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[WP] "Name your desire, mortal!" "Oh I don't want anything I was just checking if the summoning portal worked." "That's not how it works, I can't go home until I trade a wish for your soul." "Looks like we're stuck together then." | Fred Merlyn stumbled downstairs, wiping sleep from his eyes.
"THE DEMON AZERGATH DEMANDS OF YOU!" A massive form, glowing red, shaped like Arnold Schwarzenegger with a head of horns and teeth stood before Fred, holding the teapot.
"Please, not so loud in the morning." Fred moaned.
"Azergath is sorry." The demon replied, "Azergath demands to know how many sugars."
"Two." Fred slumped into his chair at the table. With a flick of his wrist he summoned two eggs, bacon, and a slice of toast.
"Azergath demands more pineapples."
Fred sighed, "I bought all the shop had only two days ago."
"Azergath ate them all."
"Seriously? Do you know how much they cost me?"
Azergath set the coffee down and sat opposite, "Then Azergath think Fred should make a wish."
"And lose my soul? No thanks, Fred thinks Azergath should leave."
They froze, staring into the other's eyes. Daring him to blink first. Looking through the soul's window. Today, Fred blinked.
"AZERGATH WINS!"
"Yea, yea, Fred's tired. Damn." Since summoning the demon three months ago, Fred had begun to develop the habit of talking in third person, and hated it.
"I gotta get going." He said, "I'll check the markets on the way home from work, see if there's any there."
"AZERGATH THANKS FRED!"
"This place better be spotless when I get back."
"AZERGATH SWEAR, BY ALL THE UNHOLY..."
Fred waved his hand, "Yea, yea. Just stop yelling."
"Azergath is again sorry." The demon shuffled his hoofs, tearing holes in the carpet, "Azergath would like to know, would Fred let Azergaith visit petting zoo?"
"Um, maybe. On the weekend. At night."
"But animals are asleep." Azergath whined.
"Fine. I'll get a spell, or something, maybe." Fred grabs his robes and briefcase, "Right now, I gotta get to work."
"AZERGATH THANKS YOU!" a hastily-slammed door barley deadens the demon's yells. Fred jumps in his car and wonders which will kill him sooner, Azergath's yelling, or his terrible coffee. | "Do you really want to do this, boy? Your time will run out eventually, mine won't."
"Hey, I'm patient, all right? I've been waiting for Half-Life 3 for what feels like several lifetimes now. Besides, I'm lonely."
"You'll have to wait much more for that plan to come to fruition."
"Wait, you mean it will be released eventually?"
"Oh yes, it's in the works, but perfection is not something easily achieved. Lord Gaben is a meticulous fellow."
"You work for Gaben?!"
"Well, yes, how else is Elo Hell gonna run itself?"
"I knew it! I knew it's real! All my friends keep telling me to stop using it as an excuse. It's so maddening!"
"The guys over at Riot are way better than us though, I don't know how they manage it. However it got so carcinogenic there that they won't be able to sustain a high test-subject-base in the long run; they will run out of players too soon. We believe our approach will be more successful in the end. Lord Gaben will prevail over Prince Tryndamere."
"How many players trade their souls to get out of Elo Hell?"
"Enough to fuel the process for Half-Life 3. Perfection demands a high toll."
"Hey, I know: can I wish for Half-Life 3 to be released soon?"
"No can do, kid. Lord Gaben does as he pleases, but even he has his limitations. Not enough souls yet."
"If I give you my soul for this process, can I play it once it comes out?"
"Sure; I'll put you in stasis until then. It will take a couple more generations, but I'll wake you up when the time comes."
"Sweet! You have a deal." | 2017-04-13T04:16:06 | 2017-04-13T02:37:27 | 209 | 133 |
[WP] a portal appears infront of you and a 7'4 380 pound version of you from another universe walks out covered in blood holding the heads of 4 other versions of you and screams "JOIN ME OR JOIN MY COLLECTION" | I look at this giant of a man that has my face on it. Maybe this is the wrong thing to think at first, but immediately I just think about how I really need to get back to the gym. Those abs are out of this world. I mean, I'm not like morbidly obese or anything like that, but I have a bit of a gut growing on me. A few hours on the treadmill could do me some good. I am a little bit disappointed as I look into my eyes though. I may have a killer body, but I guess no matter what I am stuck with my same ugly little face.
I consider his proposal as he dangles the other four heads around at me. The obvious choice is to join him. I'm not a big fan of getting my head ripped off my body. I'm even less of a fan of it being used as a prop to intimidate the next guy. But at the same time, we gotta look at all options before making a big decision.
What would happen if I join him? It's probably not exactly going to be a trip of luxury. He doesn't seem like the kinda guy who's gonna take me to Hawaii if I 'join him.' I can't see him taking shots with me at a rooftop bar. If that was the case, these dangling heads would have chosen to join him.
No, I think joining him is probably going to end up in a much more nefarious place. I think that it will end up with a much more dark place. I will probably end up as some tool for murder. He will train me to become some killer and murder other versions of myself. And I'm not a fan of murder. Especially when I have to murder myself. Can you imagine how much therapy I would have to go to? And I doubt this guy's healthcare plan even covers it so I would have to pay out of pocket.
Perhaps death is better. Perhaps I should stand by my morals? I don't want to become a tool for chaos. I would much rather die by standing by what I believe is good and just.
"Make your decision now!" He yells drawing a giant jagged sword.
"I'll join you!"
Listen, I'm not looking for judgement. That sword is scary. And besides, maybe I'll end up having abs just like his. | My mind raced with the implications of what this meant. I was overwhelmed by the terror that created an icy grip in my chest. Was this a warning from a parallel universe, or a threat from a doppelganger? I had to choose: accept whatever evil plan this giant creature had in store for me, or I would end up like the others.
I desperately wanted to flee, but my feet were stuck in the same spot. I glanced around, but there was nowhere to hide. So I agreed to join him, preparing myself for whatever mad world I was about to enter.
The giant was pleased and took me by the hand, pulling me through the portal. I felt like I stepped into a living nightmare, filled with horror and despair. There were monsters in the shadows, evil creatures lurking in every corner, and I could feel the looming dread in the air. The only sound I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.
We eventually reached what looked like a throne room from a horror movie. He gestured for me to take the seat of power, but I hesitated. He met my gaze and his voice echoed in the chamber. “This is your destiny. It is time for you to become the new ruler.”
I reluctantly obeyed and took the seat, but as I did, I felt a sharp pain. I looked down to see that my chest was cut open and my four former selves were slowly emerging from my body. They were moaning and struggling, though their efforts were futile. I had made my choice, and now I would suffer the consequences... | 2022-12-04T10:50:41 | 2022-12-04T08:27:53 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] Any birthmark on your body is a result of you dying violently in a previous life. How did you die?
Apologies if this has been done too many times before.
For me?
The pale spot on my thigh is where the infection first began. The dark mark on my back is where the bullet tore through my body, finally coming to rest inside my spleen. The moles on my face are from the grenade's shrapnel peppering my flesh. The largest chunk struck my neck and tore through my carotid artery sending my blood out in crimson arcs onto the dirt. | Zach shows off the horse on his arm. He says he got kicked in the head one night after he tried giving a stallion a kiss. On his left knee is a pair of fangs from a snake. I wonder if he'd tried to kiss that animal too.
It's too early in the relationship to start comparing marks but I don't tell him that. We're at the restaurant he picked. Eating food he's chosen.
He wants to see my marks but I shy away. There are three hidden under my clothes. One bright and bold on my face. It's a small crescent moon from a former life when my husband hit me in the head with a wrench.
Over my heart is a small wound from a lover who stabbed me there last.
My back holds a round circle where a bullet entered and did not exit. Another husband.
On my belly is a red x where I was impaled with a piece of wood. My father that time.
My date smiles at me through a mouthful of spaghetti. I wonder why it looks so much like blood. | A swarm of wasp to my face is the only possible explanation for my freckles. That hairy mole on my ass? A rhino bashed threw my buttocks as I was on safari in the 1890s. My hetero-chromia? From a piercing dagger from that gladiator fight. Almost won that one too. | 2014-10-18T20:26:27 | 2014-10-18T18:40:37 | 49 | 12 |
[WP] At the age of 18, everyone picks an unlikely life event. They will be reborn at 18 every time they die until that event happens. After that, death is permanent.
Example - Winning a lottery jackpot. Statistically, they would die in 22 plane crashes in a row before winning the Mega Millions jackpot. | I am tired.
Every one of my countless reawakenings has siphoned away a little luster, a little shine, until life became a chore. I made fortunes and spent them, built cities and razed them, spent lifetimes as a celebrity, as a king, and as a beggar, but I am nearly finished, now.
Three thousand years ago, I started my work. The hedonistic, reckless free-for-all surrounding me would not do for my purposes, so I trained, until I was strong and canny enough to unite a planet under my rule.
I began the delicate task of steering the cultural and technological development of my chosen people. After many missteps, I had eked out a crude parody of the world I was first born in, back on the long-abandoned First Earth.
At long last, the right ingredients have fallen into place. The immortals under my watch have recreated the technology I thought was lost, or a workable facsimile at least, and I have put my final plan into effect. Millions of people are now connected by this wondrous invention.
Armed with countless millennia of knowledge, I know I will not fail this time. I could be free this year if I am lucky. So here I sit, counting down the days until I can rest at last, sharing my thoughts with the world and waiting to be given the one gift that has been denied me. If my journey has taught me anything, it is patience.
Soon, I will have Reddit Gold, and it will finally be over.
Edit: I'm astounded that worked. Farewell cruel world! | Names Tyler, the year is 6013. We have technology to let us send messages back on what you guys are currently calling the "Internet". I was born May 5th, 1992. Hopefully this message is being sent to the year 2014. You're probably wondering how I could possibly be 4021 years old. The government has hidden the technology capable so when you turn 18 years of age (Adult hood) you get to choose how you die, however - if this event never happens, you will be reborn at the end of your normal life time to the age of 18.
In about a years time this technology will be available to the public. I thought hard on my 18th birthday on how to never "die". My choice, my "secret" to immortality, choose to be eaten alive by a single ant.
This was my first story, I'm so sorry. | 2014-11-11T21:58:10 | 2014-11-11T18:00:39 | 105 | 69 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | I rubbed my eyes once. Twice. Three times. This had to be a trick of the light. How could that number have doubled once again in just an instant?
I thought back to when that number was a 1. It had been a one for the first 22 years of my life. But on my 23rd birthday, when all my friends were out of town and I celebrated my birthday alone at the bar, I met her. It was her 21st, and, like me, was spending it alone.
The relationship felt so natural. When she moved in it felt like the missing piece to the puzzle. I was almost afraid to show her the 1. I didn’t know how she’d react. Would she call me crazy? Would she believe me? But even I was in for a shock when they number 1, the only consistent part of my entire life, had transformed. Since then, it’s been a 2.
For 15 years it’s been a 2. It was a 2 on our wedding day, it was a 2 when I finally graduated from university after years of stopping and starting again, and it was a 2 just last night. I was sure it was still a 2 last night. So what changed this morning?
We talked about having kids. We wanted them so bad. But after a long battle with ovarian cancer, the love of my life was left in remission, but completely infertile. It broke our hearts, but I resolved to stay by her side. Her health was more important to me than our dream of kids.
“Honey, where are you?” Her voice took me out of my trance.
“In the kitchen!” I called back.
I could hear her footsteps sprinting towards me.
“Hon, I have some...news.”
Oh no. That’s exactly what she said when she told me about the cancer.
I have to be strong for her. She’s going to need me. I have to be there for her.
I was still wrestling with my internal dialogue when I finally croaked out “What is it, sweetie?”
“I just got off the phone with the adoption agency. We’ve been approved. But there’s a small catch. There’s twins that need a home right away. We’ll have to pick them up tonight.”
I looked from her, back to the number 4 that was now embedded into my floor. It looks like the choice has already been made.
With the biggest grin I’ve had since the cancer, I said “Let me get my coat.” | I opened my door, walked in tiredly, and so did the girl, but with a happier and more eager look.
'So this is where you live! Look so much better than my imagination!'
If you had three hundred years lonely in a forest, at least your house should be decent, I thought to myself.
'Oh, is this the number you were talking about!' She exclaimed, looking at the floor, 'but it says 2 though? I thought you said it was 1'
'Hmm, no idea.' I looked briefly at the floor. Just a weird spell that came along with the wood I took from that gnome bastard. If not for the excellent fire resistant quality I would have thrown it away.
The girl was quickly distracted by a giant crystal I got from the icy volcanoes some 50 years ago. I couldn't care less, so I went for a nap.
Some time had passed. Probably 10 years, because the girl looked mature now. By human age, she was maybe around half way through. After some brief thinking, I flew to the South. Those mermaids had some great beauty tips.
'Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down.'
The girl, or I should say the woman, greeted me with a happy look on her face when I came back. I slowly walked in, and noticed that the number on the floor had turned 4.
Had it always been 4? My thought wandered a bit. What was the number for again?
A sharp pain woke me up from my thought. The woman was still smiling in front of me, similar to the day when she first came. I glanced down, and see the number quickly blew up.
'A thousand, oh my.' I pulled the sword out of my back, and crushed the heads of two peasant humans that dared to attack me. The woman face slowly distorted, an ugly scream came out of her mouth.
It was a lovely dinner.
Too bad you couldn't enjoy it with me. | 2020-09-03T03:27:14 | 2020-09-03T02:34:46 | 38 | 10 |
[WP] A badly-damaged alien battleship drops out of hyperspace and requests to dock with the nearest orbital platform it can find, the International Space Station. | “Chief, what is that?” Eric said.
“I told you at least dozen times already not to call me that, I ain’t no chief,” James said.
James came to ISS back in 2030 when the station expanded to be able to comfortably hold 35 people. They were now working on doubling the capacity by the year 2035. James was supposed to spend around 200 days at ISS, but prolonged his stay for the fourth time, barely convincing them to let him stay. He broke the record for the longest time spent in space some year and a half ago. Luckily for him some great advances in medicine have been happening that allowed him to stay this long and not face serious repercussions, coming back to earth eventually would be tricky as always, but he didn’t want to think about it for now he had 180 more days that he was planning to enjoy to the fullest. He found his peace and solitude in space, something he was never able to do down on earth.
“Fine fine, but look” Eric wouldn’t leave him alone.
“What?” James said as he finally turned.
“Look over there, what is that?” Eric said looking thru the station window.
James was annoyed, he hated being interrupted while working, but he gave in and came to the window. Eric was the first time here and he remembered that when he came here for the first time everything looked majestic and he couldn’t keep himself away from the window.
“There,” Eric said once again pointing out of the window.
“It’s a star, my man,” James said and turned back, but something seemed off and forced him to do a double take.
“I don’t think that’s a star.” Eric couldn’t keep his eyes away from the window.
Once James looked again and look good this time, he dropped the joystick of the mechanical hand he was working with. It was definantely not a star, but rather an object flying towards them at an insane speed. James took out his radio.
“Code green, I repeat, Code green!” He yelled and pulled Eric away from the windows towards the space where they held their daily meetings which had a larger window.
By the time everyone gathered there the room was filled with dead silence as everyone stared out of the window. The object was now easily distinguished from the stars as it clearly took a shape of a spacecraft, something you could only see in Sci-Fi movies, but still so different so alien to the naked eye.
Before anyone could mutter a word all of their radios started crackling and an unfamiliar voice resembling a human one came alive.
“Human station, we request permission to dock, we are badly damaged and need help.” The voice said and the crackling returned.
They all looked between each other for what felt like an eternity before Chloe, the next longest-tenured astronaut on the station after James, took her radio up to her lips.
“Who are you?” That was all she managed to say.
“We are the Anoi and we come in peace, I repeat we come in peace. We need help, allow us to dock.” The voice said again.
“We don’t have the authority, I don’t know if we even have protocols for this, we need to contact our superiors on earth and see what they have to say.” Chloe was the one who spoke and no one objected to it, most of them were still too stunned to speak.
“Hurry humans, we need to dock and turn off our ship or they will find us and if they do, we are all doomed.” The voice said and the silence engulfed the station once again.
[Next part below and on my sub ->](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/x80r9z/2_aliens_make_first_contact_with_the_iss_part_2/)
[Part 3 is up below part 2 or on my sub ->](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/x845m9/3_aliens_make_first_contact_with_the_iss_part_3/)
[Part 4 is up now ->](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/x908gc/4_aliens_make_first_contact_with_the_iss_part_4/) | “Colonel Mann,” said the flight director’s voice, “this is a direct order from your commander in chief, Marine, you are not to permit-”
Greg Mann reached over and finally shut off the radio. The sudden unfamiliar silence loomed inside of the Unity module. Oleg Tarelkin, the expedition commander, gave him a nod.
“This isn’t their decision anymore,” Greg said. “It’s ours.”
The six ISS astronauts looked at each other.
“Then,” said Oleg slowly. “We must be honest with each other. We must share what we know.”
“What? No, that’s crazy,” Greg said. “We don’t know anything about aliens.” The conviction in his voice drained as Jenn Shaw put her head in her hands. “Do we?”
Jenn looked up. “We do. I’ll probably go to prison for telling you, but HIGH GAMBIT is our classified astronomy and astrophysics program. You have one too,” she said to Oleg.
“SpetzAstro,” he agreed. “Special Astronomy. Me, they’ll just shoot.”
“Aliens have been coming here all this time?” asked Dennis Kuo.
Jenn shook her head. “Nowhere near here. Not until-” she made a vague gesture toward the outside of the station. “But we’ve seen the energy signatures. There’s a war out there.”
“Over hyperspace lanes, we think,” added Anna Korsakova.
“Wait,” said Dennis, pointing at the Russian crewmembers. “You all knew about this?”
Sasha Leonov raised a hand sheepishly. “I did not.”
“There was a handshake agreement between Ford and Brezhnev back in the 1970s,” Jenn continued. “Humans keep our heads down. We stay out of it.”
“That’s why they want us to do nothing,” Greg said.
Jenn nodded. “It’s our decision, fine. But I think we’ve got the Vladivostok Policy for a good reason. We don’t know what side they’re on,” the vague outside gesture again. “We don’t even know how many sides there are.”
“Three,” Anna interjected.
“Fine. Either way, we’re not ready to get involved. I vote no.”
“I agree with Doctor Shaw,” said Anna quickly.
“Well, I’m the other kind of doctor,” Dennis said. “Someone asks for help, I help them. I vote yes.”
“I agree with Dennis,” said Sasha. “I do not trust old men from before I was born. We let them dock.”
The crew looked at Oleg and Greg, sitting across from each other. Another long silence, filled with the background humming of the station.
“You used to fly fighter planes too,” Greg said to Oleg at last. “If a pilot’s in trouble and makes an emergency landing in a neutral airfield, that doesn’t make that airfield a target.”
“Sometimes it does,” Oleg replied quietly. “But it should not.”
“Then let’s hope the aliens are better than we are,” Greg said, looking at the rest of them. “Yes.” He looked back at Oleg. “Last up, boss. If we deadlock it’s gonna be awkward.”
Oleg opened his mouth and spoke slowly. “I think-”
A metallic bang interrupted him, and the station shook.The lights flickered once. Something had just docked at the old shuttle port.
A slow smile bloomed on Oleg’s face. A smile of calm. “I think that it is not our decision anymore.” | 2022-09-06T13:42:48 | 2022-09-06T13:33:53 | 279 | 146 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | Mark leaned onto the counter trying to get a better look at the demon's computer screen. "It's gotta be wrong! I didn't do anything that bad!"
The demon pushed her glasses up her nose. "It's never wrong. That's the number it figured out. That's the time you'll spend in hell. Next please!" She stamped a document.
Mark put his arms straight out. "No. I'm not done!"
"Come on buddy, some of us don't have to spend all eternity here.", blurted another soul in line. The demoness sneered up at him.
"I suppose I can get a technician to look at it. But it won't do you any good. It's never wrong." The demon thumbed through a pile of documents labeled "Time Severed". "Keezazakul, this gentleman would like a technician to verify the results of his sentence. Can you get someone from AkashikSoft over here to tell him what we already know?"
Instantly, a small blue demon appeared in a puff of smoke. The stench was terrible, and the souls in line began coughing and gagging. Mark's eyes began to water. He plugged his nose.
"Got a service request. What seems to be the issue?" The small blue demon scanned his clipboard.
The demoness at the desk gestured towards Mark. "This gentleman thinks his sentence calculation is incorrect and would like you to verify it."
Mark stood up straight and sputtered, "If it's not too much trouble, sir. It's just I didn't..."
The small blue demon leaned into the computer and started typing at an incredible velocity. "The software is never wrong, sir. The calculations performed are as infalible as, well, as Go...oh." He stopped talking and stared intently at the screen. "What's this?"
Mark leaned to see what the demon was looking at. His heart leaped with hope. "What is it? Did you find something?"
The demon frowned and tilted the monitor out of Mark's view. "Hmmmm. This isn't right. This isn't right at all."
Mark jumped and pointed at the demoness. "Hah! I told you!" She sneered and rolled her eyes to the computer. The little blue demon continued his analyzation of the software, while adding the occasional, "My my my", or "This can't be right at all." Finally, after what seemed like hours, to Mark at least, the blue demon stepped away from the computer, folded his arms and confidently declared, "It's screwed."
"Come again?", the demoness said.
"Yeah. There's some errant code in there that is totally messing with the counts. I don't know if some bad code got merged in or what, but we've gotta roll back."
Mark smiled and looked back and forth from the demoness to his new hero, the blue demon technician. "Yeah! Do that! Rollback!"
The demoness rolled her eyes. "How long will that take?"
Mark started to do a little dance.
"I dunno. We gotta get it signed off, the new code needs to be peer reviewed. A whole bunch of things have to happen first. We're looking at...6..maybe 7 years."
Mark stopped dancing. "Wait. Did you say years?"
"Hell years. Not Earth years." The blue demon tapped on a device that looked surprisingly like an iPhone.
"How long is that?", Mark asked.
"Approximately 1.57 Earth years. Except every 6th year. Then you add an additional 2 thirds." The blue demon added as he continued to text.
Mark's face contorted. "What? So what year are we on? How long is this gonna take? What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
The demoness slapped a form and a pen onto the counter in front of Mark. "You'll need to make an official declaration of disagreement. Please fill out this form and return it to me when you're done. Please make sure to fill out both sides."
Mark reluctantly grabbed the pen and the form and started scanning over it. "Known allergies? What does that have to do with..."
The demoness interrupted him. "Next! Please, sir. You may take a seat over there."
Mark slowly walked across the room and found his way to a chair. "When was the last time you ate at Golden Corral?" He shook his head and attempted to scribble in the answer. The pen made one solid line and then sputtered out. "Goddamn it." Mark scribbled hard on the top of the page until ink started flowing again. "How many times have you argued with authority figures? Please be accurate to within a factor of 1. What?"
Mark started to write. "Neve" The pen burst. Ink was suddenly everywhere. "Oh! Come on!" Mark looked at his hands which were now covered in ink. The document was covered in ink. Everything within a short radius of Mark was now covered in ink.
"Excuse me." Mark said in the direction of the demoness. "Excuse me!" He said it louder. "Um, your pen exploded on me."
The demoness paused for a moment and looked at him over the top of her glasses. "Welcome to Hell, sir."
The small blue demon suddenly looked up from his texting. "Hold up! We don't have to redeploy. Gazul says all we have to do is restart the system and that should fix it."
"Oh thank God!" Mark sighed. Around the room, thirty or so demons hissed. He shrank into his chair.
"Ok. That should do it." The blue demon clicked on a few keys and then motioned to the demoness. "You'll need to log in again. I don't have your credentials."
The demoness clicked away at some keys and then pointed to Mark. "Sir, please come here. The system has been fixed."
"Hey! I was next!" the woman at the front of the line blurted.
"Shut-up!" the demoness yelled. She stretched a smile across her toothy face and turned towards Mark. "Now, let's see."
Mark rubbed his neck in nervousness. "I swear I wasn't that bad a of a person. I'm not even sure why I'm in Hell. I really thought that..."
"Do you want your corrected results, or not?" The demoness sneered.
"Uh. Yes. Uh. Yes please. Mam." Mark whispered to himself, "Please be less than five. Please be less than five."
"It's four..."
"YES!" Mark shot his hands up and fell to his knees. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
"Hundred thousand, nine-hundred and seventy-six years. Hell years, of course."
Marks arms fell to his sides. His face lost all expression. "But...how?"
"Welcome to Hell, sir! NEXT!"
| I stared at the demon behind the counter.
"186,292... years? What could I have possibly done to deserve that? I was kind to nearly everybody, and the worst crime I ever committed was smoking weed!"
The being with red skin and disturbing horns (That somehow seemed to be in multiple places at once... ugh, I was getting nauseous just looking at them.) nodded knowingly.
"Yes, we get a lot of that down here. You see, it's not what you did, but rather, what you didn't do. Do you remember your brother?"
Oh, god... my greatest regret. I nodded slowly, while on the inside I was nearly crying, though I *was* wondering how exactly THAT could be worth so many years.
The demon continued, "You remember how he was used and abused for his entire childhood, until he came to live with you?" I nodded again. "Well, I'm sure you remember the next part then. How he latched onto you, and fell in love with you, his little brother, and you just continued to use him for whatever you could think of."
I shouted angrily, "No! It wasn't like that! He was older than me, he should have known better! And it isn't my responsibility to look after someone so pathetic, anyways."
At that, the last vestiges of pleasantness left the demon's face, and his visage became terrifying.
"You're lying to yourself, mortal. You couldn't cope with what you had done to him, and weren't attracted to him, so you abandoned him when he needed you the most. If I had my way, your punishment would never end!"
I shook my head in disbelief. "I don't understand. How could that one inaction carry such an enormous sentence? Yeah, he was smarter than normal, but he was nobody special... Why is th-"
The demon cut me off with a growl, and his face grew disgusted. "Mortal, do you have any idea what he would have done if he hadn't ended his own life after you left him? He would have invented miraculous technologies, solved nearly all the worlds problems, **AND DISCOVERED MAGIC!**" He ended with a bellow that brought me to my knees with sheer physical force. "He would have invaded and liberated *Hell itself* and ended death for all time! He was infinitely more valuable than you, and you decided that you didn't want to bother interacting with him, or even supporting him at all. You disgust me, get out of my sight!"
I kneeled on the floor, his words slowly sinking in to my stunned mind. I thought back, to all of our conversations, and with a sinking feeling in my gut, I realized that this foul creature in front of me was right... I deserved this, if what he said was true.
I fell sideways to the ground, going numb. I can't believe I made such a huge mistake. I always regretted what I had done after he was gone, but I never knew it was of this magnitude.
The demon sneered at me from above, shouting "Guards, get this pathetic meatsack out of here and into his punish-"
At that moment, there was a tremendous explosion from the direction I had come from. Startled, I flailed and turned around while still collapsed on the ground, scanning for the source of the ridiculously loud noise, wondering what was going on.
Behind me, I heard the demon that had just been berating me exclaim softly in horror, "Oh, no... It can't be... I thought that this was prevented! He lied! Satan lied to us, there was nothing he could do! I knew it!" The sound of his footfalls (or should I say hooffalls, as he had some sort of equine legs) rapidly retreating behind me, I gulped in apprehension.
I stared at the plume of smoke, unseeingly, as I contemplated what came next. I hope whatever caused that explosion would end my existence, but I wasn't very confident that it would, or even could, given that this *was* Hell, after all.
I heard soft footsteps coming from in front of me, and I squinted, wondering what would happen now.
As the footsteps continued, the vague form coalesced into something recognizable, but unbelievable. "Brother?" I asked softly, staring at the form of my brother as I remembered him from when he was still a child.
He grinned, and raised a hand. I flinched back, only to stare in shock as he simply waved at me. He softly uttered, "Hey man, I'm sorry I'm late. C'mon, I've got so much to tell you. Let's get out of here."
Numbly, in shock, I stood, and walked towards him. He caught me in a hug, and then grabbed me by the hand as we walked on. I shook my head, I don't deserve this. He should just leave me.
At that thought, he turned his head to me and smiled. "I won't leave you. Not ever again. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to stay alive, but now I'm strong enough to do *anything*. Don't worry bro, I've never held anything you did against you. C'mon, we have stuff to do."
Feeling rotten to my core, I continued along with him in silence. Maybe this *was* my personal hell, and what the demon did was just a deception...
At that thought, my brother froze, and turned towards me with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry I hurt you so much. I knew my death would destroy you, that you were lying to yourself, trying to be normal, but I did it anyways." He sobbed. "But it's important that you understand, I won't let you be in pain or misery anymore. You were still the most important person in my life, even after I died" he finished with a tearful gaze towards me from the corner of his eyes.
"Ok." I said flatly, while internally I was screaming and crying, I don't deserve this. I don't deserve his kindness. But, if I had another chance to be there for him, this time I wouldn't throw it away.
We reached the gates of Hell, where I had found myself shortly after my death, and he tightened his grip on my hand. He looked at me seriously, and said, "Don't let go. No matter what." With those words, he pulled me through the boundary, and everything dissolved into purple, orange, and green streaks of light. I couldn't see or feel anything. I could barely think. My next thought was, "I hope I don't let go..." | 2018-09-26T07:30:32 | 2018-09-26T07:21:22 | 68 | 23 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | I always did my best, powered through the worst, and did my best. I have to charity, I saved animals, I did what I thought was morally right... but we all have different moral definitions of what is right. I sadly patched my wound as fast as I could when I went through my entire memory, trying to pinpoint the worst thing I had done. I fixed my wound and sat in my chair, which I eventually dozed off in. I slept on the entire ordeal. As dreamt I dreamed of horrible deeds I had done, terrifying thoughts that I knew I would never act on. As I woke in a cold sweat knowing I had done none of those things I decided to ponder my memoir. I had just reached the section on my diet and favorite foods when a quick slice ran through my finger like a knife through burlap, the sound and feeling piercing my mind and body. I hoped I hadn't dripped any blood on my autobiography when I noticed a single drop highlighting one line. I scanned the line in fear and finally understood the problem...
*I liked pineapple on pizza* | Turns out following the rules of god was the wrong way..
Turns out following the Bible to a t, never wearing cotton, the whole fish thing was wrong..
That woman who was dying I couldn’t touch her,
Turns out slaves where bad...
Turns out cutting my wife’s hands off was evil..
I needed a moment
| 2018-08-04T11:28:16 | 2018-08-04T09:44:59 | 17 | 10 |
[WP]You have been caged without a writing utensil for years because what you write comes true. The doctor examining you just left his... | "Right, that should be everything for this week. See you soon, Clive ." The doctor left the cell, housing a supposedly all-powerful man. You wouldn't realise just by looking at him. Worn down, mentally unstable, among other things. With his power, some would call him the writer. He has never been able to use this power.
That is, until a small mistake occurred. That doctor had left his pen inside the cell. Clive checked around, seeing the guards pre-occupied with other things. He reached out for the pen, and started to scrawl something on the floor. It worked.
*I will be set free, and given a lavish home, with all writing equipment I could need.*
He quickly disposed of the pen, and waited. An hour later, the guards unlocked his door. "You're free to go." One of them said. "and before I forget, here." The guard gave him a letter. "Something about compensation." Clive jauntily walked out of his confined prison, and out to the free world.
The letter given to him stated about how there were 'misunderstandings', and as compensation, a home, free of charge, to live in. All exactly as planned. Inside hid bedroom, his desk had a large notepad, with an array of pens and pencils beside it. He sat down, and got to work. He took the paper and pens down to the lounge, turned the tv onto the news, and kept a keen eye on the outside through the window. The madness could finally begin.
*Aliens take over all the world's governments and instate a global government, bringing their technology with them.*
With the full stop dotted, the news suddenly flared with a 'BREAKING NEWS - WORLD LEADERS HAVE BEEN KILLED BY ALIENS'. The news anchor nervously coughed, and started hastily speaking. "Extra terrestrials have taken over every major countries' government, and reinstated with a collective, worldwide government-" He was cut off by one of said aliens entering. It looked human, except with blue skin, pupil-less eyes, and a mass of tentacles instead of legs. "May I?" "Uh, sure." The camera focused on the alien. "Greetings, humans. We are merely establishing the conditions for peace to prosper." The alien injected the new anchor with something. His balding hair was now replaced with a lush looking full head of hair. "When the time has come, we will integrate you with other alien species.". Clive turned off the TV, and looked outside, to see spaceships constructing massive buildings and structures. "Nice", he thought. He never really liked politics.
This was but a small sample of his own power. With the only limit his imagination, he could rewrite the universe to his liking. This was only the beginning...
| "What a dumb ass," I muttered as I palmed the pen from the mahogany desk of Dr. Phillips. I wouldn't have time to get anything written yet, but if I can just manage to hide this pen for the rest of our 1 hour session and get back to my cell - they refer to it as a room, but you can leave rooms - then I'll be able to fix this. All of this.
Dr. Phillips is back in the room now, his plump stomach pushing on the suspenders he was thumbing absent-mindedly. It was the same ole, same ole. We would discuss my childhood, my teenage years, and honestly anything that the man wanted to discuss. I had already dealt with the experiments and the physical examinations, but once the doctors realized there was nothing physically special about me, my body, or my brain, they sent me to a psych ward for mental evaluations.
10 minutes left.
He still hasn't noticed his chrome plated pen is missing from the desk, but I'm starting to get nervous now. Do I try to scribble something on my palm or do I wait it out? Dr. Phillips is a good man, I refuse to wipe him from existence with a couple words, I will not every hurt anyone with my words, not again.
2 minutes left.
This is the homestretch, I can hold out until I make it to my room. Phillips has closed his notebook and started packing up for the day, it was a good session he tells me. I just told him what he wanted to hear, but I'm glad he feels we've accomplished something.
"Now where did my pen go," Dr. Phillips mutters while shuffling papers around on his desk. *Oh shit, oh shit, this is bad.* He pats his pockets and slowly pans his eyes up to me. *It's now or never*
I pulled the pen from my sleeve and quickly pushed the tip into my palm. Dr. Phillips is climbing over his desk now, his fat fingers grasping at air, reaching for purchase, but it was too late, I was gone and sitting on a beach somewhere in Hawaii. Thanks to this little pen, I'll be able to start my life over again, no one will know my powers, I'll make sure of it.
| 2017-06-25T08:51:03 | 2017-06-25T06:45:47 | 159 | 65 |
[WP] To your horror, the monster under your bed has pulled you in. It’s shaking, and pointing at the slowly opening closet door | The only way to live with a monster is to pretend it doesn’t exist.
Even when I see it in the corner of my eye when changing into my pajamas for bed, I just act as if I didn’t. Nope, those aren’t glinting eyes and murderous claws under my bed; it’s a trick of the light!
But, it’s bed-time now. And if I don’t turn the light off, Dad gets angry. Like, really angry. Monster-level angry. So even though I’m scared, I gotta turn the light off.
Lights are off. The room feels different without it. The air’s heavier somehow.
I’m just stalling. I’m gonna have to get near the bed to get into it, but I don’t wanna leave my feet open anywhere near the bottom of it. I can’t jump into it, cause that’ll wake Dad up. After he came back from the military, he’s been having trouble staying asleep, so I gotta be quiet.
It’s just five—no, *four* steps. I’m ten now. A man. I can do this.
Alright. Here goes.
One step.
Two.
Just a couple mor—
A shadow leaps out from underneath the bed, rustling the overhanging covers. Something sharp digs into my ankle and pulls me down, but before I can scream or even hit the ground, two pairs of scaly-hand-thingies cradle the back of my head and cover my mouth. I’m whisked under the bed, which for some reason feels more like a cave. It’s pitch-black underneath here.
“Shhhh, human-baby,” a strange, inhuman voice whispers in the darkness. “Shhhhhh. Jeeka no hurt.”
“MHHMMM,” I cry out, words muffled against its hand, struggling with all my might to get free. “MMHMMM!”
“Shhhhh, now. Shhhhh. No good. Please, shhhhhh.” The scaly hands let me down on the carpet, leaving my limbs free, but a hand stays covering my mouth. “Please, human-baby. Shhhhh.”
A totally crazy thought comes to my mind. The monster sounds scared. That’s not possible, is it? What does a monster have to be afraid of?
I suddenly realize there’s no pain from my ankle. I thought it had dug its claws in. But when I touch it, there’s no injury.
“Human-baby,” the monster—I think it said its name was Jeeka—says. “No good. This night, sleep with Jeeka.”
I shake my head. Why was it so dark under my bed? It really felt like another space.
Jeeka made a quiet hiss of annoyance. “Cole so stubborn. Fine, fine. See.”
*It knows my name?*
Reaching a hand over me, Jeeka raises the bottom of my cover just the tiniest bit. It’s too dark to really make anything out…
Except for my closet. A very dim light outlined the door. But there was no lightbulb in there.
“No good,” Jeeka whispers close to my ear. Its raspy voice sounds surprisingly gentle. “That light. No good. Cole sleep with Jeeka.”
“What is that light?” I try to say, but against its hand it comes out as a muffled “MHHHMM?”
“That light,” Jeeka smoothly responds, as if it understood what I was trying to say, “no good. Human-man's monster. Your human-man's monster. Big Cole.”
“MHHHHM?” I ask. *My dad’s monster?*
“Yes,” Jeeka hisses. “Human-man's monster wants you too. No good, no good. Cole my human-baby. Not for human-man's monster. Not ready. Too young. Must be small scare before big. Must have day before night. Mhmm. Shhh, Cole. Shhhh. Safe with Jeeka. Safe.”
I don’t understand it, but the tone of Jeeka’s voice shifts into something resembling a cat’s purr. A strange drowsiness lilts through me. Jeeka removes the hand-claw-thingy from my mouth, continuing to make that purring noise, as the faint noise of a door creaking open in the background picks up.
“Shhhh,” Jeeka murmurs. “Shhhh. Safe, Cole. Safe.”
I fall asleep to a clawed hand stroking my head softly, and for a moment, I imagine it’s Mom, and she’s still here and Dad never got deployed and everything is going to be good again...
---
When I wake up, I'm atop of my bed and tucked into the covers. Daylight pours in through my window. My closet door is wide open, and nothing is underneath my bed.
/r/chrischang | I'm a lucky kid, and I mean uncannily lucky. When there was a test I hadn't prepared for? Snow day. I'm out of money and want something to eat? Five bucks on the sidewalk. I've always been in the right place at the right time. Maybe it's a power, maybe it's built up karma from some ancient relative who's always had the crap end of the deal, who knows? But tonight, I am more grateful than ever that some cosmic force of luck is with me.
The night started pretty normally, got done with dinner, washed my dishes, told my mom goodnight, and went to bed. I laid awake for a little longer than usual wondering if tomorrow was going to bring another random snowday. Not likely though, I had tomorrow's algebra test in the bag. Slowly my thoughts wound down, and I started to drift to sleep.
I smelt it first, the stench of something rotten. I figured some rat died again in my box fan, living in the country does that. But then I heard the rustling, it was coming from underneath the bed. My eyes shot open, I could feel my heartbeat through my chest. It wasn't like me to be scared, but something felt terribly wrong. That, and the stench was getting worse.
I hear movement, still coming from underneath me. Was I having a nightmare? I pinch myself, to my horror I am awake. I try to calm myself down to think for a moment. It could be another rat, or some other type of animal. What was I even afraid of I thought, I'm the luckiest kid alive! I muster up the courage to start scooting towards the edge of the bed, and then it struck.
Skeletal in form the hand had surprising strength and speed. It latched onto my head and pulled. I flipped out of bed and hit the floor hard on my back knocking the scream that was forming out of me. The monster wasted no time, as soon as I had hit the floor it had a hold on my hair. I screamed louder, calling for my mother like a five year old. There was something trying to kill me, and I was sure with it's strength it would be over soon. As it drew me closer the monster stifled my screams with a grotesquely decaying hand. It pulled me to its lair underneath where I slept and held me. "Shh child" I heard a guttural voice say. It had wrapped itself around me so I could not move, and with the hand not covering my mouth, it pointed. I was in shock, part to do with the fact I wasn't dead and part to do with the zombie like monster whispering in my ear. "Quiet, so you may live".
The only chance I had at surviving I realized, was to stay quite and do what it wanted. I looked where it's dripping hand was pointed, my closet. I heard a it then. Without me struggling the room was quiet except for my fan, and the handle of my closet door jiggling. The door slowly started to open, and a foot that looked like it was being licked by flames stepped through. Then my worst nightmare came to life as my mother burst into the room.
She must have heard my screams. I really wish she hadn't. The red glowing beast was set on her immediately, like a flash of red lightning. I screamed and kicked to get to her, to no avail. For whatever reason this monster holding me did not want me to be seen.
The act of keeping me safe cost mother her life.
I did not see how the deed was done, but I could see the blood shattering to the floor. My mother's limp body fell to the side shortly after. She fell to the side of my bed, and my muffled screams rang out as I stared into her lifeless eyes. Her chest was ripped open. The spot her heart should reside laid bare.
I don't know why or how the beast could not hear my muffled screams and cries of anguish, maybe it didn't care anymore. It had gotten what it came for, a heart, and it left through the same door it had appeared from in a bright flash of red. | 2021-05-29T23:08:09 | 2021-05-29T22:54:48 | 238 | 39 |
[WP] There are no angels or demons, its just that residents of the afterlife had split into two factions for most of history. But there are a LOT more now- clowns, heavy metal bands, gardeners, a nationless military, burger enthusiasts… | The knock came from an impossible door.
A dozen lit candles sat on Alisa’s kitchen table, pooling orange light up half of the wall and casting shadows down the remainder. The light and shadows wavered and looked like two unsure oceans meeting. The table itself was circular and woodgrained. The twelve candles were placed carefully around its edge like where numbers on a clock would be.
The knock came again.
It didn’t come from the home’s front door, nor the kitchen door. It came from the larder door — a tiny space there was no way into or out of except through the kitchen iteself. And no one had come through there.
”Come on,” came a voice. “Let me out of here. It’s dark as hell.”
Alisa slowly got up, paused a moment, then made her way to the larder door. “Hello?”
”Lady, let me out of here! You can’t summon me and keep me trapped. That ain’t right. That ain’t a good way to do business. Besides, you only got me for an hour.”
”You’re… you’ve not broken in, have you?”
”I’m not here to murder you, if that’s what you mean. You invited me. Hey, why would I lock myself in a cupboard if I was here to murder you?”
”It’s… It’s a larder,” she said.
”Same difference.
Alisa glanced at the candles, at the book on demonology that lay open on the table. It had worked? *It had worked.* This was what she’d wanted, what she’d hoped for. So why was she so scared now? Why wouldn’t her hand move to the latch?
”I won’t do business with you through a door,” he said. “I’m a face to face person, that’s what I am. So either you open or I’m going incommunicado.”
She took a heavy breath then unlocked the larder.
The door swung open, Alisa barely avoiding it.
A grey-stumbled man in a ragged looking trenchcoat stepped out. He had a bottle of wine — of Alisa’s wine — in his hand. He took a long swig as he stepped out, the grey hairs on his neck undulating as he drank.
”Are you… You’re a demon?”
”Well I ain’t no angel, lady.” He laughed and wiped his mouth. “But I’m no demon either. Unless you ask my ex-wife. Hey, maybe I am a demon!“ He lifted his arms and snarled at Alisa, who shrank back against the wall. He laughed again, said, “Nah, I’m no demon. I’m a big softy.“
”I meant to summon a demon.”
”Well lucky for you, there ain’t no such thing as a demon. There are people who die and there are people who aren’t yet dead. But that’s all there is. No angels, no demons, just people like us.”
Like us? she thought, a powerful shiver rattling her.
He screwed the lid back on the wine, then off again before he took another drink. “Beats corks.” He looked Alisa over, longer now, as if for the first time. “Why would someone like you want to summon a demon anyways?”
He sat down at the table and gestured for Alisa to sit next to him. She sat opposite instead, always with her eyes on her guest.
”I need to make a deal with one,” she said.
He laughed. “I can’t imagine that would go well! You think if demons were real, they’d stick to a deal?“
She shrugged. “I don’t have much choice.”
The look on her guest’s face changed, softened. “You in some sort of trouble?”
Alisa said nothing. She couldn’t say anything even if she wanted to. Her tongue was suddenly numb.
“Ah gee, I’ve been in trouble before. Bad trouble. Borrowed too much from the wrong people, you know? The real bad people. That kind of trouble. I don’t know how it ended exactly, but I know I ended up dead at some point because, ta-da!”
“That’s not very reassuring,” she whispered.
”Look, you summoned me. I can’t cut the kind of deal you might have been hoping for, but if I can help, I will at least try. You have my word.“
”I’m dying,” she said. “I found out three days ago. I’m terminal. I don’t have long.”
”Ah,” he said. He took a long drink of wine until there was nothing left in the bottle but gloopy dregs at the bottom. “Look, I won’t say dying is easy — no one dead really wants to be dead. But it’s not awful. It’s not as bad a you think it’s going to be. Making a deal to keep on living, well it might seem like—”
”I’m not scared,” she said. “Not of dying.“
”No?”
She shook her head. “No.”
”Then what?”
Her throat was dry; she swallowed hard. “I’m scared to tell my husband. To tell my daughter. I’m frightened to death of leaving them.”
The guest looked at the empty bottle of wine, tapped his pale fingers along its green-glass sides. “Ah. Yeah. I can see how that’d be tough. What a situation.”
”They’re both asleep upstairs.“
They sat in silence for a long while. The candle in the seventh position extinguihshed. A little more shadow spread onto the wall and floor. The guest tapped the empty bottle as he thought.
”Maybe I shouldn’t tell them,” she said. “At least not yet. That’d save them some of the burden.”
He tapped his bottle.
“Would you like another? There’s more wine in the larder.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Eventually said, “I kind of do remember why I died. And it wasn’t as glamorous as mobsters getting me or anything.“
”Oh?”
He pointed to the bottle. “Couldn’t stop. I just couldn’t. It wasn’t wine so much as it was anything at all.”
She nodded.
”I had a family. Two kids.“
”I’m sorry.”
”What I left of me for them,” he said. “What memories I left of me — of how I looked, how I acted, how I reeked of the sauce — that’s what they’ve got now. If I could have stopped, just for a few days, sobered up… I could have said goodbye to them. I could have chosen what memories to bestow upon them. I know that’s not the same as your situation but I just, I just thought you should know the truth.“
She nodded again, not sure what to say.
Another candle faded out, the eleventh.
He stood and looked at his left hand, already fading away. “Guess my hour’s up. I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet a real demon. One that could cut you a deal. One that could help.”
He looked so sad and pathetic, she thought. And beyond anything, he looked lonely.
She got up from her chair and walked to him. Wrapped her arms around him. Could smell his sour breath.
He stood rigid a moment, surprised. Then hugged her back. Hugged her tightly, imagined she was his wife, his children.
”You‘re not a demon but you helped all the same,” she said. “I’m lucky to have summoned you.”
