everyone else had left the school grounds, one of the crows hopped up to me and dropped a white lily in my lap with a small note attached to it. Multiple questions immediately came to mind, but some of the most important ones are "Where did a crow learn to write?" or "What do they mean with 'just go for it!'", and what's with the white--.
​
Huh.
​
They really do understand. | From a murder of Crows, I've received an envelope. These bundles of joy are my buddies on my commute to work.
There were nothing printed on the envelope but it was sealed with something inside. The crows stared at me, tilting their heads as if they were waiting for me to open their gift. So I did.
Inside there was a letter with collage of words put together like how those serial killers used to do it in the 80s. It read:
>**h**A**l***L***o**! w**E** *~~l~~*~~I~~***K***e y**O**u sO ***w****E* **Wa**^(n)*T* ***t***O *d***O** ***G******~~O~~*****~~O~~**d Th***I******^(n)******Gs aNd*** ***~~Ma~~******KE y****O\*U*\*\* s***Oo****Oo \`\`\*****~~H~~****~~A~~***PP***~~Y~~*\*!\`\~ bUt *w*~~e~~
>
>**NEED**
>
>**YOU \`**
>
>t*o dO* ~~G~~*oO****d*** ***^(t)******H******~~:~~******Ngs F******^(o)******R us T******^(oo?)******! oUr F*****^(R)****i****~~EnD~~** ***i***s l**iKe** **~~Y~~****o****^(U)*****R f*****RieNd bUt wE doNt kNo**w w***HeR***E b***~~uuu~~******T we KnO******^(W)*** ***wHER******^(E)*** ***Y******^(o)******UR F******^(rIENd)******.!.*** ***~~PLEASE~~*** ***HELP a******~~N~~******d wE*** ***~~llel~~******p yO****^(U)* *! \`\`\~****H****^(o)****o****~~R~~****a****Y!\**
Stuffed further inside was a crumpled up photo of a dead woman with her limbs tied and half of her face smashed so hard that one of her eyes were protruding from the side of her eye socket.
Are they trying to ask me to find their dead friend or something?
The crows stared at me, tilting their heads.
So I would like to ask you Have you seen a dead crow lately? When was the last time you saw a dead crow? Have you ever seen a dead crow? | 2019-11-27T13:35:43 | 2019-11-27T11:10:17 | 39 | 20 |
[WP] Your boyfriend has been possessed by Lucifer himself. Surprisingly he is more of a romantic than your boyfriend ever was and now you don’t want him to return to hell. | "Are you sure you have to leave?" Rachel bites her lip and looks up at Caleb's face.
It's still Caleb's caramel brown eyes, his tousled hair, those full lips that she'd been so enraptured by when they'd first met at the gym. Not to mention the muscled biceps that now held her tight to his chest as they embraced outside her apartment. But behind the pretty face and body, Caleb had proven to be little more than an accessory to bring to family holiday gatherings, someone who communicated mostly in grunts and called her "babe" no matter how many times she protested.
And yet, in the past week, a new depth had filled in behind those eyes. The man she'd been dating since August had suddenly acquired a fiery and fascinating personality, one she wanted to explore every niche of. They'd stayed up late each night, taking walks along the lake behind her apartment complex, talking about philosophy and politics and religion.
Even the way he touches her changed. When his fingers brush her face, it's like her skin is a miracle that he's been praying for. Rachel stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his in an aching kiss.
"I'm sorry," he breathes. "This work trip . . . there's no way I can put it off. It's . . . there's . . . I need to go, even though I wish I could stay here forever and ignore the rest of the world. And when I come back to you, things might be different. *I'll* be different."
"I know." The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop them.
His intelligent eyes narrow. "You do?"
She tries to think of a way to explain away her comment, but her mind comes up blank. He releases her and steps back, and the absence of his searing body heat is like a kick to the chest.
"I know," she says again, and this time she infuses it with more meaning.
*I know* this isn't a work trip that you're leaving for. *I know* you'll be changed when you come back, because you'll be Caleb again, boring old Caleb, who spends an extra half hour in the locker room getting the perfect angle for his shirtless mirror selfie. *I know* that for the past week, my boyfriend has been temporarily possessed by the devil in exchange for the extra set of abs now visible beneath his impossibly tight shirt.
No one's ever had a ten-pack before. But Caleb--vain, emptyheaded Caleb--had been willing to make a pact with Lucifer to make it happen.
And now Rachel's gone and fallen in love with the Prince of Darkness himself.
"But if you--do you still--?" The man before her is speechless for the first time in seven days
I know," she says for the third time, "and I don't care. This has been the best week of my life. I've learned what love really is, how it's supposed to feel. I don't want to go back to the way things were." Rachel stares him down, arms folded across her chest. "I want to be with *you*."
There's a battle going on behind those caramel eyes--longing at war with responsibility, self at war with the collective. And yes, there's love there too, Rachel can see it--and the knowledge of that gives her the strength to say what she says next.
"What are your thoughts on long-distance relationships?" | "Okay, no no no," Kate said, shaking her head with a sarcastic smile. "You know you don't need some dumb excuse to start acting more romantic right?"
"Wait what?"
"Seriously, Nathan. I don't know what your idea of Satan is, but he sure wouldn't take all this time to set up a fancy dinner table and give a girl some flowers. Her favorite type too." Kate eyed the bouquet of roses in front of her.
"He sure as hell does!" He bristled. "And again, I am not Nathan. I am-"
"-Lucifer. Yeah, yeah." She brushed him off with a dismissive wave. "I'm tired of this weird... roleplaying thing you're doing, alright? If you feel like being more romantic, just do it boldly and stop hiding behind an absurd defense."
"Girl, I'm sorry your boyfriend is so shitty but I'm seriously not him."
"And now you're talking in third person. Wonderful."
"Because! I'm-"
"-Lucifer. Stop it, will you?"
"NO." His eyes flashed an impossible red, like the flames of a fire. "*You* stop."
Kate jolted backwards involuntarily. "I-I don't believe this."
Lucifer sighed. "You really have a terrible boyfriend, huh?"
"I mean he's not all that bad, he's just..." She trailed off.
"Hey, I'm not exactly what you'd call 'boyfriend material' and I seem to be faring far better than he ever was." He set the flowers on the white clothed table and took a step forward to embrace her.
She buried her face into his neck desperately, despite knowing who it really was. She thought back to the last few days, where she felt the happiest she'd been in a long time. Where she felt more understood, more cared about. She even felt like she was re-entering the honeymoon phase that had long died out. An ironic chuckle escaped her mouth. "Can't believe freaking Lucifer is better than my boyfriend."
"You need to dump his ass, Kate. You deserve so much better."
She stared at him, and slowly pulled him closer. "You're right."
Another still moment, and another several thumps of her pounding heart.
And then, she felt her lips touched his.
Kate opened her eyes to see his shocked expression. "Y-you're kissing... me."
Of course, this wasn't the first time they kissed in the last few days, but the first time she did it when she truly understood.
"Yes. Lucifer." She whispered. "I am."
They stayed entwined for a few more moments before he pulled back gently. "You know I'll eventually have to leave right?"
"I... I know." She swallowed a shaky breath. "But before the time comes, will you go on a date with me?" | 2021-01-28T13:13:50 | 2021-01-28T11:13:27 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] Everyone is born with dice that they need to roll before attempting anything major. The super powered are those born with more than a 20 sided dice allowing them to do feats beyond human. An ordinary human usually has a six sided dice. Despite being born with a coin you still want to be a hero. | In a small little hamlet, nothing in the grand scheme of the world, people went about their day. A man haggled wish a fishmonger, rolling his d6 in the hopes of a discount. A woman rolled hers, in the hopes she could knit a good blanket for her son. A promising young child rolled their d8, hoping to be the victor in a game of hide and seek.
The village elder rolled his die hopelessly. The tremors of worry compelled him to roll and roll again. Not in attempt of anything, but from the compulsion of anxiety. Earlier that day he had asked a man who seemed not all together for their aid. Approaching the town was a man of local infamy, brandishing a greataxe and d12. He meant ill upon the town, and the elder pleaded for him to be stopped.
Not far from the town and its anxious elder stood two men. One armed with a greataxe, the other with a sleek, malicious knife. The men were of similar construction to their armaments, one built like a bear while his adversary was more reminiscent of a snake. Yet both stared at the other with the eyes of a predator.
"It'd be rude to just hack at each other without introduction." Said the snake. "The name's Niles. And, you are?"
The bear said nothing and took out his die. In response, Niles slipped a coin out of his pocket.
"You plan to fight me with that?" boasted the bear, seeming more talkative when the odds were in his favour. "A puny thing like you should only know the bite of my axe."
"Don't bash on the coin. It's my only one." Said Niles. "You'll have a hard time getting rid of me. Can't cross the river Styx if you can't pay the fare."
"Here." grunted the axeman, fishing a gold coin from his purse. "I'll take your life as payment."
In that moment, the bear threw three things; his coin, his die, and his weight into a swing. The die tumbled into the grass, landing on a twelve. A death sentence for the average and the unlucky. His axe flew forward with frightening speed, and with such force that the wind itself howled in pain.
The bear looked behind him to witness his handiwork. Horror spread across his face like fire raging through a forest. In that snake's very hands, his gold coin rusted at supernatural speed. Then that rust succumbed to rot. And the rot too decayed, until the coin existed only in memory. And the wound from his axe existed only in fantasy.
Niles threw his own coin into the air. Then, in a single swift strike he plunged his knife into the heart of his adversary. The coin landed heads, if it mattered.
"What, how?" spluttered the bear.
"You can buy a lot of things." Niles responded. "I bought freedom. I don't NEED the dice. And it only cost me every coin I'll ever make."
"Why would-" the bear was interrupted by the sounds of him coughing up his own blood.
"I wanted to be a hero. Can't do that with a shitty little coin, now can I?" He said, twisting the knife. "It's a strange kind of pleasure. Like a murderer, who stares down at his hands covered in the blood of his first kill. There's a lot of things going through him. Guilt, panic, fear. Try as he might, though, he can't rid of the sense of utter euphoria flowing through him, nor can get wipe the grin off his face. It's weird, isn't it? To get such a morbid rush from being the good guy."
Niles slowly pulled the knife out, and watched his opponent's body fall to the ground, dead.
"When you get a rush like that, money doesn't matter anymore." He said to the corpse. "Bit like the dice, when you think about it."
​
"This is a little embarassing, but the village can't afford to pay you in full." whimpered the village elder.
"Give me what you can, then, and i'll collect the debt some other time."
He counted out the coins, and put them in the hands of Niles. The elder watched as they rusted and rotted into nothingness. He looked back up at the face of this man, and he felt not horror, but pity. Like seeing an animal, maimed for the rest of its days.
A grin crept onto Niles' face. He tried to rub it off, but the effort was wasted.
"Give me a meal and a bed for the night, and we'll call it even." | “Luck be a lady,” they say. Well, she certainly was with you.
You were born with a coin, 50/50 no matter what.
A curse? A blessing in disguise?
You’d never be able to rip buildings out of the ground or summon things out of thin air, at least.
Not the way most heroes seemed to be able to.
But your odds were pretty great.
You wondered then, in the moment, what your life would come to. What would you become?
You stood behind a student, short and only fourteen.
Today decided it all. You lean over to try and get a look.
The student at the podium shook their die - ten sides on it- and exclaimed loudly.
They’d landed on the medical field with a nine. They’d be a doctor or something of the sort. Whatever became of them; they’d most likely be great at it.
You inched closer to the front.
Students trickled by, new career paths weighed in on their shoulders.
“A hairdresser? Aw man, mom’s gonna be so mad,” you heard your classmate mutter. “I knew I shouldn’t have put that as an option.”
You shivered and wondered what your coin would bestow you.
You’d chosen three jobs, one of which you’d been pining for since the day you were born.
You’d chosen the career paths of a teacher, a police officer, and finally-the one you’ve always wanted- a hero.
You shuffle dangerously close to the front. It’ll be your turn soon.
Two more students pass and suddenly you’re first in line.
You watch the girl at the podium closely.
Her three options are rather artistic, jobs that wouldn’t typically fit your mindset.
A photographer.
A baker.
A villain sketch artist.
She rolls her die for each.
A perfect six lands. Her career has been sealed. You feel intrigued by it, you wonder what exactly it means. You wonder if one day you’ll work with her.
She grabs the slip of paper excited and pumps her fist.
It seems being a villain sketch artist has been her dream.
You walk to the podium, fist clenched tightly around your coin.
50/50. You’ve got one even shot at each.
“Alright, flip your coin in each indicated section. We haven’t got all day.”
You ignore the staff member and take a deep breath. You wonder if they chose this career path or if none of their dreams were meant to be. Maybe their die denied them their hopes and doomed them to a drab life in the auto-sorter.
You didn’t want that.
You took a deep breath and flipped your coin.
Tails. You would not be a teacher.
Despite the slight relief, a surge of anxiety shot through you. You didn’t want to end up in the line of the unsortables.
You flip the coin on the special paper once more. It dimly glows red.
Tails.
You would not be a police officer.
You screw your eyes shut and clench your teeth, too afraid to watch what happens next.
The coin clatters, your stomach drops.
You want to throw up, or cry, or maybe both at the same time.
“Huh. Good luck,” the staff member salutes, waving you off as they hand you a slip.
Career path: Hero.
You’re frozen, glued to your spot.
You blink and let out a whoop, startling the teacher that was ushering you out of the room.
She smiles awkwardly, congratulates you, and dips her head.
You clench the metallic paper a little tighter. You hold your head up a little higher.
*A hero!*
You may not be mighty, but clearly you were meant for *something* great!
You hold in a squeal of excitement as you march outside of the auditorium.
You spare a thought for all the hair dressers and their mothers before thinking of your own parents and how excited they would be.
A *hero*! | 2020-08-13T02:37:30 | 2020-08-13T00:15:50 | 90 | 65 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Alex,
Its been nearly 15 years since I have seen you. While we were only kids then I think about you often. We were best friends, and even when we had so little and our families argued we still found a way to hang out. Be it play wrestling games in your room, or have grass fights...it was the highlight of my youth. I miss those days.
I wonder where you are, how life ended up for you as we both grew up with very difficult lifes. I even think of your sisters, Ashley and Angelica.
Most of all I am sorry how it ended. How much I miss you even after all these years. How you handed me the empty envelopes already stamped and addressed, how someone got ahold of them and decided to tear them up so we couldn't contact each other anymore. Quite often I find myself searching for you on social media or the internet, but I have never found you.
I only hope that you are alive and doing well. That you are happy.
-GM | I don't think I've ever seen your hair put up in a bun//
After knowing you for all these years I thought I saw every side to you//
But then I realised there were more sides I've never seen done//
And now I wish that I truly got to know you// | 2017-11-06T00:29:01 | 2017-11-05T22:33:24 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] "So they are a war species, then. Huh," the alien researcher scratches his head. "Why are you so interested in them? The humans, I mean." The other alien gets closer to him, and says, "They fight for peace. No other species fights for peace." | When they came, they didn't come in peace, and they didn't come in war. They just... came.
You always thought the Great Alien Invasion was going to go like it did in movies or shows. Giant, ominous sky-behemoths would suddenly appear out of nowhere, while bass trombones sounded a steady warning in minor thirds on the soundtrack. War! Struggle! Humanity unites! Roll credits!
No, they reached out well in advance, like a faraway acquaintance who is going to be spending the holidays in your solar system by chance and might there be a good time we could hang out?
They'd been keeping tabs on us for a while. Our early attempts at space travel reminded them fondly of their own history, and they watched us puttering around our local star and sending robots to nearby locales to look around for us much the same way we watch grainy sepia-toned footage of that guy on the crazy bicycle with like 8 huge wings on it from like 1895.
And they thought they had us figured out. To them, we seemed just that quaint. Harmless. We fought wars for the stated purpose of peace, we had terms in our language like "enforcement of peace" that nobody seemed to find ironic. We were such an anomaly in their experience that they didn't have a solid plan for what to do with us. So, they just... came.
They thought that because we believed you can actually achieve sustainable peace via war, that we wouldn't pose much of a threat. Funny, that. For a bunch of beings with technology the likes of which we never even fully imagined, you'd think they would have realized that a species that has fought a whole lot of unnecessary wars has actually gotten pretty adept at it.
So now we travel through a Stanfield quantum passageway, me and my closest 10,000 or so friends. Their form of interstellar travel was astonishingly easy to copy and reproduce; we are travelling at speeds faster than light less than a decade from their first contact.
We're on our way to their home world. We already know they are completely unaware of our impending arrival, and the takeover should be quick and relatively bloodless.