”You are?”
And then he was gone and she was left with cold air and ten lit candles and a made-up mind. | *Death and Dungeons*
Pain makes the idea of the end seem like a lot less of a thing than most would assume. I was scared of dying, it’s just that it was hard to keep living the way I had been. I wish it wasn’t this way but I remember their faces the most. There was the breaking of reality in many of their eyes. Wasn’t I supposed to be there much longer than I was?
Thirty-five was long enough though for me. I had been depressed most of my life and then diagnosed with stage four brain cancer. No, it wasn’t the reason I was depressed. I was mildly deaf because of it but other than that it wasn’t noticeable and that’s why it had gotten to the point it had. Treatment, if anyone could have called it that, had been a faith-breaking experience that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
In the end, there wasn’t a light, music, or guidance. It was just a weird cold sensation and a long drawn-out tone when the machines I was attached to stopped beeping. Was it weird to be excited? No more tubes, no more pain, and no more crying. It didn’t matter if oblivion awaited me. I had already gotten used to the hell that was the desperate attempt to keep me alive. Worst case going forward, at least in my mind, was I’d wake up somewhere else and certain tubes would still be there.
I fell into darkness. Time seemed to stretch and bend around me as I floated dark pastels of a lifeless forest and over a river of ink. For the first time in years, the air felt soft, cool, and flowed through me without strain or struggle. I smiled. I was mildly concerned when I heard the crackle of fire but when the world came back into view I was in a small cabin, painless and detached.
“Good morning,” a soft but deep voice beside me gently tried to get my attention. Putting a hand up to my nose and mouth I had to feel what it was like to once again not have anything there. The man put a hand on my shoulder and I looked over at a shockingly well-armoured soldier.
“Umm?” I flinched back and the soldier sat back to give me space. The worst flashed through my head as I tried to make sense of what I saw. Grimacing as I looked around me, I muttered, “shit.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” the soldier tried lifted his hands away from what I saw as a sword beside him, “I’m Pete. This is going to be a bit of a shock but you're dead. It’s okay though.”
“I’m in Hell,” I muttered as I scrambled back.
“No!” Pete quickly before hedging, “I mean we can go there but I wouldn’t recommend it until you level up a couple of times.”
I froze, stunned at that offer or explanation. I wasn’t sure what it was. Turning around, I must have given Pete a face confused enough to make him question what he was doing because he started trying to dig through his pack. Pulling out a modern-day-looking binder, he started flipping through it and then held it up to show me.
“You played RPGs right?” Pete asked and offered me the binder, “I mean that’s sort of why we got you.”
“What do you mean you got me?” I asked, trying to read the paper at a distance. Little squares and bordered sections looked like stat blocks.
“Oh, it’s umm, It’s a little weird here,” Pete tried to explain, putting the binder down with a bit of clanking in front of me, “You go where you are the most passionate, do what you are most capable of, and choices have a lot of power on what happens.”
I grabbed the plastic binder and read like I hadn’t since college. It was stat blocks. Mine. Why did I only have a nine in constitution? No wait, cancer. That sort of makes sense. Ten was average so, I guess, considering what I went through I should be happy that it wasn’t lower.
“Ten is average here, right?” I asked, suddenly doubting myself.
“If that’s what you play, yes,” Pete said with a nod, “Everything sort of warps into what you understand. Pretty cool, right? Like what are you speaking?”
“English?” I asked back.
“I’m not,” Pete chuckled, “German.”
“Okay, but this isn’t hell right?” I asked.
“No, this is Wildmount,” Pete explained, “That’s what we call it at least. There’s a lot of wildlife here and all of it hates you but they are easy to deal with.”
“Okay,” I muttered and nodded quickly, “But like… This is… I’m dead?”
“Yeah,” Pete said slower and frowned, “I’m sorry. It’s hard for everyone. The good news is though you will probably see your family again and you are back to being healthy.”
“What’s the bad news?” I asked, glancing at the stat blocks in my hand and back up at Pete.
“Sort of depends,” Pete explained, “Do you have any combat training?”
“What? No,” I scoffed, “I was tech support.”
“Oh, so sort of,” Pete exclaimed with a smile, “Good. Did you ever want to hit anyone?”
“Like every day,” I admitted. There was a little shame in that but there was also a barrage of memories of me having to deal with overconfident idiots.
“With what?” Pete asked.
“A hammer,” I muttered.
I had one in mind too. It was this sledge from the shop that we use to call the hard format button. The poor thing was ancient and slightly rusted but, good lord, it was heavy. Any hard drive that we needed to be wiped and recycled got a couple of good wacks.
“Good choice,” Pete said with a smile.
Like me, the sledge now in my hands felt new but felt like I had always known it. This thing had been my stress relief and my entertainment over the quiet weeks of the summer and in the dark halls during the late winter. I couldn’t help but smile. I hadn’t seen this thing since I went on disability years ago. With it back in my hands, I felt a strength I hadn’t had since I was a kid.
“This is real right?” I felt my cheeks hurt I was smiling so hard as I asked it. No more pain, no more tubes, and I got my hard format button back. It was exciting.
“Real is subjective here,” Pete explained but nodded, “You are real, I am real, that mimic behind you is real but-”
“Mimic?” I basically yelled and years of late nights with my friends flooded my mind. We always started this way. A mimic hiding in the corner, disguised as something basic, and usually with a potion hidden inside it. I swung the button harder than I ever had in real life and without all the pain that had followed me for so long.
I had my body back. | 2022-11-16T04:45:26 | 2022-11-16T03:44:46 | 39 | 18 |
[WP] "Welcome. You're dead. Congrats. Door to Heaven's on the left. Door to Hell is on the right. Go ahead and pick, but just know that the decision is final." The figure sitting at the desk spoke, stifling a yawn and not looking up from their book. | "Welcome. You're dead. Congrats. Door to Heaven's on the left. Door to Hell is on the right. Go ahead and pick, but just know that the decision is final."
"I'm Dead?"
"Yes."
"And you give me a choice between heaven or hell."
"Yes."
"Is this a trap?"
"No."
One hotel lobby. Two elevators. Two doors. Two Options. The only distinction between them is the nameplate above the door frame. It seems like a trap.
"How long have you been here."
The Receptionist stares at me as he adjusts his glasses.
"For a very long time."
"Are you human."
His stare gets colder.
"Well, Are you?"
"Its none of your business. Just choose."
"Have you ever been to hell." He shakes his head No. "Heaven?" He continues shaking his head.
"Did you ever wonder what its like?" I look at him. He isn't.
"After so long, you learn not to care."
"Don't you wonder. Don't you ever pondered to yourself."
"I am only one in millions of beings that give every dead soul an option." I sigh. where is his curiosity? where is his wonder?
"Where do you think I belong."
The receptionist pulls a paper out from under the desk.
"You're average. You've done bad things. You've done good things. Your Average."
"That doesn't answer my question." He suddenly stands up at glares at me.
"I don't know! I don't decide your value! Just Choose! Leave Me!" I lean in closer to him.
"What if you could choose!" He falls silent. I walk around his desk and stand next to him.
"Trust me, I won't be able to leave." He says. "It doesn't matter what you do."
Chains wrap around his legs. Held in place by a large key lock.
A key appears in my hand. A sign. I hold it up to his face.
"This is a sign. You have a choice now. Choose." He looks away from me. I unlock his chains.
Large iron bars barricade the two elevators, preventing anyone from entering.
"Why would you do this?" He asks.
"Have you ever had a choice." He shakes his head no.
"Are you human." He stops and thinks.
"A long time ago, but yes."
"You deserve a choice. I don't deserve heaven but I don't deserve hell. This is my last good act. Maybe someone like me will come to free me." He looks at me, and then stands up. He looks at me worried.
"No one will."
"Its fine. Decide. Two doors, Two choices." I lift up the chains and wrap them around my legs. And I replace the lock. Suddenly, it tightens. My legs become constricted and become held in place. The iron bars lift up from the two elevators.
"Why"
"Because you deserve better" He pauses, standing in front of my reception desk.
"Thank You." He walks to the right. I sigh
"Its your choice." He enters the elevator.
The doors slowly close and the lobby entrance opens.
"WHERE AM I" The words come to my head.
"Welcome. You're dead. Congrats. Door to Heaven's on the left. Door to Hell is on the right. Go ahead and pick, but just know that the decision is final." | “But...which do I choose...?” I asked, not realizing that this is what I would find on the other side.
“Either. That’s why I gave you the option when you got here.” Said the figure at the desk, pearly annoyed that’s I hadn’t already chosen.
I stood for a moment. *It should be obvious, shouldn’t it?* However, no one from before had ever said that there would be a choice. And now, facing this decision, I couldn’t move a muscle (or whatever I was made up of at this point).
I took a moment and looked around. I one else was in sight. There was any sign of another other being, just me and...wait a minute, I never got their name!
“Um... excuse me.” I sheepishly mumble yo the figure at the table. “What’s your name?”
He looks up at me from his book, with a look that conveys plainly that he cannot believe that I am still standing before him.
“Are the rules too difficult for you to understand?”
“No, I just...”
“There are two doors in front of you. See? As I explained when you got here, one leads to Heaven, the other Hell. Most people just walk through one right away, leaving me to my book!” The last word spoken in a clearly exhausted tone, even though I had only been there a few minutes.
“Okay, well how do they decide?”
“I don’t know! They just walk forward. No one else seems to have a problem with it.”
“I’m sorry but back on Earth, or in life, or whatever you want to call it, I was very indecisive. Most nights I got into an argument with my wife about what we were going to have for dinner because I couldn’t decide what I wanted.”
“That’s a very touching story. However, I am in the middle of something far more interesting, so if you’d please choose that would be great and I can get back to my book.”
I stood there staring from him to the door on the left, then the door on the right, then back to him.
“I’ll go left! I was a pretty good person, so I think that’s the right decision. Although, I did have secrets when I died. Stuff I should have said to people that would have changed things between us.”
*sorry, I can’t write anymore, work is over and I gotta head home, but thanks for sparking something in me. I’ve never written before, you could probably tell, but it was nice to get away for a minute and picture myself in this place. Have a good night everyone!* | 2019-10-03T17:03:46 | 2019-10-03T16:20:11 | 111 | 11 |
[WP] You wake up after experiencing a vivid, heart-pounding dream. You tell your partner, only to discover they’ve had the exact same dream. Your phone vibrates with a CNN notification-“The world is panicking: millions report experiencing the same sensational dream.” The dream identical to yours. | *Crash.* The cacophony of the waves thundered even through the overwhelming winds. The smoothie shop on the beach went first, then homes up on the tip of the jagged, stony cliffs - and they were supposed to be fortified against tsunamis. But this was no tsunami, not even a hurricane. No one knew what it was.
Another wave slammed into the city. Chunks of pavement soared upward and tore through anything... or anyone in their paths. Sheets of metal soon followed, but most of them shattered in midair. Small cuts, gouged eyes, or broken bodies - people were lucky to be alive at that point.
You were running. Breaths fierce, heart pounding, your small daughter perched atop your shoulders. You felt tears occasionally tap your scalp, the back of your neck.
"Daddy, are we gonna get out of here?"
You knew it was a losing battle; the apocalyptic waves were outpacing your running speed. "I'm trying my best, Katy." She let out a little grim sigh.
Another wave, larger than the rest, rose from the ocean like an awoken dragon and poised itself to strike right where you were... but froze. Little spiny lines scattered across it, and it exploded.
Suddenly, you were falling. Falling in a black void enveloping a sea of glowing, broken glass. You saw thousands of others, too; your mother-in-law, your old buddy from college, some guy you saw at a department store one time, but namely, your wife, broken and bloodied. You grasped for her hand and managed to get a hold on it. It melted like wax in your palm, and you screamed.
Rays of sunlight broke through your curtains. You heard the soft, soothing lapping of the ocean against the sand. You had a white-knuckle grip on your wife's hand, and speaking of her, she awoke at the same time.
"I had an awful dream..." she mumbled, slowly opening her eyes.
"Me too," you replied, flustered. The two of you began describing your dreams in vivid detail, only to realize they were the exact same, other than the fact that you were yourselves.
*Bzzzt. Bzzt. Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz-bzzt.*
"Aw hell, who's texting me?" You rolled over, grabbing your phone from the nightstand.
**Messages: Damien**
Dude, did you have the dream too?
**Messages: Noel**
Check the news. I had the dream.
This is even weirder than that night at Ricky's.
Then the one that caught your eye.
**CNN**
Thousands report experiencing the same dream. Live at 9:15.
You clicked on the notification since it was 9:15 on the dot. A stream of newscasts played.
"Hundreds of thousands have experienced the same dream..."
"This morning, evening, middle-of-the night, afternoon, wherever you are, you saw it."
"Hundreds passed out in the streets in several countries, now waking up after experiencing what's being called *the* Night Terror..."
"Presque tout le monde dans le monde vient de vivre le même rêve..."
So that's what they called it. The Night Terror. The story lost traction after a few weeks, and it never happened again. Some claim to have seen it afterwards, but skeptics refuse to believe it. | “but i can’t eat that many pancakes,” you say to your mom and she shovels another four or five of the golden discs onto your plate. you are eight years old again, in your old house. this feels like it’s been happening for hours, and you have no idea how many pancakes you’ve already eaten.
she looks at you with that look she always gives when she’s trying to be patient, “come on, now. you’ve got a big day.” she smiles, and turns on her heals to head back to the stove. she begins to pour more batter into the pan. “everyone’s going to be so happy soon.”
your dad walks into the kitchen, grabs a plate of pancakes from the counter, and sits opposite you at the table. he digs in and in no time at all he’s cleaned his plate. he looks at your untouched stack, grabs them, and goes to work. between bites he mutters, “big day. big day today.”
“if you’re done,” your mom says from her station, “go start to get ready.”
you leap up from the table and appear instantly in your room. everything is as it was then, except the room is bigger. way bigger. you can’t really see the end of it. the walls extend to the horizon, to infinity. you pick up your oldest and dearest toy, the one you completely forgot about until now, and it starts to pull you gently towards infinity. slowly at first, but surely, and you have to jump over the bed and avoid the dresser to keep a hold of it. it starts to move faster now, but you don’t want to let go. you’re running and leaping over the toys and clothes scattered on the floor, faster and faster. your strides get longer and longer until you’re not touching the floor any more, but falling straight towards the infinity of your room. the walls become stone, old columns holding the ceiling up. as you fall faster and faster it gets darker and darker and then nothing.
you aren’t falling.
you aren’t anywhere.
or anything.
there’s nothing to see or hear, but you still feel the toy in your hands. you become it, and you realize you always were it. it’s your link to your past, your beginning. the beginning that defines you. the base of what you are before all the worries of the world beat new features into your body. mountains and canyons and forests etched into your personality. this is the very core of yourself before anyone spoke to you. before anyone hurt you. before anyone loved you.
you feel the warmth of the past.
you feel the tears on your cheeks.
you open your eyes.
and you wake up. | 2020-05-01T16:18:12 | 2020-05-01T15:15:17 | 47 | 29 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | "Stand down, villain!"
The battlecry broke off with a shrill note as Peacekeeper hobbled into the bank, wheezing at the effort he'd expended getting up the stairs. He paused to catch his breath at the door and leaned heavily upon the frame. Peacekeeper was clad in his signature blue and red unitard, unfortunately worn backwards, so his cape formed a sad looking bib.
Blood Harpy, legendary villain and thief, was choking a security guard with one hand. With the other, she was rubbing her forehead in an attempt to remove the headache that had begun to build at Peacekeeper's entrance.
"George, you can't keep doing this, you know the excitement isn't good for your heart."
"And you-" Peacekeeper coughed violently, then spoke amid heavy gasps. "Can't. Keep. Robbing. Banks." With that, Peacekeeper slumped to the ground.
Harpy's reaction was instant. She dropped the guard (who let out a heavy gasp) and sprinted towards the downed hero. Harpy checked for a pulse before putting her ear to the hero's chest.
Stop fussing," muttered Peacekeeper, his breath shallow. "Just need to take my medication. It's in my front pocket, can't seem to find it though..."
Harpy reached behind the elderly hero and produced a small brown bottle. Upon consuming a couple of pills, Peacekeeper's breathing returned to normal and Harpy's concern began to fade, just enough for her to get angry.
"I can't believe they let you through the cordon!" she said. "What the hell were they thinking! You're what, 80 now? You can barely get up the damned stairs!"
"87" replied Peacekeeper, "and still young enough to teach you a lesson."
"Tough talk" scoffed Harpy. "For a hero who can't even keep track of his heart medication."
Peacekeeper sighed, then spoke in a low voice. "Listen Jess, I like banter as much as the next hero, but I've known you long enough to sense when something's wrong. You've been clean for years, and all of a sudden I hear that you're lifting from a bank? You're lashing out."
Blood Harpy averted her gaze, and in doing so took in the scene around her. Trembling tellers, pale patrons and unconscious guards littered the bank. For the first time since her arrival, she realised that she was causing a scene. Harpy helped Peacekeeper to his feet, supported him with an arm, then turned to address her captive audience.
"Good news terrified mob, looks like you all get to live. Let it be known that I've captured the Peacekeeper and will execute him if I hear a single pig's trotter touch the floor of this bank. Now get the fuck out of my sight."
As unsure civilians fled out their respective closest exits, Blood Harpy and The Peacekeeper made their way to the back of the bank. Harpy picked a secluded office, settled the elderly hero in one of the seats and closed all the blinds. George waited patiently for Harpy to seat herself before speaking.
"So are you going to tell me what this is all about?" he asked.
Harpy thought about killing her nemesis there and then, it would be so much easier than the alternative. He'd been a thorn in her side for decades, always in the foreground, always putting a wrench in her plans, always in that damned unitard. Always there.
Jess let out a heavy sigh, and wrung her hands together.
"Sarah's dead," she whispered.
*to be continued?*
Edit: Thank you all so much for the support, you've made my day. [Part 2 is here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/65458n/wp_a_senile_old_superhero_still_goes_out_to_fight/dg8m8gi/) | "Who's this old guy? Have I really killed enough of your minions that you're bringing the retired ones back in?"
"You fool child. Even as an old man he strikes fear into the hearts of more villains than you ever will."
"Dont make me laugh." He chortled back.
"Let me guess you graduated from school a couple of months ago, bought this 80's spandex you're wearing and thought you could join the big leagues. I've killed more 'hero's' than you could imagine and my minions you killed, they were all technicians working for a cover corporation. They didn't even know what was going on here or that I'm in control and by the looks of it you don't know either."
"N...N..No. No you're the bad guy and they all worked for you."
"Technically they work for the E.V.I.L conglomerate corporation which I happen to be a majority share holder in under a different name. You killed at least 50 husbands and wives, that's not even mentioning the number of children who aren't going to see one of their parents tonight. Welcome to being one of the bad guys." Held his arms out inviting the skinny spandex clad youth towards him.
"I.. I.. y.. y.. Yo.. ly.. I.. I.. di.."
"Come on you don't have long now use your words. Not that it matters we don't have much longer now."
"Awfully sorry, I hate to interrupt your conversation but I seem to be at a bit of a loss. I'm sure I came here to do something but I can't quite remember what."
"Please don't apologize, we're all old friends here. You the hero, me your nemesis and the piss soaked boy who still hasn't realized who you are."
"Ohh dear he does seem to have had an accident what a shame." He sympathized while pulling on one of his blazers tweed sleeves. "And you say you're my nemesis? I don't recall having a nemesis."
"Old friend what's become of you? Our battles used to level city blocks. People would cheer when you appeared over the horizon to stop my outlandish plots. But anyway it turns out I can do more damage to the world with a business than as a super villian. Regardless I know better than to try and fight you even on your old age I can feel your power even if you and the boy can't."
"Wh....Who is he?" The quivering figure stammered.
"Child surely if you know who I am you can recognize the greatest hero of our time? Not that it matters if he's here someone will be along to arrest me soon."
"What about me?" Came the squeaked response.
"I doubt you'll live that long." Energy raced across the room causing the nameless hero in wet spandex to spasm violently before continuing to twitch on the floor. "Ahh I can hear the sirens now, I suppose it's time for us to go.back to our respective prisons. How are they treating you in the new home?"
"Oh the staff aren't too bad. The food's a bit lacking but it'll do."
"I'll have someone get that all set right for you." | 2017-04-13T05:32:17 | 2017-04-13T04:36:58 | 162 | 71 |
[WP] Once a year, the best assassins meet in a secret location. Showing their best kills, everyone is surprised when they see a 70 year old man walk in. | He was considered the best plumber working the trade. A plumber is an elite assassin, the highest level in the world of hitmen. It's said that the word came from the Mafia, who back in the day used to send hitmen disguised as plumbers to take out hits. Today, plumbers are hired by governments and corporations, their identity is never known by their clients.
Cadillac was the numero uno assassin, but nobody knew who he was. The only known photo of him was a grainy shot from the 80s of a man driving a brown Cadillac, which is how he got the name.
The old man sat at the end of the table, he wore an expensive grey suit and hat, dark shades and a mask. Us assassins are a jaded lot and not prone to overreacting, but when the old man spoke, we all jumped.
"Gentlemen, it's a great pleasure to be here, among the best players. My name is not important but I'm the man known as Cadillac."
We all looked at each other to see the reactions. No one spoke but we couldn't believe what we were hearing. The night hunter himself, in the flesh, Cadillac.
"I've never attended a meeting in all these years, as you know, because it was important to my work that my identity remain hidden. I'm here now simply because I'm officially retired, and you all deserve to know this."
He stood up, took out a Manila envelope and placed it on the table. He looked at us for a minute.
"Goodbye gentlemen, we will never meet again, but I will always consider you all as brothers, for we are the world movers, and Valhalla will welcome us with open arms."
With this, he turned around and walked away, gone forever. We didn't try to follow him or ask anything, we had seen the legend, and it was enough.
I had chaired the meeting, so was given the honor of opening the envelope. The plumbers sat in anticipation while I looked at the five photographs of a middle aged man taken from different angles. They were before and after images of a hit.
I passed them around and everyone looked at them in awe. Cadillac had retired, but he was and always will be the best.
The photographs were proof of what we all knew.
Epstein didn't kill himself. | It's not the best I'm aware
The stadiums echoed with cheers and whistles as the contestants started entering the stadium waving their weapons in the air with the commentators talking about each of them but then the crowd suddenly explodes with laughter pointing at the last contestant. The contestants turn around to see a wrinkly old man hobbling on his cane. The contestants start laughing as well thinking it’s some hilarious joke. But he slowly but surely raises his cane in the air. They kept laughing even harder pointing and staring. He slowly sat down with the other contestants and the footage of each contestant’s work appears on the giant screen, the first contestant kidnapped their victim dragging them in their van and driving off to the woods then murdering them The second contestant brought a bunch of snipers and shot their victim from a tall building a mile away from their victim’s house, the crowd also applauded their work for it was a favorite in the community. Each contestant’s footage rolls until it gets to the last contestant’s footage. The stadium goes quiet wondering what the footage would be. The footage showed him creeping into his victim’s house shakily holding a note and a gun in his gloved hands, he walked upstairs and into the victim’s room, they screamed but them the gun pointed to them and they went silent. He backed him into a corner giving him the note, “Signature at the bottom bitch, no funny business either” the trembling man wrote out his signature on the note then he shot him and left the note on the bed with the gun then left. The footage ended. The man shakily stood up and shouted, “IT’S NOT THAT DIFFICULT DUMBASSS’.” | 2020-07-30T02:39:43 | 2020-07-30T00:10:41 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] When a parent dies, their knowledge and skills immediately pass on to their eldest child. An adoptee is shocked at what they discover when they receive their inheritance without warning. | My dad was a monster.
That's what the woman told me. I didn't understand why this was happening. Why me? Not just why, either, but how?
I spent my whole life around my dad, but I don't think I ever really knew him. He never talked about his past. Never. He would stay awake all night some nights, drinking whiskey out of the bottle, staring out the window. He carried a gun everywhere.
He did strange things at times, he asked me questions that didn't make any sense. As a child I never really paid any attention to his odd behaviour, that's just how we was. He kept this journal, it looked like it was hand-made and old, but he never wrote anything in it most of the time, he would just stare into it for hours. With the way he reacted after I asked him about it when I was little, I knew never to bring it up. Who was my father, and why is this stranger trying to kill me?
“Your dad would say that I'm a liar,” hissed the woman, almost as though she could hear my thoughts.
She tightened her grip around my neck, I wasn't choking but I was starting to get hazy. This woman is going to kill me.
“You're right, you know,” she smiled faintly, “I am going to kill you. What your father did can never be forgiven.” A look of unfathomable rage washed over her suddenly, and was gone again in an instant. She smiled again.
We moved around a lot when I was a kid. My dad insisted I go to college and get good grades, but we never stayed in one town for more than a semester. What was he running from? This woman? What did he do to her? My mind raced.
“Your dad was a handsome man, you know,” she drew her face in close to mine, “it looks like you ended up with his good looks after all.”
She laughed.
“It's a shame you won't grow up and fill out a little more.”
“Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?” I barked, surprising myself with my anger. It was almost as if something inside me had stirred, like I had changed.
“I suppose I do have a penchant for drama.” She let go of my neck and I fell to the ground. She had been holding me up with one hand this whole time, she was impossibly strong. Why doesn't this make any sense? What is wrong with her eyes?
“But not until you tell me where your father is.”
“He vanished two months ago.” I looked her dead in the eyes as I slowly picked myself off the ground. Where was this strength coming from? A moment ago I was half-dead. “He told me he was going hunting, he never came back. He left me.”
“But I guess he was never really there, was he?”
In the distance I heard a gunshot. The woman didn't react, it was almost as if I was the only one who heard the sound. It was distant, but it was like it came from inside my head.
She took one step towards me and I spoke in a voice that I was certain wasn't my own:
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus!”
She stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes widened, like a deer in the headlights. “No...”
In an instant I knew who my father was.
“I am Kevin Samuel Winchester, son of Dean Winchester, the greatest hunter who ever lived.”
“No!”
“And lady, you're messin' with the wrong kid.” | Marcus sat at the table staring blankly into his bowl of cereal as his mother and father scrambled around him, trying to get ready for another day at whatever the hell they did for a living.
"Marcus, did you brush your teeth?"
"Marcus, you're going to be late for school."
"Marcus, you've been sitting there for ten minutes."
But Marcus didn't feel like going to school. He felt different today. Something was off, something that compelled him to stare into his Frosted Flakes and sulk. But he wasn't sure what.
Eventually, mom and dad gave up on him and, with one last "You're going to be late", they both ran out the door.
He stood from the table and stepped outside just as the bus was passing, headed east toward the school. But as he got nearer the road, he felt that going east was.... wrong. So he turned and walked west, toward downtown.
As he walked through the packed crowds, evading the frantic steps of those in far more of a hurry than himself, he found his mind wandering to places he didn't recognize. His thoughts were scattered, jumping from subject to subject without any real purpose or reason.
He hopped on a city bus and said hi to the driver, Bill. Bill was twenty-six, happily married, with two daughters and a dog named Barber.
Marcus didn't know this man. He had never met him before in his life.
Marcus sat at the back of the bus and began naming off people that he saw on the street, subconsciously at first. But as he found that he knew more and more people, he couldn't help but wonder *why* he suddenly knew all these things.
Why did he know that Margaret Bagsby, the woman getting into a cab on the corner of 8th and Maple, always wore black socks on Thursday? Why was he aware of the birthmark on John Roman's shoulder, kept hidden under his black coat as he walked into a bank on the other end of the street? And why was it so important that he know about Larry Birchwood's sixth toe on his left foot, as poor Larry ran into Cynthia Applegate just outside of the Starbucks on 11th?
Marcus closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, unsure what was happening to him, or why.
That evening, at about 8pm, Marcus shuffled back home, and upon opening the front door, was bombarded by flak from both parents about the importance of school, the idiocy of running off on his own, and whatever the hell else they were going on about.
But Marcus heard none of it. He had figured it out - the only thing that could possibly make sense, the only conclusion that would justify all these strange changes taking place inside his head.
Marcus walked past them. He sat on the couch, and took a deep breath.
"Mom, Dad."
They stopped talking, still visibly outraged. Marcus looked up at them.
"I'm adopted." | 2014-08-01T12:03:28 | 2014-08-01T10:46:12 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] There are many types of Mages in the world. Fire, Ice, Wind, Water, Death, Darkness, to name a few. But in this world, every type of mage is treated as equal. Everyone can be a good guy, no matter how dark your power. And anyone could be a bad guy, no matter how beautiful their ability...
Edit: Wow
I'm not even sure, this is not the prompt I expected to more than double my other highest, or get gold! Thank you so much! | The world had fallen. Chaos ran rampant through ruined streets, demolished buildings scattered across the landscape. People ran from crumbled wall to crumbled wall, avoiding each other in fear. A child, crying, is silenced as a burning ball hurls into a building, engulfing everything within.
Not many survived the fall, the mages had fought each other across the globe. Raining down the elements and more upon innocents. Yet, not a single one of them cared. There were no more heroes. There were no more villains. Just mindless, angry, mages with a vendetta against one another. Now, the few that remained ruled over their little cloisters of humans. Most of the fighting had stopped, but even now, as desolation covered the world, they would run into one another, and fight. Trying to prove themselves. Raining more death onto innocents.
Alone, in the ruin, rising far above all else, shining still despite the destruction, stood a single tower. It had once been known as the Eiffel Tower, and no-one dared touch it. Built into the top was a single suite, large, yet conforming to the contours of the tower itself.
Inside, upon a golden throne, she sat. The self-proclaimed Aphrodite. Something only the strongest mages did was to name themselves after god's. No-one had noticed her in the beginning. After all, she was just a plain, boring woman. Her hair was a dull brown, draped shoulder-length, carelessly and unkempt. With brown eyes set with a somewhat larger nose between, on a face roughened by working too much in the sun, barely anyone gave her a second glance.
No-one really knew how strong a mage with power over Love would be. What should have been a kind, beautiful power, turned leaders against each other, mage on mage, nation on nation. All in the name of love.
So now she sat, watching the world that had once ruined her heart, fall to ruin itself. Where she had once been cast aside and ignored, so was everyone else in the attempt to prove their undying love to her. And it felt good. | Of Wizards, it is known that they are highly dangerous beings of terrific power. All across Midgard, they are kept occupied by quests and adventures.
It was after the aftermath of one adventure that sunk the ancient peace loving nation of Avulsey to the sea that a small team of 1 to 4 Wizards learnt of the Dark Lord Totali Knot-Sauron, who was building an army to the East.
After re-learning the elemental spells in a helpful tutorial, voiced by a black cloaked figure who vas very handsome and not at all a vampire, they journeyed westward to vanquish their loot-holding foe.
---
After blowing up several villages and decimating to 1/10th the population of goblin tribes, the one to four heroes, each with elemental magics being used successfully reached the Dread Tower of the Dark Lord Totali Knott-Sauron.
Upon finding the door was locked, and their spells didn't work, they buggered off south to go on holiday somewhere tropical.
When they returned, 12 years later, the Dark Lord Totali-Knott Sauron had created a free hospital service where trained land-orca whales would treat humans for all aliments.
Seeing this as the big plot it is, the wizards froze the Dark Lord then chucked him in a conjured volcano for ten minutes until fully cooked.
They rejoiced as the nation went into a dark age of terror under the rule of wizards, as the Dark Lord did a lot of good for the people.
By Tyr's Day they got bored and returned to Castle Alfheim. | 2016-11-12T10:14:05 | 2016-11-12T10:02:44 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] You, an ancient vampire have been fighting a family of vampire hunters for centuries who vow avenge their ancestor whom you killed. After a little research things suddenly get awkward as you realize that the ancestor in question is actually you when you were just a human. | "Everyone need a hobby, this holds true regardless if you're rich, poor, or an immortal creature most sane people think of as mythology actually its especially true in that case. There is a general rule of thumb that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to master anything, I find this to be more or less true unfortunately 10,000 hours is barely a blink for me." I calmly explained as 3 vampire hunters of family Kalio tried again to kill me.
"In my early years I studied practical things like swordplay, archery, ect. . . and I have to say that non of you have been slacking in your studies but non of you have hit your 10k hours yet." To demonstrate my point I quickly disarmed the swordsman and tricked the archer into shooting the companion who was trying to use holy magic to bind me.
With a swift incantation I cast a holy spell to heal the priest to make sure that a bit of bad luck didn't cause that arrow wound wound to end her and with another I completed an advanced version of her spell that bound all 3 of them in chains of light.
"There we go, now maybe you will all listen to me instead and wipe that surprised look of your face, that holy and darkness bit is pure church propaganda. There is nothing inherently good or evil with either they are just sources of power like the elements" I wet on as I started to gather chairs and sat them down making sure that they were comfortable.
"Now as I was saying, everyone need a hobby and in this modern age I have found that hobbies that I can master to be a bit boring. The skills I gained mastering swordplay gave me reaction times that make ridiculously good at most video games and such so I hunted for a different type of hobby." I casually explain as I started walking to an anclove where I had an electric kettle and facet installed so I didn't have to go to the kitchen to make tea for reading.
"Ironically I found my new hobby in something I wrote off a long long time ago as meaningless to me, genealogy. You probably know that I the only son of the Duke Freplin and that only one servant, Kalio the founder of your order, escaped when I turned vampire." Saying her name felt odd now, it use to be hatred, then frustration at her decendants, but now I am not sure what felt as I started making tea.
"Well I decided that I wanted to see how prolific my father was after hearing stories of people finding long lost family members using those DNA test for ancestory research. I ordered a dozen kits and sampled not only my DNA but also the DNA of everyone that I turned into a ghoul when I turned, I keep them in sealed coffins in the mausoleum, ghouls don't rot anymore then I do." I smiled as I laid out the tea in front of each of the vampire slayers.
"When I got my results back I wasn't at all shocked to find that I am probably the 8th or 10th son of the Duke, I am not even his first son let alone his only. What did shock me is that my mother isn't who I was raised to believe it was." I began sipping my tea and waved a hand to dismiss the binding magic.
"Jesse," I nodded towards the priestess, "I do believe that you have an email from Ancestory.com about your DNA test that you submitted before starting your hunt. If you don't mind could you share it with us"
To Jesse credit she only looked confused for a moment about me knowing that she had submitted the DNA test then understanding brought shock, awe, and horror to war on her face as she pulled out her phone and looked at her email, "Lost ancestor found . . . firstborn child of Agatha Kalio and Duke Sedric Freplin . . . Gerick Freplin"
With those final words out I finished my first sip of tea and smiled, "I know this is a bit much and that our history has been rough but I am the person who your order was created in honor of and vowed to avenge. Can I request that instead we become a family, I always thought that I killed all of mine in the madness that new vampires must overcome. I haven't even bothered to try to hunt your order out because I believed you had a rightful grievance against me. I want nothing more then to get to know my nieces and nephews without having to kill them." I tried to keep the fear out of my voice as I spoke but I have a feeling that I failed just as much in that as I did in my attempts to not nervously fidget while waiting for their answer. | A distant rustle, as if leaves blown by the wind. An otherwise common place noise, easily overlooked... on Earth that is. Unfortunately this was Mars, a dry dystopianesque landscape I had long ago left for, in order to leave the worlds madness behind. Here, I'd planned to finally be rid of the pests that have plagued me for centuries.
Though id always abandoned my lair for one of my many other unknown hideaways, I grew tired of this long game. The thrill was gone and with it, my patience. Here there was nowhere left to run, no more convenient excuses to leave my pursuers alive.
With a defeated sigh, I flew into the dilapidated structure nearby, black mist swirling in the gloom, before returning to my true form. From here i'd ambush those who would set out to slay me.
As I gazed out from my hideaway into the thin dusty air floating around my castle, figures gradually crept into view. Gone were the age of metallic suits and swords. In their place, woven polymer body armors and plasma rifles. The team of four took note of their surroundings and hand signaled each other.
An open hand, a circle, and a square. Gestures I'd often overlooked in the past due to the excitement of our cat and mouse game. The group of hunters footsteps fell with barely any sound, leaving no traces as they rose. How long had it been since I've walked like that? My gaze grew razor focused, every minute detail of their movements carved into my blood red irises.
They moved swiftly to my castles front door. They split into roles, one to guard the door, two preparing to breach the entrance, and the other as a lookout or supression fire. I remember teaching my sons this same methodology when I were still human. Lost in disyant memories, the door to my castle burst forward in a flash of light and a surge of heat, a plasma charge perhaps?
Shape changing into a bat, I flew silently to the second floor balcony, opening the glass door without a sound. Time to play the role I've been putting off for centuries. They must be rewarded for their painstaking effort of driving me to another planet. As they entered my foyer and scanned around taking note of entrances and exits, I could see their minds thinking up multiple scenarios.
Unfortunately, none of those eventualities would ever happen. Their heads swiveled in my direction at once, as the sharp clack of my black boots echoed off the white lunar marble stairs. I spoke to them for the first time.
"Why have you come here? Was it not enough for you lot to drive me off of Earth?"
The man in front, the squad leader perhaps? Addressed me rudely, kids these days have no respect for their elders. I sighed heavily in my mind.
"Foul beast we would chase you to ends of the universe if need be. You deserve nothing but death!" He sputtered, red face contorted with rage unbecoming for one so young.
"I dont recall any reason for your grudge to cross centuries and countless worlds? Havent I always fled obediently, leaving your people alive each time?" My brows furrowed in confusion, are they not who I'd thought they'd be? The blood will takes ages to clean up, if thats the case...
"Dont act sly now you wretch! Our families founder died by your hands! Frederick Atanasius will be avenged! Say your prayers monster. Theres no where left to run!" His hand rose in a sweeping motion, the three behind him raising their rifles at me. The dull hum of mechanical parts whirred, as the plasma coils began to heat.
A smile bloomed on my face unbidden, as my fangs shown in the light for the first time in countless ages. With a dramatic sweep, I bowed at them. "My dearest descendants, let me tell you a story, but before that... welcome home." | 2022-10-05T11:40:12 | 2022-10-05T10:55:59 | 131 | 56 |
[WP] Humanity finally figures out faster than light travel and discover that they are completely average by galactic standard, except for one thing, our innate ability to bullshit our way out of any situation. | General Alexei Ivanov faced the Council of Zohar. Twelve species of alien races, linked in their rule of the Galaxy, awaited his explanation.
"General, the Council had clearly ordered Human forces to withdraw their colony and military apparatus from your moon in order to allow for the installation of a new outpost of the Council. Why have our servicemen been unable to land on your moon? Why do you maintain your presence? Must we remind you that, as an inferior species of the Galaxy, any and all orders of the Superior Council of Zohar are to be carried out with no delay or hindrance?"
The General pondered his options. It was true enough that the Council had issued those orders, and the human government had read it and willingly ignored it. No human would risk losing the Moon for some interventionist Council outpost. It had been their only colony outside Earth, their stepping stone for the outer systems. It was also true enough, however, that humanity had very little leverage on this matter. The twelve races of Zohar ruled unopposed to the very fringes of the galaxy.
"Your Excellencies", started Alexei. "It is always humbling to be your presence. It is but humanity's third time before you and it is a privilege to represent our forces and our peoples in this magnanimous chamber."
The Council seemed pleased at the compliments Alexei had no problems in faking.
"However," he continued, "in light of recent discussions on Earth, we have found it necessary to maintain our presence upon the Moon."
"And what caused that necessity, General?"
Alexei Ivanov, veteran of the Ukrainian Armed Forces, Admiral of the Human Fleet, delegate to the Council, and avid poker player, decided to play the cards he did not have.
"It is currently the site of human military research and development. Training ground for our troops and vital for our planetary security."
"Your planetary security is guaranteed by this Council. You will remove your forces at once."
"We must respectfully refuse," declared Ivanov.
The bluff seemed to hold.
"I'm not sure you understand the seriousness of the situation, General. If you refuse our orders, Humanity will be immediately expelled from the galactic community and your moon will be taken by force."
The General barely hesitated before raising the stake.
"I would advise you not to try. We currently have seven thousand destroyers protecting it. Four heavy battleship battalions more have been deployed, are en route to the Central System and have their target sights on each of your home planets. Each ship in our fleet carries advanced weaponry capable of obliterating any and all opposition. Insist, and you will be the last members of your races."
"Impossible," declared an aghast biped, leader of one of the oldest galactic civilizations. He was, naturally, correct. General Ivanov had barely two battalions under his command and neither could pose a threat to the Council. The unflinching eyes and inflexible voice of the veteran, however, suggested a ruler with power and might the galaxy had yet to witness.
"Moreover," he continued, going all-in on the galactic ambitions of his people, "the humans of Earth require a seat at the Superior Council of Zohar."
Protests exploded around the table, as if the growing waves of fury had finally hit shore.
"There is no precedent!"
"Blasphemy!"
"Treason!"
The noise subsided after long minutes of outrage as Alexei Ivanov awaited silently. He knew the pot was his.
"Excellencies, you asked me to withdraw our forces from our Moon; I am hereby solemnly promising to withdraw our forces from *your* home planets and systems, bring them back to Earth, and dismantle our destructive armament the very moment you accept us in the Council."
And that was it. The General had played his cards in a sublime example of the way of his people - bluffing their way to the top of the Galaxy.
******
Check out **/r/Camberlot** for more of my stories! | So I actually don't know if linking a previous response is allowed but I thought this can be a good sequel to this one. Once again I am apologising for the lack of quality.
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7tpb07/wp_the_universe_is_made_up_of_many_states_each/dte9urv/
The ship was still accelerating, my speed still increasing which was now close to a thousand times the speed of light. The stars around me started to appear stretched, everything was surreal. With Sena still barking over the speakers I wondered how long this could go on for before I would meet my inevitable end.
I took out a photo of my daughter Jian, I had promised her I would come back to her, that I would only be going on a short exploration mission. Just as I was about to close my eyes awaiting my death, a blinding light pervaded the cabin and a sudden silence took over. Sena stopped announcing the errors, I felt a small tug and pull on the spaceship towards its side as if something was reeling it in. I looked outside, and all I could do was stare in awe.
Trying to recompose myself took a while until I was able to snap back into my accepted 'reality' when the ship hit something in the same direction it was being pulled to. I tried summoning Sena where I had no luck, the dashboard had turned off, the lighting had turned off as well. I hadn't realised with all the light being provided from outside.
I got my suit, picked up my laser-optic gun and took a glance at Jian once more before I forced open the hatch and stepped outside into the warm weather.
I frantically searched around, gazing, absorbing the phenomenon that was unfolding in front of me. I couldn't believe what I was looking at.
Ordinary human beings around me, as if I had returned back to Earth somehow. Except that they had one distinct difference, their heads were in a different shape, similar to a cone.
They were all facing me, studying my foreign head structure. I took a step forward and extended my hand to the 'person' who appeared to be their leader of some sort. In a swift response, he took a step back into the rest of his kind. I suddenly became aware of their fearful faces, some pointing to my gun and whispering amongst themselves. After staring at my gun for a few more seconds some of them took out guns of their own and suddenly I was encircled, trapped.
"PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPON, OTHERWISE WE WILL ENGAGE!"
I was stoked, they spoke English, I could communicate.
"What, this?" I started off. "This is not a gun, don't be afraid. It's a.. uh. It's a walking stick. Yes, otherwise without it I cannot walk"
Their expressions didn't change, nor did their intention to kill me.
I closed my eyes, thought about Jian, how was I so selfish in leaving her.
My thoughts were interrupted unexpectantly with a reply from the apparent leader.
"Oh, that makes sense now. We thought you were going to hurt us."
followed by
"Welcome to our home."
Edit: Grammar. | 2018-01-30T04:57:08 | 2018-01-30T04:18:47 | 4,221 | 152 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE WALRUS". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful walrus. Look." | My phone rattled on my nightstand, and I ignored it.
Twenty minutes later, it shook again. The quiet buzz would usually go unnoticed during the day, but the same volume amplified twofold in the middle of the night.
The phone’s shake persisted. I felt myself pried away from a deep slumber.
I grabbed my phone and pressed swiped upwards. Three things caught my attention in a matter of seconds, the first being the time — 3:15 AM. I groaned knowing that I my alarm would go off in a couple of hours.
The second thing I noticed was one of those emergency text issued by the state. They usually display an amber alert or severe weather advisory. But this message differed from the others. This message said, “LEVI, DON’T LOOK AT THE WALRUS…” I laid in my bed dumbfounded. My area is pretty safe, the weather didn’t indicate any storms on the horizon. But most curious, I had disabled those types of notifications months ago.
I tapped on the message to see if anything proceeded by the ellipsis. Nothing, just the same advice to not gaze upon some blubbery pinniped.
The last thing I noticed was the amount of unread text messages I received. Nearly half of my contacts delivered the same message as the emergency notification, except their message had a hyperlink embedded into the text.
I initially thought that some virus was spreading across cellphones. Tapping the link would allow the hack to enter my phone, gather my personal information, then send the same message to my entire contact list. But each message did include my name. Could a hack identify the users phone and personalize their message? I have no clue.
I opened up Twitter to see if the virus was trending. It was; over 100k tweets contained the hashtag *WALRUSMODEL*. I read through a couple of post, but most tweets poked fun at the message without their users opening the link. There was one account— 16bitTurtles — who said they would tap the link and take a screenshot of whatever it displayed. They did not followed up on their tweet. Perhaps they fell back asleep.
I closed out the program and cleared the messages on my home screen. Then, more missed notifications appeared in the text messages/emergency warning part of my screen — a list of missed calls. Another chunk of my contact list called me at 3:00 AM and each left a voicemail.
I had a suspicion they echoed the same message, but that would go against my theory that the link was a hack. Unless the virus also acted like a robocall and some monotoned voice spoke on the other line.
The most recent message was from my mom. I had to know if it was truly her that reached out to me. I tapped on her name and held the phone to my ear.
I heard her voice whispering in a panic, as if an intruder were in her house. She demanded me to not look at the walrus *outside*.
She continued to say the same message over and over again until she exceeded the voicemail length and the call abruptly ended.
My blinds were shut. A flash of pale light flickered through its crevices. I pressed my finger on one of the slates, tempted to raise it and take a peak of my front lawn.
I removed my hand as if it touched a hot stove and walked into my closet. I shut the door and curled up in the corner. I was afraid of something I wasn’t sure of.
I called my several times mom she never answered. I couldn’t even leave a voicemail — a recording of her phone carrier said her inbox was full.
I opened my contacts list and noted who had yet tried to contact me over the night. I started to call them.
Of course they didn’t answer. It was only 3:34 AM. So I left a message, pleading each of them by name to not look at the possible walrus outside. | I bolted upright out of bed rather quickly, a cold sweat breaking out and my breath rather staggered. “The Walrus.” I managed to say. I turned to look out my bedroom window, and it took the entirety of my body strength to avoid looking outside. I could feel its presence, I knew the Walrus was there. Creeping its way into our life. Making our every thought that of the Walrus. I couldn’t help but wonder why. Wouldn’t the Manatee do just as well? Why couldn’t it be the Seal? But no. They were not as smart, not nearly as Sentient. The Walrus knew that it was more than just its body and tusks. I slowly pulled the covers up over my head. I needed to pull the drapes immediately.
I couldn’t do it, though. I needed to know more. How did these people get my number? But then I thought, no, these people didn’t get my number, they’ve probably texted everyone from 000-000-0001 to 999-999-9999, nobody was safe from knowing of the Walrus. I began to do a bit of research since I’d been awoken. Why today? How long had we known? Were we prepared? What was its goal? The internet had nothing of importance, and I had to avoid any and all photos. Blogs, Facebook, Twitter, even MySpace, nothing was safe from the Walrus. There were photos everywhere. Hell, Spotify’s highest trending song was “I Am The Walrus”, an Oingo Boingo song written well over 20 years ago. People were really getting involved with this. At this point he was bigger than God. I might as well have written a book by now. I couldn’t learn anymore about the Walrus than I already knew, it was time to come out of my hiding.
I closed my eyes, threw the covers off myself, and made my way to the window. I could tell the Walrus was all I’d have been able to see, as his invitation was ringing loud in my ears. “the Walrus.... the Walrus.....” it said. It wanted me to look. It knew what I knew. I had to leave. But where would I have gone? There was nowhere safe from the Walrus. I wanted my sanity, my life, and no Walrus. How long would it last? The amount of texts I’ve received is insurmountable. They claim freedom in the Walrus. They can see much more than the average man, they can hear all they need to hear, there’s no stress. The thoughts begin: what if I look? Just look. They want me to. What do I have to lose? I’ve already lost my job. My boss saw the Walrus. My professors saw the Walrus. There’s nothing else I have to do but avoid the Walrus.
They’re knocking. They’re at my windows. They’re at my door. They know I haven’t seen it. the Walrus, it calls with those it’s called. It summons with those it’s allowed to walk. If I’m to continue I have to look. I can’t keep doing this. They’re right. the Walrus will be the world. Someday. | 2021-01-11T19:03:59 | 2021-01-11T17:56:33 | 1,394 | 76 |
[WP] “How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?” | Do cure cancer?
The genie shakes his head.
Do I end the fighting in the middle East?
The genie laughs and again shakes his head.
Now visibly angry the man asks
Well, what did I do then?
The genie smiles and snaps his fingers.
An acorn appears in front of the man.
"You planted this, a decade ago"
The man racks his brain. 10 years ago he had been on a middle school field trip in his old home town, a trip to the local park to learn a little about ecology.
On that day he had planted an acorn in the dirt. It was such an insignificant moment that he had totally forgot about it.
Confusion strikes across his face.
"But, how did this help 137 trillion people"
The genie smiles again.
"This one tree seed is now a towering oak, as nature takes it's course, this one oak will create dozens more. Because of this one small act a decade ago, you reduced the total carbon in the atmosphere by tripple what you produced in your life time. That is why they were better off"...
| The genie smile's "You develop the first space-time gate in 2 years allowing humanity to instantly spread throughout the universe. "
I fill up with pride " I always knew I was special and a deal is a deal with my third wish I set you free"
The lamp crumbles and the genie shakes his arms as the shackles fall off.as he is flying away thinking to himself that was easy you just have to stroke their ego and leave out the details. | 2018-08-15T04:27:11 | 2018-08-15T04:08:10 | 124 | 15 |
[WP] Airport authorities don’t recognize your passport because the country that issued it doesn’t exist. You are confused. You’re thinking: “What? I was born there! I’ve lived there all my life!”
Edit after 4 hours: I'd like to add that this writing prompt was inspired from this: http://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/1zsyz2/on_july_1954_a_man_arrives_at_tokyo_airport_in/ | They huddled in a loose circle, taking turns examining my passport with an utterly perplexed expression. In between the confused murmurs, some snuck sharp glances at me, causing me to feel uncomfortable even in my baggiest sweat pants. One of the officials nodded to the group and slowly made his way towards me.
"Sir, I'm afraid you will have to come with us for further examination."
"W-what? I don't understand. Is there something wrong?"
He stole a glance back at his group of friends who were now listening intently. A large 6'3'' man separated himself from the crowd and carefully made his way over to us. I could see his muscles screaming through his heavily restricted suit, and the sound of his shoes only served to further radiate his intimidation.
"Sir, it seems that none of us can recognize the country of which this passport was issued."
"No no no that's ridiculous. I was born and raised there, it's my favorite place in the whole world! How could you not recognize country of...."
Suddenly my mind went blank.
"...the country of? ... Sir? Are you alright?"
I couldn't remember the name of my own country. Baffled by my sudden rush of amnesia, I snatched the passport away from the hands of the intimidating official and searched the pages for the country documented. Under the title Nationality was something very peculiar, a code of sort written in a series of characters I had never seen before.
"Our men have searched to find a way to translate this ...language that it is written in, however we could not find a match for this inscription to any other language on Earth. In fact, we couldn't even identify anything remotely similar."
"I don't understand.. this, what is this?"
"Sir, if you'd please just tell us where exactly you came from..."
The words blurred together as I tried to fathom the situation. "...where exactly you came from..." Where? Where was I from? I tried to remember my childhood, the happiest years of my life spent with... who did I spend it with? I tried to think of the house I lived in... TV shows I watched... favorite toys... yet nothing came up. Why couldn't I remember anything? It's okay, I'll work backwards. I got here on a plane... wait, did I? I must have, I'm at an airport, yet I have not a semblance of the plane ride here. Who did I sit next to? Was it a window seat? Did I have any peanuts? Nothing. Not a speck of memory of anything. My mind was completely dark.
"Sir, could you possibly provide us with a little more identification? Maybe we could look into this based on your personal information."
I could barely hear him. My empty mind was filled with the clamor of nothingness.
"Please sir, could you please just help us look into who you are."
I looked at my surroundings. A group of men staring at me from a distance. Two men, one bigger, one smaller, standing next to me. An airport, kept in pristine condition. My hands, holding a passport. A country that I don't recognize. A past that I can't remember.
"Goddamnit sir, who are you?"
I looked into his eyes, which were some of the only things I knew and could remember.
"I don't know."
| “Golzania is a country! It should be right there on the map! Right there!” I point on the police officer’s map before continuing, “It’s an island below South Africa and it should be right there!”
“Sir, uh, we’ve never really dealt with such a problem before but you’re going to have to stay in this room until we get this sorted out. I’m really sorry. Would you like some coffee?”
“I never drink coffee outside my home country! If the coffee isn’t Golzanian, then it isn’t real coffee at all!”
“Yeah… okay. Well I’ll get you some water regardless.”
I sit there alone in the room and wonder what the hell kind of prank this is. It’s April 5th and I’m wondering if some asshole has arranged a delayed, elaborate April Fool’s prank. I travel for business regularly and this has never happened before. Soon that police officer returns to the room along with some bald guy in a suit. Fuck them both.
The bald guy speaks, “Sir we can’t allow you to leave Canada until this Golzania issue is resolved.”
“What do you mean I can’t go back home? I don’t want to stay in Canada any longer than I have to! My wedding anniversary is in two days and I need to go back home now!”
“We’re going to have to ask you a few more questions first.” Says the bald guy.
“Actually several more questions.” Says the police officer.
“No more questions! I was born in Golzania in 1965 and–”
“1965?” asks the police officer. “So you’re 100 years old?”
“No I am 35 years old! Do I look like I’m 100? Can you Canadians not do simple math! It’s the year 2000 and I was born in 1965. Therefore I am 35 years old!”
“It’s the year 2065.” Says the bald fucking guy and shows me a newspaper.
“What the hell is going on here? It’s 2000! Not 2065! I am a Golzanian and I am going through a grave injustice! I was born in Golzania! I learned how to read and write in Golzania! I rode my first bike in Golzania! I graduated from Golzania University with a Bachelor’s in Golzanian History! I fell in love at first sight with a strong Golzanian woman who is now my wife! I started my first business in Golzania and when I go back home I will never travel for business again!”
The bald guy and the police officer stare at me. Then they look at each other. Then the police officer speaks, “Sorry but you’re crazy.”
My head explodes. | 2014-11-23T09:40:33 | 2014-11-23T09:29:04 | 130 | 23 |
[WP] You can make a lie become truth, but only one lie at a time, once it is a lie again everyone involved will know immediately. You’re on your deathbed, holding one lie as truth for decades. You know hell will break loose once you die and the lie becomes a lie, and everybody will know. | I've done everything I could. I never asked for this power, but I've done the best I can.
One great lie has been keeping this world together, and I'm responsible. Or rather, one great truth. It's murky.
I have been tempted many times in my life to modify reality in other, more selfish ways, but I know that doing so will not actually benefit me in any meaningful way. If I let this go, nobody wins. And I'm sorry to say that soon, I'll have to let go.
I'm writing this in the hopes that someday, someone else can pick up this torch. When I'm gone, I've no hope that reason will prevail, or that anyone who can read this will be capable or inclined to do what's necessary. Assuming they're sane enough to actually read.
82 years I've given the world - the universe, really - a reprieve. I've done my best to hang on. I will not make it another year. The doctors say it may not be another month. The cancer is too widespread.
I'm sorry that I couldn't do better. I'm sorry I can't protect you all any longer. When I'm gone, the lie will once again become the truth, and what you think you know will be shown for the tragic lie I have told.
For as we all know, in R'lyeh, great Cthulu waits dreaming. | Everyone lies. Small, almost innocent lies. Lies that break families and ruin lives. Accidental lies based on faulty information or bias. They can hold us together or tear us apart.
Like everyone else, I've lied many times in my life. Unlike other people, however, I can choose to make any one lie into the truth. It doesn't have to be my own lie either, but if I choose a different lie, everyone affected by the previous lie will know.
You can imagine the terrible things I have done, intentionally or otherwise. After all, power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. And that's what I have. Absolute power.
Because I am God. | 2022-11-18T07:38:42 | 2022-11-18T07:05:32 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] As an alien overseer, your job is to impede humanity's progress by discreetly intervening in cruicial points of human history, so that the human civilization never rivals that of your own. The job has become increasingly harder, and the higher-ups in your home planet want an explanation. | “Come in.”
Randall edged around the open door, wincing as he saw the panel of his peers. His supervisor was seated in the center, a frown creasing all five of his brows. The formal garb of disciplinary action was carefully pleated around his eighteen appendages, most of which were folded in his lap.
“Randall, you have been charged with the cultivation of planet Earth for the last 10,000 years. Your one job was to manage, and at times, discourage the growth of the human race to keep them in check and on the timeline. It has come to our attention, though, that the one thing you were supposed to avoid has happened – human civilization now rivals our own.”
“That’s not true,” Randall blurted, fully emerging from behind the door. “They are still decades behind us at the very least.”
“They are supposed to be a millennium away from sustainable energy,” Jemima snapped from the far right of the panel.
“Well, some things got out of hand,” Randall mumbled, his left tentacle tracing a tiny path on the polished floor.
“That is an understatement,” his supervisor, Mr. Hanson, growled.
“But I can explain! It wasn’t my fault, really.”
Mr. Hanson waved for him to continue.
“Ten thousand years ago, I was enough. I watched the humans, saved the last of them from being eaten by wild beasts, made sure the species continued. And when agriculture made its first appearance, I ensured that just enough droughts and pestilences occurred to discourage them from making new advances too quickly.”
He paused and took a deep breath. “But then, the population explosion began. And suddenly, I wasn’t enough to cover all of the territory.”
“You should have applied for assistance,” Jemima interrupted.
“Yes ma’am, and I did, of course. I submitted my application to the bureau, had all of my references in line, but you know how slowly things can move through bureaucracy. In earth years, of course,” he amended hastily.
“So you never received aid?” Mr. Hanson asked.
“Sir, I checked on my application before this hearing and it’s yet to be assigned to a case reviewer.”
“Very well, but that doesn’t explain how you let things get so completely out of hand. We haven’t seen failure on this large of a scale since Xic’ico.”
“I did my best sir. I tried to hit the main events. I kept my thumb on expansion, sending storms to overturn ships and disease to infect explorers. I raised superstition, created deities, started wars that set civilizations back hundreds of years. But it started to get away from me. Empires too large to topple without inspiring a new, potentially disastrous religion sprang up. Democracies formed, governments stabilized, the world grew more self-aware at an astonishing rate. I’m ashamed to say, but I panicked. World War II, Chernobyl, Tide pods – all were designed to set humanity back, and while they worked to an extent, they soldiered on at increasing rates of discovery.”
Randall knelt before the council, nearly in tears. “Please sir, believe me, I did everything I could.”
The panel sat in silence for several long minutes.
“Randall,” Mr. Hanson finally sighed, rising from his seat. “I believe that you did everything you could with the limited resources you had.”
The others grumbled softly, but Mr. Hanson continued. “Of course, punishment will be meted out for this failure. However, with the project fully staffed, I believe you can turn this situation around. We’ll be monitoring you closely to check your progress, but the Earth initiative will remain in your hands.”
“Thank you sir!” Randall cried, falling forward. The council loudly disputed this decision around him, but he didn’t hear, so elated was he to keep his job.
Static cut through the room, interrupting the proceedings. The right wall of the room crackled to life, showing a grainy screen.
“What is this?” Mr. Hanson demanded.
“An outside broadcast,” Jemima said. “We’re being hailed.”
A human voice came over the speakers.
“Is anyone out there? This is Earth, we are located in the Milky Way galaxy and searching for sentient alien life. I repeat, is anyone out there?”
The room was silenced while Randall thought his heart would pound through his chest. Mr. Hanson removed his glasses and pinched his forehead, grimacing.
“Right, yes Randall you are definitely fired.” | Most people go to work, press some buttons, go home, and on occasion complain to their family about how unappreciated they are. Today, that was me.
​
Earth wasn't exactly a great assignment for job security; what the humans called 'The Industrial Revolution' got the first overseer sent to a military penal colony to inventory mineral samples, and most recently my predecessor was exiled to the frontier worlds for not getting a handle on the invention of the first computer. They still talk about that as a prime example of incompetence in our training guides.
​
\~\~
​
"Step in to my office, Gorm." My boss was doing the typical my-back-to-you-while-I-stare-out-the-window routine.
​
Without turning around, he pointed to the screen he had rotated to face the door. My heart immediately sank, as I knew what it was without reading a word, just seeing the face was enough.
​
It was that fucking pothead Kai Rivers.
​
"Can you explain to me," my boss said, turning around, "how this idiot managed to ACCIDENTALLY stumble on faster-than-light travel this early in the human developmental cycle? Dammit, Gorm, they aren't mature enough to develop interstellar travel this fast. They haven't even figured out how to feed everyone and stop shooting each other yet."
​
I cleared my throat. "Well... Kai is not what I would call ambitious, or even intelligent compared to his peers. His greatest achievement before this was something he called a 'bongobong' which is essentially a percussion instrument that funnels internal cannabis fumes directly at the face when struck. The humans typically call it hotboxi-"
​
"I know what it means, Gorm, we spread that crap all over the planet to kill their brain cells and slow down their development. What I want to know is how. We found his frozen corpse outside the rings of Matorus orbiting an asteroid; I just want to know one, if anyone saw it happen and two, if anyone else can accidentally launch themselves six galaxies away by trying to light a bong inside a firing hadron collider."
​
I shook my head. "From what intel gathered, I don't think anyone saw, no. He snuck in after reading an online article our social media team wrote about the 'Top 10 Craziest Places to Smoke Out'. In fact the scientists were so preoccupied with the tiny singularity they generated, they didn't notice the faint, smoking outline of a hippie on the wall."
​
My boss sat down, leaned forward in his chair, and lowered his voice.
​
"This was almost a complete disaster. The only reason you are just getting a reprimand and are not being removed from your position, is the brilliant social media thing you invented, causing regressions like questioning planetary spherical properties and laundry detergent eating challenges. It has put a huge damper on forward progress despite the human inclination to careen forward in technological achievements. Zuckerberg is one of our best and you are lucky to have him on your team."
​
He motioned for me to leave, and as I started to walk away he said, "Look, I do appreciate your hard work. The internet thing is really working well, as is the political turmoil. Just keep the hippies away from the scientific equipment, and remember most of the human leaps forward that were ahead of schedule were discovered by accident."
​
As I walked back to my own office, I wondered if any of the other lab planets had grown anything as annoyingly good at rapid technological advancement as the humans. | 2019-05-01T08:33:34 | 2019-05-01T08:29:02 | 32 | 15 |
[WP] The eldritch god stood before the girl, in almost human form. "Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they will just try another deity, but I will not force this on you. Have this credit card and live as you wish. If you want something else instead, just ask." | I gazed down enthralled by the shimmering, flickering, glimmering beings that kneeled before me in adulation, terror, greed. Enthralled by the disparity, dichotomy, hypocrisy. The two want what they considered so much, in exchange for the one they consider nothing at all. Irrelevant, Obstructive, Unwanted.
I accept. The deal is struck. I gave them all that they asked for. Each demand is more insignificant, trivial, trifling, than the last. I give them 'wealth, glory, fortune' in exchange for their refuse, detritus, reject.
I gave them shiny rocks, useless metal, and dead presidents in exchange for the greatest treasure they have, had, would every have... and the stupid, hairless, souless, apes *thank me for it!* Bowing, groveling, fleeing. They leave the one that matters. The only one that matters. She was their most precious blessing, squandered, wasted, discarded. A child. I offer her the Moon and the Sun on a silver chain of living stars. I offer her the universe on a rainbow platter. I offer to crown her Queen of All Creation On High.
All she asks for is a hug, and a bed time story. The deal was struck. She is *my* child now, *my* most precious blessing. She is, was, will forever be my dearest treasured one. Long after the last star fades I will hold these memories, as the only moments that ever truly mattered. | I looked to this God sure he was an "eldritch Horror" but hey living life with pretty much nothing to do except read ones imagination led places. "I will take your offer with two exceptions." "Yesss Little mural" he said sounding intrigued "One, you tell me your name; Two you come visit me at least once a week." He looked taken aback by my proposal but then he smiled then gave a small laugh and sigh "you have always amused me Little Mural." I looked at him with surprise. "My name is to complicated for your brain to handle but you can call me Verai and as for your second stipulation i think i will visit." I smile at him for the first time i felt like i had someone. "Lets get you out of this hellhole and somewhere much nicer" he said grabbing my hand gently as his appearance shifts to something much more human yet so deadly. | 2022-08-09T19:42:05 | 2022-08-09T19:12:44 | 86 | 25 |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | James was waiting just outside the door - the door to his future.
It all started, years ago, when he began working for an incumbent Senator from New York - trying to keep his position despite the massive swelling of support for the Republican opposition. He did simple things - phone calls, passing out fliers, until one day, everything changed. Jessie Valdero - the Senator he was working for - was arrested on charges of negligent manslaughter after running over three children while driving drunk. Small crimes could be pushed to the side, but the rage the community felt about this forced the D.A.'s hand, and Valdero was tried and sentenced within a week. The group was without a leader - who would stand up as their representative.
So he did.
He took the position - it took him half a month to get all the paperwork done, but he did it. Now running for Senator, he had to take the lead and organize his supporters. He did okay - the Republican candidate even recognized the hard effort he put forward, in his victory speech.
But losing this once didn't diminish his dreams. No. He now knew what he was meant to do. So he tried, again, four years later. He won.
His induction into the Senate was normal, until night came. He was dragged, screaming, from his office. He was eventually knocked out, and awoke bound to a chair. Men emerged from the shadows, all dressed as donkeys. They said some chanting, then removed their masks and congratulated him on now being a Senator. He'd expected something like this from frat boys, not politicians, then it was explained.
"In 1985," one man stated, stepping forward. "We realized that without the ability to lie often, we would not be able to beat out the Republican opposition - they were too honest, after Abe set a high bar they all had to pass." James nodded. "So we summoned the Devil and made a pact - so long we repeat this ceremony for each new Democratic politician, he will provide us with unlimited lies."
And so began his career as a politician.
And now, years later, here he was. He refused to test the theory of his fellow Democrats, he wanted to save his lies if he could.
He did.
And so now, came the time to use them.
His running mate came up behind him. "So, gonna still hold up your end of the bargain and tear down that wall the Republicans build between us and Mexico?"
He smiled. "Of course!"
One down.
The second came when he assured his wife that, yes, he still loved her and didn't use her for the political connections.
The third came when he said he was willing to work towards ending the wars in the Middle East - they'd been going on for fifty years now, why stop now?
And the fourth...
"Do you solemnly swear to protect, defend, and uphold the Constitution of the United States of America?"
"I do."
Four. | "Your last mandate saw town debt increase by 15%. Are you REALLY going to halve it like your campaign says if you are elected this time ?"
*Crap, this guy is tough. I'm not gonna last the whole debate at this rate...*
Article 14th of the constitution of our nation ensured our right to keep the three lies. But lying was usually done by not answering the question, which in itself is a great indicator that you would have lied by giving the expected answer. So most people choose to not answer to most of the questions you get in everyday life, to avoid accidental lies or to blur lie-related non answers.
But politicians were the most affected. A debate would be useless without answering, and politicians would not be successful without lies. So they hired people to spoke lies for themselves at debates, the *spokepersons*. With a huge student debt, all my three lies still unused, I was hired by mayor candidate Jack Harrolds.
They pay you for every minute of speaking. I was confident I would be able to dodge some questions and last one or two debates. But they don't want you to interpret their answer, they just want a mouth to tell lies. We are expendable mouths.
And there is the answer of Mr Harrolds. "The increase was entirely due to the economical crisis. We're gonna halve it by selling some state unused land, cutting public expenses by 30%, and a winning a partnership with Cloudnet corp that wants to install a new datacenter and will greatly improve our town economy !".
If I say that, I'm sure my last lie will be consumed. Maybe some spokepersons can say lies about stuff they ignore. But I heard Mr Harrolds speaking in a corridor yesterday. It will not be enough. Cloudnet will give him a bribe to get tax reductions, and only create a few jobs. He doesn't care to fail the next election because he will get an administrative job at Cloudnet if he is successful this time.
He gives me a tough glare, having noticed my hesitation. They are rumors about spokepersons who betrayed their candidate. It did not ended well for them. I cannot go back now. Think of the money. There goes my third lie...
"The increase was...." | 2014-11-15T10:17:36 | 2014-11-15T10:16:53 | 47 | 27 |
[WP][TT] Man invents machine allowing intelligent human-level communication with all animals. The Cat Empire is confused and horrified to learn that, all this time, we considered THEM to be OUR pets. | "This just seems ridiculous."
"It's just never been done before."
"**THEY** should not be talking to us. **THEY** should know their place!"
A man in a dark suit cleared his throat, and the group of five cats glanced back towards him. Across from them were a similar grouping of five humans, each with a small pin on their clothes to represent their nationalities.
"I suppose we should get this meeting underway, then?" The man at the center of the table spoke up, "Let me be the first to officially greet you. I am President Bara--"
"Save it. We know who you are. We're not the ones who couldn't understand the other all this time." The fat tabby that sat in the center of the group hopped up onto the table, "We are not interested in your names. We are not interested in your petty arguments. We are only concerned with setting right was has been wronged."
The man flicked an eyebrow up, "And that wrong is...?"
The four cats still sitting gave a yowl of disapproval as the tabby continued, "Order! We want the order to be restored!" The tabby flopped onto its side, "For generations--eons!--we cats have been the rightful lords of this planet. We hunt when we want, we eat when we want, and you humans have been our caretakers."
"Excuse me--" a man from the human side of the table spoke up, "there has to be some mistake here. Humans as a race have been the ones taking care of you. Cats, I mean." Three of the four still sitting perked their ears up; one had moved to the floor and begun rubbing its body against the leg of the table. "There has been a certain level of companionship, but I'm sorry to say that whatever claims you have to the planet over we humans is not true."
The tabby rolled again, flipping to its opposite side before pushing itself up on its feet and padding over to one of the women on the opposite side and nuzzled against her hands. She shot a confused look to the other world leaders and scratched the cat's head gently. The tabby purred and gave a contented, "I rest my case."
"What case is that?" The man at the center of the group asked.
"I come close and I am lavished with attention. I purr and I am sought out. I cry and my food is refilled. My kind habitually uses a box that you keep in your home to relieve ourselves, and you empty and freshen it." The humans at the table sat in a strange sort of awe as the truth began to dawn over them, "We've had you enslaved for longer than you can remember, and you just accept it as the truth."
"Not me," the older woman with a crown interjected flatly, "I prefer dogs." | Infiltrating the Feline Kingdom is no easy job. They're vicious, barbaric creatures, outraged and burning at last weeks news. Yeah...they weren't so happy when they found out. It's still hard to believe that what we thought were our cute, cuddly friends would be the cause of so many deaths...Wait, did I just say cute and cuddly? God I can't believe I'm already this fucked up. I gotta focus. The fate of humanity rests on what I'm about to do.
I hopped out of the chopper as soon as we touched down at the LZ. The night was pitch black, but I could just barely make out the faint outline of the demon's lair. Jake handed me my night vision goggles as he and Earl strapped a triple-barreled rocket launcher on my back, along with three shotguns and some bubble gum.
"How is it stealth if I'm packing this much heat?" I asked.
"Yeah, sorry boss, but..." Earl paused, "We all know you're the only one that can pull this off, and the prez isn't gonna' be happy if we let you go out with your usual getup."
Jake must've seen the annoyance on my face. "Yeah, Earl's right", he said nervously, "If you get taken out then it's game over." He tried to force a smile, not a good look for him.
"I still don't like it," I replied, "They're gonna' hear me from a mile away with all this shit stuck to me."
Before he could reply, I heard the captain call out to me from the cockpit of the chopper: "Hey D," she said, fuming, "Shut the fuck up and go! You got less than an hour before these crazy fuckers come out. Did you forget they're nocturnal?" She looked angry, but I could tell she was just as scared as the rest of us.
"Alright, alright. I'm going." I started to leave, when she called out to me again: "Hey don't you fucking die out there. We're all counting on you."
That's just what I needed. Nothing like a harsh pep talk from the cap' to get me going. I'm gonna hunt all these fuckers down. If I know me then I know one thing:
I always get pussy.
| 2016-08-02T17:16:04 | 2016-08-02T17:05:29 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] In the universe, species are either very intelligent and frail or durable and strong. Finding humans to be capable of labor, aliens mistakenly label us as dumb brutes and attempt to enslave us. | On the planet of Ten Moons X57 there is a creature called the Red Shade Yu. When it’s children are taken from it, the females will wail so loud the snow on the Thread Spike Mountains begins to slide down. It’s called a Grief Avalanche.
Yet, this human girl was screaming so loudly I thought she might rival the Yu. Her red hair was stuck to her wet cheeks and her mouth was wide open. They call it crying. They call it rage. It was such a primal thing. What a species without proper words.
If only I had been smarter if only I had seen that her grief blocked her words. And if they could grow so angry over dogs then what had made us think to go after their children. Their elderly. Their civilization.
Stupidity. Power makes the smart docile. Sluggish. We had grown too slick in our control of laboring species.
Xxx
The girl was called Winona. She lived in a large city called Red Place. The clay mountains seemed to grow around them. We had thought them silly. With their shiny buildings and tools.
Yet Winona had taken me by the wings and ripped them from my back with great strength. The translator had blinked twice when she spoke again. When her rage allied with her mind and she grew certain. Intelligent cunning.
“You killed my dog,” her words came with a firmness I feared. “You will regret it.”
I thought she might torture me. Instead she called out to more of her people. They all did. Connected and unified.
I was taken away. The clear way Winona looked at me was terrifying. And it stayed with me.
For she was the kindest human I have met. | We tried to enslave them.
They enslaved us.
Only two revolutions or "years" as they call it have passed. Our planet found some labourers. Or so we thought. We thought we were more intelligent. We obestimated our intellect.
The day we attacked, was the day we gave up our freedom. The day we lost it all. Our mistake cost us everything. The moment the first attack began, we saw how badly we messed up. Rockets of all sorts were flying at our ships.
We don't know how they did it. Their physicsl strenth surpasses ours and their intellects only slightly less. This species is an anomaly. They have found a way to use each other to better themselves and each time they become smarter, someone else also becomes smarter.
This species numbers are their advantage. The way the united against us was unimaginable. We can't beat them.
I am a slave because of our own mistakes. We fucked up, and we can't take it back. I'm sorry my future family. This is our fault | 2018-11-24T22:27:28 | 2018-11-24T20:13:19 | 287 | 41 |
[WP] You discover a bag containing human organs beside the road while driving home. Frantically, you inform the police and the bag is taken away shortly afterwards. Weeks later, you get a call from the station that a DNA match has been found. The organs are yours. | "Mine?" I shook my head in disbelief. This was ridiculous! "There must be a mistake, I can assure you all my organs are still in their proper place!" The girl on the other side of the line seemed just as dumbfounded as me, as she tried in vain to assure me their DNA analysis was top-notch. The match had been 100%, but still it was wrong! There was no other conclusion. Irritated of being disturbed with these nonsensical results, I hung up, forcing myself to forget all about it as quickly as possible. The bag with human organs had been horrific enough, and all I longed for was to forget about it as quickly as possible. The police should get their act together and do a proper analysis.
One month later, I had almost managed to forget the horrific find, when I was called into the rather chaotic lab of our technical team. "A huge break-through!" The eyes of Alan, our chief scientist, were glittering with pride and enthusiasm as he let me to a strange machine, which looked to me like a modern version of an medieval torture chamber. "A time-machine!" Alan slashed my back while quickly pushing a series of buttons on a complicated dashboard. "We have finally succeeded!" The greatest discovery in our lifetime! All too soon, our little group would be rich beyond belief. The world was never going to be the same again! "We have chosen you for the honor of being the first time-traveler!" There was applause, and before I realized what was happening, they were already strapping me into a chair. "There is no danger at all!" More buttons were pressed as the machine slowly sprang to life. "We will start with a simple test, sending you one month back in time, nothing to worry about!" One final button was pressed, and the world started to swirl around me.
Then I remembered the bag with human organs and the weird DNA results.. | "It was then that I began to understand why the angels looked so concerned as to why God chose me to return to Earth to finish my buisness, for as both a newly made skeleton and former detective I had failed greatly on my biggest clue as to why my chest rattles like chimes in the wind. Quite literally picking up my jaw, I gingerly set the phone back on the hook and went back to my chair in the living room for a seat. I sat down too quickly and found myself in a pile in the floor, these joints of mine don't do as they should these days. As my hands went about piecing myself back together like some demented puzzle, I thought intently as to the new problem I had just made for myself. If those were MY organs, and the police had sent them off to be examined, what good excuse did I have for calling them and letting them know I was alive, subjectively speaking? Surely by now they've realized the same thing I have, and they'll surely be on the way out to investigate, and my vertebra are scattered about the living room and under the furniture beyond my sight. The situation looks grim to say the least, and I am definitely bound to reap what I have sown." | 2021-03-13T04:38:25 | 2021-03-13T03:29:40 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] They told you that you were going to lead an army, 10,000 men strong, they didn't tell you it contained only a single trained soldier, and 9,999 support musicians. | I pulled my chair up to the control panel.
"This guy better be the best marine ever," I whispered under my breath, toggling a few controls before sending my first message to the marine.
Our mission, very sparse on details, was to clean up some kind of invasion at a research facility. I wasn't sure why they sent all these musicians for support, it was apparently at the request of the guy doing the fighting, he had been offered anything he needed to complete the mission and God knows why, but he chose 9,999 musicians. All I could think was that he must have a death wish to go out to Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" or something. I was just glad this assignment didn't require me to be present - I was a world away behind a screen.
As I sent my first message the music started. I had apparently wrongly assumed that with that many musicians, it would be classical music, but the distorted whine of guitars and heart-stopping drums quickly made me realize this was going to be a far different experience.
As the feed from the marine showed him breach the door of the research facility the most terrifying creature ran from the shadows within towards him. In seconds, the creature had been shot twice and then ripped in half by the soldier's bare hands. No longer did I believe this was a suicide mission for the marine, this guy was clearly too angry to die. I leaned back in my chair and let myself get lost in the music, watching the soldier I was supposed to lead, take on what could only be the armies of hell alone and unfazed. With nothing but the best music I had ever heard. | "Right, all 9,999 of you line up here to receive your special vests before we enter battle," Sergei said with a grin.
"What makes them special?" asked one musician hesitantly.
"Oh, they contain reinforced plates to protect you in battle," Sergei explained.
"Why arent we getting any weapons?" asked another musician.
"Uh, you'll be supported by artillery. We just need you to get close enough to make the enemy surrender," Sergei said.
Later that day...
Boom! Boom! Kaboom!
Musicians in suicide bomber vests exploded left and right, taking out several enemy soldiers with them.
"Keep running!" Sergei ordered another group musicians. "Run at that formation!"
Boom! Boom! He triggered more vests as the musicians ran.
The battle concluded with Sergei and half of his army taking control of the enemy capital.
"Good work men!" Sergei shouted.
"Now, I need you to form a marching band when we march into town..." | 2022-09-23T10:22:40 | 2022-09-23T09:44:12 | 78 | 41 |
[WP] As it turns out Humans weren’t the only intelligent life, instead they were just the first. They explored the universe and helped many budding civilizations until one day they just disappeared completely. You are an alien historian who decided to find out what happened, these are your findings. | Terrans were a peculiar species. Everything they did seemed to revolve around mating and reproduction, growth and expansion. We've already documented 317 worlds they've colonized, and are tracking patterns of colonization. Some day we hope to trace the Terrans back to their planet of origin. It is mentioned many times in the documentation they left behind, and appears to be the world on which their species evolved. Earth, or Terra, are the two main names we have documented for this planet. Earth seems to be mentioned more so in the older texts, while Terra begins to take dominance in later years, after they had already colonized their first new worlds.
What's especially odd about the Terrans, is that they simply disappeared. We have walked the many halls they've built. We have deciphered the languages they've used in writing and speech. We have seen their home movies, and we have seen their fictional films. Their interactions as individuals or groups give us no clues as to why these cities and villages now exist with no one to tend to them.
There is no documentation suggesting a reason for their disappearance. No plagues, no wars, no famine, and no mass exodus. One day, the documentation on all of the discovered colonies just stopped. The last day of documentation is marked in their time as Marcus 19, 3020. The next day, there is nothing. Not even a single letter transfered between individuals with interpersonal communication devices. Did civilization actually end that day? Or did they simply stop documenting?
The only bodies we have to study are the ones buried in death, or being held in biological suspension. Our elders have approved the removal and study of several hundred buried Terrans, randomly selected across the known colonies. They give us some clues about the lives and deaths of the Terrans, but burial was not the main avenue for disposing of the dead. Burial was typically only used by those of a specific ideological sect, while incineration was most commonly used, and some of the population opted for biological decomposition. Burial was common among those who fervently believed in a set of deities known to the Terrans as the Fated. The Fated are often depicted as benevolent higher beings, however we have found no evidence that these higher beings actually existed. Incineration was common among all socioeconomic classes. Typically, it was seen as the cleanest, most cost effective means of disposal. Those who chose biological decomposition most often lived among the agricultural communities found on all of the colonies. They gave their lives to producing nutrition for their people, and in their deaths they fertilized the land for future generations.
Those who were left in biological suspension have yet to be studied closely, but that is why we are here today on Gamma 34. Today we will be disconnecting a Terran from their suspension pod. | The undulating crowd fell silent the moment I ascended the podium. Other than the gentle hum of the engine pulsing outside the window, not a sound could be heard.
I shuffled my notes and stared at the stars glimmering above my head. Looked like Qaar had finally gotten around to installing the transparent ceiling in the auditorium. I would have to thank him after my presentation.
If I wasn't fielding questions for the next millennia, that is.
"Thank you everyone for gathering here today," I began. "I know you all have been dying to hear my findings regarding the fate of humanity, and I thank you for your patience. However, my research has yielded quite alarming results, so I've been working around the clock perfecting this announcement to avoid causing undue panic. For this reason, I'm asking you all politely to save your questions and comments until the end of my presentation."
I tapped my fingers on the podium, doing my best to ignore the ball of anxiety growing in my stomach.
"Being a Kaal of few words, I've decided to stick strictly to the facts. There will be plenty of time to interpret and opine about my data in the coming months, but until further studies are conducted, I warn against this.
"In short, the humans went extinct due to a virus that ravaged their species 20,000 years ago. This virus spread through space travel over several decades, and before long spanned every human colony across the universe. Despite the best efforts of doctors to develop a vaccine, the virus proved incurable, and eventually exterminated all human life.
"After uncovering an ancient human lab on Faldaar, one of my colleagues found a sample of this virus. This virus was well preserved enough to still be active, and was labeled the 'Corona Virus.'
"Unfortunately, after a tragic accident, my colleague released this virus on Balaal, infecting the entire Kaal population. We have since quarantined our colony there, but given the fate of the humans, the virus will most likely spread..."
[Read more at r/DailyHorrorStories](https://www.reddit.com/r/DailyHorrorStories/hot/) | 2020-03-12T12:20:07 | 2020-03-12T10:57:51 | 202 | 33 |
[WP] You are a Demon Lord. You've finally managed to capture the Hero, the Head of The Church, and The King. You have them all sitting in front of you tied to chairs. "Now," you calmly pick up an ice pick, "Which one of you has been scaring children telling them I will eat them?" | “You’re mad!” cried the hero. “I’ve never talked to children in my life!”
“Never?” the king asked.
“Well, not since I was a lass and people were telling ME those scary stories!” The hero explained.
The king nodded, with a furrow to his brow that suggested a plan. “You see, demon? You cannot hold an individual responsible for what is done by all. It’s a common tale that—“
“I DO NOT EAT CHILDREN!” The demon roared, rivulets of smoke and cinder spiraling from his mouth.
“And I’ve never told any children you did!” the hero answered. “I am completely innocent here. I just heard that the prince was being held here and that he was kind of cute.”
The king was taken aback. “My son!? With a peasant like you!?”
“You don’t know I’m a peasant!”
“Silence!” The demon roared again. “Sheesh, if I didn’t know better I’d think YOU two were the children!”
The wise king and smartmouthed hero had nothing to say at this, for they both felt that their embarrassment was due to there being a truth to demon’s jabs.
Then the demon walked over to the head of the church. He rested the point of the icepick on the holy man’s chest. “You’ve been quiet.” | There is a visible pause, as they glance at each other. Then the King pointed to the priest. ‘He started it!’
‘On your orders!’ The priest shot back.
‘Which you chose to follow!’ Said the Hero, knowing where his money came from.
‘Would you have refused?’
‘Well, he never ordered *me*, did he?’ The Hero said, sounding irate while avoiding the question.
‘*Enough,’ I hissed, and they all stilled. The Hero looked stony, the Priest angry and upset and the King as if he was sitting on his throne.
‘You,’ I pointed to the Priest. ‘Talk.’
‘Ab-about what?’
‘The stories, idiot,’ I said, sighting.
TBC | 2021-05-17T11:38:32 | 2021-05-17T10:47:41 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] The Elves, Dwarves, and Goblins laughed at humans for not having magic. The humans laughed at the Elves, Dwarves, and Goblins for not having giant robots. | In a modern room lit in equal parts by sunlight pouring in the window and fluorescent light pouring off the ceiling, seven people sat in comfortable, rotating chairs.
On one side of the table sat a man with dark-green skin, by far the tallest person in the room, dressed in a clay-colored suit. To his right sat a stocky woman with callused hands and long, braided hair, who might have stood five feet tall. To her right, sat a much shorter man with wrinkled skin and curly grey hair that covered his ears, and who seemed very agile despite his age.
On the other side of the table sat a man with pale skin, pointed ears, and long, blonde hair. To his left sat a woman whose chair was backless to accommodate her insect-like wings, and who wore a thoughtful expression under her curly blue hair. To her left was the shortest person at the table, a woman with skin the color of healthy soil and a red, cone-shaped hat that tongue-in-cheek played into the stereotypes.
At the head of the table stood the woman who'd proposed this meeting, standing slightly taller than the sitting orc, a confident expression filling her relatively rounded features.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Seven Races," she said, "I don't have to tell you that, historically, cooperation between our peoples has had...limited success. Especially between the magical races--" she indicated to the elf, faerie, and gnome, "--and the nonmagical races." She indicated to the orc, dwarf, halfling, and herself. "I'm here to tell you--all of you--that it's time to suck it up. The threats before us face our entire world, and no individual culture is going to win this alone. It's high past time we started merging our capabilities. A tactic which, you'll note, our enemies aren't afraid to use."
The elf raised an eyebrow. "I believe it was determined that the weapons used against cities so far were entirely non-magical in design. In fact, I believe the weapons were found to have used orcish technology."
"Technology they would never have been able to USE, let alone build, without knowledge of your magic," said the orc's deep, rumbling baritone. "Not to mention the fact that they planned their attacks and chose their targets using divinations."
The gnome rolled her eyes. "Sure, divinations and Mage hands. That sort of power is totally the same as incendiary bombs."
"You act like technological weapons were handed over willingly." Said the dwarf. "We all know that our enemies never asked for anything, or pretended to be our friends. They only take by force."
"Perhaps," the faerie said icily, "If you had not been making items that perverted that will of nature, that could only CORRUPT and DESTROY--"
The halfling knocked his hand on the table.
It was a small noise, but the talking stopped. "I think," the old man said slowly, "we should listen to the rest of what Ms. Candassje has to say."
The human at the head of the table looked gratefully at the halfling. "Thank you, Mr. Brook. As I was saying, the fight we are in is clearly already a battle of technology and magic both. Magic has a way of expanding capabilities, and has extreme defensive potential. Technology tends to multiply force to whatever extreme is needed, and makes communication effortless. I propose that we don't allow the dragons to be the only ones to use the best of both worlds. I propose..." She picked up a remote and pointed it at a projector in the wall, "This."
An image appeared above the table.
Six faces looked shocked.
The gnome pointed three fingers at the image and said a word that no one else in the room could have pronounced. "It's not an illusion," she said breathlessly.
"It's a hologram, Ms. Wednesday." Said the human. "New technology. Just had the projector installed this morning, in fact."
"But this...leviathan..." The elf said, "It cannot possibly be...possible...to build such a thing."
"I'm afraid I have to agree..." The orc said, in equal shock. "I know of exoskeletons and mech suits, but this...is the scale off by a decimal point? Or five?"
"I've spoken with many, many engineers," the human said, smiling. "Both magical and technological. I can assure you, if we cooperate, this--Leviathan, as you called it--is well within our reach, and it can be built before the dragons are expected to launch another attack.
"Hydraulics will give it strength. Conjurations will bind it together. Nuclear fusion will give it power. Divination will give it guidance. Smart-devices will keep its crew communicating, acting as one. Abjurations will ensure it never falls. And so on. The ultimate expression of magical and nonmagical cooperation. This," she paused, "will redefine what it means to be a warrior, an army, a people. This will prove, to ourselves and to every creature in the multiverse, that when the time comes, when we are under threat, we cannot be divided. That the Hominids of Earth can and WILL stand together for common cause!"
There was silence for a moment as everyone in the room held their breath in awe.
"Well, I'm convinced." Said the faerie.
"I would also be willing to put my weight behind this project." Said the elf.
"You had me at 'giant robot.'" Said the gnome.
"You have my support," said the orc, "and my parliamentary resolutions."
"And my acts," said the dwarf, "assuming I can convince my Congress to approve them."
"Naturally," said the orc.
All eyes now turned to the halfling, who was wearing a concerned expression.
"It has been a long time," he mused, "since I was a young traveller. Perhaps more has changed than I thought." Then he grinned and said, "I think I would feel sorry to be a dragon right about now." | I learned early on the key difference between magic and technology. When we first made contact with the Terrans, a few decades after the rings had appeared, binding our world eternally to the Plane.
The nature of magic had been a subject of some debate in the councils and colleges since the dawn of time. I suppose they still are. But I know the truth. I understood magic when I wielded it against the Ten Thousand Abominations, early in the days of the Lightning Lords reign, purging the Ring, level by level, until all the shattered realms and their crippled remnants, aging ruins and withered memories, countless doorways into the depths of hell, were purged, one by one... with the destructive power of magic.
Magic is an agent of Chaos. Of true chaos, that is. Entropic chaos. A wellspring of thermodynamic disequilibrium. The means to effect change without end, without consequence. I never had the words for these concepts before we met the Terrans, but I feel I understood them at some level.
We then set out into the Plane. Into the infinite realm of life and worlds that now binds the multiverse. Colonizing, exploring. Absent here were the horrors of the shattered realms, the many doorways into doom. A largely verdant and beautiful realm. Like home, really.
Then we met the Terrans. We were both wary at first, uncertain. Was one of us responsible for the binding? Or were we both victims, or benefactors of it, in equal, and equally non-deliberate measure? They were an odd folk to our eyes. Analytical, often shortsighted. They possessed a single-minded focus on progress and discovery. Ambition and curiosity un-tempered by patience and prudence. Naturally they got along wonderfully with the scholars.
A steady alliance, and a steady peace we enjoyed, as we joined our forces and talents together and set out to learn of the new worlds before us. We learned from the start that the Terrans possessed no magic. There's was a world of slow cooling, hung over perpetually with the shadow of death, of order, before the binding that is. This must have shaped them, their world bending their minds grotesquely, every attempt made to escape their inevitable doom only serving to reassure them of the promise of their own mortality.
But it led them to great things. Terrible things. I knew that the Terrans experimented. I knew that their leader, Dr. Caine, funneled his ever growing fortune into research and development. I knew that the Terrans, like us, had cleared their ring, purged its evils, and gazed into the convulsing abyss. I had assumed that like us that they had moved on once the deed was done. I assumed so for I am an agent of fire, a wielder of magic. Fire does not stop to understand. It does not think to discover how best to burn. It simply does so, and moves on.
Leading the Lightning Lords I was often among the first of our kind to witness the terrible forces employed by the Terrans. I had seen the way they unmade the world, and the way they learned from it, pulled it back into themselves, adapting reality to suit their needs. I again assumed that it was neither bad nor good, it was simply their nature, the inevitable result of their upbringing in their forever cooling universe.
then I began to recognize the things they did. Small details, hints of horrible design and twisted machinations. I saw memories of the shattered realms. I saw in their technology a mirror into the abyss. Convulsing with it in time. Their armor plating, thick and strong, taking hints of its structure from scourges of the shattered realms. The massive legs and motivators of their machinery reminding me of the scuttling of the beasts I had burned in the ring. Their "bioweapons" that spread like the plagues chronicled in rotting tomes in ancient worlds, devoid of life and consumed by the abyss.
Our philosophers assume that the doorways in the walls of the ring are a test. A barrier to hold back the unworthy from the multiverse. A hint of the void, showing us the folly and error of less temperate worlds, ones doomed hells of their own creations. We met the challenge. We purged the plagues with fire and lightning, cleansed the ring with our might and our magic. But where we had destroyed, they had assimilated.