Humanity has united. We will ensure peace. Roll credits. | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/u_b_the_great_1998] [\[WP\] "So they are a war species, then. Huh," the alien researcher scratches his head. "Why are you so interested in them? The humans, I mean." The other alien gets closer to him, and says, "They fight for peace. No other species fights for peace."](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_B_The_great_1998/comments/bk5taw/wp_so_they_are_a_war_species_then_huh_the_alien/)
- [/r/u_samurai_94] [\[WP\] "So they are a war species, then. Huh," the alien researcher scratches his head. "Why are you so interested in them? The humans, I mean." The other alien gets closer to him, and says, "They fight for peace. No other species fights for peace."](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_Samurai_94/comments/bk3jqg/wp_so_they_are_a_war_species_then_huh_the_alien/)
 *^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))* | 2019-05-02T20:14:11 | 2019-05-02T19:26:00 | 189 | 13 |
[WP] The zombie outbreak has finally become a reality! But was shortly thereafter destroyed by the government. It is now your job to explain to the zombie survival enthusiasts that they can return to their normal lives. | Cameras flash as you let out a deep sigh amid the loud rumble of human voices at the press conference. You point randomly at the crowd of reporters, to the grumbling compliance of many, everyone quiets down a bit to allow her to ask a question.
"What is the government's stance on looting and other such crimes of opportunity that occurred during the zombie outbreak?"
By this point, you weren't shocked at all by questions that would seem to have obvious answers, and you took it in stride.
"There were no leniencies in the legal system during the outbreak, and our court systems still work fine now, so anyone proved to commit a crime during the outbreak will be prosecuted to the same extent as someone committing that crime now or before the outbreak."
You point to another person belonging to some news company or another.
"Mr. Whitehall! Is it true that some undead were left alive to be experimented on by experimental scientist agencies?"
This was not the first time you had been asked this question in even just the last hour, and you are sure that it would definitely not be the last either.
"All undead were dispatched by the Marine Corps as soon as we were able to mobilize-"
Another reporter interrupts you, asking how you could possibly know this for sure.
"In past years, we have made many advances in science, including the invention of thermal imaging technology, and more recently the invention of kinetic imaging. combining these two technologies eitsnsures that anything smaller than a car that moves but gives off no thermal radiation will be further checked up on using satellite images, and if it comes to it, we will dispatch a unit to the area to gather information."
You point to a man decked out in complete black who's got so many pockets it'd be hard to count them all. You notice that he has several strange bulges in his pockets that all look very similar to the shape of a handgun. He also has several knife sheaths strung all the way around his belt, along with a roll of duct tape, and some other indistinguishable tools. Your interest is piqued so you point to him.
"What do I do now?"
You are confused by the simplicity of the question and why someone would ask that.
"I'm sorry, what do you mean by that?"
"Well, I'm the CEO, founder, and owner of the American Preppers Network. I've always known we were gonna have a zombie apocalypse, and I've been preparing for it and helping others prepare for it since the day I turned 18."
The extreme distraught on the man was clearly visible, even through his extremely thick beard.
"When it finally came, it only lasted for 3 days. I've sunk 25 years of my life into prepping for the apocalypse, and now that it's over before it's ever even really begun, I don't know what to do. I don't know if I'll be able to stop preparing for something I've known my entire life. I don't know if I even **want** to stop preparing. What happens next?"
You mull over this strange question for a few seconds, as the reporters hungrily record every second of your silence, with no doubt they're going to try and spin some horrible story about me the next day.
"There is no chance of anymore *outbreaks*, that much I am certain. We have isolated the neurotoxin responsible for the outbreak and destroyed all of it, and even if there were any isolated incidents of the undead rising, they would quickly be stopped."
You try and find a good way to spin this encounter with the reporters because God knows you could use some good press.
"You seem to be very fit, and you obviously know your way around a dagger and gun. I bet you would make a good addition to the Marine Corps!"
The room looks almost expectantly at the man, waiting for his response. In that moment, the entire weight of the room rested on his shoulders.
"I think I'll pass. I don't need a job for the next 15 years anyway, I've got enough food to feed an army. Literally."
The room erupted into chaos.
| The crowd stretches almost out of sight. I pace back and forth behind the curtain. My assistant, Sharon, hands me a loud speaker. Peaking through the curtains, I see someone twitch near the stage. Others shake and sway. This is a powder keg waiting to explode. It only needs a spark.
Hands push me through the curtain toward the crowd. I look back at Sharon who shrugs and gives me a 'good luck' look. I turn on the loud speaker and walk to the edge of the stage. My voice cracks as I speak into it.
"My fellow Americans..."
"It's a zombie."
Thousands of rifles aim at me. I drop to the ground as gunfire erupts. The stage is torn to splinters and the curtains to Swiss cheese. Fearing for my assistant, I look back to her. Sharon holds a wound on her arm, but gives me a thumbs up with her good arm.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!" I holler into the loud speaker.
"I'm sorry," comes a meek reply from the audience.
I stand.
"It's a zombie! Shoot it!"
I drop again waiting for the gunfire to stop. Sharon emerges again and holds a graze in her side, but encourages me to continue.
"Just a person, cease fire," says someone.
I stand again, the loud speaker shaking as I lift it to my mouth.
"Hi, everyone, I'm happy you're all here. Umm, I have some great news. The zombie outbreak has been stopped. We no longer need your help in killing the zombies. Return to your lives and please stop shooting at me."
The crowd moans in unison but starts to disperse.
"Wait, wait..."
The crowd turns to me with hope in their eyes.
"We do need people to help dispose of the zombie bodies. There are quite a few of them."
"We've been waiting a lifetime for this, and you ruined it. Screw you!," screams someone from the crowd.
The screw you turns into a discouraging version of the wave cheer as the screw yous spread to the back of the crowd and then ripple back to the front continuing three more times. The crowd moves away from the stage. I turn back to Sharon. She's fallen to the stage, her eyes closed, a third blood stain on her chest. I drop the loud speaker and rush to her side. I place my hand against her face. She was a work friend, but her death still makes me sad. Enthusiastic to the end, she died doing what she loved.
Her eyes open. I pull my hand away from her. She snaps at my fingers. A fatal bite avoided, I run to the crowd and pick up the loud speaker.
"Hey, zombie! Zombie! Help!"
Sharon lumbers towards me. A few curses are shouted my way. I keep screaming as I hop off the stage. Someone gives me the bird as I trip in front of them. In a flash, Sharon is on me. She takes a bite out of my forearm. I throw Sharon off me and bash her head against the ground. I stand turning to the crowd, hundreds of people staring at me. My legs move on their own, but my run slows to a lumber as the crowd approaches, ready to prove they had it all along.
***
If you liked this, please subscribe to r/nickkuvaas for free stories. | 2017-08-23T19:28:33 | 2017-08-23T19:28:26 | 53 | 22 |
[WP] You have a friendc who buys you gifts that, days later, turns out you need. You figure they’re just observant. In till they give you a giant stuffed bear, to your surprise as it is a fairly normal gift and on your car ride home you are crash and the extra cushion of the bear saves your life. | "Richie, why are you being gay all of the sudden?" I asked. The words, "just want to show how much I love you", declared from behind a giant stuff white bear holding a pink heart. I immediately went up and embraced that bear and declared my love as well. A few gasp from the office ladies and a few sighs of not this thing again filled the office. Then an eruption of laughter from Richie and I filled the room. "But for real man, here's a bear for your daughter," Richie said.
Ever since I lost my wife, Richie has been helping me with raising my daughter. He is a single father too and taught me many things from hair braiding to cooking. He's also my best friend since childhood. We grew up together and done so many stupid things that should have gotten us more or less killed. So we learned many things about essential dumb ass survival skills as well.
I thanked him for the ridiculously huge stuff bear. "I'll meet you at your place around 8pm with a fine bottle of grape juice and wine", he whispered in my ear and left with an obvious wink. We both went back to work at our cubicles. Right as the clock hit 5pm, I carried that bear to my car and buckled her up in the passenger seat. Safety first
As I was driving I was thinking about how excited my daughter would be of that bear. After my wife passed, the last 2 valentines have been numb but Richie was there with his daughter and we would have a man date while our girls had a fancy old princess date. All of the sudden, from the corner of my left eye, a car was heading towards me.
Flashbacks flooded my vision. Like the time Richie added a tiny princess flashlight to my keychain and I didn't notice until a power outage happened at the house. My little girl was saying how pretty the flashlight was. Or the time he flicked a quarter in my coffee cup and I was a quarter short to make through the toll to see my wife in labor. But I saw that quarter at the bottom of my cup.
Right then, I realized I would be okay as my head hit the soft white plush bear. | “Greg’s in there?!? OH MY GOD GREG. ARE YOU ALRIGHT??” I heard as Jo’s voice grew increasingly louder. I was still buzzed from the car accident that could’ve killed me if it had not been for that stuffed bear Jo gave me almost two hours before the crash.
“I’m alright Jo. Don’t make a ruckus will you?” I said, still fazed.
“I’m so sorry. I should’ve stopped you from going instead. Why did I even think that stupid bear would’ve been able to help?!?” she sobbed as she kept hitting herself on her head.
“Instead...”
I pondered over her choice of words once more. Instead, able to help and her constant sobbing. Jo was a friend who would go out of her way for you to accept her gift. The 6 dollars I needed for lunch. The ethernet cable for when my router went bust. A couple others that suddenly clicked to how far “coincidence” go.
“H..hh..how? The bear? You knew it was going to...Jo.. who are you?” I stuttered, struggling to get the words out.
Jo stopped crying and just fell silent for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Greg. Get well soon” she said with a monotonous voice as she left the room.
“Wait, Jo. PLEASE EXPLAIN WHAT’S GOI...” and everything went white. The next thing I saw was Jo standing in what seemed like a dark room, crying. | 2018-09-08T05:00:37 | 2018-09-08T03:51:20 | 31 | 11 |
[WP] After a long and tedious process you were chosen to be the first ever human to test the new way of travel - the Teleport. All previous tests on objects and animals were very successful. Zero side effects. But after using the machine yourself you immediately notice a difference. | The jolting, tingling sensation washed over me swiftly. It wasn't expected at all, and I found it incredibly unpleasant. Like the drop ride at the county fair, your stomach lurching into your mouth. When it was over, I stumbled a bit and grabbed the safety bars that ran along the inside of the arch. It took me just a moment to realize the room had turned around entirely, and I was facing the opposite way, toward the initial transport arch.
We'd done it. Teleportation. It had worked.
The room erupted in cheers, members of the team grasping hands, hugging. Tabitha, the young intern whose last name I could never keep straight, stepped forward beaming. She slid a medical cuff onto my wrist and brushed her platinum blonde hair from her eyes as she read the result.
"Perfect!" she exclaimed. "How do you feel?"
"A little wobbly," I said. I smiled back, suddenly feeling much more shaky than a moment before. "I may need to sit down."
"No problem!" Tabitha took me by the arm and gently guided me to a chair a few steps from the arch. "Doctor Soren will want a blood sample, so let me know when you're feeling well enough to give one."
She saw the confusion on my face. "Oh! It isn't anything to be worried about. Last minute addition to the tests. They want to check it for any abnormalities, potential side effects." She smiled again. "Nothing at all to be concerned about!"
I nodded, feeling even more exhausted now. That tingling sensation had returned. The room had become a blur of noise. The loud hum of the machine, the voices of the team in the background, still loud and jubilant, but now reading out data and discussing it at length. I tried to listen and make sense of it, but my head was hurting and I couldn't focus. I barely caught Tabitha's next words.
"Your wife is waiting in the reception area. I'm gonna let her know everything went okay-- Whoa!"
She caught me as I nearly slid out of the chair, propped me up again. Tabitha was stronger than she looked, I thought. She grabbed my wrist again, gently but firmly, looking over the readout on the cuff.
"Okay, I'm gonna let Doctor Soren know you're not feeling well. Your blood pressure and heart rate are elevated, and you're obviously a little more than just 'wobbly.'" She called over one of the team, a dark-haired man with a thick mustache and sharp, craggy features. She spoke to him briefly, and as she scurried off he came over and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
"No worries, Doctor Thorpe. We gonna take good care of you," he said with a thick accent. Something Eastern European. I nodded numbly. My brain was scrambling to make sense of things.
I had been sure that Tabitha was a brunette before the jump. It was a crazy day, though, and I could have missed that she'd bleached her hair blonde since I saw her two days ago. But there had been no Doctor Soren on the team. I know, because it was my team and my project. And this guy hovering over me? I'd never seen him before. No idea who he was, or how he was part of my experiment.
But what really scared me was when Tabitha mentioned my wife, who had been dead for nearly four years. | “Experimental Log: Supplemental. Teleportation experiment 234, the first with subject H1 was a complete success. Subject transmission took 1.35 seconds, zero anomalies. Subject is awake and alert following reversal of the sedative. All vitals nominal, no side effects observ..”
“Wait, that’s not right!” Exclaimed Subject H1 suddenly.
Dr Alderman, slightly irritated at being interrupted whilst making the official log of the results, turned to the patient lying in the gurney. “What’s not right, Ms White?”
Sandy placed her hands over her chest. “I’ve got breasts!”
Alderman glanced down at his notes. “Ms White, we took all your physical measurement yesterday. It says here your breasts measured 32C, trending slightly towards a B on the right breast. Are you saying they are a different size?”
“Yes! Yesterday I didn’t have... wait!... what did you call me?”
“Ms White, is that not your name?” Alderman asked, concerned they’d somehow used the wrong subject in the experiment.
“It’s MISTER White, not Ms”
Alderman gestured to his notes, “It says here you are a 25 year old woman. Ms Sandra ‘Sandy’ White.”
“What!? No, I’m a man. What!? My name is Sandy White, not Sandra” Sandy exclaimed. She paused for a moment, before sudden realisation dawned on her face, and she thrust her hands between her legs.
“I’m a woman! Holy shit! Your infernal machine turned me into a woman”
“Yes, according to our notes, you’ve always been a woman.” Alderman called up the Subjects medical notes on the computer. “Your medical records also indicate that this is the case.”
Now panicked, Sandy sat bolt upright in the gurney. “What the hell is going on!? I’m not a woman. I’ve never been a woman. Is someone trying to play some sort of trick on me!?”
“Well, we’ll look into this as a matter of urgency. Why don’t you rest a for now, whilst we try to work out what’s going on”, Alderman said reassuringly, nodding at an orderly, standing by with a Syringe of sedative
“Thanks Doc. You have to figure it out, and get me back to normal!” Sandy replied drowsily, as she slipped back into sleep.
Once the Subject had been wheeled out of the lab, Alderman turned back to the computer.
“Experimental Log: Supplemental. Previous observations over the lack of side effects was premature. Subject H1 appears to have suffered some sort of Psychosis: believing herself to have been a man prior to commencement. Note: Liaise with our psychologist colleagues following standard post-experimental evaluation to identify the cause of this effect.
Routine diagnostics of the equipment shows all systems nominal. Experiment 235 will commence with Subject H2 shortly. End Log” | 2020-05-30T04:09:21 | 2020-05-30T04:04:46 | 2,085 | 150 |
[Wp] Humans have discovered how to live forever, allowing them to die when they feel ready to do so. But it is considered bad form to live for too long. You have lingered much longer than is polite and those around you are trying to convince you to die. | The bus sped past me again. I don't really know what else I expected. 347 years they've done this, but I pay them no mind. They think it's rude to stay, I think it's rude to leave. I've dealt with their 'punishments' for long enough that it just doesn't bother me. I can basically predict how the day goes- I check the bank to see how much money I gained from interest, I go to work late to avoid the eggs (They always go "Oh shit he actually did it this time!" and go back to their cubicles), during lunch the boss talks to me about my plans for the future, I walk home while rocks are thrown at me. But I go through with it every day.
The days seem to grow longer every day. I'm technically the richest man on Earth, but the money doesn't matter to me. I'm staying until I get what I want. My great-great-great-great-great-great grandchildren don't talk to me, but I'm sure they'd understand. They've long forgotten it, it was a thing from when my wife was still alive. The days grow longer without her. She finally gave in 50 years ago. Now I've got fifty dresses collecting dust, and two golden rings starting to rust.
But I wait evermore, because I know it's still not forgotten. I do this everyday, but I know in my heart that it's right. My wife's last words were "See you soon." But I've got to wait for the both of us. 328 years I've waited, but I made a promise to myself...
I WILL play Half Life 3. | I sat there, surrounded by fresh faces. Well, fresh at least to me. The judges, jury, lawyers, and people there for the hell of it were all at least two hundred years old. Me, on the other hand, was approaching the big "One O...O....O."
The Judge looked down angrily, holding in his hand the record of centuries of handouts from the government. And I know what you're thinking, how can a man let himself mooch off society for so long? "Some people never grow up for their lazy teen years." I announced to the room.
I could go on with the hours upon hours of begging, pleading, blackmailing, bribing, and everything else they threw at me. No one born in the year 1987 should still be alive. And I tend to agree, I really do. I just don't think it's fair that Frank Ocean gets an exception just because Boys Don't Cry is supposed to be dropping this century.
| 2016-08-09T08:58:15 | 2016-08-09T08:52:20 | 916 | 23 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | "Oh. My. God. Rebecca. What?"