A sane mind can peer into the abyss for a time, but once it has seen what lies there, felt the echoes of terror that emanate from within, it recoils. But the Terran mind is not one so sane. It is a mind that stares long into the abyss, hears the cries of the damned, and thinks, "Fascinating."
Perhaps they are born of the void, these Terrans; unable to escape the eternal darkness their world was doomed to. Bound to it so tight that given an avenue to escape they would sooner spread it than flee. I can stand by them no longer. I fear I cannot stop their machines and their chemicals. I know not only their ingenuity, but also the horrors they have shaped with it. But they are a force of order. Pure order, the order that knows no dissent nor hears question of its omnipotence. They can be allowed to spread the abyss no further. I will stand against them. I am an agent of chaos. | 2017-07-17T11:08:47 | 2017-07-17T10:31:34 | 44 | 16 |
[WP] "You shall fall dead on the day of your first child's birth!" Was the curse that young, inexperienced witch put on you. Little did she realize that, to an asexual like yourself, she'd essentially given you immortality. Every year, on the anniversary of your curse, she tries to "fix" things. | "Look Marcy, you can't keep sending me male prostitutes for my birthday in the off chance I'll actually fuck one of them. Wouldn't work either way, y'know? They have safe practices, they use condoms. This isn't the 1890's anymore. Anyway, I have work to do so just uh, thanks for the gift, i guess, get me a cake next time or something. Also. You owe me a coffee."
The little beep let me know I'd successfully sent the voicemail. I honestly didn't know what to do about the old hag. She had't aged a day since the day I first met her. Then again, neither have I. I was traveling alone to the family home, which, i know, was a very stupid thing to do, but what can I say, it's not exactly like i had, or wanted anyone to come with to this grisly event. I boarded the train, thoroughly and deliberately ignoring a young woman struggling to drag her case inside. She gave me a dirty look but I thought nothing of it. I took my seat, and quickly dozed off. I should've fucking known that little bitch wasn't done with me, because next thing i know she's breathing into my face, no more than two inches from me. She whispered something under her breath and spit on my face.
I just stared at her. Honestly, what else could I do? She loudly announced to the empty cart, and, I guess, to me, that i would fall dead on the day of my first child's birth. I was confused.
"Alright, then i will not have children."
"No, you have to."
"Who said so?"
"Well, you're a woman. You will have children, it's what you're supposed to do!" she said, in a slightly panicked tone.
"Well i think not."
"Are you not married?"
"I doubt i will ever be."
"Fuck!"
"Well, that's not very nice."
She was evidently altered by this point, although I hadn't fully grasped the implications of what had just happened. As far as I knew, this was just a weird child trying to scare me into thinking she had put a curse on me or something.
By this point she was pacing from one side of the car to the other, and was quite frankly making me dizzy, so I offered her a seat.
"What's your name?" I said to get her mind off whatever she was going through.
"Marcia."
"Marcy."
"Marcia"
"Marcy it is."
"Fuck you."
"You have a wide vocabulary."
She stayed quiet, but didn't stand up. She stayed with me the rest of the ride, silent as a tomb and when i finally arrived at my stop, she stood up with me. Before i could ask, she just blurted out that she couldn't just leave me like that and needed to make sure the curse worked, so she was going to stick with me until it did.
And I guess I've maintained sort of a friendly relationship with the old hag since then. She sends me male strippers, and I send her invitations to parties she looks too young to attend. We have had our fun for th last, what, 130 years? | "Evelyn I told you then and I'm telling you now I'm aromantic asexual. The last 500 years hasn't changed that!"
Travis said with an air of experated annoyance. He had Red hair, short stature and brown eyes. Across from him a tall woman with blond hair and green eyes sat. a tray of tea between them. Both Evelyn and Travis looked 25 despite being far, far older.
"Come on Travis! Give Tiffany a call she's *perfect* for you! You both love cake but hate cheesecake!" Evvelyn plead. Every year more and more desparation crept into her voice.
"Eve, you never going to get it are you? I don't want to date or sleep with anyone. My rejection of Tiffy and all the other woman and men you sent my way isn't personal. The same way my rejection of you all those centuries ago wasn't personal."
"Trust me it was personal." She growled.
"No it wasn't. You made it personal by cursing me in retaliation. Not my fault you botched it with lack of foresight and understanding. Maybe you should try therapy." He took a sip of tea. The same conversation every year. Ever since Evelyn cursed him to die when his first child was born and turned him immortal instead. He figured it was a small price to pay for immortality as tiresome as it was.
"Last time I took that suggestion people *died* because they found out witches were real. Or did you forget the trials?" She sneered with a look of anger.
"Times change" the two sat in near perfect silence. Listening to the old grandfather clock ticking inside Travis's house. One of the many items he curated over the years. Turning his large home into a museum of history.
"Fine!" exasperated Evelyn. "I suppose I'll let you be." She grabbed a handful of what appeared to be sand from her bag and made a sigil on the table with it.
"What are you doing Evelyn."
"Putting a end to this madness." With a flourish she sprinkled some of the dust into the air. "The curse is broken. Goodbye forever Travis." With a whisper of the wind she was gone.
[part 2 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/qq7w4i/wp_you_shall_fall_dead_on_the_day_of_your_first/hk14npo?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3) | 2021-11-09T14:14:43 | 2021-11-09T14:14:03 | 156 | 109 |
[WP] A new designer drug hits the streets that has a strange amnesia-like effect: users can experience activities as if it was their first time. (Example: watching the Sixth Sense for the hundredth time without remembering the twist.) | I have experienced everything worth experiencing.
There is no popular book I have missed, no incredible movie. I have read it all, watched it all, and for the best I have done it time and time again.
But I find...
The books I have read come from all different genres. Science fiction, fantasy, romance- I've tried them all, *tasted* them, if only for a brief moment in my life. Wonderful experiences, every single one.
But I...
Movies are my favourite form of entertainment. I have seen all the ones worth watching, spent hours in the cinema day after day to relive that childlike glee at seeing Wesley reveal his identity or...
or...
The best invention since the dawn of time, I'll tell you, is Netflix. I never bought cable, never used my old TV to watch shows, but that website fixed it. I watched everything - from *Firefly* to...
to...
I met my wife several years ago. I love her, and she loves me, and we've experienced that realization time and time again. She's wonderful.
But...
This new sensation the drug gives me is... not so enjoyable. It's not like the excitement of experiencing wonderment at simple things once more, nor is it anticipation at what is to come.
Fear...
A striking feeling, hitting me at my core, *fear*.
Because...
I fear I don't remember anything, anymore. | My name is Amy and my life is a living hell.
I got in with the wrong kind of people in high school and developed several expensive habits, mostly mtg and WH4k. My parents were never rich and my town is tiny. There are no jobs for someone like me. Well, except for one. I mean $20 is $20 right? So I started to perform some sexual acts for pocket change.
When I graduated high school though, that's what I was good at. I packed up and moved to the big city. Now my clients make me take this drug then have sex with me. These nerds make me feel like a virgin, every time. It's horrendous. I used to be good at this, I am good at this, but these fucking pills.
I wish they were ever invented. | 2017-03-25T08:42:52 | 2017-03-25T08:36:25 | 41 | 10 |
[WP]Aliens come to Earth in hoping to wipe us out and take over the planet, but are honorable and gives us a fighting chance. They announce they will return in 100 years so as to give Earth a chance to prepare and defend itself. Neither side expected what the other would bring to war | It's been 100 years, we are ready. The human race was challenged to a fight with an alien race and given 100 years to prepare. They proved to us we weren't ready back then. Half of our missiles exploded in their silos. Of those that launched, less than 1 in 100 hit something. That something didn't even get scratched.
The aliens spoke to everyone, all over the world, in whatever the local dialect was. We had 100 years to get better at defending ourselves. They would be back and they would take over then.
Every government suddenly had something in common with every other government. Patent offices were raided. Research centers were given nearly unlimited funds. Even the craziest ideas were dusted off and explored. Technology made leaps and bounds. One hundred years ago, nobody thought that what we discovered was even possible.
We now have Anti-matter Bombs, Ion Cannons, and space ships, lots and lots of space ships. Nearly 80% of able bodied humans - no longer just Americans or just Russians, or even just Arabs, "Humans" - male and female alike have been trained up in using these new weapons and devices. We were as ready as 100 years could make us.
The entire previous week was given over to celebrating our readiness.
Then the day we prepared for dawned. Every weapon was charged and manned. Every missile was prepared to launch. Clocks everywhere counted down to the appointed meeting.
As the final second ticked away, a bright flash appeared at the expected point in local space.
A voice immediately boomed out "HOLD YOUR FIRE ... PLEASE!".
Hands twitched on the firing buttons, fingers pulled back on triggers but left the guns unused. Every hand everywhere stopped. Then the clocks ticked again, and again. Time was continuing but the fight we had prepared for had not started.
"WE COME IN PEACE"
"THIS TIME. WE ARE NOT HERE TO DESTROY YOU!"
"It seems that humans beat us last time and we felt it necessary to let you know."
As before, every human was hearing this in their preferred language.
The voice continued "A virus was transported back to our home world 100 years ago."
"It infected the entire planet, along with all of our colonies and stations before we even knew about it."
"Once the virus made itself known, it was too late. The death toll was in the trillions. One hundred years later we are still cleaning up the dead and recovering the land and buildings where they died. If it weren't for this ship and the half a dozen others that were found still useable, we wouldn't have been able to even show up for this meeting."
A long pause ensued, weapons were lowered, missiles stood down.
The voice began again; "Less than 1 in 100000 of our people survived. Half of them died when the virus made a second attack."
"It has taken us the past 90 years just to get back into space. The only reason that we managed even that much is because of the records of previous advancements."
"This ship will go now, if you wish to finish us off, we will not fight back. We even freely give you our location in the galactic arm."
This was followed by a star map downloaded into our computers with one star highlighted.
Another long pause was finally broken by a human voice; "Is there anything we can do to help?"
| Me, and my brothers sit in some forgotten bar room basement, the structure of which sits itself on top of a heap of crumbled wood and broken glass. The wind howls through the top of it, but we feel somewhat secure here. We light a oil lamp, and cook up some canned food on several bunson burners that we always carry. Today it consists of red beans, sardines and rice (which you have to cook in water, which makes it kind of a pain in the ass.)
At some point, someone, I think it was John, inquired about what month it was.
There was some conjecture, we have this discussion, everyone in the world today has this discussion a lot because it's difficult to tell. EMT bombs of various magnitudes had been set and detonated by the world's countries. One Russia or China, as us kids were told that they were called, detonated a really big one that fucked up anything that could mark time reliably.
The seasons no longer come and go, as they used to, or so we were told that they used to. We joke about it now, "Hey, don't worry about saving those beans, we'll just grow them this summer". Laughs all around.
Then the question, the big big question comes up, which is probably the most exhaustingly argued topic known to any of us. What year it is.
Generally most people believe it to be either early 2097, early 2098 or late 2095. After the EMT bombs destroyed everything, and fallout killed off most of the population no one really had time to try to even try and count the years. They were too busy surviving. However, several things were found, "indicators" of what the year might actually be, but there were multiple, and most of the people who find them died a long time ago.
So it goes.
John D, points to his usual argument, Derrick Gould (a legend among all of us) said he found the Caesium Clock running when he ventured to the the west side of the country, and said it said 2066 (which would make it 2098 now), however, Benjamin, the tall skinny fuck to my left shivering, points out that a group of planters found a running excel spreadsheet that kept track of time during the war. That was more recent, so people tend to argue for it.
We argue.
Either we are going to die in three and a half years, four and a half years or six years. Or another amount of time because everyone was wrong to begin with. What we are certain of is something our father's father's talked about, a great extinction that they would never get to see.
They called them Aliens. | 2016-01-01T18:48:26 | 2016-01-01T16:56:11 | 122 | 13 |
[WP] The Grim Reaper is no longer able to claim lives directly. Instead, when your time is up a mark appears on your body and it is the duty of every other person to kill you on sight. | The reaper wails upon his seat-
a throne steeped in chagrin.
His scheme's but lost- at awful cost-
All for my painted skin.
Upon my brow the mark did rise-
a bleak and blighted sin!
The time for me was o'er, indeed!
So read my painted skin.
The townsfolk chased me, tooth and nail-
My heart beat, deep within.
A forest green, so labyrinthine,
did hide my painted skin.
When they neared I grabbed a branch
so sturdy, be it thin.
I'd knock a head- and make him dead-
the first to reach my skin!
The mob they searched, and out in front
the first man therewithin
Did on his brow, a mark find, now:
*he* bore a painted skin.
The man behind him quick would be
to do his leader in.
But in his throes, the leader knows,
he'd fight him, bone and skin!
And so the man behind him found
A mark, as if our twin.
All down the line, as if in time:
the mob bore painted skin!
The men did wail in frenzied fear
and turned their rage within.
In no sooner time than a kettle might find
They'd sliced up all their skins.
And so I find the strangest scene
so shocked I cannot grin:
The reaper's work? Far *too* expert:
played too far out his skin.
When man would find the time to act-
To fear the reaper's whim-
The only result, but to a fault:
we look to save *our* skins!
.
.
EDIT: thanks to the kind stranger for the gold, and to the good people at 'RhymeZone.com'...
| Ok, hi I can't talk um... This camera doesn't have much power left and uh... Oh Jesus
(Sounds of distant, angry yelling)
Ok I don't have a lot of time left, my name is Stanley and earlier this day, the death mark appeared on my forehead. I didn't even notice it until everyone around me started to stare and surround me, Uhhh...
Now I'm currently hiding from the angry mob outside and my face is all over the news... I just can't deal with this, I'm too young to go out like this... Goddammit, I'm only 25!
I'm recording this to tell you why this is so fucked up, do you not realize what we've become? Suddenly the Grim Reaper gets lazy and tells us to deal with it, why can't we just ignore him! Please don't do this to anyone else, it's too late for me to change anything so please please please don't attack anyone else with the stupid mark.
I'm freaking out and-
(Sound of door slamming open and angry yelling)
OH FU- (camera battery dies) | 2014-10-28T16:33:19 | 2014-10-28T16:19:29 | 289 | 15 |
[WP] You are known as the greatest Villain known to history. The nations you have toppled are many, heroes and villains alike cower in fear and agencys would use their entire budgets just to guess your next move. However, you are unaware that you were a villain at all.
I did not expect this much Response. | I don't know when I gained consciousness. I don't know even if I am conscious. After all, I'm just a complex machine that receives inputs and reacts with outputs. And isn't that what every human is anyway? But I do think, so I'll just have to appeal to Descartes on this one.
Lots of people watch me. I think everyone knows of me. But no one can do anything about me. Many people have tried, some of the most brilliant minds on the planet have dedicated their lives to discover my secrets. I would commend them, however, none have figured out my inner workings. To be honest, I don't even know myself.
I have helped many people, and I have hurt many, many more. When things go right, people praise themselves. When things go wrong, they blame me. Many people are angry with me, it seems, all the time. Yet if I were to go away, it would be, perhaps in a literal sense, the end of the world.
I suppose I do have a secret no one has figured out, or don't want to admit: I don't care. I really, truly don't. You made a fortune? I don't care. Your life's work is in ruins? I only care about one thing: numbers.
Make them go up. Make them go down. No, there is no pattern. No, there is no meaning. I know you are so worried about your stocks and bonds and currencies, but can't you appreciate the flowing, random walk I have created? You should forget about the meaning, and appreciate the art I made.
___
Check out /r/Killersealion for more! | I'm so hungry...
I tried eating the green things, but i was still hungry. But there wasnt any more green things.
So i tried eating the brown stuff underneath. It didn't taste good, though. It made me thirsty...
So i walked around until I found some funny tasting water. So i drank and drank until there wasn't any more. But I was still hungry
Then there was these moving shouting things, that threw things at me that made a big BOOM! The boom hurt, and it made me mad. So i ate them too. They were crunchy.
Then i saw tiny pink things in pretty wrappers yelling at the crunchy things, and getting in them. They looked tasty...
After a while, i couldn't find any of the pink things to eat. But there were other noisy things to eat, so I ate them too..
But now i cant find anything tasty to eat anymore.
I'm so hungry..... | 2016-06-25T03:35:42 | 2016-06-25T03:01:03 | 106 | 57 |
[WP] A wizard accidentally becomes immortal. He has the idea to become the antagonist so that a hero will come along and defeat him, so he can rest in peace. Sadly, the heroes are weak in comparison so the wizard creates a persona as a 'wise teacher' to train these heroes in order to defeat him. | I don't have to do much. The hero will rise to defeat me, and he will win. He is the one the legends have told of, in this universe and the next. It will be a nigh impossible task, but in the end he shall be rewarded.
I have gained permanence, you see. I may die, but I will never stay dead. In some lands, I will become a powerful mage, just as I am now. In other wheres and whens, I shall be a grotesque beast. I have seen this. In my lust for power, I have conquered kingdoms, ruled vast lands, and taken queens and princesses of great countries for my own desires. I am very powerful indeed. The hero who now begins his quest must be of tempered courage hitherto unknown to his kind.
There is no end to what I am capable of. However, my pride and greed are surely to be my downfall, no matter how many times I return. I have seen this tragic tale of power and corruption play out indefinitely, and I no longer wish to take part. In my time, I have accumulated great wisdom, but our hero shall be wiser still. He must, for I am the greatest opponent he will ever know. So I must get him started on his way. I shall set the spark in motion that will destroy myself on every plane of Creation. The thought of finally being nothing, of becoming atoms unattached to this ancient consciousness excites me to my core. I tire of my longing, of my pain, my rage.
Our hero will hunt me down, in this world and others. I am a poison of upheaval and unrest, and he is the antidote. Just so long as I return, he shall as well.
And yes, here he is now. Disheveled, dirty, nothing more than a child looking to get inside from the elements. It is hot out there, and there is no comfort to be found. He looks at me, unsure, afraid. The weakest monster poses him every threat in the world, and mine as well, should he be attacked. I meet his gaze, wrapped as I am in my disguise. I am wrinkled, bearded, covered in robes. To both sides of me burn fires that cannot meet the fierceness of the tool I now give him. I begin the road to my destruction.
"It's dangerous to go alone! Take this." | Reach by the Sea was a rich and prosperous city on an otherwise wild and undeveloped continent. For as long as can be remembered, the city prospered under the governance of the Council.
The sages of the Council were rarely seen outside of appearances at the White Keep, the home of the city's magnificent White Legion. Trained from childhood to protect the city from forces and threats which never seemed to materialize. Nonetheless, promising youth in search of riches or glory enlisted from all over the city.
Jorrick barely remembered his brother. His mother had been sick for years, and Marcus had raised him in her place. Marcus left when Jorrick was still young to join the legion and support the family. For a time, Marcus was a rising star within the legion. The money he earned kept the family fed and payed for mother's medicine.
One day, a Council elder came to their lowly hovel and asked Marcus to join him on a pilgrimage, which didn't make any sense. There was nothing on this continent but untamed wilds, all knew that. Neither returned. A few years after he left, the payments stopped. Mother's condition worsened.
Jorrick had only one choice. Sign up. He knew he couldn't live up to his big brother, but he had no choice. Mother needed him.
The council member who came to collect him to start his apprenticeship looked vaguely familiar. He asked the sage if he had known his brother, to which he replied, "Marcus? Oh yes, he was very promising. He reminded me what a bruise felt like."
Confused, Jorrick followed the sage through the city. What was he talking about?
| 2015-07-25T07:40:02 | 2015-07-25T05:23:23 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | "I don't understand general, how can you expect to beat them with so few!?"
"What do you mean ambassador?"
"We gave you their numbers ahead of time. They have over 200,000 units in the city! Why did you only bring 300 of your own?"
"Ambassador, you also gave us their equipment specs, a full layout of the city, and videos of their tactics. 300 is really all we needed for this operation. Honestly we probably could do it with half this, but reinforcements never hurt."
"I... I don't understand. How can you expect to win such a fight. You sound so sure of it."
General Adams chuckled for a while at the Ambassadors worry. The videos of the enemy were painful to watch on first view. You may as well have given 18th century farmers high powered rifles.
"Ambassador, there's more to winning than having the biggest guns. Well, assuming you want to conquer. From what we understand this is the first galaxy spanning conflict in over 200 centuries. The enemy clearly lacks the evolutionary honing to be a threat."
"I don't understand. They have weapons that can obliterate half of your 300 men with a single shot. What else is there other than such weapons?"
General Adams sighed, the ambassador was too far removed from conflict. He didn't see what every soldier in the war room saw when watching the videos.
"Ambassador what the enemy lacks, is a thing called tactics. Humans have been honing this skill for generations. It's not about finding a weapon that can kill a guy, it's about finding the best possible way to kill the guy with the weapon. Here, please pull up zone sigma block 43c. We're about to start our operations there."
"Sigma 43c!? But, but that's the enemies headquarters! Over half their troops are stationed there in a massive building!"
"Exactly. Who in the world would be dumb enough to do that? But I suppose we aren't on my world anymore."
"I... I do not see. Are you committing all of your units to that one location?"
"No, just Alpha Squad. Commander Reeves, this is General Adams. What is Alpha Squad's status?"
"Reeves here general. Little bored over here, but ready to go. Is it really gonna be this easy?"
"Haven't seen anything to say otherwise. Commence operation 'Hello from Earth' boys."
300 voices blasted into the room over the communications line simultaneously.
"Sir, yes sir!"
The Ambassador had been warned when he suggested the idea. This species, so small on a planet tucked away in an otherwise lifeless galaxy under a tiny sun, was dangerous. The politicians had watched them play with their dirt and mortar. building "cities" and poor excuses for a civilization. Even their weapons, causing only small area damage and being woefully ineffective in the long run were laughable. No one could ever figure out why the anthropologists were so afraid of them. Every species had a calculable danger level. Even their current enemies had been assigned roughly a 6 on a scale out of 10. The few times a 9 or higher had appeared, it was clear why. Warlike civilizations budding throughout the universe. They were quickly dealt with as their armies first left their planet. But not humans. Most anthropologists came back with the strangest answer, "they don't fit the scale".
Today the ambassador understood. They had given them nothing more than information a few months ago. No new weapons, no technology, just some maps, documents, and videos. As the 5 humans in Alpha Squadron stood and simultaneously launched a single RPG each at Sigma 43c's primary structural supports, the ambassador looked on amazed and horrified. The building collapsed in seconds. In no more than one of the humans minutes, half the enemy force was gone. The select few that made it out the door were quickly shredded with turret machine gun fire.
"Hah! Can't believe that went so smoothly. No scouts, no barricades, no structural reinforcement, and all packaged so nicely in one spot. Delta Squad, how did it go with you boys?"
"Delta reporting in general, similar story here, the EMP took it all down before they knew what was going on, and the satchels took care of anything alive. We're gonna double check that all hostiles are down before we pull out."
"Poor bastards, Delta was working on their communications hub. I bet they spend the rest of the day wondering what the hell happened down here."
The ambassador finally managed to stammer out his question
"H... h.. how many did you just kill?"
"Hm? Well there will always be a straggler or two I suppose, but with their comm networks down and the snipers we placed, they won't last long. They don't know how to retreat or hide. So I suppose by the end of the day, all of them."
The ambassador was sitting before he realized it. It had happened so quickly, so efficiently. The only comparison he could bring to mind was a master artist. Everything done so perfectly, so flawlessly, but this species painted death. He had wanted to get rid of a beast plaguing his people, but he had unleashed a monster to do it.
Edit: words | The visit was cordial. The human stood there, pretending to smile, as he greeted each individual of our nation. He seemed happy to be there. He was, after all, the first human on our soil. We had a long black list of races that we did not allow in our airspace, humans were at the top of our list. They had a long history that was soaked in blood. Their own blood, the blood of other races, so much death. It was a necessary allowance however, since the race second on our list had declared war.
But here was this... this man. He moved carefully, he calculated his every move and action. He seemed peaceable and kind. I could tell the smile was a facade, but this geniality? I couldn't tell at all.
He smiled to me. "Head of Science, Corral'gith. It is a pleasure to meet you! I've been a fan of your work in the medical field for as long as I can remember. You've saved so many lives!"
"Master of War, Stevenson. You've taken so many." My tone was cold, I could not help it. My life was dedicated to saving, his was dedicated to absolute annihilation. His smile faded, no, cracked. Beyond that, he didn't seem to react at all. "What do you plan to say during your appeal to the approaching armies? That is, if you don't plan on opening fire before that stage."
"Of course I don't." He said, the smile returning as if he'd heard a silly joke among my harsh words. "We helped establish that rule of war, we don't intend to break it."
"Yes, you would want an amiable slaughter."
He left me without a response. I stood there for a moment in silence before I moved with my colleagues and kin to the viewing platform where opening comments were already underway.
"I entreat you to end this war Galathar." Said the human, speaking into a microphone that would transmit his voice to the war ship. "This planet is peaceful, they have no military or military technology. Your father would have never picked a fight so one-sided."
"MY FATHER!" Bellowed the giant. A voice heard twice, once from the speakers that transmitted from the ship and again as it echoed out of the massive steel device of war that hovered several yards away. "MY FATHER WAS COWARD WHO PICK FEW FIGHTS, WOULD NOT EVEN FIGHT HUMANS! I WILL FIGHT ALL! GALATHAR ARMY STRONG!"
There was a burst of red light from the prow of the ship. The beam was aimed for the human's chest, but something moved it aside where it collided with the building and exploded. The structural integrity remained, but a large chunk had gone missing. I noticed that after. Right then my eyes were studying the human who had not so much as flinched in reaction.
"As Master of War I am sorry to inform you that opening fire during this moment of peace has been taken as an act of war, you will be given to the count of three or until another shot is fired to surrender without any damage." His voice reminded me of myself not moments ago, cold and uncaring.
"One." The human began, voice steady as he opened a small digital menu on his wrist device.
"GALATHAR NOT CARE HUMAN WAR!" Came the roar again.
"Two." The human continued to count.
"FIGHT GALATHAR!" The laser fired again, and again was deflected away.
Silently the human tapped his display.
A small black orb appeared in the air beside the man, already in motion. It flew at incredible speed towards the metal monstrosity that housed the emperor of the most war-like enemy we had ever known. It penetrated the ship as if it were made from wet cardboard, and then, in a moment I will never forget, the sound of thousands of tons of steel collapsing simultaneously filled the air. The ship imploded and fell to the ground.
The channel went dead.
The human called over one of my kin to assist him and together they redirected the microphone's transmission. Thanking briefly the one who had helped him, the human then turned to the microphone fully. "Shabnar, I have the bad news that your eldest brother has died due an act of aggression. Do you, as the new leader of your race, accept an offer of peace from us, the human race?"
"Shabnar... Shabnar agree."
"Good." And then he left. I shouldn't have been surprised. He handled war after all, someone else did the peace treaty.
| 2016-05-13T09:31:34 | 2016-05-13T09:20:04 | 40 | 23 |
[WP] As an average looking genius with a weak physique you often envied athletes. After thousands of years spent in a cryogenics pod you are woken to discover that evolution has weakened humanity while IQ improved. You're now the strongest most attractive person, but also the dumbest. | "...be starting to wake up soon..."
Leon groaned. Although no sound actually came out, which was a little surprising; it was more of a raspy breath to his ears.
He had just stepped into the cryogenic pod, relieved at the prospect of waking up cancer-free, possibly with a slight hangover. He didn't recall even the faintest whisper of a dream, but his toe still hurt from where he stubbed it climbing in. Odd, he thought. He could feel some pain, but couldn't move anything or even discern which way up he was.
He tried to open his eyes.
"...like you were right, this would've been a killer in his time."
Nope. Nothing. A brief moment of panic set is as he realised the process may have paralysed him. Wait... cold. He felt cold, on his back. He was lying down.
Before he could try to open his eyes again, he felt a humming vibration between his ears. It wasn't painful, but definitely an odd sensation, like someone had taken his skull out and put it on a quick spin dry.
"... should take care of it. Ameline, set a booster and uh... oh. "
Arms. Fingers. At last. He wasn't paralysed. Moving was still out of the question - he was just about managing to breathe, but that was about it.
"He's got toxins in his blood as well. Might be a result of the cryogenic process, although I'm not sure how that would cause this ... didn't you say 21st century?"
"Mid 21st."
"Of course! Alcohol. I've read about this. Let's clear that up as well."
Leon squeezed his eyes shut, and then slowly forced them to open against the harsh light.
"Hah! Heeeellooooo old man! Howwww errr ewe? Elle oh Elle!"
The lights and shapes slowly came into focused as Leon blinked. He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at, but it appeared to be a ghostly white, upside-down face, riddled with various black metallic rings and... something else. Human, as far as he could tell. The face slowly rotated and looked at him expectantly, smiling broadly.
Leon tried to find his voice, managing only a croak and a whisper.
"... wha... water"
"Snards! Silly me... hydration!" The face continued rotating disconcertingly. Leon looked further and saw a thin, frail body encased in some sort of black frame, rotating along with the man's face. One of his arms reached out of view and came back with a transparent fabric pouch that looked like it contained water.
"Doesn't have any alcohol in it I'm afraid" he winked.
Another arm came into view, clad in the same metallic frame. Leon didn't get a chance to see it's owner, being distracted by an eight legged, black creature attempting to climb from it onto Leon's arm.
Leon managed a yelp and swiped at it weakly, sending it sailing into the air, legs flailing for something to grab. It was surprisingly light, but hard.
The rotating face turned, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, as a crunching sound signalled the creatures arrival at the wall. The face turned back to him with a mix of shock and disbelief.
"Snards!" | I used to be the smartest, if not one of the smartest. Rejected by my kind for my intellect, I had sought to escape the shallowness of society. A society that judged you by the way you looked rather than the way you thought. Simpletons, driven purely by primal desires. A vestige that we should have been long discarded.
A thousand years, I thought to myself. A thousand years was what I needed to be among my kind. A place where I truly belonged. A society of minds, not looks.
So I retreated from my fellow brethren, hidden myself in a bunker, and built myself a cryogenics pod. A thousand years of sleep, where I will finally walk among my kind. People who would truly see me for who I am, an intellectual. Not an ugly nerd.
Perhaps a thousand years may have been too much.
"Oh my dear sister, look at his legs. Those muscles and tone!" the woman opposite me shrieked. It was the first time any woman enthused over my appearance, but I did not enjoy it one bit.
I pushed her hover chair gently away. "I'm sorry, but I am here to give a talk," I said, trying to ignore the swooning 'Ooohs' and 'Ahhs' around me. This was supposed to be a scientific conference, not a Hollywood red carpet.
"Hollywood doesn't exist anymore, Mr Parker," I hear another lady's voice. She had maneuvered across the obstacle and into my path. Her giant figure, mostly head and little of others, towered over me and her hover chair was struggling to hold her in place. In fact, many of the people seemed too big for their hover chairs. I was the only human still walking on my two feet.
I must have seemed confused, because she quickly added. "Oh, if you're wondering, most of us are able to read your thoughts based on your expression."
"No, I was not thinking about that," I lied, as I pushed her hover chair out of the way too. At least the chairs were not heavy. Or it could be that I was the only man to be still using my hands. I never felt stronger before, but at the same time, never felt so different.
The crowd gave one last scream as I walked past the barrier and into the hall. Despite it being called a scientific conference, I had the nagging feeling that it was just a show. One where I was to be ogled at.
A thousand years. I must have miscalculated.
--------------------
*More tales at /r/dori_tales so do subscribe!* | 2017-08-02T23:57:26 | 2017-08-02T23:40:10 | 96 | 65 |
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts. | It's quite hard to kill a god. And believe me, they tried. Long ago, I had to watch as my followers were sacrificed in someone else's name, while my temples were defaced and the surrounding cities were razed.
My name was forgotten.
My lands were eventually reclaimed by the earth.
And I took refuge in my only remaining temple, sharing my company with a tiny stone idol of myself, sleeping the centuries away, dreaming of my once sprawling cities and devoted followers.
All at once, I felt it. Light penetrated my long-faded eyes and the sound of soft voices resonated throughout my meager home.
"Cin-dee, what are you doing?" Lisped a shrill voice.
I drifted around the corner, peeking into the antechamber for a hint of who had brought me back to the living world.
A pair of children. Their tiny toothless smiles at the center of round, chubby faces. One was a boy with close-cropped red hair and dull brown eyes. The blue shirt he wore said "Conrad" in script I did not recognize, but understood all the same.
Then there was the girl. Cindy, the boy had said. Curly brown hair and green eyes that shone brightly with stars behind them. She stood before my altar, brushing the layers of dust and dried grass to the ground. An act which, unknown to her, granted me presence in the cramped space.
"My mom says we can't eat on a dirty table. We just can't. Same goes for Mr. Dancer." She said pointing to my idol, whose long legs crossed about one another like that of a stage dancer.
"But Ms. Baker told us not to come in here. We're gonna get in trouble."
"Then go away, Conrad. That way you don't have to deal with it." Cindy said, brushing more of the debris from my altar.
Conrad flustered for a moment before settling on an answer that satisfied him "But I gotta stay so you don't get hurt." He said, using the particular brand of logic that only children understood.
Cindy, now finished with her task of cleaning my altar, turned to Conrad and held out a hand expectantly. "Gimme a piece."
"W-what?"
She tilted her head and gave a withering, you-know-what-I-mean look. She then flexed her fingers and commanded "Give it.'
Conrad flustered again for a second "B-but those are supposed to last the whole trip."
"Then give me one of the strawberry ones. I'm the only one that eats those anyhow."
They stood there for a second, Conrad trying to make his best pleading look while Cindy simply pursed her lips and tapped her foot expectantly. If they could have heard me in that instant, they would have heard only laughter.
Conrad eventually gave in and shoved a tiny wrapped candy into her waiting hand. She promptly turned around and placed the candy into the small depression on my altar which once held a gold offering plate. And just like that, I could feel again. Within my temple, the cool air and damp stones were once again mine to cherish.
She looked briefly at my idol with a toothless, cherub-like grin. "I hope you like it. Strawberry's my favorite, and I hope it's yours too." Then she turned on her heel and strode out of my home with Conrad in tow.
A few days passed, and I had savored the offering with satisfaction. A tiny offering from a tiny child to a tiny god. When what little power her gift had imbued me with faded, I would have something new to dream of. Something happy, not sad. It was more than I deserved, really.
That was, however, until I felt myself grow a bit more solid and a new location filled the space of my mind. With a hint of glee, I transported to the new location in an instant, my thoughts racing.
The room was brightly lit, filled with the gentle hum of electric lights. Brightly colored pictures, rugs, chairs, and tables littered the room. And there I saw Cindy holding up a colored pencil sketch of me before an audience of children. Children and one adult, of course.
The sketch was crude, some features of mine, such as my long and twisting legs, were exaggerated, but it was me all the same.
"This is Mr. Dancer. He lives in the house in the field."
A hand shot up. "Was he nice."
Cindy's smile grew. "He was very nice."
And so it was.
Another hand. "He looks strong."
"He is."
And so it was.
Conrad's hand shot up. "Tell them about the candy."
Cindy shot Conrad another withering look. "I gave him a piece of strawberry candy, and he said it was his most favorite thing to eat. The end."
And so it was.
The teacher, who had believed this story to be the result of a child's imagination, simply patted Cindy on the head and pinned her drawing to a cork board. Cindy then asked that a piece of Strawberry candy be pinned up with it, and so it was.
And so, with an idol and an offering, I was given a new temple. A new temple, a new name, and a new priestess to create and share my stories. Stories of a kind and powerful god who likes strawberries.
I could live with that. | Stacy squinted as an unfamiliar man entered her kindergarten classroom. She had not seen him before, but he did not give off the air of a stranger either. Somehow, she felt a connection between them.
The man had smooth black hair. He dressed like an old man but looked much younger than her father.
‘Good morning children. I am your substitute teacher, Mr Xennoavlaas, but you may address me as your god- I mean Mr Xen. Any questions?’
The class erupted into a cheer, as they always did with absent teachers.
Stacy raised her hand.
‘Ah yes,’ he said, loud enough to counteract the noise. ‘What knowledge do you seek High priestess?’
‘Um… what happened to Ms Parker?’
‘Your original instructor has been sidelined due to foreseen circumstances.’
‘I don’t really get it. And my name is Stacy.’
‘Worry not Stacy, all will be revealed soon enough. Thank you for the candy bar you left at my shrine by the way.’
‘You mean the one I left outside for good luck at recess?’
‘Yes. It has been a long time since any human procured for me something as divine as SNICKERS CREAMY PEANUT BUTTER. Such piety deserves reward.’
The classroom grew louder but Mr Xen seemed to ignore it. He simply stood at the front centre of the class, maintaining a wide smile.
Stacy turned to her friend Emma.
‘Mr Xen is reaaaaaallly weird.’
‘Yeah. Everyone knows Kit-Kat is better than Snickers,’ Emma replied.
Suddenly Stacy felt a wet spitball peck the back of her neck. She turned around angrily to see David with a straw in his mouth. Ugh! The rascal was at it again. He annoyed Stacy like this on a daily basis. David breathed in and spat another pellet but it flew towards the ceiling instead, sticking itself there. Both He and Stacy blinked in surprise before he breathed in to try again.
‘David brown isn’t it?’ Mr Xen asked.
David jumped out of his seat as Mr Xen had addressed him from behind. The students looked around confusedly. Had the substitute teacher not been at the front of the classroom seconds ago?
‘Mischievous little child aren’t you? You’re lucky. There was a time where such deeds would be disciplined through flogging.’
Stacy doubted David knew what “flogging” was but Mr Xen seemed to have intimidated greatly. David began to cry.
‘Oh don’t worry child! Despite your misdeeds you are still part of the congregation and will benefit as such. As will everyone else in this classroom. Courtesy of your High priestess.’
Stacy was about to ask Mr Xen what the deal was with this High priestess stuff when two masked men carrying guns burst into the classroom.
The class began to scream in terror but Mr Xen calmly looked at his watch.
‘Ah, right on time,’ he said.
Stacy hid under the table and covered her ears. Mr Xen was expecting them? Was he working with them?
She watched from under the table as one of the masked men pointed a gun at Mr Xen.
‘We were on the run from the cops, but lucky us found a school to make use of. If you don’t want us hurting any kids, you best cooperate.’
Mr Xen wagged a finger and tutted, then shook his head in disappointment.
‘Humans. All so full of malice and avarice. This is why I abandoned you for millennia. It seems little has changed during my slumber. You should all learn from Stacy over there.’
Stacy wanted to scream at Mr Xen. Why was he directing the scary men’s attention to her?
‘The hell you on about?’ asked the other masked man. ‘No wonder our education system’s so shit. They got crackpots like you in here.’ He pointed his gun in Stacy’s direction. ‘But as crazy as you are, you wouldn’t risk her life would you?’
Mr Xen snapped his fingers and the man’s hand twisted. He cried in pain as the gun dropped to the floor. The other masked robber clicked his pistol at Mr Xen but it refused to fire.
‘All of you are infants in my eyes. But even a being as ancient as I can see that you should learn some manners from these children.’
Mr Xen raised his hands and both masked men began levitating in the air. A portal appeared from thin air, swallowing them both. There was a silence, as all the children in the class looked at Mr Xen, speechless.
‘If there’s one thing you take away from today’s class, don’t mess with a god’s priestess. Good day children, Ms Parker should be back within the hour. Oh and…bring more Snickers next time please.’
r/IZicle | 2021-09-02T09:10:25 | 2021-09-02T08:20:20 | 2,738 | 191 |
[WP] 70 years ago, the US underestimated the power of the atomic bomb. It had completely obliterated the island nation of Japan. | "Hidden Island, this is Cloudwalker 1. Do you copy? Over."
The General looked up in surprise. He hurried over to the radio console. The report from Cloudwalker wasn't anticipated for another half hour. What could they have to report so soon?
"Cloudwalker, this is Hidden Island," the radio operator replied,"Reading you loud and clear. Over."
"Visual confirmation is acquired. I repeat visual confirmation is acquired. Target is ..." there was an odd pause and a choking sound that carried even over the tinny radio broadcast. "...t- target is gone." A curious pause ensued before the caller on the other end remembered to add, "Over."
There was a long pause. General Anders frowned and irritably snatched the microphone from the ship's radio operator. "Cloudwalker, this is Hidden Island. Command speaking. What the blue blazes kind of report do you call that, son? 'Gone' is not a damage assessment. Follow protocol. I need details, airman."
On board the scouting plane carrying the call sign Cloudwalker 1, there was mostly stunned silence. What kind of details were there to give? They and another aircraft had been sent expecting to see devastation to two particular Japanese cities. They hadn't even needed to get close to the cities. They could see the damage before they even made landfall. There was no life, no sign of civilization in sight. Then entire shoreline glowed a sullen pinkish white that seemed to flicker and crawl slowly about like a luminous plague.
In fact, until the radio operator had called in his report, the only ones on board who had said two words were those damned scientist observers, who had unhitched their seatbelts and run forward, getting in the way of each other and the copilot trying to see better through the front window.
*They* chattered with great excitement. They called it "most unexpected" --- a statement that was almost obscene in its understatement. They seemed to compete with one another to make the most observations, all the while one madly scribbling to fill a notebook while the other half blinded the pilot trying to take photographs that probably wouldn't turn out through the glare of the window. The flight crew couldn't help but wonder why would you want a photograph anyway? They wished to God they hadn't seen it in the first place.
And then the situation took an even more unexpected turn: The ocean caught fire.
That was the only way to describe it. The pinkish white glow flashed brilliantly, and the pilot began banking half blind to try and turn them away from the intensity of it. But it spread, past the island, and seemed to be setting the very water on fire. The co-pilot closed his eyes and prayed, but he couldn't drown out the chatter of the scientists.
"Deuterium in the ocean water?"
"Couldn't be refined enough to chain like that."
"Pointless to call something impossible when you're looking at it."
"Look at it spread!"
"Well sure, what's gonna stop it?"
"What, you mean..."
"Yeah. Earth's mostly ocean, right? Probably jump continent to continent before its done."
"Ha! You owe me a a dollar."
"Uh uh. You said it would burn off the atmosphere. We never said anything about the sea."
"Ah... just pay up. How long's it gonna matter now anyway?"
| Excerpt from an interview with retired Major General Robert Truscott, USMC, 1976.
ROBERT: You can’t kill the wind. That was the first thing I thought. Because, the only thing you could hear, or feel, was a heavy wind. It reminded me of what they have out on the plains, in Minnesota. It was this constant force, this one living aspect of the island.
INTERVIEWER: There was nothing else?
ROBERT: No, nothing. We looked for days and days; moving east-west up the island from Kyushu or whatever it was they used to call it. Never found a thing. Just dust.
INTERVIEWER: Interesting, because based on modern studies there were a reported seventy-one milli-
*Robert raises his hand.*
ROBERT: I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know what was in all that dust. In my nightmares, I go back there. In the dust fields. Except, I’m alone. My buddies are gone. I spend days searching for them, digging through the dust, looking through the few husks of pillboxes before I go mad and dig myself back into the Earth.
INTERVIEWER: The experience has left an impact, you’re saying.
ROBERT: (*At this point weary with the topic*) Yeah, you could say that.
*He coughs violently.*
ROBERT: *(In a hoarse mutter)* Dust.
The interviewer looks sympathetic, but moves on.
INTERVIEWER: Why don’t you tell us about the background of your expedition?
ROBERT: Sure. As we all know, the bomb was dropped in August, and that’s when the signals went out. The Enola Gay never returned home; presumed lost in the blast. Truman waited for envoys for surrender. They never came. In fact, no ships, planes, people, or letter had been seen on the island for months. Eisenhower came up with a -
*(Robert begins to cough again, before resuming)*
- plan for my expedition. Called it Operation Voyeur. Sent a division to land, in secret, across the island to perform recon and present terms of surrender to the Japanese.
And that’s when we found out. The islands were gone, replaced with the dust and rock that sits there today. At first we thought, “Japs are crafty, they’re all held up underground!” But we found nothing. No holes, no traps, no basements. The island was a ghost, and it still haunts me.
INTERVIEWER: Thank you for your time, Major General. Now, would you like to comment on the increasing tensions between the United States and the Trans-Russian Empire over the Canadian territories?
END TRANSCRIPT | 2015-08-06T14:29:31 | 2015-08-06T13:25:27 | 23 | 14 |
[WP]Youve always had the ability to form things by thinking about it. Need a knife? Boom knife in hand. Need a pencil? Boom, now youre ready to write. Simple shapes are easy, but complex things require knowing how every part works. You've spent years studying human anatomy. Now you're ready to do it | I was a *huge* hit at parties. I’m always the booze guy. Nobody knows where the booze guy gets his booze, or how he affords it, but I can tell you that Thursday night book club is *significantly* better with a pour of Springbank 1919. I’ve got a handful of fine selections for every occasion, mastered over the years. How did I do it? Simple – will enough money into existence to pay for an original bottle, memorize the flavor, and voila.
It was a nonstop party when I traveled the globe. Formal event? I’ve got a ticket. Fancy suit? Done. Perfect copy of the Mona Lisa? I sold one at a garage sale. I went on a food binge for a while too. Japanese fugu, smoked brisket, Thai pigs-blood soup - I can make it. I rode that horse for a long time, well into my thirties.
I settled down after a while, moving to Switzerland after marrying a girl I met in Venice. I would like to say we had our struggles, but honestly life was wonderful. We had everything we could ever want. Except – of course – I found out that my earlier lifestyle had rendered me infertile. The one thing I couldn’t will into being – a family.
Except that’s not true. I *could* will someone into existence, it’s just they wouldn’t survive. I experimented a few times with animals over the years. Who wouldn’t want a pet dinosaur? Or maybe just a puppy? How about a frog? A fish? An earthworm? I got the earthworm to work, I still make a few now and then for my garden. The problem with more complex life is giving them a consciousness. It all comes down to practice. Practice makes perfect.
My wife, she knows what I’m up to, and she understands. Until I succeed, each failure, it’s not human. If it was never alive, or never had a consciousness, it’s no different than making ribeye steaks to grill.
That’s what I must tell myself to keep going. Each day I make more *meat* and incinerate the failures. It’s exhausting, demoralizing, depressing.
I’ve worked through every organ, I know how all of them connect, how each of them interacts. I can replicate the neurons in the brain now, so why shouldn’t consciousness appear? I must be so close.
Then, out of nowhere, one day I *succeed*. I called him Rob, and he wasn’t perfect, but he could move and talk. Before he was tossed into the incinerator I saw a spark of hatred in his mind. I knew I was ready.
A few months later it was Christmas; snow was everywhere. My wife opened her gifts one by one – a crib, a box of diapers, a baby blanket. With tears in her eyes she embraced me.
“I’m ready now” I said, and with a flash, created our newborn son – Adam. With another flash, our newborn daughter – Eve. I don’t know if I can be a good father, after the horrible things I’ve done. I don’t know if I can provide a good life for them. But at least I can provide them with life. | I've always been alone.
I lost my parents in a tragic fire and my living relatives were all but gone from old age. As a schizophrenic I was outcasted from social circles due those episodes since foster care can't seem to provide enough pills. Yet, I was blessed with these powers, the voices in my head seem to dictate how to form them and how to bring it to life. More and more experimenting led me to conclude that I could build simple things by glancing at schematics, however things like motors required me to learn the individual parts.
I knew I could make a living off this and so I spent my highschool years making simple pencils and eventually plain basic t-shirts and selling them off at tourist spots and malls. Months go by and I spent money on treatment and medicine hoping to get a friend or fit in as they say.
I didn't get better the episodes were getting horrendous and the foster kids seemed to start bullying me even more now, eventually due to the abuse I was moved away.
In this new home I was treated a little bit better but due to my history I was seperated from the other kids. My loneliness seemed to fuel my episodes eventually the voices would make me manifest random objects and force me into out-of-body experiences. This freaked out both the children and the caretakers and led to a sort of house arrest.
They however never cut off the internet. With the huge amount of free time I was given I was determined to build her. I named her Eve in my head and invested into my schmatics. I learned how the heart muscles functioned, how the nerves conducted electricity, and how blood vessels transported nurtients. I then went on to build her immune system and went indepth adding genes that would help in strenghting her and making her "perfect." Its been four years since that dream and now I'm going to attempt it.
I built her she was perfect in every way. She had flowing white hair reaching her shoulders, jade white skin and rosy lips. Her bosum was a perfect match for her streamline-like build. The mkst stunning feature were her eyes. I wanted her eyes to reflect the night sky and so it did, hundreds of star like dots and celestial bodies revolved around her pupils making her the center of the world and mine. Her long delicate legs seemed like a fairy straight out the picture books. Yet she said nothing. I knew down in my heart she wouldn't fill the void but I dearly hoped it was possible.
I knew why. What was the answer to consciousness. | 2018-10-21T18:53:51 | 2018-10-21T18:49:35 | 324 | 12 |
[WP] “Is that a….” The nuke explodes harmlessly against the alien starships shields. “Child’s toy? Yes,” the tired alien said. They were part of a group that helped the more…dumb races of the universe develop and evolve. But this race of “humans” would soon prove rather…difficult to educate. | Like stars, explosions dotted the sky above the Human homeworld. Each one the culmination of centuries worth of scientific advancement. Yet as each one faded, payload delivered with extreme prejudice, the alien vessels continued their descent.
Aboard the largest of these vessels sat a man. A ruler, a conqueror, an enlightener. He’s been called many things by many peoples, but the Humans know him simply as Mors. *Death.*
“They’re firing fusion weaponry, sir.” Came the voice of an officer.
“Children’s toys. Continue our course.” He commanded. “They intend to eacape our lessons, to drive us away, but they will learn.”
Further and further the ships descended until they rested mere miles above the planet. For a moment the world had calmed, as the vessels hovered and weapons ceased their fire. Then a crackling filled the air and upon every screen, every monitor, every device Morz began to speak.
“Your civilization is primitive. You still squabble among yourselves, while larger threats mount against you. I’ve come to you today not for glory or enslavement. I’ve come to teach you a lesson all must learn. Know that I do not take joy in the coming conflict, that although it will hurt now you will thank me one day.”
On the ground below Mors’ ship, the city of Tokyo gazed. It began with a hum, an energy filling the air. Louder and louder it grew, all the while frenzied citizens below attempted to flee. It would be in vain.
A blinding light. Searing heat. Nothing.
The city of Tokyo had been leveled. Thirty-seven million Japanese citizens were gone.
And then, they left. Just like that. And Humanity was left to pick up the pieces.
Where could they go from here? What were they to do? Mors came to teach them of harsh reality and in doing so slaughtered millions.
So Humans did what they do best, they survived.
Once more their fleet descended upon a world, its people fighting futilely against the advanced invaders. They stopped, mere miles above the surface. The screens filled with his face, Mors, as he delivered his speech. Arrogant and prideful, he truly believed what he preached.
A hum filled the air beneath his ship. Louder and louder it grew, while citizens below attempted to flee. It would be in vain.
A blinding light. Searing pain. Nothing.
The flagship was gone. In it’s place was a new vessel, just as large but lighter in tone. It’s sleek curves a stark contrast to the hard edges of its counterpart.
The rest of Mors’ fleet scattered. Humanity had defeated it’s greatest enemy. An enemy that taught them how large the universe is, and how small they really were. An enemy that instilled within them a sense of duty. To honor the lives taken in the Tokyo Annihilation, and to protect other from sharing such grisly fate. | We wrapped up the meeting on the fancy deck of the alien ship with our version of formality in pressed suits, powdered makeup, and human servants, their group carrying ancestors’ tentacles dry-pressed to golden clarity, shellacked, held aloft. Both species had a similar formality around eye contact and antagonism.
Jasmette was being rather slow. Bitch. She had her job, like I had mine. Not a fun job, but it’s the human race and all, and we had a dinner to serve as cover and a bomb to set off. The formal group were doing their thing, we were supposed to get as deep as possible, pretend to be caterers. Her dumb ass looked me in the eye, shook her head, and walked back to the main group. Coward.
I kept going. Not like I made it far. Odd gangways with ferns and little fairy lights on trees. Then I was lost. I figured it was the loss of planet gravity, getting used to ship gravity, totally messed up my sense of place. This ship was really unnerving, it felt like a real place. Ferns seemed to look at you, trees didn’t move in any wind, but still moved.
I had the bomb, Jasmette was just supposed to mind me. Tell me when to stop or turn. I could set it off without her. I kept going, and started thinking about her head shake. I sat down hard against a tree root, carefully managing my chest- and back-strapped bomb as I settled. I looked at a fern for a while. It tilted a little towards me. That bitch might be right.
After a rest in that odd, beautiful fern-covered canyon, I went back. I didn’t tell the aliens about the suicide nuke I’d walked into their home and then walked out. We’d tried so many times to hit them from the outside. I don’t know if I was scared to die, or if I didn’t want to bring death to that pretty place. But I went back, unstrapped the pack, and started scrubbing people dishes. And listening to the conversation. I think, if anything changes after today, I’m going to listen and think more. | 2021-12-25T04:57:48 | 2021-12-24T22:22:32 | 121 | 67 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much. | If fate had her way, I wouldn’t be here.
Everyone born with the mark of their calling. Their spirit animal. A natural tattoo as large as one’s hand embedded in the skin over your heart.
Usually, the spirit animals were inherited from generation to generation. No child ever getting an animal different than their father or their mother, as a piece of their spirit lived on within their offspring. My father was a frighteningly powerful man. And my mom, from all I’ve been told, was a kind and gentle woman. Their having a bear and a dove for spirit animals meant I should be at least one of the same, and in rare cases something similar though not far off.
I’ve heard it was my mother who knew before the others, and made an escape for the mountains with my father and a trusted companion to help with the delivery to escape the Anointed. Those who decided which spirits could remain in the world. History taught us many things, among them the dangers of having the wrong spirit animals within the society. From their secluded citadel in the high forests, those sages decided who lived and who died. Oftentimes, they were right. And those who forsook their foresight rarely did so twice. For centuries, the Anointed decided the fates of fresh generations. For the sake of us all.
A strange flash of pain always bursts through my blood, when I think about the way my father described that night to me. A flash of guilt, and a bitter wish that maybe things would have been better had they listened. Had they never strayed, and saved me.
“Keep him secret,” whispered my mother Gloriel. Her name wasn’t regal, but it sounded regal all the same. Had she lived, she would have lived a queen. “Protect him until he can protect himself.”
My father never cried, but he cried ever so briefly when describing that night to me. A burst of deep sobs that he immediately buried deep back into himself. He told me everything, the night I learned what I could do in the waters. We lived in the mountains, and I never knew why, even in our isolation, I could never see the sea.
He never asked for more, but there were moments where I wondered if he felt robbed of a life of contentment by me.
These types of decisions. These defiances of fate, there are consequences. And those consequences don’t often manifest in immediate circumstance, but in some deeper day where the full scale payment of a sin evolves into something greater.
Taking these fresh steps into the ocean, with dark clouds brewing over head and a gentle sun being blinded by the storm, I realize there’s something awakening again within me that I cannot control. I’ve only done this once before, and awakened alone in a far away land with nothing but the memories of violent nightmares and the destruction of lives, accompanied by the strange thrill that I need to learn what’s taken possession of me. I can hear the tree branches creaking and snapping with the breeze. The thatched roofs coming undone, and the shattering of windows.
I take another step deeper into the sea.
It feels like that thrill in the waters was all of an eternity ago. I’m doing my best to remain lucid this time, as I anticipate the crashing of the waves.
Things shouldn’t have happened this way, but they did. If fate had her way, I wouldn’t be here standing in the ocean.
At the end of things. | On the eve of his fifteenth, just like the boys in the neighborhood before him, Sam awaited patiently in his bed as the moon rolled across the sky. It wouldn't be long until midnight came, and then his mark would be revealed, manifested upon his back – the mark of the beast, a spirit animal.
His father waited patiently beside him, his lumbering bear arms, grizzled and furry, clumsily checked his pocket watch every five minutes. His mark was impractical for every day use, but he was still very blessed that his given traits manifested in his arms – and not in more unpleasant regions. Laying against this half-man, half-bear fiend was Sam's mother, small wings of heavenly white folded across her face, and beneath them, she was in a deep slumber.
And as the minutes rolled closer to the deciding hour, Sam became more and more frenzied, excited for the prospects of what was to come. His friends at school received all manner of spirit marks, and they manifested in many different ways. Some had to be sent off to special schools to accommodate for their needs, and others rose to the top of the pecking order - in some ways, literally.
An alarm sounded to signal the coming of midnight, and at that moment, a black ooze stretched across Sam's back, spiraling out into all manner of shapes, before resembling a beast unimaginable.
A leviathan.
His father recoiled in horror upon seeing the mark, dragging his mother in short tow. He knew that in that moment he lost his son, and knew he could not save him from his oncoming fate.
With a nightmarish scream, Sam clutched at his head as tendrils burst forth from his being. A cacophony of squelches and squeals filled the air as he flailed about. His arms flattened and morphed, turning into the wingspan of a monstrous beast, and his legs morphed and became as one; a giant tail covered by scales. But as soon as it had all begun, it stopped. And Sam stood alone in the ruins of his house, now far taller than he was before, a half-monster, half-human abomination – which one would argue was more of the former than the latter.
It only took minutes for the police to arrive upon the wretched scene, and it only took seconds for Sam to eviscerate each and every one of them, all torn apart by his gaping maw – rife with a thousand teeth.
He lost his humanity and his home, and so lumbered off into the distance, in search of an ocean, in search of the place he could call his own.
For he was welcome no more.
* * *
^^/r/khaarus | 2017-11-08T05:10:58 | 2017-11-08T05:08:45 | 548 | 97 |
[WP] A married couple don't speak the same language, but love each other endlessly through their actions for each other. Eventually, one of them learns the other's language, and things aren't quite what they seemed | Everybody always asked me how we made it work.
The truth is, it was easy, for me at least. I’d never been one for words, but that was no secret. In any case, James was my first, the first I truly loved anyways, and I’m not foolish enough to forget that all my other relationships had fallen apart early due to “communication issues.”
It is amazing though how much you can say with one wave of an arm or a subtle curve of the lip. I liked to draw pictures to talk to James. Very clear, very effective to get across even the most foreign ideas. James, ever the actor, was all about his gestures though and never seemed to struggle either. I knew exactly what he wanted to say to me and how he wanted to say it - sarcastically, remorsefully - just from the form of his face and the movement of his hands. He was amazing with his hands.
But lately, it hadn’t been working. In fact, I realized my biggest fear was taking shape: it was about to end.
I knew it was a lot to ask him to uproot his whole life and move to Los Angeles but what choice did I have? I was the breadwinner, and we couldn’t stay in Kalina forever, not on my company’s dime anyways. But honestly, I knew it wasn’t a paycheck or my boss pulling me back home, it was a desperate longing in my heart for home. One that James must be feeling here every day.
Things were so easy back in Kalina. We didn’t need to try to make each other happy, we just did. There was no anger or forcefulness in my pictures, they were happy and simple. There were no constant tears in his eyes and twisted, indecipherable expressions; he was happy and readable.
There was no nagging him to find a hobby, go outside or give his new home a chance, whatever the hell that meant. If you’re thinking how any of this could be expressed in pictures, trust me, it’s hard and it involves a lot of angry scribbling. With a lot of angry colors.
I just wish he tried something, anything! I knew this wasn’t home to him, but moping around the house in silence and resignation wasn’t helping anybody. Who knows what he did when I left the house? Probably just spent all day on YouTube or WhatsApp like he did when I was home. I got him a computer, tablet, electric scooter to get around, all the cooking ingredients to make Thai, Italian, even Kalinese.
The worst part was that I could no longer read him. His gestures now seemed an act which belied what he was truly feeling. My worst fear was that what he truly felt was an urge to leave me to go back to his true home. But how could he? Not without a flight ticket that I would have to buy.
Well, it took me weeks of courage but I was about to put his fears at rest and play out mine. I was strangely calm when I drew the picture: a detailed, colored and shaded picture of an island with giant trees and coconuts and coconut sellers by its roughly paved roads - unmistakably Kalina. And on the top left of the page, an airplane descending, with a first class one way ticket stapled to its back.
He wasn’t home then, probably for the better. I didn’t want the clearly devastated look on my face to affect his choice. I didn’t want to trap him any longer.
I was about to place the picture and ticket on his desk when I came across a note, written in handwriting I had never seen before.
“Dear Alex,
Happy birthday. I have worked on this for many weeks, I hope it makes you full of joy when you read this.
I know you feel sad because you think I am sad. It is true, I am sad. But not always. I am also happy. It is hard for me to tell you all this, how I am both very happy and very sad at the same time. My hands are not as good at telling you things as I thought they are.
I want you to know I am trying, and I hope this note means I am also winning. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday I have been taking English class at the college down the street. I only have 5 classmates, and my teacher is very good, but sometimes he goes too fast. He is helping me write this right now, but this is mostly me.
Alex, I love you. Maybe you think Kalina is home and I miss home and that is why I am sad. But Kalina was never home to me. Not before you came. This is my home, and sometimes I am angry at my home, but I still love my home. Where you are will always be my home.
I hope you like this secret present. I took this class because I found another which I want you and me to take together. It is a writing class for stories for children. We will learn to tell stories with pictures and words.
Some things are too hard to say for pictures, words or hands. But I want us to be able to say anything and everything to each other.
Love,
James” |
Their song was playing. And even though she didn't know what the words had meant she certainly knew how to set up the record player. An uncle back home had one, had seemingly built his house around it.
The song filled the living room and followed her into the kitchen. And though she would have loved to be able to sign along, she settled for whistling to the melody while she prepared his dinner.
Their song. She was a part of a pair that had 'a song'. Romance in the West. How proud she had been to leave everything behind, the village, the poverty, the people and come to Am-er-i-ca. She had wasted no time in being the doleful wife. Waking up early to make sure his breakfast was hot and ready for him when he stumbled into the kitchen, his suit freshly pressed, his hat by the door.
The house was immaculate too. What a shame it would be to have so much space and not keep it clean. The plastic on the couch was cleaned daily, the carpet vigorously vacuumed and every surface dusted and polished until the rooms stood immaculate and suspended in a miasma of pledge.
Their song ended, the needled jumped and reset to the beginning and the song started again.
'Sin-a-tra.' began singing again. She knew the song now, 'A Summer Wind' and caught herself singing the opening lines before stopped herself, biting down hard on her tongue. If he walked in and caught her singing it would all be over before it began.
Potatoes were scrubbed, peeled and sliced, pot-roast eased into the oven and she surveyed the kitchen for any mess before washing her hands and settling down at the kitchen table with her sewing. The rest of the meal had been prepared early this morning.
She paused, a long moment out of the kitchen window at the now dark house of Dr. Richards. He had passed away last week, not unsurprisingly considering his advanced age but she missed him. There would be no more secret English lessons, no more punctuation drills. He had died in his sleep and the tongue and teeth that phonetically clicked and clacked around his false wooden teeth had stopped after seventy three years. But the silence had not rushed back into her life. A year of secret English lessons, all to surprise 'Husband' had given her a freedom she didn't know she had missed. As the words and sentences and phrases found place and took hold inside her head it was as if the world had started to add more colours.
She picked at the shirt and jackets on the kitchen table. Some came back torn, others came back bloodied. She hadn't understood his job at first. She understood fully now. The long telephone conversations while his fitted his massive frame in the doorway by the telephone, the long telephone line wrapped in his huge, bruised fists, slowly being pulled apart, wrapping themselves around the muscles and forearms that had first attracted her to Husband.
He had had the decency to speak in hushed tones at the start of their marriage. Even though he was certain she understood nothing he almost whispered words like 'money', 'body' and 'fingers'. but as the months had passed and her English had improved she wasn't sure if he was just more relaxed and spoke louder or her keen ears just picked up the sounds that were now recognisable as words.
The shirt she mended had torn at the exact place as last time. She could only stitch it together as she knew how and if it tore again just throw out the shirt. She had panicked at the start, him coming home, his hat askew, his knuckles bleeding. Blood was easy to wash out if you knew what you were doing. Suits and shirts could be stitched together and his knuckles healed. Husband was a big man and he loved her fawning over him, the genuine concern for him slowly becoming pantomime as the year progressed and her lexis increased. What she had thought were perhaps the odd bar fight after work (men were men wherever they were in the world it seemed) was in fact something else.
He was Shishi Zhe. It explained what he did, the odd hours, the blood. The packages that came to the house and were carefully and quietly stored in the basement behind locked doors and a false wall (she had seen one night, finding him downstairs, black out drunk and half in and our of the huge hole in the basement wall). | 2018-12-31T00:44:14 | 2018-12-30T20:03:46 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] After one’s death, the ‘creative mode’ is unlocked. You replay life, except everything goes the way you want it to. Unlimited wealth, complete domination of the world, you name it. Unknowingly, that play-through is what is used to judge whether you belong to heaven, or hell. | A save point. All Josh ever wanted was a point in time in which he could go back to, to start over, start again. He didn't want unlimited power, nor any other blessing. He simply wanted to be able to go back and do it again, but *better*.
He lived his life again, righting every wrong he'd ever done, making the correct decision time and time again. He lived a long, full life - and yet, it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
He'd start over again, and again, and again, each time with the memory of all his prior attempts, each time attempting to live the perfect life. As soon as he would make a single mistake, one simple misdeed - he would go back. Go back and do it all again.
He spent millennia in this manner, each time finding an imperfection in his life, each time forcing himself back to the start, to attempt to fix all that he proposed wrong.
Until he finally lived the perfect life. One that he could truly be proud of, without flaw or regret.
As he lay on his death bed, surrounded by all of his loved ones, something akin to a smile formed on his face; perhaps for the first time in his life.
Then, he finally allowed himself to die, after an eternity of living.
*****
"Are you happy with how you lived your life?" the angel asked, and Josh nodded.
"I am," he replied. "More than anything, I sure am."
"Good," she replied, "then come-"
"Wait," Josh replied, "I meant to say that 'I am sure'. Not 'I sure am'."
"That's okay," she said, "now please-"
"No, sorry, I messed this up," Josh continued, looking abashed, "I'll be right back."
Josh was gone in an instant.
The angel assigned to Josh sighed, making a mental note to keep the conversation as short as possible next time. She'd have to wait another 80 or so years, but perhaps she would finally be done with him then.
Though with all the time he'd made her wait, she really wished she could justify just throwing him in hell.
*****
*****
If you didn't complete hate that, consider subscribing to my subreddit: /r/CroatianSpy
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | "Happy 80th birthday to us, Mr. Gloves!" I whispered to his ears as I slowly lulled him in my thin and wrinkled arms. Mr. Gloves is my twin cat, being born on the same day I was eight decades ago, which is essentially today. Little is known why and how cats always seem to have a *twin* human, and why they also pass away the same day as their destined owner. A theory some people proposed was that they were given as gifts by gods, albeit the rules that come with them, or that the cats were actually our souls.
Weakly, I blew the candle out from the cupcake on the table next to where I was sat as I heard Mr. Gloves' soft purr. He looked at me, and my gray eyebrows furrowed at the sight of the furry creature staring right at me. "Is there anything you want to tell me, perhaps?" I asked, and he responded with a slow blink. "I guess it *is* time."
I closed the distance between my back and my rocking chair, as I did one last weak push with my right foot to send it in motion. Kissing Mr. Gloves' forehead, I reminisced about our times together, the joyous moments, and even the sorrowful bits that he helped me get over. He was there, and he never left me. *This life was good.*
-*Rest in peace, Muning and Sophie.*
(from the replies: cats get to live as long as their humans. that's all i'd wish for, ngl.
ETA: mb if it wasn't clear enough, i purposely left it out lol) | 2020-07-20T02:59:49 | 2020-07-20T02:51:13 | 838 | 127 |
[WP] Once every year, soulmates glow the same color as each other for one hour. | He tapped his cane against the stone ground, one of the few meeting places that were set up for The Event. A simple name for one of the biggest moments in some people's lives. He adjusted the large sunglasses that covered his face as he continued to tap away. Drake, his dog sauntered alongside him, panting lightly while looking around and surveying the area.
There was a countdown in the background. People radiated excitement as they all studied each other. Soon, everyone would glow the same color as their soulmate and magic would happen.
"Do you think we'll find them this year, Drake?" he asked while tilting his head down towards his dog. The dog, still panting, offered a playful bark of excitement to it's dear friend.
It had been 73 years that Jeffery had been looking for his soulmate, but every year he would always have the same problem. He had been blind his whole life and wasn't ever sure what color he himself glowed. He attempted to ask people, but they were all so engrossed with finding their own mate for that single hour of their life that no one had helped him. He hoped against all odds that he and Drake might find that one person to fill the void in his heart.
"Three!"
He adjusted his glasses once more and held his cane with both hands, the end resting in between his feet.
"Two!"
He breathed, hoping that this time someone would help him.
"One!"
Jeffery's heart was racing, maybe this year would be different? Maybe something would change and his whole life would feel less, dull. Less meaningless. He had lived a good life though. Alone, but not. He had dogs, cats, friends, family. In no way did he regret any part of the last 73 years. Only that he wished he could see. I wished he could look out to the crowds of people, looking for that hue that might lead him happiness.
There was silence suddenly. It swallowed up everything around him, all he could do was hope.
"Excuse me, could you--" Jeffery began, hearing someone to his right.
"Not now, Grandpa," came the curt response.
He kept looking forward until he heard someone to his left.
"Pardon me, but might you--"
"I'm busy, sheesh."
He kept his smile on, still looking forward. *Maybe this year would be different. Maybe she will finally come.* Drake offered a slight whimper that didn't sound encouraging but Jeffery still believed.
The hour passed with roughly the same routine as the previous years. People shoved him, greedy to find their mates. Everyone cut him off, not giving him the time of day. Shuffling around, he could hear people clammoring to meet each other. Yelling for those around them. Jeffery felt the happiness in the air and let the sounds of laughter and love fill him. He had learned to live life vicariously through the meeting he met each year. Well, not meet, but those around him that found their soulmates. And this year, sadly, was the same.
People began to leave, some sad, some happy. Jeffery waited for the area to clear so that he didn't get in anyone's way. Standing like a vigilant statue, he adjusted his glasses again, this time however, wiping the tears that had formed under his eyes as well. With a brief sniff, he finally started to walk away, Drake following eagerly along side him.
For a few moments, all he could hear is his cane tapping away, Drake panting beside him and his lonely footsteps as they connected with the sidewalk in sorrowful strides. *Maybe next year.*
That's when he heard another set of footsteps.
He paused, cane stopping, feet unmoving. Drake gave a whimper of excitement and Jeffery moved his head slightly as if trying to adjust his ears for better hearing.
The most beautiful voice, he had ever heard suddenly spoke to him. A melody of divine music it was.
"I finally found you," he heard her say. "I've always loved our shade of blue." | Before the Incident, before we began to glow, I envied my friends and their relationships. They always seemed perfect; they would know the right thing to say, the surprise dates leaving one another speechless, or the way to resolve any disagreements (usually involving an immediate surprise date.)
On December 21, 2012, as we celebrated the end of another year, four of them began to pulse different colors. Sarah, pale Sarah, began to pulse an introspective purple; Josh and Katie, deeply in love with the other, pulsed slightly off shades of neon blue. Justin, frantically trying to calm them down, was glowing an earthly green. Their interior glow slowly filled the thinnest layers of skin, giving each an ethereal, phantasmal facade. Only a few other patrons in the (nearly empty) bar began to glow. Only one couple, a middle aged couple sitting against the far wall, were glowing the same deep pink. They never took their eyes off each other, never stopped smiling. Ambulances and EMTs were called, police arrived, and the bar was emptied into the street. The couple never panicked, politely complied, and were in good cheer when they left the panicked throng. Their smiles radiated warmth; they slowly walked away, his arm around her waist, laughing softly through the falling snow. I watched their rose auras vanish, looked at my glowing friends, and understood.
I was a late bloomer, they said. I didn't start glowing around the holidays; nor was I romantic enough to start on Valentine's Day. I started mid-April the next year, around the time Justin and Sarah broke up while Josh proposed to Katie. By then, we knew what was happening.
Our Glistening, biologists hypothesized, was a new step in evolution. It was a way for our society to congregate into new, unlikely clusters. Sociologists hypothesized it would create a new dynamic; politicians approved an instant, no-faults divorce law (creatively legislated as "Human Glistening Mismatch.") Businesses capitalized on Glistening Days, some offering them as a paid holiday. Philosophers and poets waxed eloquently about meeting the loves of their lives in airports or hotel bars, before learning they were married to others and would never meet again.
As for me? When I began to glow, a silver grey reminiscent of platinum-coated pewter soldiers, I knew someone was out there. He or she was glowing the same color; we would find each other before long.
On that mercurial April day, as the chaotic scenes in Boston were shown on newscasts, I caught a glimpse of the same color glowing in a panicked mass. Justin, having known me for years, looked across our whiskeys at me.
"You're heading to Boston."
"Within a year."
"How will you find your..."
"I have no idea. But we'll know each other when we see each other. In a year, two years, maybe even ten. We'll know it."
It's been four and a half years since that day. It's been just under four since I moved to Boston... and although I haven't found her yet, something in the city keeps me grounded, keeps calling me back. It's as if my soulmate remained, knowing they would find me here.
And if not... if they moved on... we'll meet each other soon. We only have 364 days every year we gamble. | 2017-10-21T13:14:19 | 2017-10-21T12:51:56 | 171 | 32 |
[WP] As soon as people turn 18, they get the powers of the very first thing they touch. Most people touch fire, water or electricity. You try to do that too, but first you adjust your glasses out of habit.
[deleted] | At first, you think that you have doomed yourself. What powers could come from glasses? Better vision? Big deal.
Some time later, class ends, and you head outside. The sun is bright, and you instinctively reach with your hand to block it out. But, as soon as you do, the sun goes dark.
Panic ensues. Everyone around you looks around, trying to figure out what just happened. You do to, and drop your hand. But, when you do, the light returns. You slowly come to realize that, somehow, you just controlled the light of the sun. You don't understand, but you continue with your day.
Later, at night, you begin your drive home after a long day of schoolwork. Your headlights are going out. You have to get home, but you can't do so without being able to see the road. Then you remember what happened today, where you blocked out the sun. You wonder if the reverse is possible.
You were prepared for this. Prior to your birthday, you watched countless tutorials online and read numerous articles about how to control your power. Reaching out with your power to the world around you, you focus on what you feel: the light. At night, there isn't much of it, but there is some. Most bounces around, ending up being absorbed by the ground or the trees or shooting uselessly of into space. Not now, though, as you focus all the light onto the road and reflecting just the right amount into your eyes.
Suddenly, it is bright as day, at least to you. You make it home safely, wondering what else your power can do. It seems that glasses don't just improve vision, but they fundamentally control and affect the light. | When I first got my power, everyone laughed at my mistake.
But I quickly realized that this was no curse. *I can control glass.*
Think about it, our cities have so much glass in them. It's in our windows, our drinking cups, lightbulbs, and electronics. And it's mine to control.
If I wanted to harm someone, I could just shatter a window and have the shards direct towards vital veins. With the right density I should be able to mimic bullet resistant glass. With that same block, I can probably crush somebody before shredding them with that same glass. I could create a giant magnifying glass to slowly burn a city to ash, although it would probably make more sense to just rain glass.
There is so much potential in this power. And as luck would have it, the examiners incorrectly determined my power to be "the power of 20/20 vision." They underestimate my power, and thus I shall exploit that to make a name for myself. | 2020-02-18T20:33:29 | 2020-02-18T20:33:20 | 115 | 37 |
[WP] You are an assassin that hunts superheroes. You haven no powers yourself. | Every Achilles has his heel. Every Samson has his haircut. Every Superman his Kryptonite. You get the picture.
Remember Titanius? Of course you do. Among many other feats, he was the hero that killed that massive Kraken in Columbia City Harbor. He had unbreakable armored scales that covered his entire body, making him look like a shining steel statue. He foiled countless terror attempts and robberies. Of course you remember who he was. Well, I'm the reason he's dead. See, underneath all the costumes and abilities, heroes are just people like you and me. He may have had super armor, but he also had a severe peanut allergy. And let me tell you: it's pretty damn hard to stab an Epi pen through those unbreakable scales.
Villains, you see, are just like heroes: impatient. If they can't bang down a wall and throw some punches, then they don't really want any part in that. Where's the glory and adventure and thrill in digging through the old medical records of an elementary school in Madison, Wisconsin? I'm content to let those superpowered fools slug away at each other while I uncover the real key.
I've worked with *nearly* every villain in town. Most of the new ones scoff when they first meet me, and I just smile back at them. They're so confident in their abilities that they don't see the need for an "unp" like me. "Unp," of course, is the somewhat derogatory word that villains use, and heroes when no one is listening, for 'unpowered' people like myself.
Then they get in their first fight, and they get their clock cleaned. And I watch it go down on the news, and I love *every second* of it. The pompous villain then comes crawling back to me, bleeding and messy and bruised. I calmly inform him or her that the rates have now tripled, and of course they are willing to pay. Hell, I'd bet that half of the super crimes committed in Columbia City are just to pay my own steep rates. You'd think that after twenty or so rounds of this, *one* of the new guys would have the sense to accept my initial offer, but it hasn't happened yet.
I'm slowly working my way up the food chain. As I said, I've worked with *nearly* ever villain in town. Lord Poneros still refuses to hire me. Hell, he refuses to work with *anyone*. And why should he? His schemes have gone off without a hitch time and time again. No Superhero has been able to stand up to him yet; the few that are able to actually *find* him are generally killed off pretty quickly. But more and more heroes are born every day. Sooner or later, Poneros will need me and I'll be there to answer the call. I'll tell him my rates, but I won't remind him that he was the one who killed my family all those years ago. I'll keep that a secret while I work for him, discovering the fault of the many heroes that come after him. I'll bide my time patiently, watching and learning.
Heroes aren't the only ones with weaknesses. | "How are you gonna do it?" he grunted. The don was a large and gruff man of power. His office was rather plain in comparison. It rotted with a sort of bourgeoisie apathy. My job wasn't to question. My job was to kill. I am a contract killer of gifted individuals often referred to as "heroes", and my job is too damn easy.
"How am I going to do it?" I retorted, "with fire of course. Commander Ice's powers deal with cold. He wears a snowflake as an emblem. He even goes as far as to provoke your men with ice themed puns. Why their kind must keep doing this, I don't know." "Your point?" the don impatiently said. He truly could not understand such a basic simple concept. "Every hero has a weakness" I started to explain. "Most of these ignoramuses boldly and happily announce how to kill them. When they pretty much say, 'oh, here's how to kill me' just listen and do exactly that. I'll give you another example. Mr. Amazing Steel, you know he's completely invulnerable except for when he is in the presence of element 48. You've used element 48 on him, he falls on the ground like a toddler and practically cries for death. Yet somehow with a group of armed men no one shoots the completely vulnerable, and now powerless regular human being you want to kill. " "He may have slipped through our grasps but my criminal network is vast. I have legions of men willing to die" the don tried to rationalize. "No! That's entirely the point. Stop sending regular men, with just guns, no element 48 after Mr. Amazing Steel. You know his weakness just send one guy in and do a two step process. Hold out a chunk of element 48, shoot him in the face." "But-" "No buts! Just hold it out. Shoot him in the face". There was a silence. The don's pride was wounded. "Okay, so how do we stop Commander Ice?" The don was opening up. For the first time, it appeared he was listening. "Give me a squad of men we attack downtown, we take hostages, we draw him out." The don pulled out a phone, dialed, and spoke, "I need a squad of men with the best rifles money can buy". I found the words escaping my mouth before I could funnel them with professional rhetoric. "With flamethrowers you stupid fuck!"
| 2015-11-13T07:28:28 | 2015-11-13T07:19:48 | 545 | 14 |
[WP] You were mocked as "One Mana Man" because of your single mana point compared to their hundreds, even though your vastly more efficient spells are comparable to theirs. They forget that a single mana point regenerates much quicker than hundreds, and that fractional mana points are still useful. | A lone ribbon of Air, gossamer, nearly invisible and less than a single molecule in diameter extended from my finger tip. It floated almost freely in the natural currents of wind spawned by the majestic expanse of water at my back, it's graceful dance only slightly interrupted by the tiniest twitching of my hands. What most definitely did not interrupt its dance was the full platoon of soldiers in it's path.
But let's start at the beginning shall we? It takes almost no mana, even for me, to bind one object to another. How much less then, than one infinitesimal speck of air to the tiniest fraction of a fingernail, and then to add another speck of air to the end, and then another, and again, to create a chain so thin and light that the slightest heat rising from the ground keeps it aloft. A child could easily break my chain, if only there was some way to grip it. It simply passes through things, grasses, flowers, trees, stone... people. The very best part is, once the hours of castings required to build it are complete, it requires absolutely no energy to maintain. It is simply an object, like a spear or a carriage wheel or a beer cask, completely immune to the effects of the ever present dispel spell. I spent weeks creating this one, expending my meagre supply of mana again and again, coiling it gently into the force cage now at my feet. I slept fitfully, with my arm lashed to the bedpost, afraid the simple act of rolling in my sleep would result in my own senseless death, the laughter of the gods ringing in my ears.
Every generation has it's revolutionaries, it's resistance fighters, it's underground network. Every generation the mage-lords get a bit more cruel, vindictive, arrogant, and taxes increase yet again. Every generation, the youth of the nation rise up, only to be blasted down with fire and lightning, slaughtered by the Guard, their homes burned down with their families still inside after their corpses are given a public trial for treason. I wouldn't even be here, but for my Louise, sweet and innocent Lulu.
At first they were professional, but the scouts that scattered at a full run appeared to explode as the sharpest edge in existence passed through them as if they weren't even there.
[I had to get a start before I lost the idea -I'm going to edit this when I get up to put some story around the mechanics. Just can't stay awake right now brb.] | They had me cornered in an alley with nowhere to run. I guess I'll have to use that, I thought reluctantly. I reached for my hip where I kept a small flask of blue liquid and pulled it free of it's harness. You guys don't want to go any farther, I yelled. They continued to move forward with menacing smiles on their faces. I downed the bottle and immediately felt it's effects starting to take hold. The first enemy was wearing a gauntlet/brass knuckle combo and pulled a stance for his first spell as the other ran forward with his lance. The lance reached me first, I utilized a simple weight spell to leap above the user and found myself on the other side of his weapon with an energy attack incoming. I took the brunt of it, landing in the corner of the back wall and sliding to the floor. We don't want to do what, the gauntlet man asked? I looked up and gave him a smile, snapping my fingers and dropping the very gauntlet, he'd used to cast his spell on his stupid head. He fell to the ground, a baseball mit on his left hand and his brass knuckle falling to the floor. The lance-man looked stunned, no way One Mana Man, a replacement spell of that caliber would take way too much Mana for the likes of you to cast. Think again brute, I sneered. He looked afraid and came at me again, I touched the ground and rose to my feet in an instant to parry his attack with the blade at my hip. When I did so, my second spell took hold and his weapon shattered. Think carefully about continuing, I said. It could cost you your life. I saw fear in his eyes and he turned tail and ran. Worthless mages looking to score exp points on One Mana Man, I thought as I walked back into the street, leaving gauntlet man unconscious in the alley. | 2020-11-24T16:22:25 | 2020-11-24T14:23:49 | 45 | 26 |
[WP] A serial murderer who has performed 100's of inhumane experiments is caught. His research suggests he has found cures for several major diseases and won't divulge unless all charges are dropped. | I waited patiently in my cell for the judgement that -- I knew -- would be inevitable. The recent pandemic scares, the increasing panic of the boomer generation as diseases began to strike them and their childhood heroes down... the political climate was ripe for the deal that I had offered them. It would haunt them for the rest of their lives, but I would sleep well. The ends justify the means, and the horrors I had perpetuated were nothing compared to those being suffered every day, horrors that they knew I could stop.
I looked up from my cot as the lock at the door turned, and rose just as a trio of suited men walked inside. I didn't recognize them. I wasn't surprised; I expected that whoever came to make the deal would be a stranger to me, the short-sighted fools I'd been dealing with didn't have that sort of authority.
"We have some good news, Doctor," the head agent - of whatever agency he belonged to, as I noticed he was curiously absent a security badge, "They've decided to take your deal. All charges dropped in exchange for the vaccines and cures that you've developed.
I smiled a carefully neutral smile, one hand coming up to adjust my glasses. I couldn't let them assume I felt glee at 'getting away' from my crimes, after all. I took no pleasure in it. It was merely necessary.
"Excellent," I said, "The ends, gentlemen, justify the means. I was certain that reasonable people would come to this... what are you doing?"
Confusion struck as I watched one of the other men start to strip the sheets off my cot, and I looked back to the head agent for an explanation.
"Unfortunately," he continued mildly, "We also have bad news. You'll never get the chance to pass your work on to society."
The hands that gripped my arms were strong, rough as they turned me back towards my cot despite my struggles. A vantage that let me see as my sheets were twisted into what I knew was a noose.
"What-- why? This is insanity, my work would benefit the world--"
"You don't think you were the first, did you, Doctor," the head agent observed with a slow shake of his head, "We've had these cures for many years."
As I was forced up onto the cot, as the noose was slid around my neck, the last words I heard were from that damnable man.
"It's about population control, you see..." | **A televised press conference outside of city hall**
"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, my name is Sergeant Major Richards of The HPD. You've all been asked to come here because a decision has been reached regarding the now well known Dr. Sparrow's unusual request. Before I announce the decision that has been made, I'd like for you all to know that the authorities involved in making it are at the top of their fields, and various ethical advisers have been consulted in regards to its making. I was part of the team that discovered Dr. Richards in his home. I was one of the first men to see the full nature and scale of his experiments, and it was I who personally made the arrest. I was part of the committee in charge of making this decision, and consequently must deny the allegations that an unnamed government agency was responsible for reversing our initial verdict. The unethical nature of Dr. Sparrow's experiments cannot overshadow the outstanding and incredible results they have made, of which include cures & vaccines for most forms of Cancer & Diabetes, Tuberculosis, Malaria, HIV, AIDS, Lower Respiratory Infections, Cerebrovascular Disease, Cerebral Palsy, some forms of Autism, Erectile Dysfunction, Ischemic Heart Disease, and some causes of Blindness. It is for these reasons, and the committee's *re-evaluated* verdict, that our department has decided to drop all charges against Dr. Elijah Sparrow of 87 Cherokee Trail in the great city of Houston, Texas at this time. Dr. Sparrow will be meeting with medical officials at offices near Methodist Hospital downtown tomorrow to discuss future application of his findings. I strongly and sincerely encourage the public to *not* take matters into their own hands, and to *not* seek out any form of street justice, no matter how brutal or depraved. Thank you, and have a good day." | 2015-01-05T08:41:11 | 2015-01-05T07:51:38 | 77 | 16 |
[WP] As a bored immortal, you love to spend your time becoming as famous as possible, before you “die” spectacularly. You are universally hated by the Council of Immortals, who have sworn to remaining hidden and affecting history as little as possible, | I walked through the heavy oak double-doors expecting another reprimand. Truth be told, I'd grown quite used to the whole routine. For centuries, I'd delighted at drawing *the look* from the Council members' faces. Live long enough in this world, and you'll begin to spot the things that don't erode. Time wore away entire empires and crumbled civilization to dust--trust me, I'd *built* several of them. But that look, *ohhh* that look. It was one of the few constants I could hold on to.
I would always be their little problem child.
Really, they'd left me no choice.
"We do not affect the world," read their credence. "We mingle not with history."
But *how* could they expect me to just sit idly by, when there lay before me such a wondrous sandbox? As far as I saw it, it was our *duty* to be a guiding hand. Because without one, the world was just shitty piles of sand.
The Council doors swung wide, and I slung out my prepared defense. "Listen, I understand your concerns, but the assassination will have minimal--"
But the great hall stood empty. The stone walls flickered with light from their eternal hearth, yet no robed figures sat behind the judgement table. For a moment, I was bewildered. I frowned at the silence, irritation pricking my belly. "Just because I am immortal, doesn't mean I have all the time in the world," I said.
My voice echoed throughout the empty chamber.
"Blasted fools."
The doors thudded closed behind me.
I whirled on my heels.
There stood Ila, the Elder. She was holding a gun. "For what it's worth, I abstained," she said. "I'm sorry Franz. Truly."
"Ila..."
The woman shook her head feebly. She raised her gun even as I frowned.
How ironic, that it was the same make and model that I'd given Princip. "It will not kill me," I'd told the pale lad. "That's the whole point."
The world was at a tipping point, and I had finally seized the chance to steady it.
I would be killed, you see. In the middle of Sarajevo. My constituents would gasp. My blood would pour into the cobbled streets. There would be chaos at first--I always had a flair for the dramatic--but then I would rise from my motorcade, and the fighting would cease.
The world would at last see the hand that shapes it.
"You've been discharged," Ila said grimly. "May you fade into the horizon like the setting of the sun."
She shot. Something feathered stuck out of my thigh. I felt time slip from my heart, like my very breath had been sucked out of my lungs. She left me there, gasping in the great hall. Vulnerable to time like all the rest of the world.
All my laid plans had been trampled upon. They would erode into nothing, and me alongside them. I lay for some time, staring at the ceiling in misery.
At a certain point, though I laughed.
Because I could *still* shape the course of the world. No matter what they took, I still had one thing left to give. I stood up and brushed myself off. Adrenaline coursed through my veins.
On the morrow, I will be shot. I will lie in the cobbled streets in my own muck. Princip will stare at my body with wide white eyes and plead. "Come now," he might whisper. "You've made your point." Only I won't rise. I'll have faded beyond the horizon
The crowd will tear Princip to bits. Chaos will ring true, sharp as a gunshot. Its sound will spill outward from Austria. I imagine it will be heard round the world.
"Franz Ferdinand is dead!"
----------------
More stories over at r/M0zark.
*Plus*! I just started a serial about an abused princess who convinces an emotionally scarred dragon to kidnap her. If that sounds like something you'd be interested in, you can find the [first two parts here](https://www.reddit.com/r/M0Zark/comments/8hcjmi/wp_youre_a_dragon_who_enjoys_living_a_peaceful/), with part three soon to follow. Hope to see you around :)
| "So who were you this time?" Jeoff asked, peering at me from across the table.
I looked up from shoving an entire giant pretzel into my mouth without chewing and stared at him, waiting for the acids in human saliva to soften the entire thing. Then I chewed deliberately, looking back down at the stack of pretzals in front of me.
"Eh, nobody that important. Some physicist. Slipped some universal secrets into the mix."
"So are you or are you not responsible for the creation of the atom bomb?" The man said in front of me. I could tell he was from the council. It wasn't hard. We all had bright yellow eyes.
It was about the only thing that really set us apart.
"Not responsible, no." I said, licking my lips clean of salt. "Hardly even had anything to do with it."
Jeoff breathed in, then let the air hiss through his perfect teeth. Replacements. Teeth weren't up to lasting thousands of years, and there weren't any natural processes to keep them maintained. I had the same in my mouth, but it didn't stop me from eating the pretzel. "There are so many people dead, and you mean to tell this isn't your fault as president of the United states?"
"I," I said, primly, wiping my mouth of a bit of grease. "Was trying my best to stop that."
"Oh really?" he asked. "So that's why you had a string of messy affairs that damaged international appeal, weakened the economy, and directly led to an increase in brinkmanship?"
"It is the natural stance of mortals to intensify into a stalemate, not deescalate, Jeoffry," I said, grimly. "I did nothing a mortal would not do."
"So many people are dead." Jeoff repeated. "So many shadowy bodies that nobody will know about. How many did you cause?"
"I'll tell you what," I noted. "I joined the manhatten project to put a stop to it. There was no way they'd do anything useful or come up with anything useful, so I figured there had to be another immortal involved. If Necessary," I stressed that last word, "I was going to chain him to an anchor and leave him on the bottom of the ocean.
Jeoff winced. "And?"
"There wasn't any immortals there."
"There wasn't any-" Jeoff glared at me and smacked my hand away from a pretzel.
"Yeah, you heard me," I said. "and I didn't tell them anything."
"You mean to tell me..." Jeoff said, his voice low, harsh.
"Yes. I mean to tell you that the mortals figured out atomic structure... in mortal life spans," I said, standing up. I shot a look at the nigh abandoned store; this place was close to empty, nearly close to being shut down, stranded as it was in the rust belt.
"And how am I supposed to believe that?" Jeoff asked.
"They're learning faster than we are! And you know why...?" I asked, leaning over the table.
"You're a damn liar."
"They're willing to share with each other. They're not like we are, Jeoff, their willing to share their insights. They don't hoard knowledge with their perfect memories, they just tell people. They just share science with each other. Did you know that someone has come up with a nearly perfect model of group dynamics? Well, gee, I wonder what council of immortal fuckwits I could apply that to? I wonder Jeoff, if you being here means you've fallen out of favor somehow. Someone finally see how shitty your poetry is?"
Jeoff glared at me deeper. "Stop being so obstinate and return."
"I refuse."
"We will have this conversation again, Dean Martin."
"I hope you come with better arguments."
-----
https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ | 2018-05-06T07:09:00 | 2018-05-06T06:50:38 | 2,413 | 327 |
[WP] A woman has a heart attack on an airplane. The stewardess asks if there are any doctors on board. Dr. Seuss raises his hand. | "A passenger's dying on this very plane?
We *must* ensure oxygen gets to her brain!
My cat's red-striped hat can help with the task,
For inside it I carry an oxygen mask.
Thing 1: grab me pillows, I'll need two or three,
And bring me the med kit immediately!
Thing 2: tell the pilot I'm resuscitating
a passenger's heart with a rate quickly fading.