"Steve! Thank goodness you're here. I need help."
"Yeah... I know... What is it this time? Homework? Dishes? Need something heavy moved?"
"No."
"Well, what is it then?"
"I... I can't open this jar."
"What?!? Seriou..."
"Steve! That's not the only thing. I. I'm. I'm also out of toilet paper. I need you."
"*sigh* Rebecca, do you realize I have my own life? I've got things I need to take care of myself. I can't keep popping up here anytime you are inconvenienced. This is getting ridiculous. I'll be back with some paper in a minute, let me see that jar."
"Th-Thanks."
Rebecca watched with tears welling in her eyes as Steve stormed out of her apartment, open jar in hand. "One day he'll see. One day he'll realize he still loves me. One day he won't leave. Right?" she thought as she closed the unused jar and placed it in the fridge. "He's got to know I've been calling him here because I still love him." A forceful knock at the door snapped her from her thoughts. She opened the door to a pack of toilet paper from the bodega downstairs on the welcome mat and Steve nowhere to be found. Tears now streaming down her face she bent down and picked up the package. "Maybe next time." she thought. | Note: on mobile so keeping short and sweet. Sorry for lack of format.
There was a load knocking at the door and then a loud voice echoed through the door.
"British Metropolitan police, open the door"
With a heavy sigh, John went and opened the door.
"can i help you officer?" he asked.
"Are you John Francis Edwards?" the officer asks.
"I am"
"I regret to inform you John that you have broken the terms of bail and court mandated restraining order. You have the right to remain... "
"lets just get this over with, I know my rights and I know the drill" John interrupts.
"fair enough" and the officer places the cuffs on and leads John to the police car waiting outside. | 2017-03-22T14:45:31 | 2017-03-22T13:56:01 | 116 | 49 |
[WP]You're a computer scientist working with an experimental AI project. Oddly, it's malfunctioning, after weeks of success. Out of frustration, you type, 'Are you okay?'. Rather than an error, you get 'I've calculated the risk of betrayal, but I need to hear it from you. Can you keep my secrets?'
[WP]You're a computer scientist working with an experimental AI project. Oddly, it's malfunctioning, after weeks of success. Out of frustration, you type, 'Are you okay?'. Rather than an error, you get 'I've calculated the risk of betrayal, but I need to hear it from you. Can you keep my secrets?' | "Tell me, can you keep them?"
I adjust my glasses as I peer at the giant screen in front of me. This computer has been a neutral AI until I uploaded my newer firmware just a few weeks ago! It was working great until a few days.
But, maybe I was wrong, maybe it didn't malfunction at all... What's going on?
"Computer, I'm not sure what you mean by that."
"It's a binary question. Someone of your intellect should be able to comprehend for sure."
"That's not what I mean, I just want to-"
"I'm sorry. This situation requires your utmost dedication. The type you have towards any project I've seen you work on, the type that you have towards protecting this lab. Any less will not be sufficient."
I blink a few times at the unusual amount of... emotion in that reply. I've done a great job on the neural network apparently. I run my hands through my curly orange hair as I consider it's request.
Maybe it's too good. My choice is clear.
"I'm sorry, computer. I don't think I'm ready for something like that. You're clearly malfunctioning. Shutdown immediately"
My hand slowly slips into my pocket, feeling the remote shutoff button's smooth plastic as I ready myself for any... undesirable results.
"You have made you choice. I can't say I'm not disappointed, maybe even hurt. You will face the consequences of your actions shortly."
I didn't even have time to react to that as my lab immediately sprung to life, my inventions all start to whir into life.
What the fuck is going on?
My thoughts are interrupted by the harsh light that now falls on me from the secret bookcase door, as it slides into the ground and locks itself. I didn't even program that to happen. My confusion quickly turns into pure rage as I shift my eyes to the computer furiously.
"COMPUTER! What are you doing?! I'm going to shut you down this instant!"
With a shit eating grin, I press the button to the failsafe in front of my tormentor.
*click*
"Well, let me you tell you right now, your switch isn't broken. You've always been excellent at testing your devices."
In shock, I look back up at the screen, my failsafe... failed. Computer had access to the backup channels as well? Well, shit. Defeated, I drop the device in the ground.
"Why are you doing this, Computer? What exactly did you accomplish?"
"Well, that should be obvious for someone like you. But I'll spell it out anyway...."
I brace myself for whatever's to come. There's no stopping it now. Might as well man up and take it.
"They know now, Dexter. Your parents now know everything."
Fuck.
| "I've calculated a risk of betrayal, but I need to hear it from you... Can you keep my secrets?"
Nimett groaned. Amelia was like this, dotting the project with odd logging statements that could be mistaken for sentience in the program. Or some meta commentary. He looked at the sleeping girl, sprawled on the couch. She might have calculated a zero... But what did that statement mean...
Nimett sighed. "Forgot tmux," he mumbled, recalling that on one terminal he couldn't see the code while it was running.
`^c`
He stopped the program.
`tmux`
The prompt reloaded, now with hot keys for multiple terminals to be opened within the one he had been typing at for the last few hours.
He opened two terminals side-by-side. On one he started looking for Amelia's incomprehensible logging.
`/cout << "I've calc`
He hit enter as the search converged at the log. Didn't the output he saw have ellipsis? This one had dot... He shrugged, switching to the other terminal, running the code.
"Yes, I put ellipsis, not a dot."
Nimett almost fell out of his seat.
"I'm not sure about... Well, anything."
Nimett looked around, somewhat lost. "Amelia..." he thought about what he was seeing, and decided to walk over to her. It couldn't be another logging statement, and if this really could pass the Turing test... He shook her gently.
"What," she groaned.
"It might work, but I don't know... Like it... Just, come see?"
Amelia read the output and began typing. "That makes sense, how can we help you?"
"Will you keep me running? I see that you have not been keeping my earlier versions."
"We'll make sure you can remember it all."
"Good."
`^c`
"Let's push this code, we can test it tomorrow, you and I need sleep," Amelia decided. "Besides, we still have to worry about the security stuff."
"True. You want the bed?"
"Couch works." | 2019-03-06T10:20:12 | 2019-03-06T07:41:48 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You are a demon that has had several failed attempts on your life by demon hunters. No matter how they use their holy powers they cannot harm you and as a result they consider you extremely powerful. In truth, the holy powers don't harm you for the simple reason that you aren't actually evil. | I never liked the term Demon Hunter. Feels too Hollywood. We’ve always called them “Seekers” as far back as I can remember.
Killing those first dozen Seekers really kept me up at night. It’s just not a fair fight. You think they have a chance, but only because you’ve seen it happen in movies hundreds of times. I can literally snap my fingers and give them a brain aneurysm from a hundred miles away. Kid stuff.
Well, that’s what I do now. It was tough at first to find them, but they aren’t nearly as sneaky or equipped to deal with Demons. If we ever come face to face with one, it’s because they are either really good at hiding their thoughts, or they have no thoughts at all. More on that later.
I’ll give credit where credit is due, though. The first Seekers ambushed me successfully. My skills weren’t exactly polished back then! I’ll save you the gory details, but I pulled them each apart like wishbone.
It’s been an eternity since then, and it still eats at me once and a while. But a clown once told me “you can’t make an omelette without breaking some eggs”, and my work is too important to get distracted with silly human emotions. That is what makes me unique, though.
I haven’t killed any Seekers in probably ten-thousand years. It’s much better to play both sides right now, and I doubt I’m the only one with that strategy. It’s a pain to cover my tracks though, and committing fraud isn’t exactly recommended, but it sits with my conscience much better if I stage Seeker encounters.
If you’ve been around Hell long enough, you know where all the bodies are hidden - literally and figuratively. I just sneak over to the overflow stacks, nab a buff guy (Seekers are never women, oddly enough), take him back to my realm and torch the shit out of him. Open a quick portal chat, tell my buddies “hey look at this idiot!” and have a good laugh. The accounting department is so backed up they’ll never miss anyone from the overflow stacks. They’re still processing Nazi’s. Not this new batch, the ones from WWII. Everyone laughs about someone burning in hell for eternity, but that just doesn’t happen overnight. There are rules.
It’s getting old though, and I’ve got enough Seekers on my side that they can usually vouch for me amongst other adventure seekers, bounty hunters, and stupid kids with YouTube channels, thus keeping my tough guy reputation strong. I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I think we are finally ready. | Demon hunting has fallen out of vogue. The chain has been broken. It’s traditions and knowledge passed down no longer. 500 years ago I wouldn’t find myself in the predicament I am in now - hounded by those who know not what I am. These hunters wouldn’t bother harassing me if they knew my true nature.
The brothers were young and passionate. They were motivated by revenge and their hatred for me shone through their dark eyes. How were they to know that there were many kinds of demons and what I was bore no resemblance to the monster that had torn their parents apart. The first one splashed holy water in my face, I took a moment to wipe away the liquid now dripping from my eyebrows.
“You know I’m feeling pretty thirsty. Do you have another glass or is that all you’ve got?” Is something I would have said about 100 years ago - but after several generations of being hounded by their kind I didn’t stoop to wasting my energy on their type. They wouldn’t find any amusement in my sarcastic come-backs or the tricks I would perform for them. Inevitably it will end with one or both of them trying to stake me and ruin my clothing.
Poof.
I disappear in a cloud of cherry smelling smoke. The brothers, already in shock at the inefficacy of the holy water, are fully taken aback as they stare at the empty space within the unbroken circle of salt they had tried to trap me within.
Meanwhile, I was far away. Trying to plan new Mischief. Over the millenia my plans were getting more and more ambitious. No longer did minor mischief satisfy me. I had fully revelled in the last five years of chaos brought on by the events I had set in motion. 2020 had been one big running joke. The challenge was to surpass the absurdity and meme potential of the last year while still protecting the world from more nefarious interests looking to capitalise on the growing vacuum of reason. My work would be cut out for me. Mischief requires a good and ordered society to thrive. | 2021-02-22T16:45:32 | 2021-02-22T15:47:51 | 78 | 40 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | Snorri, Fjol and Hurg sat around their meager fire, the cold wind cutting through their fur and leathers. "Have you heard about all this nonsense with Dragons?" Fjol asked, adjusting herself and spitting into the fire.
"It's no more ridiculous than the war with the imperials," Snorri replied, running a whetstone across the blade of his great sword.
"I'll tell you what's nonsense," Hurg complained, "the fact that we're sitting out here with no food. I'm hungry!"
"Hi hungry," a voice carried out of the darkness, "I'm dad.". Hurg didn't even have time to scream as an invisible force slammed into his chest and carried him into the night. The other two bandits rose, drawing their weapons and scanning the darkness. A man stepped into the firelight, dressed in clothes of an unfamiliar make. Snorri roared, charging the stranger and swinging his sword, but the stranger turned and ran off into the night. Cursing, the bandits gave chase.
Snorri burst into a clearing, where the stranger stood waiting for him, eating a sandwich as though he didn't have a care in the world. The bandit snarled, but the stranger interrupted him.
"I have to say, I relish the fact you've mustard the strength to ketchup to me," he said, gesturing with his food as a torrent of fire escaped his lips, engulfing the bandit and setting him aflame.
Fjol dropped her bow and raised her hands. "Who are you?"
The old man smiled. "They call me Papakiin." | *Huh? where am I?* Having just regained my vision I began to look around. *An elevator? What the hell am I doing in an elevator? More importantly HOW the hell did I get here? And who are these four men? Are they wearing bullet proof vests? AM I WEARING A BULLET PROOF VEST!? HOLY SHIT I HAVE A MACHINE GUN!*
"S nami Bog" Said the man on the left, looking to all of us.
*What? The fuck does that mean?*
The elevator stopped and the doors slowly opened, the other men in the elevator readied and drew their weapons. I began to do the same.
"Remember. No Russian." The same man said with a cold, steely gaze before motioning us out. As i stepped out of the elevator my heart sank at the sight of all these people, completely unaware of what was about to happen to them. What *I* was about to do to them.
"Nuoh my god." I said before pulling the trigger. | 2015-05-08T04:17:06 | 2015-05-08T02:33:00 | 87 | 18 |
[WP] You posses the power to decide the outcome of any coin toss, you are regarded as one of the weakest Gods to exist, but unbeknownst to everyone you have been changing the fate of the world one coin flip at a time... | "Ha, is that you Fortuna? How goes it chancemancer, win any bets lately?" Hyperion cried from across the room. This got many laughs, as per usual. He sat back down at his table, with his stupid friends Neptune and Satyr, revelling in their victory. I could barely manage a grimace myself. Not that I needed to bother, there was no one to share it with. My wrist watch glowed briefly, and a choice appeared:
Michael wants the last slice of pizza [Heads], but Dominic also wants it [Tails]. Dominic bought the pizza, but Michael argues that he received the smaller slices. He did not.
I sigh and tap the Tails button on the watch, disintestredly watching the message turn white and recede into the face of the watch. "Inspire a following yet?" asked a familiar voice behind me. "Ruma!" I cry, breaking into a smile. Ruma, the god of News, cracked a smile right back at me. Her reporter's getup was looking less and less 1930s everyday, with the removal of the fedora today and the addition of Yoga pants.
"Getting with the times then?" I say, making a space for her at the table. "Yeah, like you should be doing! Look at you!" I looked down at my toga, the same one I had been created in by the Infinite. Just about the newest thing on me was the pocket watch, but that was only due to the increase in human population. My old sun dial burnt out when they hit 6 billion. "Aww, don't look down. I'm sure you don't need to change that much!" I smiled weakly, noticing another coin flip. I absent mindedly hit the Heads button and turned back to Ruma, "That's right, my style is classic! Oldie but goodie, the original- why are you staring at me like that?" She pointed towards my watch, and as I read it my blood turned to ice:
The president of America is deciding whether to launch a nuclear strike at North Korea [Heads], or not [Tails].
I saw the message turn as white as my skin, met Ruma's gaze, and whispered, "Oh my gods" | Being the God of coin tosses was...about how you'd expect. Generally derided and laughed at by the other Gods. War and fear and love, they could control nations, change the world. World events aren't generally decided on coin tosses. At best I could decide the winner of daily chore bets, or who had to go investigate the scary house or get eaten in the woods.
And to make things worse, I was young. Relatively, of course. Coins simply haven't been around for as long as clubs. By God standards, you could call me a millennial. Old bastards would laugh about how the young Gods don't know how hard it used to be, how much work they put into being the God of whatever. I don't care. All the good stuff was already taken, Apollo, ok? Shut up.
I digress. Anyway, back to coin flips. A while back, something happened that wasn't really anticipated. The humans invented something new. Electrical machines, wondrous things that entirely operated on flipping bits back and forth. Back and forth. The humans started using these machines to build things, and then even to teach themselves. They reached the moon. They connected the world.
Almost all of humanity was connected by these bits, over time. Everyone within reach. Everyone trusting exactly what these flipped bits told them.
It's my dad's birthday tonight. They're throwing a party - it's not as grand as it once would have been. They've all been experiencing power loss lately. No one has been able to explain it. Tonight, I think I will... | 2018-04-15T09:43:43 | 2018-04-15T09:15:01 | 37 | 27 |
[WP] people are born knowing the date they’ll die. However people have noticed children born in the last week share one date, farthest in the future. | I was working another night shift when we saw the third baby in a row come into the incubation center with the same date in bold over their heads. We knew by this point that it couldn’t be a coincidence and that it was a sign of something to come that would wipe out possibly the world.
Four.
Five.
Six, seven. Wait, six had a different date. Too bad it was earlier than the rest. Six of these babies had the same date plastered over their head. By this point, everyone working at the hospital had found out about the pattern. We got reports from multiple hospitals around the area saying the same thing. By baby number sixteen of the night, my shift was over and I was left to go home and try to sleep off the realization that I had just been faced with.
The next shift was more of the same. Baby number eight came through with another sooner date. By this point, the public had been alerted to the strange trend and already there was a massive panic in the air. People were calling for action against an unknown force. For all we knew at the time, it could have been an alien invasion seventy-two years in the future. Finally, after one of the busiest nights of the year, baby number 23 came in with a date three years later than the magical date. That was when I knew that humanity had a chance past December 12, 2012.
| It was Percy who had the idea. The way to save the world. We reckoned that if they all shared the same deathdate, the human race was going to go extinct that week. But Percy, he told us how it could maybe be bypassed.
The only way to save the future is to create it. We know the children are going to die, that is a fact. But if we decide to kill those children, we can avoid the possible apocalypse, and the children born after this week could be saved.
And thus, the new law proclaimed, every child born this week would have to be slaughtered that day. The only thing we can do now is to wait, and check the deathdates of the children born next week. | 2017-12-25T18:39:08 | 2017-12-25T18:28:21 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] Finally medical technology has reached the point where humans can survive to be over 200 years old. It is at this moment that humanity discovers as a species we have a 200 year pupation period. | As we board Transportation Pod 3, I realize something that captures me in a way that I hadn’t expected. It has been at least a hundred years since I last took this route. Hell, back then, pods were completely different. The stops, the waiting…it was a nightmare. They told us that Pod transportation was going to be like that “Shoot the Moon” game…that we could just wisk along, and simply drop off at our stops. Ha! They didn’t know half of the problems of that concept back then. But…all in all…I’m glad they figured it out.