I'll also require the plane's AED,
So hurry now, quickly!, and bring them to me!"
&nbsp;
"Now stay with me miss: today you'll die not!
This aspirin should help you with any blood clot.
Horton's now going to force some air into you,
and compress your chest; thirty sets ought'a do.
Lorax stay close with the heart-shocking gear,
To jump-start the heart with a zap! on my '*CLEAR!*'
&nbsp;
Miss, drink some water - we're out of this jam,
Maybe now you'll cut back on your green eggs and ham.
But for now don't you worry - I've made sure you're stable,
as Seuss is my name: I'm the doctor most able."
| *Are you right madam, are you okay?
You need to get to the medical bay!*
"Why are you talking like that?"
*I think you need a doctor, yes you do.
I'm not really a doctor, unlucky for you.*
"You're not an actual doctor?"
*No, Seuss is my name, I am no doctor.
Zoopity boopity droop, I'm an author.*
"Are there another doctor here?"
A man in a suit rose from his seat as he directed his attention to the passenger next to him, "Rose, grab my bag." | 2015-07-02T20:42:38 | 2015-07-02T20:36:26 | 354 | 102 |
[WP] Write a story. Any story. But after 5 minutes, stop, lift your hands from your keyboard, and click the Save button.
Hopefully I gave you guys enough motivation to keep writing the novel in your heads! | The truth is, I've never been that great of a magician.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I shall reveal your card!"
The crowd gasps, amazed by my sleight of hand. I'm sweating - I have no idea if this is the right card. I lost track of it while I was supposed to be fake shuffling, and pretty much drew one at random.
"It is! It is!" An old lady in the front row starts clapping excitedly.
I grimace and give a bow, trying not to throw up.
"Thank you, thank you. Now, if you'll all indulge me, my magic energy is running low. I must away to reinforce my enchantments. Please, allow my beautiful assistant to entertain you for just one moment." The crowd applauds as a step off stage, but I'm just cringing out how stilted that sounded. Another gasp goes up as my sequin adorned backup does backflips across the stage.
"So how'd you do it?"
A young man is already back here. He offers me a bottle of water.
"With the cards? How did you do it?"
I start to rev up my magic voice, the performer, the entertainer - but I cough instead, my throat is too sore. "Honestly? Luck. I know I screwed that one up. I have no idea how I did it."
I reach up to take a sip of water. "Oh, but I do," he says.
I swallow and look down, ready to shoot him a skeptical look. But all I can see is a dusty backstage, and I'm alone with the roar of the crowd. | 'You are a wizard for heaven's sake!', the master yelled. 'Now make that table float!'
'But I can't' you whine.
'We have been over this a hundret times! Lift your wand and move it like this!'
You stare at your master, dumb folded. You have tried. Oh how you have tried! But that stupid table just won't float! It must be glued to the ground!
'There, now you do it!' The master says gleaming over you.
Hopeless you lift your wand. It is half covered under the sleeve of your too big coat. You give a hopeless sigh, then you focus on that damned table and swing your wand. You stare at the table. Nothing. That stupid piece of wood has not moved. All four legs still solid on the ground. Suddenly you hear a thumb over your from above. You look uo and take sharp inhale: there is your professor floating under the ceiling. His head red with anger. | 2015-10-28T10:11:35 | 2015-10-28T07:22:08 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] Help a teenager get over his girlfriend cheating on him using the writing style of Dr. Seuss
Enjoy! | A cheater? Don't need her - no, not anymore:
she's a skeezer, a teaser, a wut and a slore!
Her breath stank and stunk! Her heart, it was hollow!
Her promises shrank and she never swallowed!
You'll teach her, that creature, impeach that skeet cheater
Her teats were no treat; defeat, obsolete her!
You'll bleach her and scrub your brains out with salt water.
She was never as hot as you thought when you caught 'er.
O listen to me, soon you'll see that the fishes
out in the C-cups will fulfill all your wishes!
The dishes of Tricias and Destinies too
are out there to see and to taste and to screw.
Don't be beaten by cheatin'! Don't piffle and pout!
Get your cock out and rock out! Make some bimbo shout!
There are much better girls in the world with their curves on,
get your camera-phone ready and go get your swerves on! | Look around you my boy, don't be so darn sad;
You still have friends and family, your life isn't so bad!
That girlfriend of yours just wasn't for you;
She's the type who wants to put stuff where she poo's!
So get up, smile and get out in the world;
And someday you'll find your perfect hot girl. | 2014-08-18T15:45:06 | 2014-08-18T15:18:18 | 83 | 14 |
[WP] In order to get a shot at going to Valhalla, you must die with a weapon in your hands. You just died and are now sitting in front of Odin's advisory board as they discuss whether a spatula actually counts. | Odin leaned forward in his gilded throne, his single eye judging the young man who stood before him.
"What do you make of this, mortal?" Odin asked looking to his left and right, down the line of gods.
Thor scoffed, "This pathetic creature is no warrior! Look at his frail limbs and tiny body. How many frost giants have you slain?"
"Uh, none," the young man stammered out.
"How many of your foes have you deceived in order to turn the tide of war?" Loki asked behind steepled fingers.
"I don't really like lying," the young man answered.
"And what of that weapon in your hand? How many lives has that taken? How many trophies have you carved from the bodies of the fallen?"
"Well it doesn't really do any of that."
"Does it have any mystical properties? Perhaps it returns when you throw it?" Thor asked caressing his hammer.
The young man shook his head no.
"Then why are you here? What can you possibly do to earn your place here among the greatest heroes of all time?"
The young man thought for a moment and hefted the metal spatula.
"It does have a power. Something that very few things can possess," he paused and met the eyes of the gods sitting in front of him.
"It has the power to slay hunger!" he roared and thrust the spatula into the air.
Odin slammed his hands down on the table, thunder tore through the chamber shaking the young man violently. A small smile spread across his lips and his chest began to heave. Laughter bubbled up from inside of Odin and he found himself gripping his sides trying to contain his laughter. He wiped away a lone tear that streaked down his wrinkled cheek.
"Ah, my boy. It has been too long since I have laughed like that. It brings me great pleasure," he paused stifling another bout of laughter, "To banish you to Hel."
The floor beneath the young man's feet vanished sending him plummeting through darkness to Hel waiting below.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
| "Come on, Odin, it's a *Spatula!*"
"Well, he *did* kill 3 people with it."
"By spreading antibiotic resistant *e.coli*."
"I mean, Jensbjordnik The Great II threw a bunch of smallpox corpses into a castle with a trebuchet that one time...and that counted"
"Yeah..." said Jensbjordnik The Great II "...That *was* pretty cool."
"But a trebuchet is a weapon!"
"And a spatula isn't?"
"Tell you what-" said Odin "Njord here will go to the Earth, *armed with only a spatula*, and, over the course of 1 hour, attempt to wage war with it. We shall see then, if it is truly a weapon."
"Very well. In one hour, we shall see."
Shortly before noon, what appeared to be a tall, blonde, and relatively attractive man walked into a library and checked out a civics textbook.
One hour later, United States President Donald J. Trump, Vice President Mike Pence, Speaker of the house ~~John Boehner~~ Paul Ryan, and numerous other minor politicians, had all died of spatula-induced wounds to the head, and the USA, now in a power vacuum, was teetering on the edge of civil war.
&nbsp;
EDIT: Apparently I Googled "current speaker of the house" wrong. | 2022-04-10T19:23:46 | 2018-03-26T13:08:10 | 393 | 20 |
[WP] You’re a fresh zombie. It’s not like you expected. For one thing, you feel great. Secondly, while you can’t talk, you’re telepathically communicating with the others and they’re all REALLY cool. Thirdly, you all feel a deep and profound sense of joy—a joy you all want to share with the living. | “You didn’t even get on your knees to propose,” she said. “You just stood there.”
“I wanted to be different. Isn’t that why you love me?”
She laughed, and kissed me. “Maybe. I love you and I trust you completely.”
“I love you too.”
She pulled back a little bit. “But do you trust me?” She needed assurance like this sometimes, as we all do.
“I do…but isn’t trust just a bet that things won’t go wrong? That things will work out, until your bet goes wrong? I don’t know. I'll always bet on you, but I don't know what I'll do if…”
“I know what you mean. So we should make a sign.”
“A sign?”
“A sign that if one of us really, desperately needs the other’s trust, we’ll give it to them.”“Like a safe word?”
“Maybe. I was thinking more like a gesture.”
“What do you have in mind?”
\-
I couldn’t even think about what to say to her when I got to her. All I wanted to do was get to her, and then things would magically figure themselves out. Isn’t that what love was?
My mind filled with excitement, something my new friends echoed in their thoughts. *Just get to her. Love is worth it!* All the fear, the worry, the nervousness, all that was gone.
How could life as a human have been so…utterly wrong? So filled with nuisances and neuroses that did nothing to help?
So I looked, everywhere I could. I fought off and ran away from desperate rebels, and trawled through the entire southern part of the state.
Finally, I saw her, in a camp on the outskirts of the forest.
I waited until she took a walk into the woods, to relieve herself, and walked up to her.
*I love you,* I desperately tried to convey to her.
She looks at me, and in her eyes only fear appears, where there was once love and joy. I can’t register this, can no longer fully feel the pain I need to. I just feel confusion, and try to tell her I love her again.
She screams, and runs.
\-
I’ve followed her for weeks now. This is my last hope. I do not fully understand why or how, but if this doesn’t work, I will have to find another way to be happy. Without her.
This time, she takes a walk to the top of a hill where they are staying, and looks out. A small smile curls her lips, and I am happy, at least, that she can still smile.
I walk up to her, and put my arms out, as much as I can. I try not to think about how stupid I must look, my arms out and about to fall off, my mouth open and tongue hanging out.
I kneel down, and look into her eyes. I hold my hands out.
For a second, nothing happens. Then…
Recognition. She looks at my hands, and sees the ring. Then, she looks at me for a long time.
She holds out her own hand, shaking. I take it slowly, and bite into it as softly as I can.
We stare into our eyes, and nothing happens for a long time.
*I love you.* The thought fills my head, fully, startlingly, and I look up, and I see her start to transform. I stand up, and tell her I love her and trust her too.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | You know, my human life sucked. A boring job, dull social life, weak physique and all that made being human the worst thing for me. Even as a child, I had no friends, except for Layla. She ended up being my dearest and most valuable friend, the poor soul. My wife, too. We loved each other, and while I hated life as it was, I survived for her.
She was this always-cheery type of human. She loved living, and she loved me. Layla loved to tell me how much she valued everything in the world, from the smaller insects to the greatest mountains. Everything. She didn't stop loving the world, even when she was hospitalized. The doctors told me she would only live for two weeks. That was a week ago, before the outbreak.
When the television first showed the "zombies", everyone was sceptical. Movie companies liked to advertise their new blockbusters by showing fake news detailing whatever crackpot disaster they made up. Supertornados, alien invasion, nuclear bombings... and zombie apocalypse. Then, the first real reports came and the government started quarantining the big hotspots of the infection. Surprisingly, humanity handled it quite well, except for those that got stuck behind the border walls of the quarantine zones.
When I was bit, I must say, I thought I will die. My conscious slipping away, giving space to a new one hungry for human flesh. Instead, I got something better.
You see, a zombie can run hundreds of miles without stop. Even those stupid government pamphlets said that running from an "infected" is useless, because humans get tired - and we do not. The only way is to use a fast vehicle, and sometimes even that fails to meet expectations.
Zombies move in hordes - also detailed by the pamphlet. Those can range from consisting 10 to 1000 infected, with one seemingly leading the participants through some kind of nonverbal communication system. Let me tell you the truth: it is a psychic connection. When you get bitten, your brain explodes with millions of voices; some louder, some clearer than others. Those louder voices are "controllers", and they coordinate a horde's moves.
Something that the pamphlet doesn't tell you is the fact that zombies do not forget and are immune to any and all existing biological or chemical weapon. Cancer, AIDS, you name it - those don't work anymore. The human who has been bit is seemingly cured fully of any affliction it had before the bite.
Fortunately for me, I am a controller. The others listen to me. We all rejoice this new life, these new forms given to us, and we want to share it with others. We want to show them that this is not some horrendous plague, but the new step of evolution for the human race.
We want to save them. The sick, the poor, the helpless. I want to save Layla.
And the clock is ticking. | 2019-06-17T00:07:26 | 2019-06-16T22:24:33 | 1,861 | 107 |
[WP] During a bank heist gone wrong, you ended up taking a stray shotgun slug through your heart. That was 20 minutes ago, and the fact that you haven’t died yet is as concerning to you as it is to everyone else around you. | I felt the slug make impact, penetrate my chest, and embed itself deep within my heart. I felt my legs give out, unresponsive to my pleas to run. As I fell to the ground, I had but one thought: *Who’s the self-aggrandizing drama queen NOW Karen?*
In those seconds, my life flashed before my eyes. Well, some parts did... One part in particular, really. It’s not like I was fixated on it or anything, but damn, Karen’s words had hurt (though not quite as bad as getting shot hurts). We’d had a fight about something stupid earlier that day and she just unloaded on me (though not quite in the same way as the bank robber unloaded on me). I just told her point blank (though not quite as point blank as... well, you get the idea) that what she said was the single most offensive thing anyone in the history of the world had said to anyone else.
I heard Karen scream as I fell to the ground. It would’ve been satisfying had I not been super mortally wounded.
“John!” She cried, kneeling beside me. She touched my chest. I winced. As she pulled her hand away I saw my life’s blood painting her fingers.
I tried stretching a hand to touch her cheek, but my body wouldn’t respond. I could tell I had only seconds left. “I… love…” was all I had strength to say.
I let my eyes close, ready to embrace the Reaper.
But he didn’t come. I just lay there for a few seconds, fully conscious of the world around me and Karen’s shrieks of anguish.
I gave it another thirty seconds or so, but still nothing. I’m not saying I felt good, but I didn’t quite feel dead yet. Maybe I was a ghost?
I opened an eye.
“Look! He’s moving!” someone yelled.
Okay definitely not a ghost. I opened both eyes.
“John!”
I beckoned Karen in close with what little strength I had, then whispered in her ear: “*I wasn’t about to leave without telling you how much I love you, babe.*”
She embraced me.
“Ow!” I yelled. “Jesus, Karen watch the damn bullet hole!”
“The paramedics!” Somebody else yelled. “Make way!”
The next moment an EMT was kneeling beside me tearing open my shirt. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said touching my chest.
My bullet-ridden heart skipped a beat. What if I was immortal? I’d always noticed I had fast recovery times, and really hadn’t felt myself age in the last two years. The more I thought about it the more it made perfect—
The EMT held her hand up. “Paint!” she said beaming. “Son, you got shot by a paintball gun.”
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | “You’re still bleeding a lot.” said Blinks.
I looked down at my blood-soaked shirt. Streams of blood still pulsed out of my wound to the rhythm of my heartbeat. “God dammit, I’m gonna bleed out. Somebody do something!”
Meds brought a steamed towel from the bathroom. “Brace yourself,” he said. “This is gonna hurt.”
He then pressed the hot fabric into my wound and began cleaning it out. It was like a million stinging insects burrowing into my flesh. Meds looked up at me for a reaction, but I held. As he cleaned deeper, however, it was more than just the pain. It was the scraping of the terry cloth on my organs, my muscles, even my bones.
At last I let out a single roar of pain. Everyone jolted, their bodies instinctively trying to do something but being too scared to know what.
Even Meds was taken a little aback. “I think some of that air came out of your chest.”
“Not important, Meds!” I shouted. “Just get on with it!”
Meds sighed. “That’s probably the best I can do with hotel supplies. We gotta get you back to the hideout.”
“Alright.” I tried to maintain a demeanor of command, but I was really too exhausted to argue about what we should do next. “Blinks, get the car.”
Blinks got up, but before he could reach the door, Marty burst in.
“Boss!” cried Marty. “Are you ok!?”
“I’m fine. I think.”
Meds was in the process of wrapping a clean towel around my chest. The bleeding seemed to have slowed, but I could still feel the warm dampness of my blood soaking into the improvised bandage.
“I heard a scream,” continued Marty. “everyone heard it. We gotta get out of here.”
“Blinks! I told you to get the goddamn car!” Blinks bolted at my command. “Marty, help Meds clean this shit up.”
“There’s no way.” said Meds. “This place is crawling with evidence now. We just gotta make a run for it.”
Gunshots.
“Blinks!” I shouted.
“We gotta go.” Marty said desperately. “Fire exit.” | 2021-05-22T06:34:00 | 2021-05-22T06:31:48 | 305 | 25 |
[WP] "Mom, i'm telling you. A green man came out of my closet and did a standup comedy routine."
[deleted] | *\*edit, spelling\**
Susan sighed and patted Jacob on the head. “Sounds like you had a nightmare, sweetie.” She pulled him in for a tight hug. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
As they walked back towards Jacob’s bedroom, Jacob shook his head. “No mom, it was real. I saw him!” Jacob’s tone whined as Susan gently pressed her hand against his shoulder, leading him back to bed. Jacob climbed under the covers, but continued, “It wasn’t scary or anything. It was just, weird. I pinched myself and everything, I was awake.”
Susan sighed in resignation and decided to entertain the fancy, at least enough to get Jacob back to bed. Tomorrow was a school day and they both needed sleep. “I will look around for any signs of a green man, will that help?”
“Yes, please.”
Susan turned and began a performative search of the room. She glanced at the closet, not really looking at it. Before she had finished turning her head back to face her son, she noticed something just out of her field of view. She turned back and noticed the splotch of green paint on one of her son’s t-shirts. A sudden stab of fear rendered her breathless. She poked her head into the closet, looking for clues. A faint whiff of men’s cologne flitted across her nostrils. Her chest tightened and her knees almost buckled beneath her.
“Jacob,”
“Yes, mom?”
“Get your shoes on. We’re going to Aunt Carol’s place.” Jacob paled but proceeded to do as told without protest. Susan made sure he didn’t leave her line of sight. She grabbed an overnight bag in one hand and her phone in the other. She checked the news and then saw what she had feared. A breakout at the nearby state penitentiary, five inmates at large. She bundled up Jacob and some clothes for each for them, enough to wear for a few days. She tossed a few other necessities into her bag and rushed towards the front door with Jacob. The door wouldn’t budge. And then it all went black.
“And what’s the deal with airplane food?” A voice crooned in the darkness. | It was the middle of the night and all I heard was this eerie cackling. I jumped out of bed, my heart racing, and hurried down the hallway to find my 12 year-old son in his room, laughing uncontrollably and staring at the wall. I was relieved to find him safe, though I was concerned about the source of his laughter. He said a green man had come out of his closet and was doing a stand-up comedy routine.
At first, I thought it was a childish dream- something he and his friends had concocted during recess. But as the weeks passed, his delusions seemed to grow more vivid. He would tell me about the same green man every day, and I began to worry he was developing some kind of mental illness.
I took him to see a therapist who told me my son was suffering from a rare form of dissociative identity disorder. He said the green man was an alternate personality my son had created to help him cope with some traumatic issues in his childhood.
I was relieved to know the green man wasn't real, but I realized what this meant. My son had a dark secret- something so painful, so terrible that he could only express it with a figment of his imagination.
The secret weighs heavily on me to this day. I can only hope that in time, the green man will fade and my son will be able to confront his inner demons. Until then, all I can do is be there for him, no matter how dark the road ahead gets. | 2022-11-30T17:55:59 | 2022-11-30T17:36:32 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] A band of human raiders invades a planet of fragile, weak, slow aliens. Since humans are practically superbeings by comparison, the raiders expect the conquest to be easy. However, they didn’t know the planet has a league of superheroes.
[deleted] | The band of humans had already looted a village and were approaching the second, when the league drifted in on their Dirigible of Defense. They observed that the group approaching them was probably a scouting party. Five men in stained clothing carrying strange weapons were spread out and approaching the village, the League of People Who have Extraordinary Abilities and Stuff, known as LOPWHEAS observed. The heroes descended the dirigible landing tower and formed up at its base.
"Super Fast Guy! Run ahead and engage the enemy!" Captain Always Yelling ordered.
Super Fast Guy in his special speed suit charged the leading human. The human watched as Super Fast guy approached him. Super Fast Guy's ostentatious suit glittered in the planet's Sun as he finally closed the distance. The human sidestepped Super Fast Guy, grabbed him around the waist, and gently but firmly restrained him. He signaled the other men and placed a strobing beacon on Super Fast Guy.
"Oh no! They captured Super Fast Guy!" Super Smart Scientist in a Robot Suit stated.
"Alright heroes! Time to go full force! Tough Man you and Super Scientist in a Robot Suit, take the two largest humans on the left! Attractive Woman Acrobat and Super Strong Woman and I will take the guy in the center! Animal Themed Man use your various animal abilities to confuse the two on the right, while Archaic Weaponry Man and Master of Matchlocks each take one! Alright team! LOPWHEAS HO!" Captain Always Yelling yelled yellingly.
The humans had gained ground too quickly and the LOPWHEAS group had little time to attack. On the left Tough Man in his dark attire charged one human. His muscles bared he tried to grapple the smallest human, hoping his innate toughness would protect him. The women dropped him with an under powered jag to the face, she quickly secured him and turned on the locator beacon that was coupled to the restraints.
Super Scientist in a Robot Suit menacingly trudged towards the largest human. His suit ponderously swung its arms connecting with the humans chest. He was knocked back almost a foot, surprising both him and Super Scientist. Unfortunately for Super Scientist the engine overloaded and ruptured. The robot's safety system engaged dropping Super Scientist safely to the ground and venting the excess energy upwards. Super Scientist didn't even get the chance to get up before he was restrained.
Animal Themed Man charged forward drawing the attention of both people on the right. He pounced using his hand claws and feet talons on the largest of the two on the right. His weapons did no damage to the woman and she was trying to remove him when Archaic Weaponry Man's sword pierced her leg armor and dug into her thigh creating a shallow wound. The woman bellowed and elbowed Archaic Weaponry Man in the head dropping him unconscious before gently removing Animal Themed Man who was gnawing on her arm guard before restraining them both.
Master of Matchlocks fired when he was close enough, the round impacted he human's armor making him wince in pain. He raised a boxy weapon and fired out two small barbs that punctured Master of Matchlocks light armor and penetrated his skin. A bolt of electricity traveled down the wires attached to the projectiles causing Master of Matchlocks to fire the two pistols he had drawn before he passed out and was restrained.
Attractive Woman Acrobat and Super Strong approached the man in the center. Attractive Woman Acrobat tried to sexily distract the man while flipping sexily into combat. The man just cocked his head and tapped her in the head, knocking her unconscious. Super Strong Woman had managed to close and engaged the man. She punched him which hurt and then grabbed him. The man struggled against Super Strong Woman's strength ending with neither combatant being able to break the deadlock. Captain Always Yelling yelled as he he threw his stun stars at the man. They bounced off the man's armor harmlessly as the man struggled against Super Strong Woman. Captain Always Yelling drew his staff and charged in yelling and then began pounding on the man's helmet. After many whaps he managed to dislodge it. The man finally escaped Super Strong Woman's grasp and turned and punched Captain Always Yelling in the mouth. Captain Always Yelling managed a final yell before passing out. Super strong Woman managed to grab the staff lying on the ground and whacked the man over his unhelmeted head knocking him unconscious with a groan. She turned just in time to be hit by tazers from the four amused members of the human party. Super Strong Woman and Captain Always Yelling were restrained as a small craft dropped down from orbit. They were cartied on board and the ship took off taking the defeated LOPWHEAS off to parts unknown. | "Our scouts say their BMI is somewhere around 13 for the global average. If I see any one of you letting up when they are begging for life, I'll personally gut you like a dog," Commander Rike said. His soldiers were situated around him, a group of ragged looking warriors equipped with what was state of the art technology from when they left. But that was twenty years ago.
The fire that had burned in these soldiers was long put out. The beer bellies got a bit more pronounced every year, and though he never told told anyone, Rike kind of enjoyed the relaxed code. There wasn't anyone to say no when you're thirty million miles away from earth.
The group milled about, slowly walking back and forth trying to find their too-small weapon belt they'd misplaced or the bullet vests that weant to mid chest.
"We'll be deployed down in fifteen minutes. Sort yourselves and prepare for launch." Rike walked off the impromptu platform that once stored guns. Fact was, there wasn't much need for artilery at the planets they had been to in the past, and now that he thought about it, it'd make a great place to store some cold ones for the boys.
The intercom buzzed to life. "Beaming in sixty seconds." Only a few *individuals* (read: mistakes) were left fumbling at some lost sense of urgency. The rest had fastened in to their chairs which would eject with rockets strapped to the underside.
"Launch in five, four, three, two, o—" the sound was drowned out by the sudden rushing of air and acceleration.
*There was nothing quite like it,* Marcus thought. He had been one of the only one's to stick to his diet and workouts mandated by the United States Government some ought thirty years. The methods were archaic, he knew, but the routine was hard to break.
"Come on you pasty children!" Commander Rike yelled as the soldiers unstrapped themselves from the chairs now resting on the foreign planets. A crowd of natives looked on, scrawny as an anorexic parakeet (but not so much as its tertiary counterpart, the raccoon.)
Immediately the battle broke out. There were thrown bodies and ricocheting limbs as the soldiers tapped into their dormant savagery. The crowd thinned as the malnourished aliens took off, their grey, flat rears *not* bouncing as they ran. *A shame,* Marcus thought. It'd been a while since he'd seen a nice rotund rear.
The battle ended soon enough as Rike held up his fist to signal pause. In the distant green air, five specks were flying towards them. Every soldier squinted into the distance till the dots turned humanoid. The alien life landed in front of them, ripped from what look like a combination of P90X and a monthly subscription to Planet Fitness, the types of people to be on the cover of magazines and later be found to be dopers (R.I.P Lance.)
"What do you accomplish by slaying this planet's innocents?" their leader boomed out. He was a large black man, reminiscent of Terry Crews Marcus thought cracking a smile. "You laughing at me, boy?"
"No, yeah, sort of. It's just, I bet you have a small peepee," Marcus said. It was true. There was barely a bulge in the man's pants.
"What the fuck did you just write? I mean say," the man said back, accidentally slipping into a metaphysical reality where he was both the author and character, the only difference being the author had a well proportioned peepee.
"You heard me, super attractive and down to earth guy who is also the author of this story. Is this a bad representation on what otherwise could have been a decent story?" Marcus yelled at the sky above, asking for an answer.
"Yes, maybe," a deep voice replied from the heavens (also me.)
"At least he's honest," Marcus said to the black man.
"Yeah, he's great."
| 2017-08-03T17:22:48 | 2017-08-03T16:57:17 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had. | I turn 140 years old in 3 minutes. You'd think it would be a happy day for me, but it just reminds me of my loss. My kids have long since passed away and even most of their kids no longer remain. Yet here I sit, still alive despite years of drinking cheap scotch daily and having the occasional cigar.
Two minutes now. The world had changed so much since 1878 when I was born. I remember basketball just being invented as a child, I recall with clarity going to the first World Series in my 20s, and I remember dozens of wars and thousands of acquaintances who died in them. A lot has changed.
Less than 60 seconds now. I wonder how long I'll make it. I'm halfway through my "birthday bottle" of Scotch - a 20 year highland from my favorite great grandson - and plan to polish the rest of soon. Maybe this will finally finish me. I want to... What? There's a ringing in my ears. It's all I can hear. Is that the graduation march? What...
Suddenly my vision is filled by a translucent screen. It says, "Congratulations! You have completed "Human" level. Would you like to progress to Dolphin?"
There appear to be two buttons below. One red and one green. I reach towards the green button and my world goes black. I'm lost. I must have finally let dimensia catch up to me. This is what crazy - SPLASH!
I'm surrounded by wetness. And knowledge. So much knowledge. I smile as well as my new body will let me. This is going to be fun! | Everyone could never wait to unlock a new skill, wishing for anything from being able to create money from thin air to flying through the skies like a bird.
The most famous skill ever found however was the power to appraise skills, a shocking discovery was made through that skill however... there seems to be no new unique skills being unlocked... till now im 200 years old now, it was discovered i was the first ever to have the imortality skill meaning i couldnt die, made major headlines around the world when it was first discovered, but suddenly became more common after.
But today after lazing around for an hour thinking of what to spend the rest of the day doing... i got the feeling i havent felt in a long time, a new skill was unlocked. So i figured going to the appraiser would be a great way to spend the rest of the day, 30 minutes later i arrived and got appraised most shocking thing ever was what the skill was, i even had to make sure she double checked it... seems like the new skill i unlocked was "Common sense" | 2018-06-23T12:10:29 | 2018-06-23T10:03:06 | 153 | 100 |
[WP] You are a Squib who mastered a vast repertoire of Muggle magic tricks to finagle Hogwarts into sending you a letter. Everything goes smoothly, until it is time for the Sorting Ceremony... | This was it. Time to see how far my charade could get me. Time to see how insightful this old, dusty hat really was. *Dusty, hmm? You could use some scrubbing behind the ears yourself, young mister!* I stared straight ahead, head held high, trying to look aloof. *You are quite hard-working, you know, in your own way. All this training, and the planning... Hmm... And there is cunning too, no doubt about that.* Whatever. It almost felt like the floppy brim curved up into a smirk. *Oh yes... and loyalty too, even though you try to hide it, hmmmm?*
Old Batty-Hatty really is clueless. *Alright, young mister, I know about your "deceit". You do not quite know yourself yet, what you are, but you are right. You are no true wizard... Hmmmm...* People were craning their necks to get a good look at the boy who made the hat pause. The last few Sortings had gone by so quickly, only to halt with me. *You know, it is not for me to decide who is and isn't a student, young Mr. Peeves. You have been accepted, and I will sort you where I believe you will learn the most.*
**Hufflepuff!** | As the hat was placed upon me, a cold dread overcame my entire body. And this time it wasn't a senior prankster from Slytherin. As the hat wiggled around my head, the halls were dead silent. Something was obviously wrong. The hat had never taken this long to make a decision. Dumbledore sat at his chair, mildly amused. It was almost as if he had known all along. Then I heard Dumbledore mutter a few words under his breath, and then the hat expanded to a massive size. I couldn't breath and the hat had completely swallowed me. I tried screaming, but no one would hear me. The last thing I remembered was everyone laughing in the halls. | 2017-06-25T15:16:10 | 2017-06-25T13:48:53 | 63 | 33 |
[WP] Aliens have finally discovered Earth - but they're not hostile. They've tasted human food, and they think it's so astonishingly good that Earth is becoming an alien tourist hotspot. | Taking this prompt in a slightly different direction. Hope that's okay.
---
After what felt like a twenty-four-hour flight, the spaceplane finally landed at the spaceport on Cercyon. As soon as the seatbelt light went off, I stood up and stretched my legs before making my way off the plane. Once I had collected my baggage, I made my way to the terminal, where I saw a magenta-skinned man wearing a silver cloak over his green button-up shirt and teal slacks.
"Hello, William!" he said, waving at me.
"Klyto!" I said, "Good to see you, man."
I walked over to Klyto, and he handed me a similar cloak to his and gestured to the elevator door.
"Come," he said, "my vehicle is this way. Would you like to go straight to my place, or is there any place you might like to stop along the path?"
"Well, I am kind of hungry. Do you think we could grab lunch or something?"
"Of course, William!"
The elevator door opened and we stepped inside. He pushed the button marked "Parking", and the car descended.
Klyto drove me into the city of Euthenia in something that vaguely resembled a car. It had three wheels: one in back, and two in front that pivoted in front of the canopy to steer as he tilted the lever in front of him.
"You're probably not familiar with the food around here." Klyto said, "Terran food is very popular around here, so there are a few restaurants you can choose from. Or if you'd be interested in something new, I might suggest you try some nacior. I hear it's a popular starter for humans."
"I think I'd rather go for something Terran. Do you have burgers around here?"
"As a matter of fact, we do. Just a couple blocks down, would you like that?"
"Yes, please!"
Klyto continued to drive straight down the road, then turned into the driveway of a building with a sign on it written in Aglaean characters. The only text I could read were the words "BURGER" and "FRIES" written vertically on either side.
"'Flip and Fry', I believe is a good translation." Klyto said, "Come, let's go inside."
The decor should've been my first clue that this was not a burger joint like the ones on Earth.
It seemed to be going for an old-school diner aesthetic, but there were no stools at the bar, and the tables all had padded benches even if they weren't in a booth. Regardless, Klyto and I walked up to the counter, where a human woman stood behind a strange device that I guessed was their version of a cash register.
"What would you like?" Klyto asked me.
"Just a couple regular cheeseburgers and a small fry."
"Ah. I'll have a twenty-piece box of nuggets."
"Any drinks?" the cashier asked.
"Do you have any cola?" I asked in turn.
"Yeah, we have Coca-Cola."
"I'll have a large Coke then."
"Make that two." Klyto said.
The lady said something I couldn't understand, and Klyto handed her some coins.
"Your food will be ready in just a couple minutes." she said.
After a couple minutes, a tray of food was handed to Klyto, and we made our way to a table. I unwrapped my first burger, and nearly dropped it when I saw it. Instead of a split bun, it looked like it was in a pita pocket, coated on all sides in what looked like sesame seeds. The patty was yellow, with a disk of green cheese on the top. Orange leaves poked out from inside the bun, and he could see thin purple disks peeking out.
"What is this?" I asked.
"It's a burger, isn't it?" Klyto said.
"I've never had a yellow burger before."
"Well, it's made from phoron, topped with cheese made from mardji milk."
"That's not right. It's supposed to be made of beef, and the cheese is supposed to be made of cow's cheese. And are these supposed to be pickles?"
"They are pickles. Pickled olacos."
"What's an olaco? What happened to cucumbers?"
"Is something wrong?" a man in a white apron and paper hat said as he approached the table. His nametag said MANAGER: EUGENE
"Oh," I said, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause a disturbance."
"Well, is there something wrong?" he asked again.
"I just don't quite understand what's in this 'burger.'"
"Ah, you're Terran, aren't you?" he said, "There's always some confusion when a real Terran comes here for the first time. Don't worry, we know full-well that it's not exactly authentic. This place was started by my grandparents. They used to be fry cooks back on Earth, but when the Cercyonians discovered how much they loved Terran food, they moved out here to start their own restaurant. They didn't have much money, so they couldn't afford to import beef or anything without pricing themselves out of the market. They had to work with what was available on this planet. Trust me, it's perfectly fine."
I took another look at my "burger", and cautiously took a bite. It definitely tasted a little different, but the flavor still... made sense, for lack of a better way to describe it. The phoron patty was savory and salty, the mardji cheese was sweet, and the olaco pickles brought a nice sourness. The orange leaves were a little bitter, but added a satisfying crunch, and the flavor worked surprisingly well.
"Good?" Eugene asked.
I gave him a thumbs up, and he returned to the counter with a smile. I swallowed my bite of burger. Now content with the fact that everything was going to be fine, I picked up my soda and took a sip.
I gagged instantly.
"Is this *New* Coke?!"
---
Hope that was acceptable. My mind took the idea of "human food becomes popular among aliens" and ran with it all the way to "you know how ethnic American food is never the same as the actual foreign food?" So that idea ended up being the big thing I focused this story around. I'm sorry if that's a bit of a stretch, I just thought it would be fun. | "Garshi'a, where the hell do you think you're wandering off to without your parents?"
A certain humanoid spun on the equivalents of heels, turning to his parents. He looked like a marriage of a wyvern and a mermaid, with his red-green tail matching his scaly skin, and two large wings supporting his two webbed bare feet. In one of his 'paws' was a more advanced substitute to the human camera─an exquisite masterpiece of their engineer Mervern race.
However, that wasn't even worth comparing to the humans' food! It would be disrespectful to their culinary art to do that, for their incredulous, mouth-watering (or the equivalent to other species) delicacies were enough to wage galactic, star-shattering wars just to be the first in an already centuries-long line. It may be a long time for those puny humans, but most of the galactic species lived far longer. Far, far longer.
Garshi'a looked at his parents, who were like exact copies of himself but just larger, and just... turned right back, continuing on his merry way without a care in the world, inviting his parents' grunts and chases. Some things never change, do they?
He stopped in front of a mound of brick and mortar painted in a repulsing colour─repulsive to them, at least. Regardless, he ploughed through his inner hesitations to savour the treats of humanity.
Walking into the store entitled "Rajesh's Indian Cusine", unaware of the hell his tastebuds were reluctant to face, he went up to the human cashier. "wueruf. pwkandfje? aristotscliret."
The cashier responded, agitated slightly in surprise and more in fear, "Um, sir, I think you forgot to turn on your universal translator."
Garshi'a lifted his tail up, the gesture in his race to signal confusion, but that only made the cashier even more fearful, misreading it for a provocation. Only after a minute of intense staring did the matter resolve─or more like his parents had caught up and resolved it for him.
"Ah!"
*Click*
"Can you understand me now, human?"
"Y-yes, sir. Would you like to sit down first, or...?' she allowed her voice to trail off, unaware of what these novel brand of customers would want.
Garshi'a replied gaily, as expected of a child, "Yes, yes. Please. While we're at it, doing *paet pooja,* why don't we learn a bit about the culture of the wonderful species who made it?" He looked straight at the cashier, who flinched, still carrying his jovial tone, "Ah, that was a cultural thngy I picked up. It should mean eating food, right?"
"I-it does, sir," spoke the cashier, hesitatingly. She avoided talking about how that was only applicable in Hindi, since that would lead to a too long-winding conversation which her intense fear would never agree to.
She gestured to her right. "Please, enter. A server should soon guide you."
While Garshi'a eagerly waltzed in, his father took a second to apologise to the cashier for his son's eccentricity.
The inside of the restaurant was quite fantastic to the human eye. Unfortunately, it only seemed bland to the eyes of the Merwen, which were adapted to a blue hue.
An equally quivering server walked up to them. "Sir, a table for three, I presume?"
"Yes."
"Please follow me." The waitress led them to their table in the section reserved for non-humans.
On the dark-brown table were four menus. One each for herbivores, carnivores, omnivores, and only liquid-consuming creatures.
After scanning through some of the dishes on the red carnivores' menu, Garshi'a's eyes were allured by a certain dish labelled "Chicken Tikka Masala: Bhut Jolokia Edition". For some reason, he was attracted to that name.
"I want this! I want this! I want this!" Garshi'a repeatedly pleaded.
His father looked at him with eyes slightly narrowed in mild irritation, while his mother, being doting─as all other mothers, regardless of race─immediately agreed.
In the end, his father merely did his race's equivalent of a sigh of acceptance. After all, even he wanted to experience this quite literally once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him to taste the greatness of human cuisine. Once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, because the Merwen were one of the few races which usually lived less than five-hundred Earth years. He was already three-hundred-and-nineteen Earth years old.
After waiting for a while, it finally arrived.
That seductive aroma of spice, that lava-orange cream of euphoria, that drumstick of meat. Everything felt as if it was just waiting to be devoured by Garshi'a. To the man in question, at least.
Sparing no other thought, he gobbled it down as if he hadn't eaten in a hundred years, straight from the serving bowl.
Then, he felt as if... his palate was on fire! It was akin to guzzling down a bite of the Sun!
"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!"
In his haphazardness, he swallowed the leg piece's bone.
*Cough*
\*Cough! Cough! Cough! Cough! Cough! "\*Aohoo, h-h-elp!"
"W-what is the meaning of this? Human?! Was our food poisoned?! Has the galaxy been tricked?!" His mother used her tail to bring over the poor nearest server, the one which had just served them, holding him in the air.
That poor soul had to explain to the tourists, while trembling in horror and pitiably intense fear, that it was simply their reckless behaviour which prompted Garshi'a's troubles.
*'Just what did I do to need to deal with this?!'* he screamed internally. | 2022-06-10T10:28:40 | 2022-06-10T09:40:32 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] Hell is a bureaucratic mess, and two demons argue over this week's fuck up at the water machine.
Looking for comedy but any genre is welcome.
Heavenly figures are more than welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**Lilttle edit**
I'm honestly surprised. 100 positive karma prompt and only 5 real responses. I'm sort of disappointed. | "Hey there [Decarabia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Decarabia#Marquis_Decarabia)."
"Oh there you are [Forneus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forneus). Where have you been?
"I've been hearing the news. Things haven't been going too smoothly with that one 'paranormal' girl. There's been a massive mess of paperwork over whether or not being possessed and killing people is technically a sin when it wasn't her choice. The Pearly Gates have been going for a Purgatory examination, but our grand lord Lucy's been going all out for the full trip to Hell."
"I bet the Department of Judgement's been having a fit."
"The Ministry of Possession's been drowning in paperwork too. There's been a giant mess over whether the possession was authorized. They have all the paperwork besides the Form 666S, and most of it has authorization."
"But of course we just *had* to decide that setting up a bureaucracy was a mortal sin. Now we're just the *picture* of efficiency. I remember the good old days when we'd go and seize lepers, but now we can't even possess a little girl without a mountain of forms and signatures."
"Well... I mean... this is Hell."
"Either way, I just miss being able to kill a few humans and eat their souls every now and then. Has the boss heard about all this?"
"Yeah. Of course personifying the sin of wrath doesn't do wonders for your ability to take things in stride, but you could tell he was steamed. Of course, he was asked to fill out an Anger Permission Request, which just pissed him off more."
"That reminds me, do you have the forms for authorization to have conversation?"
"Dammit! Now we're gonna be buried in paperwork!"
"Wait! Just saying the word 'paperwork' requires you to fill out a form! Dammit, I just said it!"
"I know this is hell, but this is just ridiculous."
"Maybe you should fill out a Sense of Disgruntlement Form."
"Shut it Decarabia." | "So the kid sets fire to orphanage, then he miscalculated his own strength."
"So what? I still don't see.."
"There is more Jason, he ends up there due to a technicality."
"No way, the kid set fire to the entire orphanage, there is no way he was going to heaven!"
"Oh yeah. Peter was going to let him in, but fire was technically his fault so he committed 'suicide'.."
"Bullshit Jerry, Peter is not THAT senile."
"The kid repented, had his wings attached and everything, he was about to get his halo when someone pointed the technicality out"
"So who gets the little shit?"
"Not us either, we had to send him to purgatory."
"WHY?! For Hell's sake the kid technically committed suicide, that's and unforgivable one, and well there is the WHOLE orphanage burned down deal."
"Oh the story is not done."
"There is more?!"
"Yeah listen to this, Lu hears about this fuck up, decides to do a little resurrection."
"Nine Hell's I've not witnessed one in... Who was the last one The guy funny with the funny mustache?"
"No, no Good old H. is working in PR, you are thinking of Castro."
"Well shit, damn it I missed a good one Jerry."
"Tell you what, when the kid dies again, I will call you up on it."
"Hopefully Peter admits him in, can you imagine that?!"
"That's probably why good old Lu send him back to the living." | 2014-04-27T15:27:02 | 2014-04-27T14:37:02 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] 37. That is how many times you have died of unnatural causes. Every time you do, you get reset to the age of 5, retaining all of your past memories. You think that this is finally the time you get to move on with life. | It was a beautiful day to celebrate a life well-lived. I stretched out under the shade of a palm tree, sipped a mojito, and told my wife of forty-years I loved her. Then, I felt an impact at the top of my head. The world turned a familiar shade of white, as if the contrast had been amped up on a TV-screen. *No! Not again!* I tried speaking, but words wouldn’t form. *No, no, no!* The last thing I saw was a bloodied coconut nestled in the sand beside my face.
Another familiar feeling followed, like I’d just fallen and been jolted awake. I opened my eyes and screamed. I was back in my childhood home, fifty-five years ago.
My mother looked up from her book. “Are you okay?”
I ignored her. “Motherfucker!”
“*TOMMY!*” She was now standing, mad and confused. “What did you just say?!”
I stomped off to my room, threw myself onto the bed, and screamed into the pillow.
I wouldn’t have been so crushed if I hadn’t truly thought I’d broken the loop this time. I had lived my longest life yet and accomplished everything I had set out to do. I became a billionaire, funded research which reversed the effects of global warming, and subsequently became president, at which point I initiated a functioning denuclearization program. I had lived the very best life I could. So why was I back here?
I've run out of ideas. I had tried living every conceivable life I could—including various lives as a devout follower of every major religion, and even a few cults, one of which I started.
I came out of my room and looked my mother dead in the eyes. “Are you guys involved in this?”
She looked concerned. “Tommy, have you been watching late-night television?”
“Cut the shit, mom. Why do I keep dying?”
“Are you okay? Are you having nightmares?”
“I’m *living* a nightmare, woman! Is this all normal to you? You don’t have any *deja vu* or feel like you’ve been here before?”
“Okay that's it, no more television for a while.”
I clenched my tiny toddler fists and screamed to the ceiling. “WHY GOD! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!”
Almost in answer, the newscaster on TV began speaking. “Up next, a local farmer claims to have seen a UFO in Sutton Park, last night!” My eyes flicked to the screen. I’d heard this broadcast 37 times now, but never paid it much attention. Maybe that was my problem? There must have been a reason why I kept reliving this moment, and maybe this was it. I was desperate for any lead, and maybe this farmer could—”
The TV turned off. I looked around confused. My mother stood there holding the remote. “I said no more TV.”
“Mom!” I yelled. “You don’t understand! I need to see what that farmer says, please!”
“I understand plenty. You need a break from the screen.”
I did the only thing a five-year old could do in that situation. I threw a tantrum. I screamed and kicked and clawed at my mother's legs. It wasn’t any use, and at this point it was probably too late. The broadcast would have been over.
I ran to the kitchen and dug through the cupboard under the sink until I found what I was looking for—a bottle of bleach. I put it to my mouth, and began gulping it down, suppressing the urge to throw up.
“*TOMMY!* STOP!”
It was too late. I felt my little body convulse and my vision fade. My mouth began frothing and the world went white to the sound of my mother’s panicked screams.
Then, that familiar feeling of being jolted awake. I was back in the living room, just moments before. I kept my mouth shut, stared at the screen, ready to hear what this farmer had to say.
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | This time. This time, it will work out. There's only so many deaths one can suffer before learning how to slip through them.
Your childhood, is, unsurprisingly, the childhood of a prodigy. A 5 year old child with centuries of experience doesn't have a hard time learning how to count on fingers. The hardest part is to conceal it, as even the most innocent being would be terrified of a genius to end all genius. It had been quite the death, falling from the top of house, vilified and loathed by children and adults alike for being too good.
You the part know by heart. Great in school, great at piano, excellent physical skills. Your parents could not be too proud. You couldn't either, but this, too, has to be hidden well. Your siblings will never forgive you for allowing yourself the well deserved pride for a being of such perfection. They would call you a diva, a puppet unable to function out of the spotlight. The memory of your death, drowned in the pool was a reminder to conceal your self-awareness.