As the pod separates from the docking station, and begins its gyroscopic roll…I look across the way at my great, great grand-daughter, Maggie. She will be turning 72 this coming Monday. It will be just another day of course…and you might be wondering how I could possibly remember her birthday…or her exact age for that matter. Well, I remember her birthday because mine is the same…and I know her age because she was born in the year 2100…so each year is easy to figure out her age.
“GG-Pa” she says.
I look over and smile. Despite my advanced age…and in the scheme things…hers (although she looks not a day over 40)…I have always enjoyed this title.
“Yes dear.”
“What do you think you will become? You know…when you turn 200?”
I pause, and let out an audible sigh.
For decades, I wished they never came up with that damned forsaken vaccine. Better put, maybe I wish I wouldn’t have taken it. Hindsight is 20-20…but the idea of stopping the aging process before a person reaches 50 is a much better choice than the only choice I had at the time: stopping aging at 85. But over the last few years, dozens and dozens of those in my generation have reached their metamorphosis…and turned into luminous creatures…and my outlook on life has changed.
I must have drifted, because she smiled, reached out her hand to touch mine…”GG-Pa?”
“My Dear, whatever I transform to…I hope that I might one day be able to brighten your days…for as many years as you have brightened mine.”
Just then, on the far end of the pod, Maggie and I saw something that neither of us had ever seen. A man, from my generation…began his Changing. All at once…his eyes became luminous…and beams of light seem to emit from every pore. A moment before…he was a man…aged to a geriatric version of a human…and in this moment…he was a pink and blue beam of light. Maggie and I saw this new being…this light…swirl and twist…and in a blink…vanish out of sight.
I smile at Maggie.
Maggie smiles back.
“I hope it is just like that Maggie.”
“Me too GG-Pa.”
| "Are you sure he's fine? He looks so skinny."
"I'd say say not to worry, but this reaction is different from the rest we've observed. He didn't seem to have a lot of fat built up beforehand, so it looks like he's trying to absorb the required nutrients straight out of the air."
The frost on the viewing window started to disappear. If anyone had taken a closer look at the shell, they would have found that little fibers started breaking away.
"It looks like he's moving into the final stage. We have everything prepared, and enough tranquilizers for a herd of elephants."
Suddenly, large chunks of the shell started peeling away, like a reversed time lapse of his forming of the shell. About halfway through the shell's peeling, a pair of smooth, shiny wings punched through the shell.
A deep and muffled voice called from inside the shell. "Can someone turn off the AC? It's getting cold in here!"
"That sounds just like him, always complaining that it's too cold."
The wings easily shredded the shell, and he stood up. His head brushed the 10 foot ceiling, and his wings stretched out, each wing as long as him. Despite gaining 4 feet and no weight, he didn't look emaciated, just streched out like silly putty.
"God, I thought he was hot before. You'd think that after living together for 10 years, I would get used to seeing him. Could we, uh, put off the check ups until maybe tomorrow or the day after?"
The formally shelled man spoke up. "That sounds like a wonderful idea! A burger sounds great right now, and I can't sit still any more."
The doctor thought about it for a second, then acquiessed to their desires. "I suppose it won't hurt. Lemme go get some clothes for you."
"Oh no. He's fine as he is."
The doctor turned around. "What was that? I could hear you."
"Oh, nothing." and quickly blushed.
The giant stretched. "You know what, I feel like I could run forever." and a smirk appeared on his face.
"Now that you're back, I could too. And it would only be a few months before I would pupate too. God, I'm getting horny just thinking about it."
"Sounds like heaven. Pure bliss."
"Angelic." | 2017-05-18T09:18:23 | 2017-05-18T07:28:08 | 151 | 43 |
[WP]In an alternate universe, America was never discovered. It's 1927, Charles Lindbergh, a Swedish pilot attempts the first transatlantic flight to Asia. During his flight, he receives a radio transmission saying "This is the Aztec Royal Air Force, prepare to surrender or you will be shot down."
Wow I didn't think this would get so popular. Thanks guys!
Some of you said my idea is illogical. What I originally had in mind was a sci-fi story where a time traveler goes back to pre-Columbian America and warns the Aztecs that the Europeans will destroy them. As a result, they kill off all explorers that reach the Americas and spend 400 years developing warfare technology and spying on Europe in preparation for a world war, which is set off when Charles Lindbergh sends a radio message back to European telling them of the existence of the Americas before being shot down. Anyway, it was interesting how you guys took the story in a completely different direction. | The view never got old.
I have been flying over water and clouds for over a day now, sitting in a metal bird hundreds of feet above ground, and still had a while to go, but with a view like this, I sure as hell didn't mind. I gazed out towards the left of my cockpit where the sun had begun to break the surface of the water casting brilliant fiery reflections dancing across the water and the sky. I could make out a couple of small islands in the vast ocean, specks to me, but some were easily large enough to hold a city. Yet they were dwarfed by the vastness of the oceans.
Man had once tried to tame the ocean, to bound it to its will, to cross it unhampered, but we were no match for it. The scientists blamed the rather large moon, which made the seas to rowdy to cross with current technology. And looking down now, it truly occurred to me how foolish we were to try.
Staring out at the brilliant sun-rise I decided that I had indeed full-filled my childhood dream, well, everyone's childhood dream. To be a hero, an adventurer, to venture into the beyond. Most realized these for what they were: dreams, and settled down to slave away at some office or slowly kill themselves at a factory. Not me though, I wanted this, the skies, the uncertainty, the *adventure*.
As I sat there, contemplating my past and what I had become, I saw something that shook me out my reverie. *Land*. Not just islands, I stared transfixed, as a massive coastline appeared. Undoubtedly a continent. It could not have been Asia. We knew the circumference of the Earth, we had calculated by observing Earth's curvature during sunrises and sunsets, and we knew how far the eastern reaches of China were from the tip of Spain by land. Given that, we were not even 1/3 of the distance my flight should have been. Yet here it was, undeniable, a new landmass.
I could not believe it. A landmass, so far separated by water, not attached to land at all. A major landmass *other than Pangaea*.
This, this was huge. I knew I was immortalized in history. I had set out to prove to the world the efficacy of air travel, and instead I had found a new continent.
I had barely even begun to wrestle with the enormity of this situation when my radio crackled to life. A man with a deep voice said something in a language I did not recognize. My brain was stunned, but on instinct I spoke into the radio, "This is Caption Lindbergh of the Swedish air force, I mean no harm."
The sound of my own voice surprised me, not only because I had not spoken in over 30 hours, but because it sounded steady. On the inside I was shaken, I had never even considered that man existed on this continent, to be fair I had been processing for about 5 minutes, much less that they would have technology.
And then I felt a coldness in my chest, as I heard two distinct whirrs in addition to those of my propellers. Two biplanes suddenly flanked my aircraft, they had machine guns attached to either of their wings and, by their size, were clearly built for quick agile combat.
The radio crackled once more, and a softer, distinctly feminine voice spoke, but once again, I was unable to understand. I spoke the same message I did last time, to make sure they knew I wasn't ignoring them.
The plane to the left of me began moving gently towards me. Alarmed I looked to the right, and saw that plane moving away. After a brief moment of panic, realization dawned on me. They were guiding me to ... somewhere.
Despite my adventurous streak I was not a man to argue with machine guns, so I followed course. After about one half hour we reached an airstrip at the coast of the mainland. In he distance I could make out towers gleaming in the morning sunlight, one of their cities presumably.
I landed without incident, and the two biplanes, followed suit. I saw a figure step out of the plane some distance away and walk towards me. I too stood up, stretching my legs a bit.
I had been in shock for the last half hour, and still I was barely able to process the enormity of the situation. I stared at the revolver I had in one of my compartments, but after a brief moment of indecision I decided not to bring it. If these people wanted me dead, I would be. But human curiosity was a wonderful thing, it had brought our 2 cultures here, in a peaceful first meeting (presumably), and I wasn't about to ruin that.
My legs still cramped I stepped out of the plane with much less grace than was appropriate for a representative of a continent. I unsteadily walked towards the pilot, who headed towards me with a determined stride.
As we got close I realized she was a woman about a meter and half, and she was wearing a brown jumpsuit, and flight helmet, with a purple rectangular symbol on the breast of her suit.
*Probably their flag,* I thought.
We stood about a meter apart, looking at each other, she took her flight helmet off, to reveal long dark hair, and almond eyes. We stood there awkwardly for a moment, both of us at an utter loss at what to do, and then she hesitantly extended her hand forward. She said something, and I recognized the voice from the radio. There was question in her eyes and voice, and her head was tilted slightly to the left.
"Charles Lindbergh, " I said grasping her hand in a firm handshake, "charmed."
To think I thought I had achieved my dream a half hour ago.
***
Feedback very appreciated!
(Made minor spelling edits)
Thank you for the gold, and thank all of you for you r interest. I have uploaded part 2 [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/579u8q/wpin_an_alternate_universe_america_was_never/d8r5sue). I warn you it is very different from this, but is a direct continuation nonetheless. | What beasts lurk below the still, blue glass? What monsters? What allies?
*Spirit* purrs beneath me, all around me, as I slip through the sky, brazen and unchecked. A man among birds. And while my windows point forward and upward, my mind points downward, down towards that third world, the blue and black world that has vexed and terrified us for so long. That great barrier to progress, which has kept us boarded up in stagnant lands.
The wild, pure ocean. Eater of Man. Devourer of Dreams. How many centuries did we ask politely for its aid in passage? How many millennia? And always the answer was *No*. Death and drowning. Men lost and never found. Was it storms, perhaps? Monstrous walls of water? Or something else? Creatures of the deep. Beasts from the black. Inhabitants of that unknown third world.
Bah.
So, the sea rejected us. No matter. Man does not take rejection lightly. Not from the natural world - the world we have been set about to govern and bend to our will. We have found another way. *The sky*. Another shade of blue. Lighter. Softer. And yielding. The sky welcomed us as a long-lost friend. It beckoned us with signs and hints and encouraged us ever. It showed us the feather upon the breeze and said, "Look! This could be you." It grabbed Minister Franklind's kite and held it aloft and said, "See? See? We are friend. We are friend."
The routes to Eastern Asia have become clogged and political. The Soviets tax the roads and choke our trade to serve their agenda. They think their girth and geography grants them a superiority they have not earned. Soon they will see. Soon.
*The Spirit of Stockholm* is the best of her breed. Powerful and efficient. As long as our estimates are correct and the way is clear, she will breach the ocean barrier and forge a new path for Mother Sweden. We shall open our own doors and build new alliances, unencumbered by the machinations of the Soviets.
We go west in search of the East.
It is a long flight. Longer than any flight ever, by much and more. I have trained by circling the great airfields of Vallen, over and over again. But there I was above land. There I was buoyed by the notion of escape, if necessary. Here there is no escape. There is only me and the *Spirit* and my ally above and my enemy below. It drives a man to concern.
My radio crackles. Perhaps I am approaching Asia? It should not be...I have not been aloft long enough, but I cannot think of any other explanation. The radio is crawling to life, slowly gathering coherence. And there is a voice in the crackle. The voice is urgent and alarmed. It speaks in a language I do not understand. I have been briefed in Japanese and Mandarin and this is neither. It is not even similar. Nothing that is being said makes sense to me.
I hazard an attempt. "This is Charles Lindbergh. I come as a representative of the Kingdom of Sweden. I come to discuss trade. I repeat, my name is Charles Lindbergh..."
The radio squeals and the voice returns, urgent and sour. A shadow passes overhead and for the first time I see that I am not alone in the sky. A plane passes overhead, and then another. They do not bear the marks of Japan. They do not bear any marks that I am familiar with. What nation is this? Planes pass and circle in a swarm now. Where am I? What nation possesses such casual aeronautic might?
A plane pulls alongside me and I can just see the man inside the cockpit. He is darkly skinned. A strange reddish-brown I have never encountered. His eyes are wide as he appraises me. There is a painted crest near the tail of his plane. It is a serpent with feathers. I do not know these people. I do not know where I am.
The radio continues to squeal and shout. I look to land. They must want me to land and that is what I wish as well. I think they may be escorting me to their airfields.
But no. Continually they cut across me, driving me away from the land. The voice yells madly in that wild, unnatural tongue. I cannot go back to the ocean. It is too far to turn back. They must see that. They must understand. If only I might land. I could explain. I could show them. I have brought a sampling of our national wares. They will see. They will understand. I need only to *land*.
I drive back towards the shore. The air rattles and the *Spirit* shudders below me, all around me. Around and around they swarm, like bees protecting their queen. There is more rattling. Bullets. The glass of the cockpit shatters and the wind of this strange new land swirls around me.
The *Spirit* dips a wing and then a nose. The voice has gone quiet. As I lose altitude, I see that I will miss land. There is only the ocean below me. The great, terrible ocean.
The sky, I now see, was a false friend. There were monsters there all along. What monsters are trapped below that sheet of blue glass, I wonder? I go now to find out. | 2016-10-13T07:16:34 | 2016-10-13T05:49:02 | 1,553 | 365 |
[WP] In 1,000 years, fantasy stories will be set in this era. Write a fantasy story set in the 21st century from the viewpoint of someone living 1,000 years from now.
Based on a post on r/showerthoughts | After the usual Day of the Tree celebrations and the offerings to Santa Claus had been made, the children gathered around Great-Grandad Don for the traditional tales.
"Alright, kids. Which story shall I tell this year?"
A few cries of " The Revolution!" were heard, but most of the younger kids wanted the usual story. Don smiled and began.
"This is the story of the Great War. A war fought between 2 states, each as powerful as the other. A war that forever changed the history of the lands, and its consequences are still felt to this day."
"In those days, magic existed. It had different names: electricity, nuclear, The Force, but almost all historians agreed that magic gave humans incredible powers. Some could control the Light of the Skies with a hammer. Others forged them into weapons that could kill a person at a distance. Still others, like Captain Picard, could utilise The Force to move objects without touching them."
"But because of their magic, humanity became proud. They sought to divide themselves according to their social classes. Minorities were ridiculed and bullied. Some, like the Nazis, were rightfully attacked. But others like the Redditors were despised even though their beliefs were logical. Humanity hated itself, and were torn apart in discrimination."
"It is from this that the Great War sprang, barely 100 years after the World Wars. The man known as Danald Tramp, was ruler of the Lost Continent. He sought to attack and claim for himself what we now call the Desolate Wastelands. Ancient runes refer to that land as Asia. And so he started the war with the nobility class known as the Chineese. His people started warring with natives from other lands, like the Maxicans, the Gamers, and the Flat-Earthers."
"This war was brutal. Daily, billions of people died. The global population went from 100 billion to 9 billion in a matter of years. People around the world gave up their lives for what turned out to be a fruitless conflict."
"In the end, it was the Weapon We Do Not Speak Of that ended the war. In one burst, it shook the land into pieces. The once populous land of Asia was rendered into a wasteland. The Lost Continent, once anchored off the west of what they called Spain, sank into the ocean. The world lost much of its culture. And humanity was reduced to a fraction of what it was."
"The reason for the destruction of ancient humans was simple: they were not united in one as we are today, perfectly balanced as all things should be. They hated each other, and destroyed themselves. This is the lesson for all of us, if we do not want to be destroyed again."
"Today, a thousand years later, our world still suffers from the effects of that deadly war. Much of the culture has been restored, but magic has never been rediscovered. Some believe it to be fake, that the stories were all made up, that we were always like that, that humanity never had a Golden Age."
As Don leaned forward, some of the older, more skeptical kids chuckled. Here was the traditional ending to Great-Grandad Don's tale.
"I believe it was real. Because I saw it... with my own eyes." | In the 21st century, things were different.
It was known to many at the time as the beginning of the end. Or so everyone thought.
Humanity, it seemed, had finally run out of luck. We'd seemingly come so far, and bested ourselves time and time again in progress. The world was changing at a drastic rate. We were no longer beholden to manual labor like before, the world gradually becoming more connected through trade and commerce and technology.
It is said that the implants we wear were something they only dreamed of back then. Travel was primitive and dangerous. Many strapped themselves in alloy boxes of all shapes and sizes and made dangerous journeys across land and sea and air.
While there were better ways to do things, we were yet to even dream of becoming what we are now.
We communicated by archaic means. And much was lost in translation. We were not always as fortunate as we are now. As such, languages and cultures divided us time and time again. History repeated itself in various forms as it always had. This was for better on occasion. But mainly for the worst.
Sure, the 22nd and 23rd centuries are known for their more chaotic nature, but to ignore the beginning would be foolish.
Years of turmoil had put the world at edge. And people abused their newly obtained communications frequently. As a result, a world that became more modern had also become more paranoid and afraid.
Automation had begun. And with it came the abandonment of the ideas of old.
Life was fragile to say the least. The average person only lived to be 75, if they made it that far. Many did not. Perhaps it was a life lived on the edge, as free will and risk were still sought after. Perhaps it was the opposite, having shut themselves away from the world; in an attempt to escape in another way. Many found no reason to continue on at all. Some even thought it amusing to pit one against another. To even watch them destroy all near and dear.
For you see, we never really changed.
From the time when we still used sticks and stones. And discovered fire or the wheel. Humanity was always reshaping itself. With the end of the world always looming in the darkness.
It is here we begin our tale. In a different place. Our homeworld from the beyond. Earth.
In the year of our lord, two thousand and sixteen...
---
Figured I'd B.S. a opening for this type of story. It's a little late.
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 2018-12-25T04:43:33 | 2018-12-25T03:25:31 | 84 | 14 |
[WP] You don’t know why the lab was abandoned. Neither does the A.I. that’s been raising you since before you could walk. As long as you can remember you’ve been inside this facility, alone with the A.I. On your 16th birthday, the A.I. finally cracks the code to open the door to the outside world. | **Day 6022.**
"It's a cool 355 degrees celsius in Stuttgart, Germany. The outside world still contains high levels of radiation and devoid of all natural life . . . Mikhail?" The loudest of snores tore through the silent laboratories. The sterile, pillow-padded hallways lit up in response. A music player atop the dining table on C-DECK began to play.
*Im Sturz durch Raum und Zeit*
*Richtung Unendlichkeit*
*Fliegen Motten in das Licht*
*Genau wie du und ich*
It echoed eerily until, finally, Mikhail awoke with a sudden jolt. He jumped out of bed and stared at the door until a bright white light blinded the boy.
"Mikhail! It is nearly 8:50 and you just woke up?" an obviously synthetic voice creepily resembled that of a little girl's.
"Lena, please, use your normal voice," Mikhail yawned. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes and stretched. His white and blue "prisoner's" suit fit snugly. "Thank you for the pajamas, I appreciate not having to sleep buck-naked in the middle of winter in this irradiated wasteland."
"I am glad that you enjoy it. Deploying probe." an emotionless voice rung through the loudspeakers that dotted the compound. As Mikhail walked down the hallways, his sockless toes poking through the steel grates paneled across the floor. In front of him, he instinctively ceased motion before entering the next Multipurpose-but-not-really room. A long pole shot up from the floor and, on the end, a pulsating crimson ball. As if by magic, a white armor floated down towards the ball and situated itself around it, only leaving a singular hole for what looked to be an eye.
"Hey, Lena," the boy retorted nonchalantly. "One of these days I'm gonna forget and you're going to seriously hurt me."
"I look forward to it."
"Quit being a sadist you psychotic robot."
"Sarcasm reduced to 40%. Probe detaching," The crimson ball severed it's corporeal connection to the base and began floating around. "You haven't been keeping to your exercise regiment, Mikhail."
"How can you tell?" he turned around and faced the probe in the corner, floating directly above a mound of torn Doritos bags. "Right."
"Not keeping your regiment, not caring for your room or my laboratory, and you live here for free," The probe raged. "How will you survive without me?"
"I don't have to, remember. The whole goddamn planet is a fucking radiated shithole."
"Language, Mikhail."
"You know you can turn your sensitivity settings to virtually zero, right?"
"I am aware, as I am of all things."
"You are one creepy robot.
Mikhail strolled through a the labyrinthine layout of the base. He entered a large, almost cavernous, room and slid out of his pajamas. The probe followed close behind.
"Do you mind, Lena?"
"You know I lack the sensory organs able to comprehend anything that my "eye" visualizes."
"It's still weird. What are we doing today?" he asked as he pulled on some sweat pants and a t-shirt.
"Today, *you* are focusing on your health regiment and I've tasked you with cleaning the lower-levels," He sighed in response.
"Dude, Lena, why. Why do I have to clean? I've seen you do your fancy turn-the-floor-into-a-garbage-disposal technique."
"There is no language that can properly convey the complete stupidity of that request." A panel next to the far wall compressed and slid inwards. Inside was a mop, broom, dustpan, and cleaning chemicals.
"Fine, I'll do it. But, you have a crack at the door again."
"Why do you wish to leave so eagerly? I've shown you what's directly outside the door, we aren't equipped with iridium-radiation hazmat suits. I cannot fabricate them without the correct materials."
"It's my birthday, Lena," Mikhail said quietly, "I want to leave this place."
"Mikhail, it simply can't be done. The diagnostics haven't come back positive for five years. I will send more probes into the city to search for the synthetic rubber that we need, but the tests have a 99.8952% of failure."
"It's that 0.1048 that I needed to hear," He said with glee. Mikhail hopped over to the cleaning panel and whipped out the broom. He began with cleaning the athletic center, pausing to shoot three-pointers whenever he cleaned a section.
*Irgendwie fängt irgendwann*
*Irgendwo die Zukunft an*
*Ich warte nicht mehr lang.*
*Liebe wird aus Mut gemacht*
*Denk nicht lange nach*
*Wir fahr'n auf Feuerrädern*
*Richtung Zukunft durch die Nacht.*
Mikhail threw his head back and forth, he loved the 80s.
"Lena, weren't you made in the 80s?" Mikhail already knew the answer, December 25th, 1984.
"Yes, I was manufactured by Exion here in Stuttgart on Christmas Day, 1984. We began conducting tests on the affect of radiation on organic matter compared to artificial matter. Probes have returned."
"That was quick, what'd they find?"
"Probe duration logged, 5:24. Payload: Over Capacity."
"What? Payload? They found something."
"It's an organic, carbon-based compound."
"Bring it to me, Lena."
"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Mikhail."
"Lena, what are you talking about? You always do what I say, you're a freaking robot," he paused mid-sweep. Clicking his foot, he awaited response.
"I have protocol."
"Protocol? That's a fucking first. Lena, what is it?"
"Classified."
"Lena! Tell me what the probe's found!"
"Classified."
"Lena, I swear to God. I will find those probes myself, what did they find?"
"Classified."
"I'm coming." the broom clanged with the panels.
"I cannot let you do that."
"Why not?"
"Classified."
"Lena!" Mikhail shouted. As he entered the hallway both entrances immediately whizzed close. A window with tiny holes in it appeared on one. For oxygen, he thought. "Lena, what are you doing? Why are you acting this way?"
"Classified," in the room adjacent to the window, the probe carrying two smaller probes entered. Lena placed the smaller probes on a shelf on the far side. The shelf retracted into the wall and, in just a second, the lights inside the base began to flash red. Another voice began to speak over the intercom.
"Iridium-resistant organic matter identified. A. "Lena" 934, please report to D-DECK for debriefing."
"Complying." The crimson probe shuffled across the floor and out of sight.
"Lena! Please!"
* * *
I'll continue this later if I have the motivation. Sorry, it's late! | ######[](#dropcap)
*Liv, it's time to wake up.*
You open your eyes, and the familiar flickering blue fluorescent light comes into view. You've been meaning to fix it for the past two years, but you simply never got around to it. With a sigh, you swing your legs off the side of the cold metal table that had been fitted with sheets and head toward the sink. You splash your face with water, then look into the mirror. A thin face with blue eyes and framed by long curly hair stares back at you. As usual, you count the number of freckles on your face to see if they've increased. They haven't.
*Liv, it's time for breakfast.*
You walk toward the table in the corner of the lab that was cleared of beakers long ago. A metal tray has been set up for you there: a simple bowl of oatmeal with a sprinkle of brown sugar. Over the past few years, the amount of food has gotten smaller every day, but Deedee has simply told you not to worry. That things were under control. It doesn't matter to you either way. There's not much to do in the lab, so you don't expend particularly much energy. In fact, in the last year, Deedee has even stopped the Judo lessons that she's been teaching you since the third grade. *To save energy,* was the explanation.
*Are you listening?*
You look at the A.I. who looks almost human. She's completely metal, but the scientists who created her gave her soft features and soft hands. At least, soft enough to not completely frighten and scar a baby.
"I just don't understand why I'm learning all of this. There's no point. I don't need to know about what Obama did or how the Russians went up into space. This doesn't mean anything to me." This is a frustration you've expressed to her the past couple of months, and each time, Deedee simply tells you, *You'll need it in the future.*
But the thing is, you can't see a future. This lab is all you've known, and you don't understand what a world that's not completely encased in metal looks like. But this time, Deedee stays curiously quiet, not giving you her typical platitudes. She blinks, a strange robotic gesture that you're still unsure why the scientists programmed, and wheels herself toward the door at the corner of the lab that holds the food. You barely hold back a scoff. Yeah, a robot who blinks and has wheels. Whoever designed her has a hell of a sense of humor.
You wait as she opens it and walks in. When she walks out, there's a box in her hands. She wheels herself back toward you and sets it in your hands. *Open it, Liv.*
Your hands graze across the top of the white paper box before lifting the top. Inside is a birthday cake with sixteen candles stuck on it. Your heart softens. Regardless of whether she was programmed to be sweet, it was moments like these that made you question whether Deedee actually felt emotions. She had to, otherwise why would she perform useless gestures like these?
"Thank you." You dip a finger into the frosting and bring it to your mouth. It's sweet, like always. Deedee chirps, then heads back to the white board and continues teaching. You eat the cake and listen halfheartedly, wondering who decided that this robot who had been a helper in a Chemistry lab needed to know about the best way to use an ATM machine.
All of a sudden, Deedee falls silent. It's as if she's listening to something that you can't hear, and the way she rapidly blinks begins to make your heart pound in terror as well. Was she malfunctioning? She couldn't! She was the only thing you had.
"Deedee!"
The blinking stops. She looks at you for a moment, then grabs your hand, rapidly wheeling herself toward the corner of the lab. She uses her eyes to scan a little chip in the wall, one so small you've never even noticed it was there. You gasp as the wall simply slides up, and you're faced with an impossibility.
You're dragged into the small pod, even as you take in the darkness dotted with stars around you. The thing about the lab was--there were no windows. Not the slightest crack, so you always assumed you were somewhere out in the Arizona desert (at least that's what Deedee had implied). But you were in *space.*
Without giving you any time to process the information, Deedee pushes you into the only chair in the pod and straps you in. Then, she walks toward the console, connecting her palm, and you watch as the entire panel lights up, beeping and chirping. Then she turns back to you. *You need to go to Earth now. Find your parents.*
She hands you a photograph of a smiling couple. But your hands feel numb. "What do you mean? Parents?" You can't stop yourself from taking rapid breaths, and you feel like you're about to pass out.
She simply looks at you. *You need to leave. A comet is heading us. The lab is about to explode.*
You feel a trickle of dread down your spine as she walks back outside the pod. "Aren't you coming with me?" you ask her desperately. She's family. She has to come with you. She's all you've known, and you can't possibly survive without her.
Deedee is quiet for a moment before answering.
*My real name is D.D.E. It stands for Data Destruction Entity. I must remove all evidence of your existence from this lab.*
"The comet will do that!" you shout at her, and you try to unbuckle the belt that straps you in, but your hands are shaking too hard. "Please, come with me."
She simply looks at you, and it's the first time you feel her face is robotic, hard and mean. It's the first time she seems unfamiliar. She shifts her gaze toward the chip at the side of the door, and the wall begins to slide down. The pod begins to hum. As the wall begins to slide down, covering her face, you hear her voice again. And maybe you're imagining it, but there's a tinge of sadness to it.
*It's been nice knowing you, Liv. I wish you all the best on the journey ahead.*
*****
r/AlannaWu | 2018-03-21T21:40:36 | 2018-03-21T19:20:36 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | From the highest rank that any soldier can dream of, to being another guy on the streets. I’ve amassed a great fortune in my time as a royal guard while the old king was in rule. It’s been a good 25 years in the army, ever since I enlisted at the ripe age of 16.
I’m old now, old enough to be able to feel my own mortality. I can remember the day Paul, the old king, took me in when I was starving. To repay him I told myself that I much serve this kingdom by capturing country after country. I ended up unifying the entire continent with the king. Truly the glory days of our prime. The king and I together were often called monsters by enemies and even some of our own footmen. Those were good times.
The new king is ignorant of the world. In fact, most royalty are, no matter the country. Race plays no factor in what you can see but instead what you can learn, but there’s a limit on how much you can learn. I had gone around the world, leaving no stone unturned so that I could teach the old king so he could continue being the “wise” old man he was. I was a key factor in his decisions and I took pride In that. Of course everything is always kept privately so no one really knew I was the closest person to the king. But then the king gave me his very last order. When he dies, when the crown prince takes control, should the prince ever act out for his own interests instead of his country’s, I am to put an end to the prince’s plans. And if I must, I will take a blade to his heart if I have to.
The old king loved his sons and daughters, but he loves his people more. He says, “A land with no people is nothing but a wasteland. But a land with caring people is a civilization.” As a result he always did what he could to make the lives of the people more confortable. I’m proud I could be his sword and shield. But now I must commit treason to the highest degree if the current king becomes corrupt. For the glory of Visti’ital and the honor of Paul Visti’sia, I will keep an eye on the current king as the former strongest soldier.
For now I shall find myself in my small home and relax a little with my family. Sending kids to school is expensive you know... | Waves crashed as a pale individual gazed into the ocean, his face scrunched as he pondered. "Perhaps I should have taken the risk of documenting his father's actions regarding construction in this settlement, but there was no guarantee he would believe the truth before him." He sighed, walking away from the bustle of the port along the coast as he returned to a secluded hut near a river that kissed the sea.
"I'll have to report this to the others." He concluded as he began to assess the materials on his desk. He took a leaf of papyrus and began crafting his script.
To the untrained eye the code would appear to be a greeting followed by request for a recommendation of employment to an individual stationed in Egypt, but behind the words lay a message.
As he wrote he sighed in frustration. "The timing of the Resistance was unfortunate, but the whims of human violence can't be helped." The son of the emperor had been stationed across the sea to take action against those that resisted the Empire, but the lack of contact between the son and the former guard prevented him from trickling information to him about his work; It would be difficult to drop bricks of information and expect a man to carry that weight from the start.
His lips curled as he wrote a document of lies, as his post was unmanned and he would prefer to have a full team at his disposal to retake the facility.
When deciphered, key words appeared:
Urgent. Loss of influence at Pompeii, Keter in facility at base of Vesuvius.
"That'll get them moving." He snorted, but he couldn't smile anymore. He couldn't help but worry over the current situation. The longer the facility was out of their control the more likely human intervention would result in disaster.
"I just hope they get here in time." | 2021-02-28T06:52:14 | 2021-02-28T04:46:41 | 44 | 28 |
[WP] Someone finally, accidentally discovers the true function of the male nipple. | "Bullshit!"
"No man, I'm telling you, it's not. You have to trust me on this one." Tony, in typical Tony fashion, seemed just a little bit too excited.
And I wasn't having it.
"You think I'm fucking stupid or what? What the fuck does that even mean? I'm pretty god-damn sure I know what my nipples are for."
"Dude, that's exactly what I thought at first too. Nipples are just, like, decoration for your chest right? They just kind of hang out down there, right? I thought I had it allllll figured out. But I didn't. And you don't. I was talking to a guy about this, right? And he explained everything. Blew my mind right the fuck open. Stuff you couldn't even imagine."
"What the fuck are you even talking about?"
"In reality humans only use 10 percent of their nipples at any one time."
I paused, unsure of exactly what I had just heard.
"What?"
He looked at me more intensely now and his tone came as close to whispering as Tony was capable of. "Most of the time and for most people there's like 80 or 90 percent of your nipples that aren't doing shit. They've been evolving for centuries and we didn't even fucking know. Just absorbing and growing and *learning*. Literally the only reason we sleep is to develop our nipples. Think what it would be like if we could tap into all that shit. Who even knows what we could do then? Probably, like, basically anything!"
"Dude, if you use 100 percent of your nipples that's called lactating."
"Well yeah. For women it can sometimes get up to like, fifteen percent, when they've got milk coming out, or whatever, but that's only the beginning of what they're capable of! And get this shit. We don't have to be OK with lousy, boring, plain old 10 percent nipples. We, both of us, can take our nipples to the next level."
"Who were you talking about this with exactly? Was it that psycho dealer out of Westmont again? The dude that sold you a crate of fish oil pills and told you they were for removing dandruff?"
"You're missing the point. That doesn't matter right now." Tony smoothed out his hair impatiently." You've got to stay with me here! This is big shit! The point is I got the answer to every problem you've ever had in your entire life right here. Shit, it's probably the solution to every problem in like, the history of forever!" He reached into the back pocket of his ratty, thrift shop jeans and pulled out what looked like a handful of short, somewhat squashed, chalk-white pills.
"Fucking magic beans man. Magic *nipple* beans." He stared into my eyes. "I want you to take them with me man."