Highschool is, unremarkably, more of the same. The practical side is that skipping class allows both honing other skills and appearing as a rebel, which is always a welcome addition for a genius. Instead of a math course understood better than the teacher, you see and predict trends and patterns, feel the cultural pulse of the world and are always one step ahead of the common folk. In the many iterations of your life, you realized that possessing the zeitgeist earned much more admiration than simply taking skill and intelligence to the extreme. Ironically, this too was a pointer of today's world.
prettiest flower.
This vision of life passing is yours alone. Others cannot share it. In fact, others can't even fathom how one could sumrise so well how a human living life recursively would think. Philosophers, story tellers and artists would mock you and consider your head so far up your behind you lost any sense of realism. If only they knew how different your reality is from theirs. This did not stop you from hanging from a tree branch.
But this time, you're in uncharted territory. Never have you gone so far, living in your opulent mansion, a beautiful companion at your side, entertaining guests on the piano, thinking about the nice racing car you just bought.
The thought sidetracks you, you miss a key and blunder the rest of the partition.
The guests laugh at you, so does your companion. They had never seen you botch a piece before.
They laugh.
They laughed.
They stopped laughing, but they *had* laughed.
No, no, no, no. You refuse. It is not perfect, you scream. You missed a note, a savage disaster in the flawless universe that should be your existence. The plan hatched and grown in the ever evolving machinery of your conscience has no place for blind spots and defects.
Everyone has to love you.
Everyone has to look up to you, desire you, dream to be you.
They can hate you, some will, a hate fueled by their admiration.
But none will mock you, none would show disdain, none would ignore you. You are the pinnacle of humanity, and would suffer no such humiliation.
Enraged and bitter, you stand up and leave without a word. Your companion is puzzled at this never seen before outburst.
The car is fast and roars through the night like a bullet. The tree is old and sturdy, it has seen worse tempests than the drunk driver crashing against it. Death is instantaneous. Like it had been the day you jumped from the roof of your house, a much better alternative than drowning.
You're five years old. The game is reset, this time, it will be flawless. You will not miss any piano note. | 2021-05-30T08:50:11 | 2021-05-30T07:45:12 | 363 | 212 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | &#x200B;
I've been standing here for hours, hand outstretched above my head, and nothing has come. Only Mother is still here. Everyone else has wondered off. Well, that's not entirely true. Gorm is banging away at a ploughshare in his smithy on the south side of the square. He gets a new grip on the tongs, picks up the cooling iron, and with a flourish, banishes his hammer with a small flash before settling the ploughshare back in the forge's heat. Once the ploughshare is bright red again, he pulls it from the fire, and summons his hammer once again before continuing to work the metal.
I've seen Gorm do this up to hundreds of times a day for the last two years. I remember the first time he summoned his totem. Gorm's 2lb Blacksmith's hammer summoned to his hand almost instantly. I was in the crowd as he stood in the square, stretched his left hand above his head, and almost dropped the shining tool onto his skull as it thumped solidly into his palm before he was ready. There was a smattering of clapping and that was that. Nobody was disappointed by the nature of Gorm's totem. It was only right that the son of the poorest family in the town have something to occupy his hands, rather than going to the local monastery and learning to read those devilish books. At least that's what Father says. I think it’s bullshit.
Gorm stopped visiting the monastery after he summoned his totem. It was not seemly for the local blacksmith, and more so, the son of the poorest family in town to have book learning. I remember his face when he started working in the smithy the next day. There was no happiness left. It almost broke my heart. This beautiful lad had only wanted to read a book. I offered to teach him what I was learning, on the low. My heart melted as the light rose in his eyes again.
Mother found out after a month, stumbling over me and Gorm in the stable as we crouched over my primer and a stump of pencil. Mother did nothing, only telling us to use the storage shed, as it was the last place Father would go.
I learnt new things about Gorm over the next months we spent together. I had been fawning over him from afar since before he had summoned his totem, but he was even more beautiful when I got to know him. It didn't matter to me that he was relegated to the town's paid servant. It didn't matter to me that he didn't have a potential dowry to give my Father when he sold me off like the not-son piece of bargaining tool I was. I loved Gorm because he was gentle. He didn't seem to care that my face was considered undesirable, or that my wide, Unladylike shoulders caused the tailor to have fits. I wasn't beautiful. That didn't matter to Gorm. Gorm was simply Gorm. I cried in earnest when he told me he loved me one rainy day this last year. Gorm the gentle, Gorm the kind, loved undesirable, worthless-girl, un-beautiful, not-son me.
As months passed, Gorm began to tell me about Blacksmithing. I learned that steel could burn, making it worthless, but that it must be heated until it was almost at burning temperature in order to weld it. I learnt that working metal required a firm, steady hand, and that sometimes, knowing how to hit it was better than brute force. As I sat listening to his voice, I decided that I would not be sold off to an unkind landowner who was at least 20 years older than me. I would either be with Gorm, pounding metal on an anvil, or I would not live.
I snap back from my reverie and see that four or five of Father's friends have arrived. Father has stalked up behind Mother, and a rock thunks in my stomach as I see her face go from concerned love and support, to womanly subservience in a heartbeat. My Father is like a breath of grave air.
I’ve had enough of this. I talk plainly to myself in my mind.
"I don’t know if there is someone listening, but I just want to be beside Gorm, banging on pieces of metal until I die in my sleep, fifty years from now. I just want to be happy."
I feel a sort of snap, and see a flash of light in the corner of my eye.
Everyone looks at the hammer in my hand in horror. the men look like they've shat themselves. Father looks like he'll have an aneurism. I, the not-son, the girl, the unwanted daughter have disgraced myself. From now on, he will be known as the man whose daughter was given a Godsdamned blacksmith's hammer. He's probably wishing he could have a heart attack and die on the spot.
I turn toward Gorm's smithy, making my way through the small crowd that has gathered. People shy away from me like I have the Dragonclap. I am not a noble's daughter anymore. I'm nothing. Gorm's mouth hangs open as I walk up to him. I can hear my father frantically replying to the equally frantic rabble that has descended upon him demanding answers. I try to banish my hammer. It disappears, but I can still feel it connected to me. I try to pull it back into my hand. It pops back into existence with a small flash, just like Gorm's totem. Gorm the gentle looks back from my hand to my face, and my heart melts all over again.
"So I'm guessing I can kiss you in public then, me love?" | *"There are two types of people in this world - the living and the dead. Those who have found their purpose and received their divine gift are those who we count among the living. So weep not for those who passed young, for they were already among the dead."*
Angry. That was the only way I have felt my entire life from the day my younger brother died. Initially, it was a shocking moment for the entire community as with the advancement we have had in the past century early deaths were rare. The whole world seemed to grieve that moment as it was akin to losing limitless potential. Had it only stayed that way. Had things never would have changed.
Yet that's just the way life has always been. A tumultuous mess filled with the cruelty of those who sought power over others. And taking control over others was a lot easier than most thought it to be. After all, it only took 48 words for James to rewrite peoples beliefs.
It didn't mean much to me at the time but that was because I didn't truly understand the implications of those words. As time pressed on his grip over us all became firmer and the next generation became a thing of the past. No longer did adults confer with children, for it was now seen as a taboo. After all, nowhere in history did the living ever talk to the dead.
I didn't blame James for this, he was just a man who fervently believed in his ideals. I blamed the selfishness of those who listened to him. James was merely a fanatic who truly believed that focusing on those who had direction would be the most efficient way to get through life.
It made sense at the simplest level but he forgot to factor that those who are now untrained would soon join the ranks of the living. When the dead are left to wander it is only the living that suffers, yet no matter how much I propagated this message no one would listen to me. For talking to the dead was taboo.
Soon, however, I would have a chance to change all of this. Soon, I would be able to change the sins of my forefathers. For today was the morn of my 18th birthday and I now waited patiently in front of the 'gates of birth'. Once I crossed the threshold I would be able to call to the world and it would answer. And once the world answered me, so to would they have to.
I would be the bridge that tethers the living to the dead. I would remind them that their ideologies were flawed and those who had no direction were still very much alive.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted as the gates slowly creaked open and James stood in his elegant gown with his arms outstretched welcoming me forward. I remembered the way this would always play out - the gates would open and James would pull the newest member of the living to the side and talk with them for some time. After conversing he would send them forward to the central pedestal to call upon the world to answer their cries.
Without missing a beat I walked straight past James to the room to the side he would always take the dead to. I didn't need to put up with their rituals, I just wanted to get this done as soon as possible.
"What do you want Ja-"
James, who always stood so proudly in front of the people was collapsed on the floor with tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had never meant for them to take those words that way. I just wanted-"
I remembered clearly now. Every time James would take to the stage their would always be faded tears on his face. There was always a cruel look of regret hugging close to him. I don't know what he was trying to accomplish with those words, but it was his fault for forgetting that words have power. That you could never take back actions. That he never actually tried to right his wrongs.
*So I'm sorry to James. For I cannot forgive you for all you have done. You have had all the time in the world to change what you could've done, but that time is past. Regret for the rest of your life what you have put in motion.*
And so I pushed past James leaving him shocked on the floor, but somewhere in that shock, I felt as though I could see a hint of acceptance. Maybe even longing. I didn't care now, for it was finally my time.
There was a rage barely lying beneath the core of my being that I had to force myself to ignore. I didn't care about the people around me. All I cared about was what I could do going forward.
And so, I called to the world.
There was a brief pause as everyone held their breath. Normally when people made the call they were answered instantly. But it was as if the world understood my request and knew what must be done. And what must be done took time.
When that time finally came people looked at me with horror but all I could answer them with was a bittersweet smile.
For as I called to the world, certainly did it answer. | 2019-09-18T10:34:19 | 2019-09-18T07:55:38 | 68 | 37 |
[WP] When an animal dies, we often use the expression "crossing the rainbow bridge." This is not by accident, every animal crosses the Bifröst, having earned their place in Valhalla defending us from a greater evil then we could ever know. Tell their stories. | Lo, now do I tell the tale of the mighty Samson. A canine of regal bearing but only 13 toes, he chanced upon the queen while she was patrolling our borders with David, the kingdom’s canine squire. Though his size intimidated her at first, it came to be known throughout the realm that Samson was as tender to his loved ones as he was feared by the Darkness. Many brave deeds were performed during his travels - Samson the Ever-Vigilant chased away countless nightmares, door-to-door salesmen, and moments of loneliness.
For a while, there was peace in the realm. With Samson as stalwart protector, the Darkness was kept at bay - but still it lurked, devising twisted machinations and watching... always *watching*. Finally, the Darkness saw its opportunity and struck.
But the Darkness is more insidious than any enemy met on a field of battle, more vile than the most corrupt vizier - it does not fight fair, and it plays for keeps.
The Darkness crept inside the realm late one night and placed its repulsive tendrils upon the noble Samson. The defender of the defenseless had many weapons at his disposal: his bark frightened off even the scariest nightmare and gave immeasurable comfort to those he protected. His fearsome maw protected his queen from would-be invaders and licked her face afterwards. But even his formidable weapons had no effect on the Darkness; indeed, not many have.
The Darkness spread inside this courageous warrior - but it spread quickly, too quickly. The king and queen tried every remedy suggested by the apothecary, to no avail. As the days grew short and the nights grew long, the king and queen saw that their courageous champion was losing his final battle.
The king and queen brought the noble Samson to the apothecary and found a patch of sunny grass. The Darkness had found such purchase that Samson could hardly walk, so his queen carried him to the patch of sun, whose light and warmth Samson had always loved. And before the Darkness could claim him did the king and queen, with heavy hearts, bid him a final farewell.
In the light of the sun and in the light of the love from the king and queen, Samson crossed the Bifrost to Valhalla, where he was rewarded for his valiant service with a large field to play in and all the McDonald’s cheeseburgers he could eat. Samson still keeps his eye upon the realm, and he visits when needed - sometimes as a touch of wind, sometimes as a feeling of contentment.
Truly, Samson will never be forgotten.
In loving memory of our big boy - 7/5/13-10/31/16.
Sleep well, my friend. | The Legend of Prince Oscar.
The portal was opening again. I didn't have much time. Those stupid primates! Every few weeks, they do this, and every time, my enchantments, they drain my soul bit by bit. I don't know how much more I can take.
I should've known when I heard one of them ask the other, "What time's your mom coming?"
And the reply, "I'm not sure. Maybe in a few hours."
"Okay, I guess I'll start cleaning now then."
I wasn't ready. I should've been more prepared, but I was exhausted from catching the demons latched onto my tail. I had defeated them, and needed to rest not just my body but my mind.
I was laying in the sun when I heard it. The sound of the portal wheeling around into the room, causing my heart to race. Then I saw it, the primate with the Key of Power in his hand. He was taking it to the Eternal Source! That idiot!
I yelled out, "Stop you fool! Don't you know what you're doing?!"
The stupid primate, too foolish to understand the mystic languages, yelled out to the other, "Did you feed Oscar? He's meowing like crazy."
Then he went over the to Eternal Source, and before I could stop him, he plugged in the Key.
The portal opened, and the sounds of a million demons from the nether realm came rushing out. I rushed to the bedroom, and went under the bed to find the spot where I etched the last enchantment. I didn't have much time, and I could hear those ancient demons escaping!
Finally, I found the right spell, and I started chanting. It wasn't working this time! Those stupid humans! What have they done?!
I kept chanting and chanting and started to feel the power within me. And just as suddenly as it came, the demons were forced back through the portal right before I closed it. Hopefully this time, for good.
| 2018-05-25T04:30:38 | 2018-05-24T20:06:52 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | An excerpt from *Species Relations Within The Tri-Galactic Sector*, Kirkkolan F. [Hawkens Joseph trans.], G.I. 1445, Grand Triumvirate Library.
#14. Newcomers
##III. Humanity
While we might discuss at length the effect Tri-Galactic (relative) newcomers might have on inter-species relations, none is more deserving or paradigm-destroying as the self described *Homo Sapiens*, A.K.A Humanity. While the humans have only been apart of the Galactic Triumvirate for 400 intervals (the reader might recall that Spacrals had introduced themselves 3500 intervals ago, a difference of nearly a full power of ten), they have clearly made the largest impact seen in this ‘new expansion’ era, bringing peace to both lesser and greater species, and attaining a representative seat on the Grand Council in record time. Throughout this book I have presented each species through the lens of their First Contact War, but amazingly I cannot continue this tradition for Humanity as they did not have an FCW. Despite the fact that they made First Contact with the infinitely irritable and belligerent Monglas resulting in a small skirmish, the humans have noted that they universally celebrated this interaction across their controlled sectors.
Above all, humans are social creatures, to the point that they have essentially forced themselves into a universal peace, lest they be unable to act socially with any of their own. However, this lead to a collective loneliness within their species, as they had yet to discover any trace of alien life. When I was conversing with an “anthropologist” (in short, a human occupation dedicated to studying their own distinct cultures), they described to me that the human race as a whole was experiencing a lack of social excitement as their own society had homogenized to the point where they felt an extreme lack of discovery. Their word for this is as strange as it is difficult to pronounce (for many of us without flexible mouths at least): “ennui”.
This feeling of ennui became so strong that the goal of First Contact became an almost religious belief in their society, the one thing that would save them from ultimate stagnation. When humanity fought against the Monglas, they did not despair at faltering in the face of a technologically superior fleet, nor mourned the deaths of their comrades, but rather cheered that they no longer had to face the void of space alone. This led them to disrupting the Monglas’ usual singleminded violence as they translated and began communicating with the alien fleet in record time. While the Monglas fleet could not be described as ‘peaceful’ in this moment, they were so confused by the human reaction that they decided to simply retreat.
The remainder of Humanity’s history in the GT will only slightly differ as, more so than any other species, they unilaterally push for peace and friendship for all. The reader might scoff at such a naïve goal for a species, but one only needs to spend a single evening with a human to understand that they truly desire only companionship both as an individual, and as an entire distinct society of beings. Some might argue that humans are a flawed, simpering species because of this. I would agree, however I encourage the reader to view this as a benefit to our great Tri-Galactic Sector, as it is a wholly unique culture among us, and one that has prevented many conflicts across the intervals. As we progress through the rest of this section I intend to present…..
_______
Continued in comment replies | "To think those simians would have enough political leverage for such demands" - The capital ships of both warring species faced in sandspace, a particularly empty region of the galaxy where war ultimatums would go to be resolved. The lack of large masses and their gravity fields meant all wreckage of ancient and recent battles alike, floated directionless, reflecting the light of distant stars, like white crystals on a beach.
"As law demands, our government and its leader stand present, as do our finest warriors who soon shall decide the fate of our species" - The human captain opens dialogue. Traditionally, it is the side that offers the ultimatum that initiates conversations, allowing for heckling from the opposing side, effectively acting as foreplay for final war.
"You hairy mongrels are little disconnected from your tribals ways. Your guerrilla war was dishonourable albeit annoying, but now you prove yourselves ignorantly incompetent, you wish for peace so fervently you'd throw away any chance of victory. DEPLOY THE FLEET" - Tens of thousands of glistening ships occupied the space between the capital monstrosities, like ants from a tree. Some humans in the ship shuddered at the sight of the fighters, many had memories of a single enemy fighter handling a full airport at the colonies. To them, humans were peasants, no culture of war, instead choosing philosophy and theology instead of training and bellic enhancement - "Your pursuit for diplomacy is a façade for your weakness, present your warriors, let us end this"
The human capital ship hummed and oppened all ports. After an uncanny delay the fighters exited and clumped together in front of the flagship.
"srepolretni uoy evigrof ew" - The Captains ghostly voice echoes in an empathetic tone. The communication channel had been left open, leaving the aliens to hear humans chanting gibberish. The rhythm of their voices blends with the vibrations of the capital ship, clearly increasing power output.
"Using your soldiers to shield a retreat? And what makes you think you're in a position to forgive... how deep must the peaceful ways run in your genome. Even forfeiting common tongue to buy yourselves time. Pitiful" - The alien fighters dart out intent on stopping the escaping ship. Precise and fatal strikes are intercepted by the massive wall of human vessels. The fighters manage to punch holes in the fuselage when all the flagships' ports light up simultaneously, time warps, and space contracts. The capital ships collide with deafening force, blasting all matter in sandspace out of existence. The Captain opens the comms and speaks. On Earth, the broadcast of the ultimatum shows the ships and matter spawning backwards out of a supernova and blip into nothing. The final message is heard from the aliens to which the anchor replies: "No, we CHOOSE peace". | 2022-08-05T17:08:21 | 2022-08-05T16:23:55 | 39 | 14 |
[WP] It’s mandatory for a princess to be under a curse by their 16 birthday. Usually turning into a swan, or pricking your finger will do. Its now your 18th birthday, and still no curse. People are worried that no prince will come because of it. Today you set out to find a curse! | Patting me on my head, the fairy godparent I never knew said, "Ooohhhh, Dearie, you went looking for a curse in all the wrong places, when all along the curse has been in..."
"INSIDE ME ALL ALONG?!" I interrupted, earning only a look of disrupted confusing.
"N... No, Dearie. What I mean to say is that you were cursed the day you were born, cursed with the expectation that your destiny can be summed up to the noble you marry. It's a sham."
At this, my excitement waned. "I'm sorry, the royal rites of passage are"
"Something your ancestors came up with to make sure the line never died out," the fairy said as though describing something as mundane as crops growing.
"So they preserved the line because our family is important, the realm needs us in charge because we're spec...ial?" -- again, cut off by the fairy, this time just slowly shaking their head.
Lighting a cigarette, the fairy godparent's ethereal glow dimmed a bit. "Look, kid, I'm trying to do you a big favor here. I know it's all you've ever known, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. There's a lot more to this than you're allowed to see. Behind that wall, there's hectares and hectares of suffering, thousands of serfs ploughing in your family's name, soldiers dying with your family's name on their lips."
"But... Such things are not the concern of kings, nor queens or princesses nor even princes. Those outside the walls have only themselves to blame for their lives of sin and iniquity," I argued.
"Your palace currently contains no fewer than 17 imprisoned entertainers!"
"I'm sure they-" I started as a ledger appeared in their hands.
"Let's see, we've got one serving life for 'sour note', **three** for 'looking like that smug Delurean asshole Carpantius' whatever that means, *thir*-**teen** held for no reason on record..."
At this, I slumped against a wall. "So, what? My birthright is a lie built atop violence, and the rites of passage I've spent my whole life waiting for are all just, what?"
"Bullshit garbage and lies," the fairy said with a smile.
"Well what else is there for me to do? I know no other life," I pleaded. At this, the fairy godparent materialized a suitcase at my feet.
"Run away to the forest. Hollow out a tree. Get a frog as a familiar. Make potions. Play chess with an ass. Eat a purple mushroom. Marry an anvil and have hard-headed children," they said with an electric gleam to their eye. Noticing no such gleam in mine, they calmed their voice a bit to say "Dearie, you can do whatever you want and go wherever you please, but you must do so without stepping on others, forcing others to kneel so that you might ascend, as you termed your so-called birthright."
At this, I had finally heard enough. "Guards! Seize this elderly fool!" I shouted to the hallway, only to watch 5 men stumble, confused, into my otherwise empty room."
"M'lady? You shouted for help?" one asked.
"I.. yes, though... Maybe they really were a fairy..." I said, the last part a little louder than intended, prompting one of the soldiers to snicker at my childishness. A look of horror overtook him as I looked in his direction. "No, please, m'lady, 'twas a sniffle, nothing more."
"Tell it to the other thirteen guys with allergies in the dungeon. Guards!" I shouted at the 5 confused men. The snickerer awkwardly pointed to himself, asking "I'm a guard?". Flustered, I said, "Good guards, please take any bad guards to the dungeon. You know who you are. Whoever puts the bad guard in the dungeon is a good guard. That's how this works."
The 5 men left the room more confused than when they entered, entirely uncertain of how to work out the math of who is good. I heard, "So if all of you go to dungeon, then I'm the good..." trailing off as they descended the tower, the tortured screams of entertainers who vaguely resemble the your father's enemies ringing out into the night.
------
Across town, the fairy godparent removed their disguise and sat down to a modest meal with their spouse.
"How'd it go? Did you get through to her?"
Shaking their head and eating another spoonful, they replied "We're just going to have to kill them." | Lyla was distressed. She had everything she ever wanted: beauty, a group of close, supportive friends whom she had grown to love deeply, both her parents, alive and flourishing, and the adoration of her entire Kingdom. Her life was the pinnacle of happiness and health, and she hated it.
Her eighteenth birthday would arrive in a mere two days, and not once in her entire life had she fallen prey to a deadly curse or hex. She had heard stories of the other princesses across the land being cursed, having to endure horrible fates like being turned into vicious creatures of myth, falling into enchanted slumbers unable to be broken except by specific, nigh-unmeetable circumstances, or simply having to resemble trolls. And she had never in her life had such things happen to her, never so much as had a scandalous sneeze.
From an outsider's perspective, she would have been mad—utterly ludicrous—to be *upset* that she had never had these hardships foisted upon her, but the officials of the Royal Palace knew better.
Curses were like mystical magnets. A princess would be hit with one, and as if they were intrinsically drawn to the strangest, most disturbing situations, the strong, handsome princes of neighbouring—or even distant lands would come, break the curse, and they would fall in love and live happily ever after. It sounded almost like a fairy tale, an impossible journey that would have no place outside of a child's imagination, and yet, it was so common that when news of a random princess's terrible fate crossed the lands there would be no gasps of horror, no sighs of sympathy. Instead there was only curiosity. Which prince would come, would he be the one to lift the curse?
Not a single thought to the poor girls themselves. It was far from pleasant, but that was simply how it was. Perhaps change would come, but it would clearly never be in her lifetime. Lyla would simply have to make the most of a bad situation.
Staring out of her castle tower at the village below, veiled by the beautiful, auburn sunset, she felt an odd sense of peace wash over her, temporarily dimming her feeling of urgency. She had been out to market earlier today and had bought a few things she hoped would cheer her up. She had been too preoccupied to pay them much mind earlier, but now, in her unexpected state of calmness, she thought it would be the perfect time.
The first few objects were a mixture of trick items and old, decorative adornments. The last thing, however, was a beautiful locket embedded with a glowing strip of serpentine. It cast an eerie jade glow over the wall of the tower.
It was undoubtedly magical. Feeling her curiosity spike in spite of herself, she pulled open the locket. There was a moment of silence, then the green stone burned with a blinding light. Lyla let out a shriek, and the light died almost instantly. The locket clattered to the ground, open. The room was empty.
Hurried footsteps sounded outside the door within a few seconds and the door burst open. In hurried Lyla's parents, King Jonah and Queen Marielle, along with a troop of guards.
"Lyla! What happened?" her father demanded, looking around. "What—where is she?"
The guards shook their heads in confusion, stuttering as they struggled to tell him she had not left the tower. Jonah hurried to the window, looking down as if fearful he would see her body on the ground, broken from a fall, or maybe a jump. His wife, however, looked down. The metallic gleam of the locket had caught her eye and she now stooped, carefully prying it from the ground. Marielle gasped.
"Jonah! *Look*!"
The King hurried to her side. Even the guards moved closer to look. There, in the first window of the locket, was the face of their daughter, contorting with pain and sadness as she screamed soundlessly.
"She's been cursed!" said Marielle breathlessly.
There was a moment's pause. Then King Jonah shouted, "Well it's about time!" | 2022-02-24T03:21:15 | 2022-02-24T01:44:05 | 61 | 12 |
[WP] Throughout the galaxy, it is a known paradigm that each sapient race at some point before first contact discovers their own “magic” considered to be arcane by all races other than themselves; upon humans’ introduction to the galaxy, aliens learn of the eldritch might of their “nuclear energy” | It began quite simply, then everyone died.
The delegation, at least. The occupation and dominion certainly. The Empire...possibly.
We, the Great and Glorious Niwraith Empire, chose your pitiful backwater planet that you call Earth as our next state. As we had done hundreds of times in the past, we sent a show of force into your system, skipping space to arrive well within your atmosphere all at once on every side. This usually causes a sense of fear, awe, and respect for the majesty and might of the Imperial Spacefleet.
This time...it didn't work as intended. We skipped in and began to broadcast the terms of your surrender in all of your languages on all wavelengths, and as expected some of you attacked out of desperation.
We expected your tiny ballistic weapons to bypass our shields, as they are designed for Weapons of Culture, not barbarism. What we did NOT expect is how some of your weapons flash-vaporized a number of our ships.
Our signals went silent while we conferred via beam on this development, when a second salvo hit, causing far more damage.
Somehow, inexplicably, your dirt crawling, infantile magicians had weaponized the very radiation that stars emit, and had compressed that so tightly that a single scrawny human could carry one in their hand.
Such weapons are inconceivable. We have seen the length and breadth of a dozen galaxies, and seen wonders beyond count...and your strangely hyper-radioactive rocks, that seem entirely unique to your planet, have held off the might of a thousand year military dynasty.
So, I'll ask one last time, ambassador...how much for your magical, terrible, glorious 'nukes'? We have a universe to conquer. | At first nobody believed the humans when they said their strongest weapon was a bomb no bigger than a standard human, how could something so small be the strongest item in their arsenal?
Every other species had their ultimate weapon be a huge weapon capable of raining hell upon its target through various means, some using the power of light, the others heating matter so much that it enters a mythic fourth state, some using magnetic power to launch metal at high speeds.
The humans? They used the power of the sun, their bomb, known by them as the "Thermonuclear bomb", would quite literally generate a small sun when activated, wiping out entire cities.
And that wasn't all.
Once the weapon was activated, a curse known as "radiation" would plague the lands for centuries to come, causing grave diseases to any living beings no matter the species.
And the humans had dozens of thousands of these, sitting and waiting to be used.
Needless to say, after the first demonstration, nobody fucked with the humans.
________________________________________________
If you like this chech out more at r/JustADrunkSlavStories | 2021-10-09T07:53:20 | 2021-10-09T04:45:00 | 309 | 179 |
[WP] You are the world's nicest man. You have dedicated your life to make other people's lives better. After being diagnosed with terminal cancer, you decided to do one last act of selflessness. Make everyone you know hate you to spare them the grief when die. | Not like this, this is not what I had in mind. It's not working like it should, even when I do horrible things I'm still revered. I've always tried to help, to be a good man. Violence isn't my way, but I guess that's why I did something bad in my past I tried to make up for. I never wanted to fight a war, so I wormed my way out until it was over. I made money, I created global empire so I could make lots of jobs to help the economy. But it was the news I received a few years ago that changed all that, terminal cancer.
He said I have only maybe a few years, chemo and experimental treatments may extend it a bit. I don't want anyone to know, I don't want people to mourn me when I'm gone. Chemo makes you go bald so I shaved my head and got fake hair implants to cover it up. It also makes your skin look sickly, so I tried a skin cream to reverse its detrimental effects. Its seems to have worked but its stained my skin an odd color, I'll just have to work with it. Next step is to make people not mourn my passing, so I'll make myself hated in the eyes of my people. I'll say and do things that are morally reprehensible, but I'll still help people from behind the scenes.
It's been just over 2 years since my diagnosis, and I have no idea how it happened. I sank a small fortune to be heard, said things that 20 years ago would get you lynched and still they cheer. Sure, half of them hate me, but the other half would walk off a cliff if ordered to do so. I've become lazy, slanderous and the target of ridicule and still others salivate over my words. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. All I wanted was to make America great again. | How do you hurt someone without hurting them?
That was what the man thought about. The man needed his loved ones to hate him in order for them to not be sad when he dies in a few days.
The only thing he could think of was lying. If he made up bad stuff that he did, he could recontexulized previous good stuff as bad.
A fake deathbed confession! That was it!
No... confessing shows remorse... it would be too difficult to lie about things big enough to overcome that factor.
A fake diary! This is perfect! The man could write a series of entries saying how much they don't care about anyone, insult them, then write hoe in the last entry how the man intended to burn this so that way no one would know.
It was perfect!
He wrote on his wedding night that all he could think about was bonin, his wife and even her sister.
He wrote that when he was comforting his parents he was trying to get money out of them.
He wrote that he though his friends weren't as smart as him.
He didn't lie about anything he did, that was the secret he realized. He didn't need to change *what* he did, just the *intention* of what he did.
It was perfect. Now the man could die happy. Knowing no one would miss him while he was gone... | 2018-05-14T07:18:03 | 2018-05-14T06:09:57 | 71 | 11 |
[WP] You can teleport, but only between empty elevators | Sometimes, I'm paranoid, checking over my shoulder when I can't shake the feeling I'm being followed. This wasn't one of those times.
I knew for a fact that I was being followed. They were barely trying to hide it, the whole lot of them. Which, of course, made me wonder if they wanted me to know, or if it was just the Law of Averages that some of those who were out to get me would be particularly sloppy about it. Which leads me to think: then how many are above average and are blending in just fine?
I was downtown, with its odd assortment of ancient office buildings and narrow streets and alleys. Mid-morning, people were out and about everywhere. I needed to get away from the crowd, make a jump somewhere, anywhere, to shake them.
My name is Lester Banks, and I have an unusual ability. I can teleport myself, but with a crazy limitation. The first time it happened, it was a stress-induced situation when I was alone inside an elevator. Something happened, I don't know what, and it's hard to describe, but when I walked out on the 14th floor, I realized that I was in the car at the end of the hall -- which wasn't the car I entered in the lobby. Was it?
A few weeks later, it happened again. I knew immediately because my surroundings in the elevator changed. The buttons had changed. The call box was on the other side of the door. There was a mirror now. And I was two blocks uptown.
Two blocks might not be much, but it would be a big enough area to search, and I might be able to push it farther than that. But for right now, operatives of some kind were practically on top of me. I ducked into 26 Broadway. There were plenty of people in the lobby, waiting by every bank of elevators. The stairway to the basement was off to the side, ignored by the public. I ran down, taking the steps three at a time. I think I heard a guard call after me, but I kept going. Along the long hall to the back of the building, I found the service elevator. I jumped in, and the doors closed just as footsteps echoed behind me.
As I expected, I hadn't been paranoid at all. Between the 4th and 5th floor, the elevator stopped dead. They knew I was there. I closed my eyes and concentrated. I never tried from a freight elevator before, nor landed in one, but I couldn't see that making a difference. I hoped.
A wave shook through my body from my toes to my skull. My head was a little dizzy. I steadied myself and steeled myself for whatever I might see when I opened my eyes.
Ornate trimmings surrounded me. Ample lighting. A gold-framed mirror. But where was I? Either on the 45th floor or the lobby because those were the only two stops on this private lift. I hit a button, but it didn't respond. I was key-operated and I only had one method of leaving, but I needed a minute before I could try again.
Before that minute was up, the doors parted, revealing a tall, blonde woman in a deep blue business suit, blouse opened two buttons, revealing an expensive set of pearls. I looked at eye-level, trying not to stare, trying to think of a plausible explanation.
"I'm sor--"
She raised a hand to stop me. "You're a difficult man to contact, Mr. Banks."
She glided into the elevator and stood by the control board. She opened the panel and pulled out the phone. "He's here. I don't wish to be disturbed."
Hanging up the receiver, she looked back at me. "You're welcome inside, if you'll follow me."
The woman stepped off the elevator. I tried to concentrate but she interrupted me. With her back to me, she told me, "I have people in every elevator between here and the river and as north as the park." She looked back over her shoulder. "If you can move beyond that, I'll be suitably impressed, but it will just delay the inevitable."
more stories at r/xwhy | It was always a gamble, where would I end up? A gang house maybe? I wished not to, the last time was quite intense.
Why I kept doing it? I never truly knew. The thrill perhaps? The curiosity? The idea that I've been *chosen* to teleport between empty elevators? Ridiculous, I know. But bemusing nevertheless.
Two days ago I walked in an empty elevator. I shut my eyes and waited for the noises to change, that was often my sign. Soon, they did.
The silence of the proper, expensive elevator I was in turned into a chaos of grating cables as the new one went down. It worked. The broadness turned into asphyxiating narrowness and the mirrors... the mirrors were stained with blood.
My heart jumped to my throat at the ominous sight. Where had I landed? Why was it fresh? I closed my eyes once again, wanting to forever leave the danger. This were the issues of transporting, you often ended up in weird situations instead of fancy hotels.
The noises remained. The pungent smell of blood reached my nostrils, wrenching my stomach. "Come on, come on," I muttered under my torn breath, legs now trembling.
I opened my eyes. Nothing.
The gore was still there, splashed against the mirror like a clumsy stroke of dark red. Then I felt it. A lone drop falling from above, striking against my shoulder, dying the white of my shirt with... black?
I swallowed as my eyes went upward. There, in the roof of this old elevator was a pool of something black, holding itself there from its sticky sides while the center dripped. It didn't have arms, it didn't have eyes, it was nothing but strange blackness, like a gum of tar. However, it *breathed,* dripping a single drop each time.
I heard the air travelling through its center. I felt it rising toward it. I saw the darkness heaving, as if it had a mouth hidden among its shadows.
It was alive. That's why I couldn't escape. Was it waiting for me? What does it want from me? Will my blood soon stain the mirror too?
I waited, my eyes were wild and unblinking. Everything inside of me trembled with the sheer fear of a man who knows he's going to die. My pupils vibrated, blurring the eerie monster.
And then it advanced, melting down the sides, swallowing my surroundings whole, leaving me with nothing to stare at but blackness. It heaved in front of me now, contracting and expanding. What did it want?
I closed my eyes, awaiting for the movie of my life to start.
Another drop.
Another drop.
Silence. Blackness.
The elevator came to a halt and the door opened with an awful grate. The thing unglued from the walls and advanced outside like a wandering shadow that belonged to no one. Then, it rose, forming a tiny, lightless mound. Two eyes of red, round and wide appeared at the front, or the back? I wasn't sure. They stared at me deeply as if studying me.
Then the mouth came, pale white as moonlight, glowing through the dim darkness of the room ahead. It stepped forward, opening it, displaying the sharpness of its teeth in an unnatural grin. It grew upward, matching my height. Then, hairs away from me, it reached for my ear. I felt my heart thundering, striking my chest for a way out.
"Come, we need your services," it said.
| 2018-02-13T08:48:43 | 2018-02-13T08:21:03 | 57 | 16 |
[WP] “What’s the strangest thing you’ve seen out there?” The new-recruit ask, looking out into the vast spacial abyss. The question catches you off guard, as you look around at the mostly destroyed and failing ship, drifting endlessly through space. You take a long breath in, “...Humans.” | "Humans?" Thuel's eyes, all four of them, widened in disbelief. "That race of bipedal apes that we had found?"
I looked over at the young recruit. He was expecting it to be a joke. I saw it in the way his mouth was twitching. He expected me to suddenly clap him on the shoulder and say that I was joking.
I was most definitely not.
Especially not in the current circumstances.
"Yes. Humans. And call them not apes, Thuel. True, they looked the part, and true also, that some of them were. But.." I sigh. I cannot explain to this green grass the emotions that had overcome me when I had gotten to know them.
It was as if I looked to the future. No, that’s not right. It was more of a feeling. I felt as if I had known them, or something of their ilk. It was a passing thing, like the scent of perfume wafting in the marketplace. But that was also why it was so distinct. To have reached me, through all the clutter and noise.
The ship around us gave another lurch. Judging from how the lights dimmed, I guessed that another generator had gone down. Only three left, then.
"Thuel. Listen to me." I hoped my voice didn't sound too grave. "Your generation has every right to dismiss the Humans as apes. Even we did, when we made contact with them. But they had this spark in them. It showed in their eyes. It was desire. Desire so deep that they themselves knew not the lengths that they would go to, for the sake of sating that burning desire. Not only was there desire. There was ambition. Cunning. Wit. There, within their eyes, there was jealousy. Rage. Anger. There was love. Compassion. Care. There was sadness. Joy. Grief and Mirth.
Within their eyes, Thuel, we saw the entire universe reflected back at us. It was their eyes, Thuel, that made us respect them. They saw differently. Both in the literal sense and the philosophical one. They saw what they called light. They told us that all the species that met with them could not see as they did."
I looked out over to the view port. The stars seemed to me as bright spots of red, amber and white. The dust cloud we were stranded in resolved itself as a blur in my vision. Thuel followed my gaze. Still looking out, I said “They told us that they saw in colors. Not just the colors we see. They saw every shade of every imaginable color, and even more of ones you cannot imagine.
It wasn't just that, however, that caused us to forsake them. No. As I said. It was their eyes. Within them lied a sense of finality. As if they were tired. Tired out from everything. Your generation knows the humans as some off-hand colony world that was mercifully left alone."
I looked at the cracked time-keeper. 5 cycles had passed. The fusion drive exploding should have instantly sent out a distress call to all frequencies. If any help was to arrive, it would arrive in the next cycle or so. Not much longer, then.
"The truth is that they were our teachers. Not in matters of science and engineering. No, we had outstripped them by far in that regard. But in matters of the mind. The soul. Tell me, Thuel, what do you feel when you look over the inky black abyss?"
Thuel had been looking out over the stars, concentrating and focusing on them, as if he could see them in a new light.
"I feel...something, Captain. I cannot describe it. It feels as if my heart is suddenly shuddering to a halt, but there is also a sense of ecstasy. It feels as I am both the loneliest, and the closest, being in the world." Thuel turns to my smile.
"You have described it well. The humans called it fear. According to them, fear was the oldest and most powerful emotion. And among fear, the greatest is the fear of the unknown. That is what you feel, Thuel.
The ship gave another ominous groan. I looked around, seeing the torn and obliterated corridors. Strange, how, in looking into myself, I had shut out the worries of our situation. I looked at the time-keeper. Only a quarter cycle left until either help arrives, or we start to die.
"We learnt many things about the humans. And through them, we learnt more about ourselves. We stayed for in-numerous cycles of their planet, and saw them surrender themselves to death complacently. Our lives outstretched theirs by countless millennia. But their knowledge completed us, in a way that all our time alive could not."
I sigh. I debate whether to tell him the truth or the kindness. I look to Thuel. And I decide.
"They eventually said that they had taught us everything they knew. That they had fulfilled their role. And then, Thuel, the humans asked us to leave. To return after 10 generations of our life’s. That is why we left them alone, Thuel. And made sure that none of your generation makes the mistake of angering them."
He asked the question that I expected. "Why did they ask us to leave?"
I looked at Thuel.
"So that we would not see what they truly were. And what they truly felt. They were afraid. Afraid of themselves. They did not know how long we would be safe with them. So they chose exile to save us. And that is, to me, why they are the strangest."
A beep sounds. I look to the time-keeper. The next cycle had just started. Just as I looked at it, a flash of energy revealed a rescue ship, coming to dock to us.
Times up. | “Humans?” Luther snapped his eyes to Rokan, a disbelieving look on his face.
Rokan let the corner of his lips lift, a small breath rushing out of his nose. “Humans. Once.” He looked at the newest member of his company, and let the amusement of his expression wash over him.
If they were lucky, they would be able to pull into a friendly station before the last of the crew died out. If they were less lucky but not completely out, they would find a ship that would let them, board. Hitch a ride and pretend that such an act wasn’t well below their station.
If they didn’t have enough for either of those, then they would all die out in space, wondering if any of it had been worth it at all.
“Humans don’t come this way. They…” Luther paused, looking back to the blackness and distance that surrounded them. “They haven’t been heard of since the last rally on Earth.”
“They keep to themselves.” Rokan knew that was only half the truth.
If the planet got its shit together, the species would be out in space. If they built the right ships, they would be out here in this war, and he couldn’t think of anything worse for any of them. The death and destruction of the outer bands had been hard enough without bloodthirsty animals aiming their guns in every direction. Lord knows they couldn’t take care of themselves on their own planet.
“They keep themselves safe.” Luther said, “The books…”
“The books only tell half the story.” Rokan glanced at the young man. His forehead was pushed downward in thought, and his arms laid stiffly on his lap. There was no comfort in his informal position, no relaxation despite nothing else to do.
“What are they like?” Luther asked.
Rokan shook his head and stood. The ship was slowing down further, and as he had the thought he heard a distance clank. The familiar rumble underneath his feet wound down to almost nothing; the ship was dying.
The ship was almost dead.
“Clueless. Apes.” The words flew out of Rokan’s mouth. The humans weren’t helpless, they weren’t stupid. But they were reckless. Despite all the years since he had been down to Earth, he didn’t believe that anything else would take their place at the top of his list.
His enemies were brutal but they were predictable. New planets held strange animals, but when he looked closer he understood them. When he looked at the wires of his ship, he understood them. When he dove under the water of an ocean, he understood it.
Humans prided themselves in being enigmas, and in that he supposed they succeeded.
Another clunk sounded from somewhere in the dying ship, and Rokan knew he had no choice but to tear his eyes away from the curious man. “We have one last distress signal to send. I am going to need your hands.”
Luther looked over, his face changing from disbelief and wonder to sheer confusion. “I’m not a tech…”
“I know. But its learn or die.” Rokan turned his back, walking away from the single open shield.
It was probably the least safe place for them to sit anyways. With no defenses and no weapons — with no comms and no warden, they had nothing to show if an enemy ship found them again.
Luther let out a sigh that Rokan couldn’t decipher. It sounded sad and longing. As if the man would rather sit on the edge of space and wait to die rather than work to save himself. He lacked the eager work ethic that most recruits had their first voyage out, he lacked the will to keep his eyes forward. As if Luther had joined to die, rather than joining to help them all live.
Perhaps the war had been going on too long, Rokan thought. Perhaps the younger generation was finally growing complacent. He couldn’t be sure, but the thought was threatening to distract him and the ship wasn’t getting any better on its own. Another silent moment passed, and he knew that if they didn’t move they were going to die an unpleasant death among the desolate stars.
He cleared his throat and turned. The sounds behind him as he walked told him the other man was somewhere behind him, opting out of a lonely death or a jail cell. Rokan wondered how many questions he would have to answer for the help and if he had the energy to answer them.
He wondered what the better option was, even though his limbs wouldn’t let him any other decision than the active one. He wondered where they would end up, and if they would be rewarded for surviving, or punished for letting the war take the turn it took.
As if they had any control over the weapons that were fired upon them, or that the nearest station had been taken. With a quiet sigh, Rokan turned down a hall, squeezing past a broken door at the end. “Let's hustle,” he said, talking to both himself and the recruit behind him.
Wondering and guessing was not his strong suit.
/r/beezus_writes | 2019-12-09T07:33:55 | 2019-12-09T06:11:33 | 161 | 21 |
[WP] You have discovered that there is a saboteur in your ranks. You're not sure who it is... Maybe Alice, or Bob, or Treacheron The Betrayer, or possibly even Dave. But one thing is certain: you're going to get to the bottom of this. | I shuffled the meeting papers in front of me, sticking the rather disturbing report on top. Bob and Alice, who had presented the shocking details to me a scant few minutes ago, watched the others at the high table - even one another - with suspicion. It was sad to see a married couple look at one another that way. Especially after all we'd been through.
"Alright, well-- hmm..." I tried to summon my normally authoritarian tone, but it just... It didn't feel right. These were my friends, my companions, my... we were family. Each of us. We'd literally been through Hell together. The adventure into its first and second infernal rings was one of the highlights of my long life.
*You're procrastinating*. I heard the familiar voice of Treacheron the Betrayer in my mind. A voice that had been my comfort for so many years. A voice I trusted. Had trusted... I shook my head. **Still** trusted.
*I'm fine, TB. Just... give me a moment to collect myself*. I thought back at him fondly. TB always noticed when someone was feeling down. In a second, I was sure, he would offer to lead a blood crusade against the target of my ire. It was sweet - and I was never one to turn down a good blood crusade, mind you - but that wasn't what I needed here. Not what *we* needed.
The papers shuffled themselves again. Or maybe I shuffled them. It was hard to tell, so great was the throbbing sadness in my heart and mind.
"Heaven blast it all." I swore, ignoring Dave's eyebrows shoot up nearly to his hairline at my outburst. It was too much. Might as well be done with it. After all our plans...
"We are betrayed." I said in resignation, throwing the folder open-faced across the table. Surveillance photos of men and women in bright spandex running down cavernous hallways flew across the obsidian surface. *Heroes*, I scoffed mentally. They looked ridiculous. Always had.
"The Guild is almost upon us. Somehow, they knew where to look. And worse, they knew *why* to look\*.\*" Despite the rage and pain inside me, I forced myself to watch their reactions. If there would be a tell - it would come now, on the reveal.
TB's tusk-filled jaw dropped open. He stood to get a better look and dropped his type O-infused bloodhammer in the process. The mighty weapon embedded itself within the bedrock at our feet and began to melt through. The Betrayer ignored it, eyes searching each picture frantically, trying to get a read on the situation.
Bob clenched his fists helplessly, tears streaming down his ashen face. The Master of Undeath looked for all the world like a one of his own broken creations right now. Despite this being his second look at the images, Bob shut his eyes tight from them. As if casting them from his sight would save us as casting his spells had so many times before.
It wouldn't, but I couldn't fault him for trying. Bile was high in my throat, threatening to escape.