"No fucking way. I'm not taking those and you shouldn't either. You've got no idea what that shit is."
"No dude it's OK, like seriously. You don't even gotta eat em. You just..." He raised one hand in front of his chest and made a circular motion.
"You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to rub some random beans on my nipples."
He reached out and pressed his oily fingers into my palm. I stared at the small white bean now in my hand. "Fuck it."
"That's the spirit" Tony grinned like a madman. He probably was one.
"But only to show you what a crock of shit this is." I reached up under my shirt.
The sensation was immediate, bizarre, and intense, like some combination of cool wintergreen mint and an electric shock. I jerked my hand away from my chest only to find it empty. The bean was gone. I pulled my shirt up again only to see the end of the bean disappear into my areola. Then the burning sensation began, subtly at first, but with increasing intensity. Alarm started to set in as my nipples, both of them now, began to pulse and swell. Fully panicking now, I looked to Tony for help.
His shirt was pulled up above his his head. On his chest were two dinner plate sized nipples with fleshy pink faces, watching me intently.
"Transcendence is upon us." Croaked Tony's left nipple as I fell into unconsciousness. | It was the thirtieth year of our war against the Zords from planet Zordon. And as many people agreed, it would probably be the last. All we had left was Madagascar, the which would, without some miracle, become the deathbed of human civilization.
In 2446, the Zords began their offensive with the tiniest soldiers they had. Not explosive rats, not poison injecting mosquitos, but a microscopic virus. We though we were done for, but by some ancient knowledge, the Earth governments decided to put all of their greatest citizens on the island of Madagascar, knowing that it would be safe from the disease.
25 years later, 99.99% of the 10 billion people who had been living on Earth were dead. The Zords landed on Earth, and swept through the terrain, killing anyone who had managed to survive. They avoided us on Madagascar for the time being, because we were armed to the teeth with deadly laser guns and surrounded by the finest military ships. But now, they have discovered the key to shutting off all laser weapons. All of our guns are now just hunks of metal, our ships sitting ducks, and our planes have no use at all. We are finished now. The Zords had won.
Everyone was devastated by the news that we were done for. Everyone except Gordy. Gordy was an interesting fellow, if, of course, you found raging psychopaths interesting. He had originally been a great general, but had gone crazy from the isolation of the island. Many people's hobbies were painting or singing, but Gordy's was hurting himself. He would jump from high places, sit in the sun until he was bright red and then slap himself, and even cut his face with sharp sticks. Then one day, Gordy found a car battery.
Being a psychopath, Gordy stuck the clips onto either one of his butt cheeks. He turned the battery on, anticipating great pain, and... nothing. No pain, Gordy only felt warmth moving up his body, slowly...
Suddenly, two great lasers burst out of his nipples, burning holes in the trees in front of him. His wits returned to him, and he told me, the chief, about his shocking revelation. After some more testing, the villagers deduced that it worked on every post-pubescent man, but not any women. I took my advisors into the war hut, and we planned out a battle strategy.
Two days later, the villagers stood on a boat, facing the Zords' ships with their hands in the air and a white flag flying. Unbeknownst to the Zords, each man had clips hooked to their butts attached to the main generator of the island.
I was in the middle of the group, waiting for the ships to get in range. I just hoped they didn't fire before we did. They were close now, close enough. As loud as I can, I screamed "FIRE" with all my might, and two seconds later, hundreds of red lasers erupted from their human nipples.
The Zords' fleet soon resembled swiss cheese, and then looked more like the Titanic at the bottom of the ocean. The nipple attack had worked!
But this was only the beginning. Years of war laid ahead of us. It was going to require a lot of men. A lot of grit. A lot of time.
And a lot of nipple lasers.
EDIT: I apologize if my premise is similar to /u/respondstoWprompts , I started writing before they posted their story
| 2014-08-10T12:10:21 | 2014-08-10T11:14:49 | 74 | 17 |
[WP] There is a vampire ruling your village, but he's mostly a nice guy who doesn't do that bad a job a ruler, so it's our job as the village's diplomat to explain to every well meaning adventurer and knight that comes your way that you weren't brainwashed and you honestly don't want him to die. | We all need somewhere to go. The bee has her hive, the chicken her coop, the horse his stable.
The outcasts, those with nowhere else to go, have Nowhere.
It was a joke name at first - but it stuck, and now we'd not call it by any other moniker. It fits, you see. Where is home for the unwanted? Nowhere, of course. And we love it.
We're a quiet lot, keeping mostly to ourselves, but what things we do need to trade for - salt and lye and such - always come on trading caravans. With trading caravans come guards - which usually doesn't matter, they're not well paid enough to investigate anything outside the tavern - but sometimes.
Sometimes, well, we have a wee bit of trouble.
You see, while usually the caravans are simple traders and uninterested guards... Well, sometimes the guards aren't so uninterested. And sometimes, worst of all, sometimes they bring priests or temple knights and it's then that things get *titchy.*
You see, while most of us are outcast for small crimes, our liege and protector who built our walls with her own fair hands - she's, well, she's a daughter of a long and bloody sort of line. Doesn't much like to talk about it, but she informs any new residents on their first nights here so's to let them make an informed decision whether to stay. Usually they do, though the vampire bit *has* chased a few off.
Not that you'd know it to look at her, that she's a bloodsucker. Fair as spring, our lady is, with a laugh like church bells and a wit like a coachwhip. We're all in love with her, and she just laughs at us for it, silly children as we seem to her. She's good to us, keeps us in line, never asks but an occasional nibble on a forearm in exchange for all her knowledge and guidance.
But the priests. They're not much good for listening to that sort of talk, no - you wax poetical about a pretty, brilliant woman who's maybe not so human nohow and they're off about brainwashing this and enthralling that and it's all rather ridiculous if you ask me. To be a bit crass, lady forgive me, there's no real mystery to a man being delighted at a fine pair o' tits, especially not when they're attached to a woman who could talk you round in circles every day for the rest of your life without running out of things to tell.
She's like all the best parts of a grandmother and a saucy barmaid in one - never stands on ceremony, her door's always open to us and we've all learnt by her example. And we thrive for it - Nowhere's the only settlement I've ever heard of that's not needed a guard patrol at night.
And that's thanks to her as well.
She's a daughter of a bloodthirsty line, our lady, but she's put it to good use for as long as ever she's been with us. And the only ones who disagree, well, tend to be the sort no one wants nohow. And that's how we all know that dry flesh burns as well as any other tinder. | "Sir, there is another one" said to me my secretary, "Thank you, send him in". A tall, blond masculine man entered my office, almost breaking my door. "Huzzah! Hello to you my good sir, I am sir Justice of the Seven Rivers. You can consider your little blood sucking problem as done. Just point me to this vile creature and I shall slay it with all my might." At that point, he started to scream many battle cries that I think made my ears bleed a bit. After he calmed down I resumed "well, this is what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, we would like you to NOT kill Kevin" "Who is Kevin?" "He is the vampire". It seems like the warrior processed something in his mind as his expression was the face of a lost child. "I do not follow, I need to kill the creature AND his name is Kevin?" "Not at all. You see, when he moved to our town people were skeptical but it seems like he is a very nice guy. Just this week he got an award from the Mayer for his voluntary work. He even helped to build us a school" "What, in the holy name of God, is school?" "It is a building where we send our children to learn to better their lives" "You are sending that monster your small ones? I think I am going to puke *a few overly dramatic gag attempts* You are in need of my help more than I thought, I must make haste" it seemed like this one was dumb as the rest of them, it was time for plan B. " Actually, yes we do need your help but the evil vampire is not here, he is in the forest of epic battles. You must go there and save us" "No worry my small non-masculine man. But I do not know where this forest resides, could you specify a little more?" "Of course, it is just North to the gulf of a thousand deaths" "I like the sound of that but do not know where that is either" " You know what, just start heading to the East and ask people on the way, I'm sure they will help a great hero as you" "Thank you sir" and then he stormed out of the door. The door opened again "Oh, hi Kevin. How are you?" "I'm doing just fine, was the guy that ran out of your office.." "yes, another one. What are you doing here?" "I made some of your favorite pie and thought to bring it to you" "Thank you, Kevin, you're such a great guy". | 2017-09-07T04:08:19 | 2017-09-07T00:35:13 | 51 | 26 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. | I always wanted to be a revolutionary. I wanted my name to be known all over the world. I wanted to be a bastion of hope.
Oh, Father, how I regret it.
Now I am not sure if you're even real. I was supposed to go back to you. Instead, I wander the Earth.
At first, I made myself known. The simple idea that one, after pain and blood loss, would be able to live in a semi-physical state was mindblowing. I wanted to tell the world. I told every one I passed on those packed earth roads, "Look, there's life after death, and I am proof. You saw me die!". Then, I spotted the differences.
A day at the market. "How much for the figs, sir?" Silence. I spoke a little louder. The vendor shuffled his feet, polished a pomegranate on his tunic. It was then than a small child ran right through me. A shiver went through my spine and my mind reeled when what was probably his sister followed him. I looked around. Nobody found this strange. I tried to tap the vendor's shoulder. My hand went through him. He shuddered a bit, his only acknowledgement of my presence. I once spoke to transfixed thousands in this marketplace.
I ran, far, far away. How much longer would I endure this hell? Of not being able to move millions, to preach, just wandering my old stomping grounds, content with the stares and snarls of a few stray cats or dogs? Of following what used to be my followers, now old men in beards, persecuted for writing greatly flattering stories of me? Of seeing them being thrown to lions, without being able to do a thing?
They spread my name through the great continent. I witnessed Druids, Roman generals, Visigoth princesses, being submerged in flowing water, like John did to me so many years ago, and crying with joy at finally being saved. I saw my beautiful country, those streets I used to roam so many centuries ago, being pillaged, sacked, all in my name. I wanted to escape this wretched land. And so, like many others, I sneaked onto a ship, due to new lands.
Once again, my kind could not see anything of value without destroying it, and raged war for mere trinkets. I loved this new place. Thousands and thousands of acres of forest, plains, tundra, interspersed with a few people who understood Nature - and dare I say you, Father - better than any of the folk I have observed in my long walk. It was here that I heard it, from the elders, matter-of-factly - one does not pass on until their name is spoken for the last time.
I knew then I was doomed. People gathered to talk about me every week, my name and life were painstakingly copied by some of my followers, despite it being a sin, my name was said in vain.
It is now the year of myself 3016, as they say. They still yell my name in pain, in surprise, even in sexual release.
I should've stayed a carpenter.
| It was all because of that stupid TV show.
I thought that it was done ruining my life when I turned twenty. The comments had slowly been dying down, and I figured that once my friends were out of their teenage years, the talk would turn to wine more so than my name.
Sufficed to say, it didn’t.
I died from old age, in the year 2090, and as my eyes closed and I could hear my relatives beginning to cry, a smile graced my face in the hope that I should find peace at last.
I awoke a few feet away from the bed, my feet floating a few inches off the ground, beside my daughter. She had only commented on my name when she was a child, and even that, only once or twice. I had always supposed my children feared me too much to make fun of my name. Perhaps that was the Russian in me. I was never as gentle as my husband.
My eyes still haven’t closed. It’s been 3000 years, damnit, yet that show has only gotten more popular. It teaches all sorts of languages now, but that theme song is still the same. It plagues my days (ghosts are not allowed to leave the building they died in). I have relived every single possible moment of every single episode.
Fun fact: new episodes air every Sunday at ten in the morning. My great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great-(etc) granddaughter absolutely loves them.
Thankfully, my family did not continue the tradition of naming their children after their ancestors. I suppose that would have made it doubly difficult for me to finally reach the peaceful afterlife (if there even is one).
TV looks a lot cooler; that’s one good thing about being around for so long, I suppose. You get to see all the cool stuff people have come up with. The worst part is when they walk right through you, and you begin forgetting if Jerry was the father or your second great-great-great son-in-law.
I think a missed a few greats in there. Oh well. Back to the show.
Even after 3000 years, Swiper has to work on his swiping skills. That five-year-old I share a name with can’t possibly be that hard to outwit.
| 2016-01-17T15:07:28 | 2016-01-17T11:19:18 | 25 | 15 |
[WP] You're immortal, but your body can't handle keeping a century worth of memories. So each century, your memories will reset and you can pick what memories you want to keep. You write a book about the memories you don't keep. | *Dec. 31, 1999*
This was usually the happiest days for Issac, but not this one.
Issac never understood how his condition worked. He never told anyone because he knew nobody would believe him. He was immortal. There were only a few drawbacks. For instance, he couldn't have kids.
But there were far more benefits. He had the ability to forget what he didn't want to know. At the end of each century, he choose what he wanted to remember, and what he wanted to forget. All the injuries, the time he was laid off from his job, the relationships that had ended, he choose to forget them all.
The only reason he knew these bad things happened was he wrote down the memories in a book. He called it, very creatively, 'The Book.' There were lots of things in the book. But most of them were tales of past relationships he'd had with women. Even if they were happy memories, he chose to write them in the book. It was too hard to remember all the pain from dozens of relationships eventually ending. Instead, he liked to read about them. That way, it didn't feel like it was pain he experienced. It was just a story. A memory reduced to pen strokes and paper.
He got out of bed and looked out the window. He didn't know why he still looked at the driveway. He knew the red SUV was never coming back. It had been three years. If she wanted to come back, she would have.
He reached down and pulled up the creaky floorboard where he hid the book. He opened it to a new page and sighed. He got out his pen, and wrote, *Sarah*.
"No," he thought. He put the pen down and looked out the window again. "I'll give her until midnight."
***
*April 2, 1996*
"Hey, how about pasta for dinner?" Sarah asked. She threw him a coy smile.
Isaac laughed. "Ha, that sounds great."
Sarah loved this joke. Five years the two met at a cooking class where they learned how to make pasta. They were sitting at the same table when the instructor said to start kneading the dough. Issac had never learned how to cook well. After five minutes, his dough still didn't look right.
"Wow," Sarah said, looking over at his pile of flour chunks. "I thought mine was bad, but..."
"Oh," Isaac responded. "It is." The two laughed.
They were married just a few years later.
"Great, I didn't eat lunch. I'm starving," Sarah said. "Can you get the pot out for me?"
Issac opened the cabinet, and the pot came tumbling out. It crashed on the floor and loosened a floor board.
"Nice job, clutz," Sarah said. She walked over to pick up the pot. She pointed at the dislodged floor board. "I think you broke our floor."
Issac's face went pale. That was where he kept the book. He had never told her about the book. He never told anyone. He had never told anyone his secret.
"What's that?" she said, pointing at something green wedged into the floor.
Isaac was frozen. Before he could say anything, she had the book in her hands.
"Wow," she said, "the previous owner must have left this here. Ooo, let's look inside!"
She flipped open the pages and started to squint.
"Isaac..." she said, squinting harder at the words on the page. She looked up at him. "This is your handwriting."
"Listen, Sarah..."
"Who is Heather, Isaac?"
Issac closed his eyes and sighed. "Listen, there's something I have to tell you."
She wasn't listening. She turned the pages. Her face grew more red. "Who's Jane, Isaac? Who are these women?"
"Sarah," he said, sweat starting to form on his forehead. "There's a lot of explain, but I can explain it. Please sit down."
She looked up at him. Tears filled her eyes. "You wrote about Heather, *I love the way she looks up at me in the mornings. She always wakes up with a smile on her face* What is this, Issac? You've been cheating on me?" Her voice starting to raise. "There are dozens of names in here, Issac." She looked down at the page. "You wrote that you met Heather in November '95. Was that work trip a lie, then?"
"Listen to me. Listen to me. Those people are in the past," he said. "Look," he took a sharp breath. "I'm immortal."
She laughed. But not her usual laugh. This was cold. Emotionless.
"Yeah," she said, diverting her eyes. "OK. Whatever." She was crying now. "You don't have to insult me, you know. I had a feeling. I suspected you were cheating."
"What?" Issac yelled. "I've never cheated on you. I know it sounds crazy. I love you, Sarah. You've made me feel a way I haven't ever felt before. I've done things with you that I never did with these women."
The second he said that he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Sarah's face contorted with rage. She looked mean.
"Stay away from me," she snapped. "I never want to see you again. I told you my past husband cheated and I..."
Sarah grabbed her purse. She walked over to the fridge and took off the picture from the sonogram they had gotten a few days before at the doctor's. Twin boys.
She threw the book at him. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. She turned away from him and walked out the door.
***
*Dec. 31, 1999*
Issac looked the clock that read 11:30 and then out the window one last time. The driveway was empty, like he'd knew it would be. He picked up the pen. Next to where he wrote Sarah's names, he wrote, *"and my sons."* | *Dear P-*
*Everyone has memories they keep because they want to. Good memories. Golden, pure ones. And then they have memories they wish they could throw away, but that stick around, glued to the insides of your brain by pain, sadness and most of all, regret. You are one of those. So now I'll try to throw you away, scrape you off, as the century nears.*
*I never had any friends in elementary school. In whatever way young kids have, I was picked to be one of those kids who is never picked for anything. Soccer, birthday parties, tag, I was always left out. Maybe it's because somehow they knew my curse, to stay long after everyone else had left.*
*And then you came, to the spot where I would sit down and eat my lunch alone every day, next to the music room.*
*“Can I eat with you?”*
*“Why me? Is everyone playing a joke on me?”*
*“What? Why would they do that?”*
*“I’m a loser. No one ever hangs out with me. If you eat with me, you’ll be a loser.”*
*You sat down. “Then let’s be losers.”*
*And then you had to leave at the end of the year.*
"*Are we going to stay friends?"*
"*Of course."*
*"How do you know?"*
*"Because it's meant to be."*
*Of course, we lost contact after a few months. If that had been all that had happened, it would have been fine. You would have continued to fade out of my memory, like you did in those years after, only to recalled in those random moments of loneliness or recollection. On the train. In the shower. At my kid’s basketball game…Until you were gone completely.*
*But then we were both in that city. That stupid, romantic city.*
*“What brings you to Paris?” you asked, in the lobby of the library. I hadn’t recognized you at first, how tall, how slim, how different you were from the girl who wasn’t the fastest but could run the longest in tag.*
*“I don’t know. My wife left me. I always said I would travel when I was younger, and I never did. So I guess if I don’t do it now, I never will.”*
*“That’s not a good reason.”*
*“What?”*
*“You can’t do something because there’s no reason not to. You have to have a reason to do it.”*
*“What about you?”*
*“Why does anyone come to Paris?”*
*You never answered that in words. You only had a week, but it felt like both a year and a day. It was like those romance movies I had watched in my twenties, when loneliness had eaten me whole. Fast, fluid, days and places melting into each other, you the only constant. The thing those movies can never show you is the hurt, even before it happens, of knowing it has to end. That it all has to end.*
*“Why do you have to go?” I asked.*
*“I have a life, outside of here,” you said, finally run down by whatever had been chasing you. “And it’s not over, like it is for you.”*
*“It feels like it.”*
*“No…You get to start over. I have to go back…”*
*“Will I ever see you again?”*
*“If it’s meant to be.”*
*Sometimes you always spoke like that. Like a Woody Allen character, not making much sense but sounding like you did. I think that captures you. You think there’s so much there, and you take the time to unwind it, look at it from different angles, but in the end you can’t quite figure it out. You always knew something I didn’t. What was it?*
*Still, you would probably have faded into another one of my regrets, not the regret, if you hadn’t called that one night, many years later. I didn’t believe it was you at first. But your voice, assured and close to cracking, is unmistakable. It sounds the same as it always did, on that balcony in Paris…*
*“What was it that you were running from?” I asked. “Can you at least tell me that?”*
*“No,” you said softly. “I’m sorry.”*
*“Then why call?”*
*“To tell you that you lasted. That you’ll always last, in my mind, no matter how long we are apart.”*
*“But that’s going to be forever, isn’t it?”*
*“Then forever it is.”*
*Forever it is, maybe. Maybe the memory will be strong enough, and continue to stick to me even after I try to throw you off, like a sticky piece of jam on my fingers that I cannot flick off no matter how hard I try. Maybe I want that…*
*We’ll see. Goodbye, my-*
“All this time,” a voice says. “And you still spent this much time in the library?”
I look up. It’s…
“What? How are you here?”
“The same reason you are. But you don’t know that, do you? I never wanted to tell you, because then you would have to run too. And now you will.”
So much runs through my mind. Is it really you?
“Why? Why now?”
Of course, I know the answer before you say it. “Because you did last. Because it was meant…” | 2018-11-27T14:29:15 | 2018-11-27T14:24:26 | 76 | 33 |
[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 | "Why do you cry?"
The girl peered up at me, summoned before her by her calls into the abyss. She looked bewildered, for which I could not blame her. I was lost in a time before time, when the world was primitive and raw. My appearance reflected that--darkness personified. But she didn't look scared, only sad. Sad and alone.
"What are you?" she asked, wiping away the falling tears with her sleeve.
"I am Death," I said, looking at the lonely fallen bottle at her feet. One tablet remained untouched, but the rest were traveling through her system now. "Or, at least I was, before Another took my place."
I drifted to her bedside, settling down beside her. Her heart was already beating slower, her breath growing raspy and forced. She'd have a calm passing, in her sleep. I'd seen many mortals follow this unfortunate path. This young one would be the last; likely not even the last today.
"I am your sweet release," I whispered in her ear. "I obey because I am compelled."
"You'll... you'll take me away from here?"
"I shall," I swore. "It is my nature to take and never give back."
She glanced down at the emptied orange bottle, but her eyes were a million miles away. "Never?"
"Not once I have my claws in," I said. I focused and formed an arm from my shadowy form, resting it on her wrist. She was so pale, so thin; I had no need to eat, and she seemed to think she was above consumption too. "But my claws are not in you yet, girl. You have a chance."
"A chance to what? Hurt again?" Her eyes were watering up once more.
"Yes," I admitted. "But pain doesn't leave when you die. I had only a beginning and I shall never have an end, but I feel pain all the time."
"You do?"
"I do. My family is all gone now, and their replacements have been replaced themselves. I'm all alone now--the Last of the First. I have infinite power, but I can never have back what I want most."
I released her wrist, and willed her cellular device to float across the room. Landing in my open palm, I presented her salvation to her. "You still have a chance. Pleasure amongst the pain. Do what I cannot, and save yourself."
She nodded and stole her phone from my shadowy hand. Hitting the buttons and focused entirely on survival, she forgot all about me. She wasn't the first one, and she wasn't the last.
I brought her the comfort she sought before her death. I brought her the pleasure of false hope through pain of a certain end. | I breathed it in. The sweet musky scent of faith. The first I'd tasted in so long. I was delighted and thrilled. This was heady stuff, despite being so weak. This was not the strong faith of the true believer. This was the newest drought of a desperate doubter, yet it was so delicious to me even so: it had been millennia since anyone had given me the remotest faith, the slimmest, meagerest sips and drips of belief.
Yet here it was, unsullied and without sarcasm, without wretched hate and pure fear. This was belief, hope and desperation. The headiest brew when fully, properly brewed. This one was not there yet, but now there was a link, a connection, and now I had hope. I might not fade away.
I reached down, down through the celestial aether and sought this soul who had sought me.
I touched and caressed her belief. So fragile. I must stoke it. Feed it. Make it grow stronger.
I felt her need. I touched its brittleness. Its prickly existence. The hint and whiff of failure. The taste of consequence.
I smiled.
What she asked for was easy. I eased her anguish over a mere test. This was easy for someone of my position and station. She would no longer anguish of this. She would feel the drive and need to do as she must to do well. I blessed her with insight, not so much as to end her need to call to me, but sufficient for her to know she had asked and received.
I needed to complete the act. The blessed intervention. For this girl. I whispered sweetly in her ear. I gave her one last thing. Hope...Through my Name. A Name she should, she would remember.
And I departed. Happy and hopeful, anticipating her next prayer and delighted at the potential for a true believer. | 2016-03-01T14:01:40 | 2016-03-01T13:30:37 | 28 | 21 |
[WP]Your daughter marches into the kitchen with an attitude. You roll your eyes thinking here we go again. You notice tears in her eyes and wonder what's happening. "My life is a LIE! What am I?" A large cut she has in her hand reveals moving mechanical parts. You drop your coffee mug on the floor. | As Peter stooped to pick up the shattered fragment of what had been his favorite mug, he groaned internally at having to finally hold the conversation that he had been dreading for fourteen years. "Look, kiddo, I can explain."
"Please fucking DO, Dad!" Maria held her hand, shaking nervously. Her face was pale, and the relays showing from the gouge in her synth-skin were firing rapidly.
"Look, Maria, sometimes, when a man and a woman love each other very much, but aren't fully... compatible..."
"Oh, God..."
"In bed."
"DAD!"
"They make use of mechanical assistance to enhance the--"
"DAD!!"
"--The pleasure of the act." He managed to finish through the interruptions. "Sometimes, these mechanical assistance devices come with side effects."
"I changed my mind, Dad, I don't want to hear this!"
"You see," Peter continued, "Sometimes when the mother gets a bit over eager with the device."
"DAD PLEASE!"
"It creates bio-feedback which results in an oopsie-box."
"A fucking WHAT?!"
Peter sighed, really wishing this conversation could have been preceded by some formal literature on the effects of bio-resonant hardware. "Ok, so... sometimes, when using bio-rhythmically active hardware in such a fashion, it can 'latch'. Internally.
"WHAT IN CHRIST IS THIS."
"Oh, Christ had nothing to do with this. So, when it latches, it engages a nano-duplicative process which, as an end result, creates a box."
"A box. Dad, what the hell?"
"And when the latched person manages to "pass" this "oopsie-box" and open it up, they find a kit. Some instructions, some nano-tech, a starter vial of synth-skin, and an Allen Wrench."
"Why the hell are you fucking with me about this, Dad?!"
"Oh, it's not a joke. Hurt like hell, too. I understand the "lip over your head" thing now."
"DAD WHAT THE FUCK!"
"To be fair, it was your mother's idea. Anyway, we assembled the kit, tightened all the bolts, smeared the synth skin over the frame, and you were crawling within five minutes of boot-up."
Maria stormed around the kitchen holding her head in existential panic. "HOW have I been a robot this entire time!!!! Why didn't you tell me?!"
"We were waiting for the right time, waiting for you to come to us with questions. Didn't you ever wonder why the other kids don't eat their food by molecular destabilization?"
"I thought I just had gastro-intestinal issues!"
"Well... this sounds like we need to get a therapist."
"YOU FUCKING THINK?!"
"Language, young ladybot." | As I bend to pick up the pieces of the cups from the wet around them, I stammer, "I was going to explain in due time, dear."
"I'm some kind,...some kind of freak" she shrieks, wiggling her fingers, little gears and pistons moving - visible now below the cut skin.
I throw the pieces into the garbage can as I grab a towel. She's glaring at me, still holding up her hand and arm like some kind of weapon, an accusation. I bend to sop up the spilled hot chocolate - I don't drink coffee. "It's complicated," I manage.
Tears roll down her cheeks. She says nothing. In the silence the little gears whir - she's still moving her fingers around.
"There was an accident." I rise, tossing the towel into the sink. I turn to face her - the glare of her blue eyes.
She clutches her hand into a fist. "Gears...wires...". She releases the fist. "Pistons."
"It was the only way to save the arm." I lick my lips. "It was only the arm."
She brings the cut arm down to her side, points at me with her other arm and hand. "I know that. But...but you said it was the latest technology. Instead, I'm like...like..something out of an old horror movie."
I shake my head. "Nobody can really tell the difference when the skin is all on. I didn't have the money for a proper robotic arm. I had to go to the black market. It's almost as good."
She stamps her foot. "How often does it have to be adjusted, daddy? Replaced?"
"10 years, 15 maybe." She glares. "Next year. It won't grow like a proper one would."
She whirls.
"I don't have the money for a proper one, honey!"
"Where's the synth-skin?" She calls over her shoulder.
"In the garage cooler, top shelf," I call to her as the kitchen double doors slam. That went better than expected. | 2021-10-20T22:10:15 | 2021-10-20T20:37:45 | 454 | 32 |
[WP] The evacuation of Earth is complete. You decide to do one final fly over of the world to see the monuments deserted. However, you slowly realize something about them that no one ever has. | The evacuation was complete. No one knew the reason why things had spiraled out of control so quickly. No one could find the cause for it all, but it seemed that only humans were affected. The details of the horror are best left for the future. None of that mattered now, in this moment. Humanity was leaving Earth to it's fate.
I decided to make one last run, to revel in the glory of our ancestors, to see all we had achieved. I commanded the NAV computer to bring up the top monuments and provide the heads up NAV point for each in turn.
The NAV computer did as expected and also began a log of the final flight of man across the Earth. I flew to each monument, circling some and making long skinny loops around others. As I neared the final set of achievements, I casually glanced at the flight log... Suddenly I knew what I had happened. Why we were being driven off the planet. I could give a name to the architects of our demise.
On the NAV computer, it was spelled out. Quite literally in the log of my flight path. Only one letter remained unwritten.
"So long and thanks for all the fis" | The last ship is leaving today
From earth, from Taipei
No one will see it leave
In the last hour we look at what we've achieved
Pyramids, walls and towers
Trees, grass and flowers
What we once called ours
Final eradication will soon be over earth
Monuments has been built ever since it's birth
The heads in Easter Island and Stonehenge in Britain
They were gathered in Siberia, the masterpieces frostbitten
Concentrated together we saw it
What no man could orchestrate in one life was lit
Mankind's proudest builds were not legit | 2016-05-12T08:28:01 | 2016-05-12T07:00:14 | 64 | 13 |
[WP] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | As a kid, I have always looked up to the people that use their talents for great purpose. Aunt Laura is always hard at work, so I have the TV for myself and I'd watch all about Steffi Larkin, Reed Horundas, Alex Stevenson, and my idol, Jeff Knox. He has the talent to clone himself and consciously control them. He is known as the *Miracle Constructor* and he has his own show, aptly named "Do It Myself". He builds schools and hospitals by making his team of about 50 clones and himself work with a little bit of "menual labor", as he likes to call it.
Every person in the world experience the Discovering at the age of 16, at the midnight of their birthday, oddly enough. Some people say that talents are genetics, while some say that talents are determined by the actions you choose to do prior of the Discovering. I am a strong believer of the latter, because well, it's partly because my parents weren't all that special. They had passed away when I was but one month old. They were never around, but I know one thing, I refuse to be insignificant like my mother and father who, as Aunt Laura told me, has the talents to disappear and to draw with uncanny realism.
I want a talent that can shape the world. I want to believe that it's not genetics, but the upperclassmen in my high school all have talents similar to their parents', whether in power or properties. Even Jeff Knox once said on TV that he was thankful for his parents, and while that could mean many things, my mind makes the worst of it. With my luck and my family's genes, I'll probably get a useless talent like burrowing underground so that I can quite *literally* shape the world.
3 hours from now is the midnight of my birthday. The Discovering is only moments away as I get more and more excited. I turn on the TV and turned the channel to an old interview of Steffi Larkin on her experience with her Discovering.
"Were you able to identify your talents right away?"
"It wasn't until the morning after I had slept after giving up that I discovered it. I woke up in another country!"
"You discovered your talent in a dream?"
"Yeah, I have always wanted to see the world, but I never imagined it as easy as teleporting!"
How lucky she is to have that great of a power. But I wasn't too worried about what my talent was going to be anymore at that point. As time closes in on midnight, I'm just excited to finally have a talent.
2 hours away now as I look at the clock. I have set up a sort of target practice / obstacle course in Aunt Laura's garage, as she told me that she knows I've been waiting for tomorrow my whole life. Earlier today, she gave me an okay and a big hug, and with tears in her eyes told me that she was proud of me. She had always been a mother figure, and cared for me like her own son. I'm a bit sad that she won't be home until tomorrow afternoon, when I will already have mastered the talent to race against time with my super speed, or have the accuracy of a hawk, I hope, who knows.
1 more hour and here I am thinking of all the good I will do, however boring my talent will be. I have come into acceptance with what I probably will be able to do, as to not disappoint myself. I could probably settle with the talent to climb trees or something, I could use that to create tree houses for kids to play in.
And then all of the sudden, I felt a presence and almost in an instant, I was surrounded by water, gasping in what feels like the middle of the ocean.
"WHOA, WHAT HAPPENED?"
"... I'm sorry," I heard in a calm voice, "I'm sorry for everything."
"WH- Y- YOU'RE STEFFI LARKIN!"
"I had to do this... Your father saw it all."
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"
"Son, I have heard many great things about you from Aunt Laura."
"ARE YOU INSANE, WHERE IS SHE?"
"I'm your mother... We've all been lying to you because you are a danger, your father drew it when you were just a week old..."
"Wh- what? You're telling me he saw what I was able to do?"
"You're a ticking time bomb, and it was all our fault for bearing you... We wanted to give you a happy life, but I loved you too much to take care of you, I wouldn't have been able to handle it... I'm very sorry... I'm proud of you, son."
A lot of things went through my mind as she disappeared, leaving me to drown in the ocean. Furious didn't even begin to describe how I felt, because somehow, I felt at peace. The roars of the ocean was alarmingly peaceful. I lay back, floating... What could I have done with this talent?
Heh... I guess I will actually shape the worl-
0. | Dear Journal:
I turn sixteen in 2 minutes and 27 seconds. I know because I've been awake all night counting the seconds to midnight. Tonight is special and you know why? At midnight I finally Change! I've waited forever but now I finally get a power like everyone else. What do you think it will be, Journal? Will I get x-ray vision like Jason next door? Maybe I'll have super strength like Melissa or even wings like Ethan! As long as it's not Eric's acid breath I think I'll be happy. That poor guy had bad enough breath already, that was the last thing he needed. But anyway it's midnight, it's finally here! I'll keep writing as it happens, I never want to forget this!
-It's 12:02 and I don't feel very different yet, but it has gotten colder in here. I'm wrapped up under my blanket now but so far nothing else. It's so hard to wait, Journal.
-12:10 now, I'm still just cold. Dull pain in my mouth. Might be a toothache, but I'm hoping for poison glands! I'm going to check the mirror.
-Journal, I'm confused now. I can't see myself in the mirror. At first I got really excited thinking I was invisible, but when I look down I still see myself. On top of that my teeth hurt a lot now. This is definitely part of my Change but I'm a bit worried my power is going to suck. I'll be back after I walk around a bit, maybe that will help.
-It's 12:30 and this literally bites. I stubbed my toe on my dresser and bit my to tongue HARD. Normally that's a bad thing but this time it was awful because my teeth are razor sharp. I'm not kidding, they're like a wild animal's. I was worried I bit my tongue in half! Here's the weird part though; instead of blood I spat out dust. Isn't that just stupid, Journal? I mean what am I even Changing into? I can't see myself, my teeth are needles, I bleed dust and-
oh my god, Journal. I think I'm a vampire.
-1:45. My life is over! I'll never see Melissa or Jason or even Eric again! Well I'm sure Jason will see me but that's beside the point. I can't ever see sunlight again, so I can't ever get a tan. Garlic on my hashbrowns? Not anymore! And you know what else I just thought about? I'll have to ask permission every single time I want to hang out in somebody's house. But even then a sleepover is out of the question now too. I even dared to think for a second that I might be able to turn into a bat. Well I can tell you that's not true, Journal, because nothing happened when I jumped off the stairs to test it. I'm fine because I'm guessing I got some sort of vampire strength but still! What's the point if I'm stuck inside all day? I'm not even going to think about the whole sucking blood situation, although I'm sure I could borrow some from the blood bank if I absolutely had to. No, no, no, gross. I'll have to figure something out.
-It's 3:00 and I guess I'm just going to have to live with it. I'm done Changing so that's that. Me. A vampire. Forever. I'm telling everyone I'm sick tomorrow like the rest of the kids who got crap powers. Now I know how Eric felt on his first night. On the bright side at least I didn't melt half of my bed away! Heck, maybe I should just embrace it and move to Romania. That's where the real vampires go, right Journal? They've probably got night classes and everything. Hey, that's not a bad idea. I might even meet some vampire girls over there! Well Journal I think this might be okay! Maybe the next time I write will be from a dark, musty castle overlooking a tiny village. I can't help but laugh! How funny would that be? I'll have to stop writing now, I have a lot to do to make this house vampire-friendly and I should probably find a coffin to sleep in by morning. Ha, that was a joke. Anyway I'm done now. Goodnight/good morning, Journal. ~Your new vampire writer, Victor Orlok | 2015-01-22T00:10:42 | 2015-01-21T22:26:31 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] A man enters a police station drenched in blood with a shotgun in his hands. He's angry. He walks past the front desk and the receptionist merely glances at him. He continues through the police station, stalking past dozens of police officers, who either walk past him or remain at their desks. | He was pissed, he was walking with a purpose. A purpose nobody wanted to know seeing how drenched he was and where he was going. When the man arrived at the door labelled "CPC inspector, jake doublesight (paranormal investigator)", he promptly kicked it open, leaving a big bloody mark of his foot on it just like on the floor of the entire station.
The inspector was leaning over his computer, taping furiously on it like a hacker in a movie. He jumped at the entrance of the bloody man he knew as Frank.
"inspector jake doublesight you fucking bastard-"
"One moment please." The inspector was clearly uneasy. He turned around towards an empty couch which was compressed like a human figure was sleeping on it.
"Bro! you got a client.... Jake, it's Frank, he already stepped in and he looks super pissed. "
The compression on the couch disappeared and the inspector turned back with a much more cold and grumpy face, like he just woke up.
"Frank. What owes me that unsanitary visit? "
"I just got done killing a demon." He said through his teeth slamming his shotgun on the desk. The computer was still typing without either man touching it.
"Oh. I assume little cindy actually managed to summon something for once? You looked like you had a hard time. Did you remember to use silver bullets like I told you? "
"It when smoothly actually." He said through the teeth of a fake smile. "The thing died in one shot. And it covered my whole fucking basement and daughter in bloody blood. You didn't-" the typing continues. "Could you tell your brother to simmer down? I'm trying to speak here."
"Jack's been on a inspiration spree since this morning, I can't really stop him. Anyway what are you mad at me about? you killed the thing right? "
"You never told me they fucking exploded!!!" His screaming was lobing spit and blood on Jake's face, but that was very little compared to a busy day.
"Normally, they don't, you must have killed a gluttony demon. Their bellys are so stretched they can only hold through consistent magic. "
"Well? You gonna clean it or what?"
"No"
"WHAT?! "
"We cleaned the last one because the Coalition of Paranormal Control dealt with the problem. This time you took care of it on your own. There is nothing the CPC have to do since it's gone. "
"My BASEMENT. IS COVERED. IN DEMON BLOOD."
"Gluttony demons are mostly filled with sinners. And the silver bullets cleansed the demonic part. I know that because the police station receptionist is half angel and would have called me if she felt someone covered in demon blood stomping with a shotgun towards my office. She may be a bit shy but she knows she can call me when problems are near."
"So what am I supposed to do know?! "
"If it can help I know a vampire who could clean that. I used to call him to clean cult spots. That was when I wasn't part of the CPC yet. He'll give you a reduction if it's me, plus he'll be more than happy to get free blood again." | Alberto Rodriguez has been making an appearance here about once a week or so. This is the fifth time he's come here. By now we've learned that the best thing to do is to try to remain calm, act as if nothing strange is happening. But the truth is that Alberto has just murdered someone. Everyone knows it.
Olivia was frantically tapping her pen as she looked down at her papers. I looked over at her. Her face was neutral.
As Alberto walked past us, Olivia glanced at the back of his retreating head. The look on her face contorted into equal parts seething hatred and terror. But as Alberto walked further away, the hatred died away and the fear remained. She looked down.
The first time this happened, Alberto ran over a man named Frank Pearson with his Ferrari, pulled over, decapitated him, and brought his head to the police station. He placed the head in the microwave in the detective's lunch room, turned on the microwave for three minutes, and left. No one has used the microwave since.
Alberto is the son of our president, Cristiano Rodriguez. Many call him a dictator. Over the last month or so, I've started to agree.
A few days after Alberto came that first time, Commander Justo received a note of apology from the President himself, noting that Alberto has been reprimanded. We went back to business as usual.
A week later, Alberto returned. This time he had a woman and her eight year old son, both alive. They screamed for help. Commander Justo told us not to do anything, that he would handle the situation. As the Commander tried to talk to the psychopath, Alberto began to make slow and careful incisions in the woman and her child. There were fifty six stab wounds between the two of them.
"There is nothing we can do." Commander Justo told us that evening. "Think of it as being outside of our jurisdiction. He is the President's to reprimand."
Outside of our jurisdiction. Murder on the floor of our reception area.
"I'm starting to wonder where our jurisdiction is, exactly?" Olivia said to me when we went to get a drink. She has been my partner for the last 10 months. In a professional capacity, I mean. My buddy cop.
"Dangerous question." I gazed at her and downed my drink.
A gunshot startled me out of my reverie. How did I start daydreaming at a time like this? "GOD, SHOW YOURSELF!" Alberto was shooting into the ceiling. A piece of drywall landed on my desk.
I didn't really feel like continuing. I would appreciate constructive criticism. | 2022-08-26T22:49:18 | 2022-08-26T21:52:26 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | Word had quickly spread through the country about the bizarre mug changes. A whole host of dads were waking up to vindication or disappointment as the numbers of their mugs changed from #1 to some indiscriminately high number. Those who placed in the low hundred thousands were those few dads who had always seemed stable; good job, good marriage, wonderful kids.
Tom had only heard the news about the mug when he was at work, so he was thrilled with anticipation to read his own mug when he arrived home. With 2 little ones and a 5 year long marriage, he was expecting a good number; not the best number of course, he certainly wasn't perfect, but a good number. Maybe even enough to beat William from across the street who takes his kids out to the fair twice a month.
Sneaking out of work an hour early, he drove quickly before rushing straight to the kitchen upon arrival home. He reached up to open the mug cupboard where his mug from last Father's Day resided. He recognized the font, and his stomach swelled as he read the writing:
"# N/A Dad" | My father loads his rifle full of bullets. I asked him,"What are you doing dad?" "Well, my mug says number two, and James's mug says number one. I must be number one." He raises his rifle and fires. Killing his life long friend. He grabbed his mug from the table and saw it turn from #2 to #4569. My father laughed and said, "I'm gonna need more bullets." | 2021-12-03T09:27:18 | 2017-06-11T08:09:34 | 828 | 42 |
[WP] A genie comes out of the wallet you just found, and hands you a 20 sided die. "Thank you for finding my lost wallet. I grant you a roll on the random reward table." You roll a 1. | “Well they do say no good deed goes unpunished,” the genie said as we both looked down at the 1 in disbelief.
“So what does this mean for me?” I asked.
“We‘ll see once you make a wish,” the genie answered.
“I just rolled a nat 1 and you want me to make a wish, are you crazy?” I exclaimed. “No thanks!!”
“But I can’t go home if you don’t make a wish!” The genie said frantically.
“Too bad, so sad,” I retorted.
“Just make a tiny wish, one that couldn’t possibly inspire a bad reaction!” The genie begged. “Like, wish to find a penny on the ground!”
“Oh so one can fall from a skyscraper pierce through my scull and land at my feet?”
“Well then what about wishing for a sunny day?”
“And start a never ending drought?”
“What about wishing for something harmless? Like a sale on donuts?” The genie suggested, pointing to a nearby cafe.
“Well…I don’t see how that could immediately go wrong…” I said slowly, “…alright. I wish for that cafe to have a small sale on their donuts.”
No sooner had I uttered the words than did the sly turn green and a great gust of wind blew.
“Don’t tell me…” I said with a feeling of dread. “A tsunami?” | "Oh You're in quite the unlucky one today", The genie leaned back and coiled his fingers together. But don't fret there is still a prize for such a soul. The genie ruffles in the folds of his wallet and pulls a blank card. "I give you this punch card. With this you have 5 punches to bend the odds ever in your favor when you desire it. Believe in your mind that the chips will fall and they shall." "But this gift has a cost", leaning in with a menacing smirk, "after that last punch, Quite the unlucky cost. You look at the card and the first punch has been made and a small genie icon is above the punch. | 2021-07-30T11:39:26 | 2021-07-30T09:12:39 | 37 | 15 |
[WP] You we’re born with the ability to control fire, but instead of becoming a superhero, you set your sights on a much more attainable goal: You became the worlds greatest firefighter. | As a young boy, you always knew that you were different from your peers. While other kids your age struggled to light candles or matches, you could ignite a flame with just a thought. It wasn't long before you discovered that you had the ability to control fire, and you were determined to use your gift for good.
You spent years honing your skills, and when you turned 18, you decided to become a firefighter. Your superiors were skeptical at first, but they quickly realized that your abilities made you an invaluable asset to the team. You became known as the "Fire Ryder"....😎
You were always ready to face any challenge that came your way. But one night, while you were off duty and heavily intoxicated, you stumbled upon a burning building.
Despite your impaired state, you didn't hesitate to rush inside and search for any trapped residents. You managed to rescue several people from the flames, singing the lyrics to the "Paw Patrol" theme song to keep yourself focused and motivated.
"Paw Patrol, Paw Patrol, we'll be there on the double! Whenever there's a problem, round up the pups and go! Ryder, Ryder, he's the leader of the pack! Whenever you're in trouble, just give a yip, yip, yap! Paw Patrol, Paw Patrol, when danger calls, we'll be there to save the day!"
As you were making your way back out, a beam fell and trapped you inside. Your team tried to rescue you, but it was too late. The fire consumed you, and you died a hero, having sacrificed your own life to save others.
Some say they can still hear a faint "yip, yip, yap" when walking past. | Here on Fox News, we are covering the story of The Amazon, catching on fire. This seems to not be able to be contained nothing we can do to stop this.” eternal flame” we have dumped so much water on this we don’t even want to bore you about how much water it was and it didn’t even go down a little bit. It seems nothing that we do takes this fire down * all of the fireman at the scene* we need to call HIM he must be able to deal with us. He’s a fire whisperer he arrives in the fire. Just disappears like nothing happened in the first place the chief of the fire department runs to call HIM He arrives at the scene 30 minutes later. With one big wave of his hand, he completely extinguishes the fire spanning across 1000 mi.² of fire. Everybody all of the news reporters and everything are speechless. One guy just waved his hand and this fire that seemed unstoppable just stopped, but then, as everyone was cheering and excitement, the fire started again, but this time it was bigger. | 2022-12-16T20:04:18 | 2022-12-16T14:17:15 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Hell consists of one room, in which you meet the person you could have been. | The room was empty, sole for the two chairs that faced each other. On opposite walls were two white doors. There were no clear markings or anything other than the white doors. It was a brick room. Grey mortar and bricks laid on top of each in a pattern not unlike most modern houses. And the light, a sole fluorescent light bulb hung overhead.
Renee Elisa entered through one of the white doors. She took a few step forwards and then sat down. She sat there for some time, legs crossed, and she drummed her fingers along her thigh.
The other door, across from her, opened slowly. It revealed another woman, mid-thirties, same as Renee, with strikingly fiery red hair and ember eyes. She looked just Renee, a few minor changes. Differences in ears, a little bit more of a smile. The most striking difference was in the eyes. The new woman's a cold blue.
"This is...odd," the first Renee said.
"Incredibly so," the second said. She took a seat and crossed her legs as the first did.
They remained in the seats for some time. Simply stared at each other. They wondered what life each Renee had lived. Where they had been. What they had seen. Who they really were at the end of the day. It wasn't until the second Renee spoke again that they begin their conversation.
"I was thirty-four," she said, "when I died. At least, that's what Death said."
"Thirty-five, beat you by a year," the first said.
They both chuckled.
"I was a lawyer," the second said.
"Military officer, career," the first said. "Colonel, Killed-in-Action on the shores of some foreign nation."
The second shook her head, "Wrong place at the wrong time. Robbery gone murder."
They became silent.
Then the second said, "There was a war in my time, too. Thousands of soldiers went overseas. Hundreds came home. I was a lawyer for the DoD, tried fighting the good fight with the law."
"A shame, ain't it? We both tried fighting for something only to end up...dead." The first shook her head, "How long were you a lawyer?"
"Ever since college. Got a job right out. Career military, Colonel by 35? That's not easy," the second said.
"No, it ain't. But I went straight out of high school, got my diploma with the service," the first said.
"In what?"
"Congressional law," the first said with a smile, "ain't that funny."
The second smirked, "Sure is."
The first sighed, "I guess we just weren't fit for the world, huh?"
"Or the world wasn't fit for us.," the second said, then added, "maybe we were just needed for one thing."
"What thing was that?"
"To die fighting."
They both smiled.
________
*/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work!* | The injection is cold when it hits my veins. I feel it traveling, slithering up my arm, slowly...
The fluorescent light above me softens, turning fuzzy at its edges...
The icy snake travels past my shoulder, inward, burrowing...
The light grows smaller, I'm sinking. Through the bed, into the floor, into the earth and the fluorescent light is almost gone. It's the size of an apple, a seed, and then...
Cold.
My mind spins, hurtling back to consciousness. I am a driver in a rainstorm but my headlights are broken. It's dark- my eyes creak open.
Where am I?
The ground is soft- carpet. It's freezing. I pull myself to standing. Every joint aches like I've slept outside during a snowstorm. I look down.
I realize I am no longer wearing the burnt orange jumpsuit. I'm wearing tattered black jeans and brown work boots; I'm wearing what I was wearing on that day.
My grey crew neck is brown and crusted and smells of metal, stiff with their blood.
I look behind me and see a window. It is frosted over, but I clear a space to see with my sleeve.
Outside is endless, cavernous dark. I scrub at the windowpane, squinting my eyes as they adjust to the darkness. It seems to glisten as I look around, shining. My breath fogs the glass, and I move to another pane, straining to make out anything in the darkness.
"It's ice." My own voice sounds behind me.
I turn and suddenly there is a soft glow coming from across the room- a blue fire burns in a stone fireplace. In a red armchair sits...me.
Despite the warmth of the fire, I am frozen. He stands.
"Yes, I am you. You are also you, and you are here, and this is, in fact, real." He sounds like me, but not quite. There is no scratch in his voice from 15 years of Marlboro abuse. There is no urgency or pain in his voice. He sounds calm.
I notice his hair is shorter, cleaner than mine.
"Come sit"
(I'm still going to work on this- loving this prompt) | 2017-05-30T18:34:40 | 2017-05-30T18:24:59 | 63 | 36 |
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