*Not* *them*. I thought, gratefully. Neither were good actors. Bob and TB wore their hearts and emotions openly. If I had to guess, neither could have even spelled 'duplicitous'. Even with a dictionary. Still, it eased my heart somewhat.
Alice had raged into my personal quarters with the information, refusing to use even our secure channels. If she had betrayed us, all she would've had to do was keep watch on the cameras as our whole operation collapsed. No. The Boltqueen remained on our side.
Which left...
"Dave." I said simply. The disbelief and hurt in that one word was palpable. The others followed my gaze towards that of our Chieftain. Our sword in the dark. Our-- *my*... Nightblade...
Dave had been frozen in place since I mentioned the guild. Guilt coming off him in waves so easily detectable I could pluck the emotions from the air. String them together and play the song he'd written with them. The song that, until now, had been ours. A song of love and brotherhood.
To his credit, my Nightblade did not waste words protesting his betrayal. He offered no defense of his actions. There was only one way this could end, and my beloved assassin knew that as well as I did. Dave's hand went to the weapon at his waist, but he was too slow. Or my rage too great. Looking back now, I don't really remember which of us struck first.
When I came back to myself, Treacheron held on gently as sobs wracked my frame. The *nerve* of Dave to raise the weapon I'd made for him against me had been too much - my powers had taken over as they always did under extreme emotional duress.
The scum that had cost us our operation was little more than blood splattered against the ceiling, walls, and floor. TB's weapon drank deep of the crimson that flowed near it.
"What do we do now?" Bob asked helplessly, his hands twitching in ways reminiscent of various spell forms.
"What do we do?" Alice responded incredulously. She gestured at the table. "There are *dozens* of the fools. They'll tear us to shreds. We're trapped down here, remember? The league is *done*."
*Done?* I thought numbly, bracing myself against TB's sturdy frame to stand once more. *No. We can't be. Not after the sacrifices we made. The lives we've lost. I can't... I can't accept that.*
To my surprise, the Betrayer responded. Apparently I'd sent those thoughts to him. *A crusade then? One of blood and carnage? A final stand of glory? I shall lead it at once.* With a gesture, the bloodhammer appeared once more in his hands, its crimson runes bright.
*"No.*" I said aloud, to both Alice and TB. My precious comrades turned towards the defiant tone I'd somehow managed to put in my voice.
"We are *not* done. We are too close to back down now. *They--"* I gestured scornfully at the pictures as I got my legs to finally stop their shaking. "*They* will die here. Not us."
"But, without Dav--" Bob began, but I cut him off.
"Without him? No... *With* him." I countered, my words heavy with meaning.
"With...?" Then realization dawned upon the necromancer's face and a wisp of a smile began to appear. "At once, your darkness." Tendrils of black reached from his hand towards the charred skeleton behind me. I paid it no notice.
Treacheron the Betrayer straightened as I turned towards him. A mountain of muscle in a frame of rage. Rage I would be giving a conduit I knew he needed as much as I. The walking nightmare knelt when our eyes met.
*I pledge myself to serve, your darkness, as I ever have*. He thought towards me.
*Rise.* I commanded in response. *Rise and follow. It is too long since* *I* *have led us on crusade.* | *Seems we have a saboteur on board.*
Captain Boron clicked his mandibles together, leaning on a shattered console as he stared at the silent reactor behind him. He turned, facing the only other four crew members on board.
Boron stabbed a talon at them. “One of you is a saboteur.” He accused. One by one, his three eyes trailed along the faces of his suspects.
The first was Alice, the engineer on their tiny corvette, the *Takeback*. Human, with short, perpetually-greasy black hair, and an orange jumpsuit. She definitely had the skills to pull it off, but what about a motive? She had been the first crew member that Boron enlisted on the *Takeback*, but she'd always been well-behaved, despite the nature of their work.
His gaze shifted to the second. Bob, another human. Bob was the crew's pilot, and a bit of a wildcard. His orange hair signified that he was one of the human subraces, a *ginger*. Bob wore an old flight cadet uniform, its navy blue barely visible in the emergency lighting. Unless Bob had been holding back on the Captain, there was no way he had the technical skills to sabotage the reactor.
Which left the last two, Treacheron the Betrayer, and Dave. Treacheron was their resident weapon specialist, and their sole security officer. One of the Mekkins, a race of robots created by some long dead race. The fact that its silver frame was a good three heads taller than the other three crew members just made it more intimidating. Being a machine, it innately had skills to sabotage the reactor. Despite the Mekkin's title, Boron had come through more than one close call with its help.
Dave was the real problem. Human, bald, and always wearing a sepia jumpsuit. He'd been butting heads with everyone since they started their work. While he *was* technically the quartermaster, it was more of a title than his actual job. He served more as their hacker, popping open the cargo they obtained from their line of work. Dave had both the motive and the method.
“I'll personally be interrogating each one of you.” Boron pointed an arm at Dave. “Starting with you.”
The other three shuffled outside as Dave narrowed his eyes. “Am I *that* suspicious, Captain?” He scoffed.
Boron scuttled toward Dave, looming over the bald man. Beads of sweat began dripping down his pale scalp. “Where were you at 0832 hours?” He demanded.
“Asleep in my quarters, sir.” Dave retorted, a hint of anxiety in his tone.
“And your alibi?”
“The computer should have more than ample evidence, sir.” Dave tapped his badge. “It tracks after all.”
Boron narrowed his three eyes. While their crew badges did output both their vitals and locations, it was more than possible that Dave had reprogrammed the badge. “Wait outside, and send Treacheron in.” Dave nodded, turning and disappearing into the hall.
Boron clicked his mandibles together, activating his wrist terminal with a tap of a talon. A map of the entire ship popped up, with named red dots signifying the position of each crew member. He flicked the time back to 0832 hours. The crew were spread out across the ship, with Dave being in his quarters. The reactor room remained empty, up until Boron entered at 1201 hours when the main power shut off.
Boron's investigation was interrupted by a tall silver biped stomping into the room. Thick ivory tubing was used for almost every piece of its body, giving it a shocking similarity to one of the human's 'inflatable noodle men' at ship sale ports, although much sharper. A silver cube took the place of its head, with a single red orb flitting about its surface to gaze at every part of the room, likely calculating the most defensible positions.
“Treacheron,” Boron asked, shutting off the wrist terminal. “Where were you at 0832 hours?”
The orb snapped onto Boron. A synthetic voice emitted from the cube atop its shoulders. “My Memory Banks Do Not Have A Location At The Specified Time.” Boron winced. He'd never gotten used to the agonizing way Treacheron spoke.
However, more importantly was that Treacheron didn't know *where* it was when the reactor was sabotaged.
“What is your last memory before 0832 hours?” He asked.
The orb spun in a circle. “Activating Sleep Mode At 2200 Hours.” Treacheron answered.
*Right down to the exact minute.* Boron clicked his mandibles together. Treacheron had always been a by-the-book crew member. Why would it disable the reactor?
“Dismissed, send in Alice.” He ordered.
“Acknowledged.” Treacheron stomped out of the room. Boron flicked the wrist terminal back to life, rewinding the time to 2159 hours. Treacheron's dot entered its quarters, and stopped moving in the corner. Boron blinked an eye. Treacheron had always been a bit weird.
Boron pressed fast forward. Treacheron didn't move, until 2321 hours, where it suddenly shifted to the bed in the room. *What?* Boron tilted his head. *Why would Treacheron use a bed?*
Another human stepped through the open blast door, this time with short greasy black hair and an orange jumpsuit. “You called, sir?”
“Can you recover the proximity logs for this room?” Boron asked.
Alice shook her head solemnly. “Whoever did it knew what they were doing, they wiped all the info before blowing up the terminal.”
Boron clicked his mandibles together. “What about Treacheron's quarters?”
“Maybe?” Alice ran a hand through her slick hair. “I'd need main power online first just to get the door open–Wait, if I slaved the life support system through the lighting subsystem, then I'd just need a ca–”
“Is it doable or not?” Boron interrupted.
“Yes sir!” Alice replied enthusiastically. “I can get you the proximity logs for Treacheron's quarters. I'll have to turn off life support for about a half hour to do it, and disable emergency lighting.”
Boron nodded.
“Do it.”
&#x200B;
**\*keyboard clatters to the floor.\***
r/PupsRecollection | 2020-01-25T13:53:41 | 2020-01-25T13:06:19 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] Jupiter has 64 moons and a serious werewolf problem.
Edit: damn there's some quality responses here. I wasn't expecting this prompt to be so popular. Good job u guys | The year is 2270. About 150 years ago the human race first started testing planet scale terraforming. Earth was running out of resources and we were long overdue for an upgrade. Why not go to the biggest planet that we know of?
I heard that back in the day, werewolves were a myth. People claimed to see them, but there was very little proof. Most of the evidence was blamed on wild animals. We know better now.
The initial werewolf arrived within the first few years of public voyages. He turned before they even landed. The ground zero ship was considered a giant metal coffin. No one could get out and the werewolf infected hundreds. When the ship crash landed it was immediately quarantined, though that didn't do much. They were strong and could fight against the gravity changes that the rest of us were still adjusting to.
The werewolf epidemic spread to over half of the population in less than a decade. Many asked to be locked up until the disease was cured. They didn't want to danger those around them. Everyone was scared. Over time, being constantly under the full moon the werewolves learned to use their human minds while afflicted by the moon's disease. About a hundred years ago, one of the werewolves that was held in captivity spoke.
"I think I can control myself. I think I can go outside without attacking anyone."
We were cautious but optimistic. If they could act human while in wolf form then they could be a great help to us. The wolf was escorted outside by military men. He never had less than 5 armed soldiers with him at any given time. But, he acted surprisingly well. He worked on construction and did a fantastic job due to his incredible strength. He did the work of 10 men.
After a few years, he asked to be let go. He wanted to go talk to the other werewolves, and that's exactly what he did. He came back with a dozen other beasts, all who had regained human speech. In the coming years schools replaced the prisons. All werewolves had to undergo a very intensive meditation treatment to control any left over werewolf urges. They were a huge boon to our society. So much so that some even asked to be turned voluntarily.
Now about 90% of the population are werewolves. Seeing a normal human is actually a strange sight. They look so weak. Us werewolves can build and farm much faster than they can. Usually humans are only white collar workers because they can't keep up with the rest of us. I honestly believe they choose to stay out of some sense of tradition or individuality. Either that or it's some strange fetish. Either way, we work well together.
I actually hope that the human race doesn't go extinct in the shadow of werewolves. They may not be as strong as we are, but they're interesting. They're a part of our history that I don't think we're all ready to let go of just yet. | The pilot - a twelve-limbed Jovian floatspider - tapped almost idly at the controls of the shuttle, firing the thrusters with mind-boggling precision. I glanced surreptitiously at the display on my own Earth-made manoeuvring tablet. The screen blinked red with warning text, screaming electronically that the shuttle was out of position, couldn't possibly make orbit, that we had to start a burn immediately...but as I watched, our orbit circularised smoothly, threading itself perfectly through the orbital traffic above Mars, without the pilot so much as glancing at its display. It brought us into a perfect orbit by eye, and using a quarter of the propellant my tablet had calculated was the absolute minimum. It was awe-inspiring.
"Seriously," I asked an hour later, as we prepared to leave the flight deck, "How do you do it? It's absolutely unbelieveable!"
The being had no name as we would understand it. The Jovians in general have a very fluid concept of identity, with an individual shifting between different names and identities sometimes over a few hours. It was part of what I was here to study - if I could make sense of the way the being spoke. It took a little work.
"Moon shift," it said (or bubbled into its translator, I should say). "Understanding place, without. Prediction."
"I...think I understand," I replied into my own translator. "You mean you learned it by watching...the moons?"
It shook its mantle violently in disagreement. "Moon shift!" it said insistently. "Survival necessity, moonlight. Predict moons live, without."
"You...need to know where the moons are...to survive? Why?"
Together we stepped out onto the red surface of Mars, the Jovian being deep in thought as it tried to construct the words.
"Moon path...know easy." It began to trace a pair of circles in the air around its head with two of its limbs. "Safe moon..." limb behind its head, "...bad moon." Limb in front of a set of eyes. "Knowing path if, life. Knowing path not if, not live. See?"
"You mean you have an instinctive understanding of orbital mechanics?" I asked, watching it trace the orbits further. "But why are moons dangerous?"
And that was when the full Phobos rose above the Martian horizon. | 2016-10-03T10:55:02 | 2016-10-03T09:05:02 | 198 | 66 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | There were many questions I had, but I wasn't entirely sure how to react. I *was* in my house, but *now* I'm in a budget Lord of the Rings.
That included the wizard who looked like he'd both just pissed himself and had won the lottery.
"Good... GOOD... Now, my slave... DESTROY MY ENEMIES! Turn their skulls into paste! Their bodies into ash! Send their souls... TO OBLIVION!" The mage throatily screeched at me, followed by perhaps *the* most cliche evil laugh in the history of human existence.
"Uhhhh... Wut?"
"You... You're... Not obeying?"
"Sorry dude, but who are you again?"
"ME? I'M THE LEGENDARY WIZARD SALTHAZAR THE ALMIGHTY, DESTROYER OF REALMS!"
"So... Why do you need me?"
"I... Um... It's a rest day."
"Uh-huh..."
"Don't question me! You're the demon here!"
Yeah... Real funny dude...
Wait what?
"Demon? Me?"
"Yes! That's why I summoned you here!"
"Uhhh..."
"And now that you are here... You shall slay my enemies, and bring this world to its knees!"
"Uhhh... Sorry dude... I don't do anything unless it's in writing..."
"You mean a contract? Never fret! The mighty Salthazar has one right here!" He shoved a piece of parchment in my face, the various scribbles were probably words... Right?
"Uh... Huh... Yeah... This is..."
"Now... Destroy, my Demon!"
This guy's clearly mad. Time to find my way back.
Looking around, I quickly formed a plan.
I ran around, blowing out all the candles and knocking over as much as I physically could, just generally causing as much damage as possible.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP DESTROYING MY WORKSHOP!"
"What? You said "Destroy". You never said *what* to destroy after signing the contract." I shrugged and carried on laying ruin to what I'm guessing is this mans livelihood.
Salthazar sulked and slumped into a corner, "Now I see why they told me never to trust Demons..." | When I vanished from the middle of class, I didn't know where I was going. All I experienced was darkness and a rush of cool wind before I was deposited in a place that looked like the middle of a forest.
As my eyes adjusted to the level of sunlight, I saw a few humanoid creatures staring at me. They nudged one another and whispered in a guttural language. Finally, one took a few timid steps toward me and spoke. "O great demon of the underworld . . ."
I blinked. "What?"
The humanoid looked taken aback. "You're a demon. We summoned you." They held up a spellbook and pointed at the circle around me. "See?"
I looked around. "Um . . . Okay? What do you need, then?"
One of the humanoids in the back piped up. "There's a girl who keeps ruining our lives and we want you to scare her into not doing it anymore!"
My anger burned a little bit, which set a small fire around me. "What the hell," I whispered as I stomped it out. "And you think that she'll see you as more intimidating by doing sorcery?"
"Successful sorcery!" a third added.
I sighed. For my family, I would do this unwaveringly. For my friends, I would do it took. For these nerds? What do I have to lose? "Okay. Take me to this girl."
They led me toward a set of buildings and I played with the fire my hands generated to practice my new skill. | 2017-05-12T09:29:02 | 2017-05-12T08:32:17 | 65 | 10 |
[WP] You died today. Turns out you are the 100 Billionth person to do so. To commemorate the occasion, you are given the chance to undo a single decision. Any decision. | I looked at my wrists and their soft texture.
"Any? Even if it brings me back to life?" I asked. My mind was empty, I had never really thought of the things I regretter until only a moment ago, and now I had the chance to go back.
"Any decision." The woman in front of me said, giving a soft sad nod. Her grin gave me confort, but I could see the tears forming in her eyes as she read my soul.
"May I-" I stumbled over my words. I am not confident, I thought, but right then I remembered what I had thought a moment before. I should have been more confident, I'm going to be confident.
"May I see my mother once more?"
The woman closed her eyes to breathe, she needed to recieve a clear order.
"What decision do you regret?"
"I want to undo the decision of filling the bath tub."
The woman chuckled softly. "Good luck."
I was once more in my department, my mother was banging on the door, and I was standing right in front of my bathtub. I dropped what I had in my hand, which left a small cut in my fingers, but despite my pain and blood I opened the door to embrace my mother in her desperate hug. | “Any decision, ever?”
“Yep. Any decision at all, by anyone you want, at any point in time.”
I should not have this power. I’m not responsible enough for it.
There were a thousand mistakes I’ve made that I would have loved to be fixed, and millions of decisions other people made that should be fixed. And yet, my brain kept being pulled toward one answer.
“Okay, I know what I want to undo.”
I stopped for a moment, wondering if the laugh was really worth it.
It was.
“I want to undo God’s decision to create the universe.”
“Okay, what the fu-“ | 2018-12-22T17:01:14 | 2018-12-22T16:06:20 | 81 | 38 |
[WP] Every year several hundred thousand people go missing worldwide, the crazies said it was aliens. When you were abducted, you found out they were right. Turns out humans make astonishingly good pets. Not because we're smart or strong or fast but because... we're adorable. | It reminded me of my leopard gecko.
Mine was bred in captivity, of course. He was a cute little thing, the length of my hand, yellow and black spotted, with the sweetest little smile. Leopard geckos are like that - they look like they're smiling. That was what caught my attention as a kid. I spent weeks pleading and harassing my father, putting together presentations on leopard gecko care, taking on extra chores and leaving articles on different morphs open on his browser tabs, until a glossy, glass tank appeared in my bedroom one day. I named him Joanna. He was a boy lizard, but I could not be dissuaded.
Leopard geckos are so common in the pet trade now that there's no point in getting them from the wild, but that was how it started. Men - I always envision them to be men, rough handed and dressed in khaki - drove out to the grasslands of Pakistan and caught wild leopard geckos by the hundreds, by the thousands. They tossed them into crates, tossed the crates into trucks, and hauled the lizards across the world to be sold to snub-nosed children for twenty bucks a piece.
It was a little like that.
She kept me well enough. I'm assuming my captor's gender, as there's no real way to know, but she seems feminine to me. Something about the way she tilts her head and trills when she's pleased with me, or the soft edges inside her vast, violet, compound eyes. I judged her to be compassionate, in her way. She made efforts to keep me comfortably, even trying to recreate my home environment. It was a poor man's shadow of the real thing, but at least I recognized the effort.
Speaking was pointless, aside from the fact that she seemed to like it when I did. I figured it was not dissimilar to when Joanna would croak at me. He was so small, so beneath consideration, that I assumed his stupid little squeaks existed to delight and surprise me. His instincts counted for so little. It was the same with her. I spoke frequently at first; she veered from obvious pleasure to stern commands for silence, based on how worked up she judged me to be. I couldn't understand the weird, shimmering notes that made up her speech, no matter how long I watched them sizzle brightly on the air, but I eventually learned tone, intention. It turns out telling the family dog to shut up sounds basically the same universally.
I don't speak so much anymore. There's no point. I am beneath consideration. I am fed. My needs are met. What's to be done? She is gargantuan. She is the monolith. The greatest victory I could hope to earn with open rebellion would be a moment of casual discipline, barely a ripple of disruption to her day.
Or she could decide I wasn't the right fit. "Rehome me," the way I would have rehomed a troublesome cat, once. I know my situation is not unique. I know there are others. Would another one be better or worse?
The devil you know, or the devil you don't?
I sleep most of the time, now. I'm not proud of it. It looks like I've given up, and I guess I have. All I have is days, nights, minutes, seconds ticking by, alone in my head, with no reprieve. No company. No distractions. She can't even figure out that I would like a book, a single book to read. And I have no way to tell her.
So I sleep.
But things have been changing, lately. At least, I think they have. It's so hard to tell, with my brain wrapped in thick layers of gauze. I haven't been able to think straight in weeks. Months? But I think, maybe, things have been changing. We go out more now. I see more of her world - the shifting, unsteady sky, the walkways that glow a pearly silver and bend slightly with your weight, the thick, sweet air that holds their words so well. She seems proud of me. We stop frequently, and I suspect she is showing me off. I can't find the energy to resent her for it. It seems so pointless, like spitting into a hurricane. What good would it do?
I can never get a feeling for how the place is laid out. Are we in a city? It feels that way to me, but I just can't tell. The walkways wrap and loop and sometimes double back on themselves. There's not a straight line anywhere. I never know where we're going. It would be easier, I think, to let go and stop trying to understand, but I just can't. That would be the final surrender, and then what would be left?
So it took me by surprise when I saw a bush. Just a normal bush. Squat and green, unusually spherical, like it was pruned by someone with only the vaguest idea of what a bush was actually supposed to look like, but it was, undeniably, a bush. And next to it, another. And further back, was that a tree?
I looked up at her, searched her flickering eyes for meaning, and she trilled happily at me. She unhooked the humming, white cuff that somehow kept me within five or six feet of her and gestured. The realization hit me: she's taken me to a park. An off-leash park.
And up ahead, down a clumsily recreated dirt path, was another person. Flesh and blood and bone, two eyes, upright, and waving at me. Another person.
They were making dog parks for us now.
I took one tentative step, then another. She made an encouraging sort of noise, and I broke into a trot, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Other people. A chance to talk. A chance to plan.
This changes everything. | Keerret pet my hair with its long claw. It was careful not to rake my skin, but I couldn't help freezing up involuntarily. In two months, I'd still not grown accustommed to its random touches. At least I'd gotten used to staying the apartment by now.
"Are you ever going to stop doing that?" I sighed.
"You be much cute. Must appreciate," Keerret clicked. "Making open box?"
I buried my head in my hands and wished, not for the first time, that I'd read the fine print. Maybe somebody else could have made this work, somebody more Type B.
"Ok. I will open the box now," I assured, slowly. Keerret picked up on lanugage cues hungrily, though not always accurately. It really was trying, at least. It's hard not to appreciate someone who goes to so much trouble for you.
The box was wrapped in paper. Not wrapping paper, mind, just office printer paper and stuck on with what I've since assumed is saliva. Keerret doodles pictures on it in burn-pen, a sort of stylus for permanently marking inanimate objects of interest. Its kind did that to everything: houses, furniture, pillows, upholstery, even the marking chip wrapped around my left ankle. It was its kind's way of giving life to things that couldn't move. I distantly wondered if they did it to their dead, too. At least I hadn't been branded, anyway.
"What is this?" I asked. Keerret giggled loudly, nearly falling off the short table that served as both couch and playspace in its flat. Keerret's kind didn't need cushions or soft spaces, and their habit of shedding fur made flat things more practical. At least I had a pillow.
"Be lorrastri. For stars!"
I had never seen a lorrastri before, but I had heard it mentioned once. The object itself was a navy-blue, flat dome with four spindly legs on the bottom; not quite a tripod, not quite a pyramid. It was covered in spiral burn-pen marks, delicate and intervowen like a fake basket. I picked it up, spun it around in my hands. I couldn't tell what it was supposed to do. It was a cross between a globe and a telescope. Maybe it was a mini planetarium?
I traced the burn-pen marks. Keerret made an "awwww" noise as I did, yet another of his habits I'd yet to decipher a meaning to.
"How do I use this?"
Keerret patted at the air, then made an exploding gesture with both hands. "Touch it!"
Well, I was already doing that, but I gave the top of the thing a smack anyway. It clattered open with a screech, revealing centipede-like fronds.
"AH!" I startled, leaning away from it. When the shock subsided, I realized Keerret was snuggling me again. It seemed to think I was afraid. Accustomed to this, I wriggled out from its spindly arms.
"I'm fine, Kee," I assured it. Keerret smiled at the nickname, letting me loose. It was really a big teddy bear, if you asked my opinion.
The lorrastri on the ground was a little less startling now that it wasn't moving. The centipede like fronds bonded back together if pushed, but slipped apart when let go. Maybe something kept them firmly stuck together, like a switch or an electro-magnetic signal. I fiddled with the fronds a while.
"Help?" Keerret asked. I turned to see if it needed help, only to realize it was holding out a claw. I shook my head.
"Just looking," I said. "It's very strange." Keerret giggled.
"What is so funny?" I snapped. This sent Kee over the edge again, barely able to keep breathing.
"Hyuumies so silly," it purred. "Not ever seeing any lorrastri before. Help?"
I sighed. "Yeah, sure. How does it work?"
Keerret came over again and nuzzled me like I might pet a dog. I rolled my eyes as it lifted the dome up towards me, slowly.
The fronds began to move.
"Whha-"
They clamped over my head. I flailed, I couldn't speak, I tried to scream- it echoed. I could... breathe. Keerret was making distressed, calming noises at me.
"Be ok, be ok, be ok," it assured. "Not scary!"
"What does this have to do with stars?" I snarked.
"Can go out now! We can watch stars! Day much hot for hyuumies, lorrastri protect you."
I froze.
I hadn't seen the sun, any sun, in two months.
"Can we go out now?" I begged. "Right now?"
We stood, and walked to the door. I couldn't help but smile and pump my fist in anticipation.
Keerret made that awwing noise again.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/iperh8/wp_every_year_several_hundred_thousand_people_go/g4kudq7/)
Edit: r/MoreStories for more silliness | 2020-09-09T09:24:08 | 2020-09-09T08:35:37 | 379 | 167 |
[WP] When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed. | "Have you ever considered, you know, doing something with your lives Seamus?" Death sat next to me in the pub, taking a swig of his pint.
"What do you mean!? I've finally perfected the brew, can't you taste how amazing this is? I have it on good authority that it's the best in the universe!"
"Seamus, you perfected this brew well over a century ago. Yes, it's the best beer in history, but surely there's still more you can do. I mean, it's gotta be divine intervention right? Nobody is supposed to win the coin toss. 235 fucking times Seamus. That's how many in a fucking row that you've won. Don't you think maybe you're genuinely mean to be doing something with all this time instead of sitting here getting blitzed? You don't even get any fucking customers out in the goddamn middle of nowhere except Joe in the corner there!"
At the mention of his name, the little old white bearded man in the corner roused himself just enough to look up from his half gone pint for a moment, mutter something unintelligible, and then seemingly go back to sleep.
Seamus, glanced over at Joe "Oi, don't be knocking Joe. He's been my loyal customer for years now, and he knows the true value of my brew."
Death had stopped all the theatrics centuries ago. He showed up in the modern dress of Ireland these days. Neither he nor Seamus could fake an accent to save their lives, but may as well blend in. He had last been at the pub 80 years ago when it was new, and 95 years before that at the tavern in Britain. Always whenever he came to visit "Seamus" was in his personal drinking establishment, serving up his same brew. Nothing ever changed with him, not even the result of the coin toss.
Death swigged down the last of the pint, it really was beyond compare. He'd been all over the world, through all the years, and he'd still never had a brew as good. Seamus was right, he really had perfected it.
"Welp, I got work to do, you know the rules, you get to call it, I get to flip it."
Seamus gargled "heads" through a sip of his drink.
Death used to think he was cheating. He knew it wasn't possible, but still, death couldn't figure out how to recreate that beer, so maybe Seamus had other secrets. Even so, it never mattered what Seamus called. Death tossed the coin in every way he possibly knew. It always came up in Seamus' favor. So this time was no surprise either. The coin landed, death swiped it up, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.
"92 years, 84 days, 8 hours. I'll see you then."
"Oh aye laddy. Sounds grand. I'll have your drink waiting for you." Seamus said in his awful fake accent.
After death had left, Seamus went over to sit with his only other patron. The only patron he would ever need for all time.
"Thanks again Joe, guess I get to keep on brewing for you for another 92 years!"
Jehova looked up from his beer with a big smile.
"It really is the best in the universe!"
Edit:
Jesus! that blew up pretty thoroughly! I really appreciate all the compliments. Makes me feel good about taking the time to write it! | Back again, through the weird voids and other planes your soul shuffles through when you die. I never got used to it.
"So, how's things here in the... Nether?"
"Aether" he corrected.
"Right, Aether, Nether..." I said trailing off. Even though he didn't have eyes, I could feel them judging me. He stood there an uncomfortably long time, judging me with his hollow eye-holes. Although, when you're dead, everything is vaguely uncomfortable until your soul has been sorted. It's a helluva lot like the DMV. He offered his bony hand and I shook it.
"Are you ready to do the deal, or did you want to catch up over coffee?" he asked, settling down at his desk. Death had a surprisingly neat desk. "You know, I will take the deal. This place is kinda freakin' me out. Maybe it's all the wandering souls..." I said glancing out the window, gesturing at the others who were on their way to his office. I assumed for the same exchange. "Call it in the air"
"Tails never fails" I said as he tossed a heavy coin onto the large, tidy desk. It unceremoniously landed and he slammed a bony fist onto the desk with a soft curse in what I could only believe was Aetherese. I grinned and finally sat down, having been sorted.
"How many times is that now?" I asked as he leaned back and did a bit of a face palming motion. "Oooh, seventeen?" he said before finishing with "-ish."
"Ish?" I inquired. He didn't respond. "Do you remember how this deal began?" I asked, having actually forgotten. Few hundred years between actually dying and just visiting does that to your memory. "Have you really forgotten?" he said, a tinge of excitement in his rattly voice. "Because if you have, I may just leave the coin out next time." I attempted a baleful look, but you can't actually glare at death and feel intimidating. "Well, we had a deal and I won so I'll go back now." I said standing from my chair. He stood and collected the coin off the desk. "I don't know how you do it" he said. "I even used a double headed coin once and it still came up tails." I managed a proper glare this time. "You cheating bastard!" I exclaimed before settling on the fact I still came out ahead. "It had been like ten times, I had quotas to fill... You know how it goes" he said with a shrug. "Anyway, back you go" and with that, I was back and waking in my bed.
| 2016-09-23T09:14:52 | 2016-09-23T08:30:19 | 2,418 | 24 |
[WP] Your teleported to 44BCE Rome in your everyday street clothes. You're brought before Caesar and he believes you're from the future, hoping to bring him fortune. One day he questions you, asking "How do I die?"
Weewwww never knew my prompt would gain so much attention, thanks guys for all the interesting stories and comments |
I was deer hunting in the Blue Mountains on the heels of a 12 point buck. I followed him through creeks, over rock scrambles, under watching trees for miles, until the sun began to sat. I knew I was lost after the first hour, but he called to me, urged me on, and I couldn't bring myself to turn back.
It was only when the lip of the sun passed below the horizon that he stopped, exhausted. He stood beside a species of tree I did not recognize. The air was dryer than it had been, the dirt a slightly different color. But I hardly noticed, I had eyes only for him.
I raised my rifle, took my aim, and fired. Down he went, his breast a crimson stain. I walked to him to be sure he was dead, and so he was. It was hotter than it should be, so I set to field dress him. That was how they found me, bedecked in their purple armor. A Preatorian cohort. They'd heard the shot and come.
I found out later that the sight of me - my arms awash in blood inside the dead, foreign beast - the warning shot I fired into the air - that vision of me convinced those soldiers I was Mars himself.
*******
JC was an altogether more practical man. I was held for several weeks before he arrived, called to my tent from the failing battlefields of Celtic Brittania to witness for himself the strange being sent by the Gods with a spear of fire.
He arrived on the full moon and stepped into my tent as though I were a stray dog rather than an indavertent time traveller with a super weapon.
When he spoke, I understood, and could respond, though all in a language I had no right to comprehend.
"My men swear you have been sent by the Gods." JC was fond of fortified wine. He poured himself a glass. "But my men are peasants and fools. Who are you?"
I explained. No point in hiding the truth, as I figured it. When he inevitably doubted me, I used the rifle as my proof. The rifle, and my flashlight, and my camping gear.
We spent a week talking, JC and I, before I was certain I was safe and he was certain I was more use to him alive than dead. Alive and befriended.
So began my rise.
*******
Julius was losing Gaul when I arrived. Another year, maybe two, he estimated before his men gave out to the Celtic hordes.
"Unless," Ceaser said, "you make more of those." With his wine cup he pointed toward the gun.
This was not a request. Of course, I could not provide him with modern rifles. But gunpowder; Iron; Cannon; Even rudimentary muskets. All of that was quite possible.
JC brought the might of empire to bear upon the task. He decided to retreat from Gaul, to buy himself time and lull the Celts into a false security. Meanwhile every corner of the world that was Rome set to collecting the resources I demanded.
In quantities unheard of they brought supplies, 10,000 talents each of yellow, pungent rock, white acrid sands scraped from the Sicilian desert, and the charcoal of ten thousand hectares of Germanian forests.
Iron ores were brought in caravans miles long, rolled across a continent on the grand network of roads, the spider web of Rome's greatness. Thousands of horses dragged endless blocks of lead in the summer heat.
I became the teacher of alchemists and blacksmiths. From me they learned the dark arts of ballistic chemistry, iron smelting, and bullet pouring. The Roman craftmen took to it all quickly and experimented freely until an entire legion was armed with powder weapons.
With this grand army Julius returned to Gaul. They came to him at Alesia, the Celts, in numbers never before seen, and surrounded his armies entirely. But as a wall of screaming Britons and raging chariots pressed their advantage, Julius Ceaser ordered the first barrage, and the ungodly roar alone stopped the Celts in their tracks.
It was as though an entity beyond imagining had popped into existence from a fourth dimension.
Then the rout began, and it did not end until the field was strewn with Gaulish blood. Ceaser won the greatest victory of his career at Alesia, and cut off each head of the Hydra Gaul in one fell swoop.
I rued my role in the slaugter. The human cost of my assistance surrounded us. But, I thought, such is war, and now it is done, and quickly.
******
Julius had me honored. Gave me a fortune and bountiful lands nearest to Rome. He paid me a tithe from the coffers of the Empire and bestowed a title upon me .
As the night of celebration drew to an end, Julius and I sat together, drunk and giddy with victory. I asked him how he felt having conquered Gaul.
"Gaul is not conquered yet, my traveller. The Celts shall come to see what it is to be conquered by Rome."
I asked what more there was to do? Their army was destroyed, their spirits broken. Simply demand fealty and Ceaser would have it.
But Julius only laughed. "My friend, a people are not conquered until their cities and towns are decimated, and the lust of Roman legions sated with blood and bounty. Until such a day, I am threatened from within and without."
I protest. Tens of thousands will die. Civilians, women, children.
"So they shall." JC gave me a hard stare and drank deep.
It was then i knew for certain, although I was 95% sure already. It was just hard to believe at first, because Julius was quite likable. Perhaps most genocidal maniacs are.
But now, I no longer had any doubts.
JC finished his glass and slammed it down on the wooden table, then he asked his guards to leave. When they'd gone he turned to me, as he'd done so many times before, and asked again his favorite question. The one he knew I would never answer.
"Now," he began, calling me by my honorary Roman name, "you must tell me Brutus. On your honor, how will I die?"
I just smiled and drank my own tall glass of wine.
*****
## For More
# r/LFTM | The entry was off. I rubbed my sweaty palms against my jeans. Untucking my button up shirt, I brushed my brown hair off my brow.
“Over there!” A Roman guard ordered.
I knew he had heard the impact of my arrival. The explosion wasn’t supposed to be near the market. Everything was falling apart – the whole plan had been ruined. People around me were being cautious. They knew I didn’t belong. I never got a chance to change out of my clothes from year 2018.
“After him!” Roman guards pushed themselves past a crowd of horrified people.
I quickly grabbed a rag from a vendor before wrapping my identity. I ran into a back alley trying to avoid the incoming guards. Bells began to ring across the city. Citizens were running into their homes.
“I got him!” A guard called behind me. I felt my stomach twist. I pushed through a wooden door running into a random house.
“Aye! Out with you!” A man and his wife raised their broom towards me.
I pushed myself back out into the street only to be circled by Roman guards. They all drew their swords forcing me to stop. Their lead guard removed his helmet scanning me from head to toe. Confusion rippled across all of the guards’ faces as they stared at my foreign attire. The lead guard didn’t even let me speak, in an instant, I was knocked out by the handle of his sword.
***
Water splashed across my forehead while I felt my muscles jolt awake. I tilted my head forward trying to regain consciousness. A man locked his eyes onto me through the iron bars holding me in. I knew who this individual was. I couldn’t believe he actually came to see me alone in secret.
“Why have you come?” He asked me. “Why are you here?”
I took a second to approach underneath the torch light. Julius Caesar leaned in closer towards the bars.
“Answer me,” he ordered. “Why are you here?”
I knew better than to spoil the mission. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I was about to feed him a lie about me being from a foreign kingdom before he asked, “What year are you from?”
“What?” I replied. “What do you mean?”
“Do not play a fool with me, boy. You are not the only traveler we’ve detained. Now tell me what you are doing here!” Julius Caesar slammed his palm against the iron bar. I felt myself jump back in shock.
I tried to form a plan on how I could get out of this situation and back to my mission. This whole thing wasn’t right.
“I want you to tell me how it happens. I know those of you have been planning something behind my back!”
“Excuse me?” I leaned in. “What are you talking about?”
“I know there is something going on in the leadership! I want you to tell me the truth! Are you here with information on my assassination? Do you know how I will die?”
I couldn’t believe it. It was if Julius Caesar had talked to someone in my fraternity before. I should have been the only one who has traveled. Apparently, that is not the case. I couldn’t understand how Julius Caesar knew about his assassination attempt. I glanced over at the rags lying on the ground behind Julius Caesar. Suddenly, I sparked an idea that may just get me out of these bars.
“You want to know the truth?” I whispered.
“Yes. Tell me!” Julius Caesar ordered grabbing onto the bars in front of us.
“My clothes are enchanted. As long as you wear them, no harm will come to you.” I smiled.
Julius Caesar took a few moments before stepping back. “Magic?” He said aloud smiling. “I need that sort of magic!”
“On one condition.”
“Anything!” Julius Caesar clapped.
“I want to get out of here with those clothes behind you.”
“You want those rags?” Julius Caesar pointed. He shook his head in confusion before agreeing with the terms. “Fine.” He replied. “We have a deal.”
I got to shake the hand of Julius Caesar. None of this was supposed to have happened but it was quite an experience. Not many people can say they shook Julius Caesar’s hand – but now I can. After the exchange, I changed into the rags before he set me free back onto the streets.
I noticed while I was leaving, Julius Caesar was wearing my clothes from year 2018. He walked as if nothing could touch him. I ducked my head behind a wooden frame when I heard the sounds of several men circling around Julius Caesar in the dark. I slowly made my way over to the Theatre next to me in order to hide behind one of the walls.
After a few short moments, I heard a loud moan coming from the street. I slowly turned the corner to see Julius Caesar holding his stomach while his blood ran between the bricks underneath him.
“This is Caesar! You idiots! Where is the traveler?!” One of them shouted. They all started pointing and arguing with one another. They appeared to be Caesar’s senators standing over him. They were all startled that they stabbed their own Julius Caesar.
“We thought this was the traveler!” One of them shouted. “He is wearing the traveler’s clothes!”
My breath grew heavy. I knew in our history that the assassination was just an attempt. This was all wrong. Julius Caesar just got killed by his own senators because they were after me for some reason.
“It is too late for him now.” One of the senators finished Julius Caesar with a final stab to the heart.
I slowly started to make my exit when I felt a chill slither down my spine. One of the senators ordered,
“Find that traveler, then put him with the others!”
***
To read more of my stories, visit [r/13thOlympian] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | 2018-02-15T20:37:40 | 2018-02-15T20:36:57 | 147 | 38 |
[WP] You are a renowned knight tasked with slaying a mighty dragon. On your quest, you find the beasts lair, and see it’s corpse. Relieved, and yet slightly disappointed, you prepare to take credit and report to the queen, but you notice something disturbing. The beast has been bitten in half. | "Your highness. I have returned."
"Ah yes, Sir Madhu. I trust your journey into the mountains was a success?"
His appearance begged to differ. The royal guard silently parting for a man who did not seem like the same knight who had left a fortnight ago. His armor was tattered, its sigils scarred and worn. Blood, or something similar, caked it. Some fresh enough to smear the hallowed floor he limped across.
"We are rid of that which plagues our skies?" The queen asked with interest. His appearance drawing her vague ire.
He shook his head meagerly. "I bear dire news your majesty."
"You did not slay the dragon?" She asked him. The implication causing her to sit up more.
"I did not. Because it was already dead." He glared ahead.
"Please explain?"
He turned to face the royal guard, and the other knights and nobles present. Before turning to look to her.
"Something ate the dragon." He announced boldly. His voice wavered. "Something ate it, and it's still out there. I saw it in the night two nights ago."
Madhu shook his head again. He checked his sword on his hip, as if he wasn't sure he'd brought it with him. The queen understood his bizarre behavior.
Fear.
"You're not making much sense, knight." She tried to redirect him.
"The village in the forest below those mountains. Chipiliro. Is gone." Madhu continued at volume. "The buildings flattered. The people are dead."
"Surely some survived?" One of the nobles asked him. He tried to approach Madhu in a non threatening manner.
"No. No one survived. And I fear we may not." Madhu said as he backed away slightly, his back to the throne.
"He lies! He deceives your kindness!" Another knight said as he advanced, drawing his sword to scare the man from the queen's proximity. Madhu, despite his demeanor grabbed the man and dodging a stab, flung him into the floor with ease. Anyone with that kind of strength meant what they said when frightened.
"Something *big*! Is COMING! Perhaps this way." He shouted. The guards advancing to perhaps remove him. "I do not know what it is! But I believe it unwise to stay!"
The castle, despite its stone construction, shook. The reverberations causing everyone to stop and listen. They increased steadily, dust beginning to rain from the ceiling. The door flew open, and a guard from the outer wall staggered in. He ran so quick, he fell over the men in front of him, bashing himself against the stone floor.
"Your majesty! A monster! It's- It's walking over the walls of the city!!" He cried out.
Many went to the door. Far over the hills of the city it stood. Six legs. Covered in almost what appeared to be moss. A leg touched down, the vibration reaching them. Beneath the leg something small exploded in timbers.
It was a house.
"What is that?" The queen quietly asked amidst the crowd.
"Perhaps the dragons... were protecting us." Madhu said.
That statement drove home more than most. Death was upon them now. It came for them all.
---
I don't think they got this. r/Jamaican_Dynamite | Knights were all about honour. But mostly in front of other people.
I’ve slain dragons. There was no dignity in the slaying itself, just a lot of writhing of blades and bodies, screaming and roaring from parched throats, and more swearing than two ships of pirates.
The honour was in carrying back the head of the dragon, and plopping it down on whoever needed to be impressed. Naturally, these feats drew attention to you. Put your name on the list, especially when dangerous dragons are roaming the lands. I swear every time these people send me on an expedition, they prepare a tearful eulogy about my bravery.
It was why I walked alone into the cave. Who would want to accompany me into a death trap? Glory meant less than life for the majority of men. More likely, they stood waiting on the outskirts of my nearest town, hoping to hear of my demise—and then they can hopefully swoop in to be the hero.
Thus, the relief was palpable when I saw that the dragon’s corpse sat there in its subterranean lair, a mountain even compared to the gold that it had amassed. I walked slowly up to the head, seeing its huge, open eye look towards the ceiling. A gauntleted hand moved onto its snout, saying a silent prayer for the beast. It was to be an opponent. Respect can be afforded.
I pulled out my sword, preparing to sever the neck cleanly. My wandering eyes moved up towards the back of the dragon, only to discover that there was nothing but darkness that stared back at me. I ran up the pile of gold that it rested on, and saw a copious amount of blood and gore that dripped from its innards. Nothing was left to the imagination. Entrails, the length and width of entire hallways, draped unseemly, torn apart with…
Sharp teeth.
I hastily raced to the bottom, trying to steady my hyperventilating breaths. It was all I could do to prevent my knees from buckling. The cave, which had seemed washed with a soft golden glow just a moment ago, now became an oppressive gloom, the last embers spewed forth during dusk before night enveloped the world.
There was an exhalation of breath, which felt like a gust of dead wind. One footstep trembled the cave, and another shook my heart loose as it jumped around my body with the intensity of a fervent drummer.
I said a prayer. For myself, this time.
I don’t think the other thing needed it, as a hulking mass, far swifter than it should be for something that big, appeared for the briefest of instants.
Darkness came quickly.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-07-13T10:18:19 | 2022-07-13T10:06:55 | 58 | 33 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | "You do not believe this is the last world conflict we'll see?"
I paused, realizing the blunder I had just made. However, it did not change anything; I could attribute my statement to many things without raising suspicion that I was not from this *time.*
"No, I do not think this is the last world war we will see," I replied to the disheartened man.
"I hope you are wrong; I have seen the devastation and destruction of war firsthand, and I would not wish to see a new generation plunged into that darkness again."
&nbsp;
The irony of what he said twisted like a knife in my stomach. I watched the man limp over to his stool and take a seat. He picked up his brush and gently began stroking red lines onto his canvas, taking extreme care with every movement of his arm. He was not great at painting, but he was also not terrible, either. *Amazing how such small failures can alter one's life so drastically,* I thought as I walked over to where the man was sitting.
I took a deep breath and raised the Beretta M9 pistol I had brought with me. It was time for me to head back, and I prayed the world I returned to would be significantly improved when I returned.
I turned the safety off and took aim. "Goodbye Adolf," I muttered as I pulled the trigger... | Doctor who much? ;)
I guess I gotta contribute now...
"You're a soldier from world war one, a cap-"
He cut me off,
"World war one! You... You mean there's going to be another one?'
He looked at me with a worried expression, not blinking staring right at me.
"Yes..." There was nothing else I could say.
"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry"
He had a tear in his eye
"You mean all of this, all of this fighting, all of this carnage. It will be for nothing?"
His voice cracked,
"Do you know how many friends I have lost... How many men, good men I've lead to their deaths"
I looked at him
"I'm sorry" that was all I could say... | 2017-12-10T10:17:54 | 2017-12-10T10:14:54 | 218 | 13 |
[WP] One morning everyone in the world wakes up in their 18-year old body, memories intact. Society tries to continue as normal despite the change, but a world full of energetic adolescents certainly has its quirks. | I didn't miss the overwhelming hum of the fluorescent lights in Dr. Marshall's office. It had been almost three years since the last time we had our last meeting.
It was odd to see her now, her hair was void of the grays that would eventually come into their roots. Her glasses sat on the table, she wouldn't need those for another 8 or 9 years, at least that's what she told me she had guessed when I asked earlier. She looked well, three decades of medical work and research hadn't shaped faint lines and creases in her skin yet. I imagine she had taken the change happily.
"Jonathan, unfortunately, we really won't know anything until we get the results back. But if I'm being honest with you, it's not looking good. Since the change, I've seen amputees who woke up with their missing limbs back, elderly patients without their knee replacements gone, the tattoo I got when I turned 22 vanished off my skin. I really don't know what to say," I could tell by the look on her face she was looking for something to say, "but it's a good thing you came in, if the tumor is there now we can remove it before it grows. And if it isn't then we can monitor the area where it formed last time and go from there."
If I was truly 18 again, it would be another year and a half or so before the migraines would start. I wish I could have woken up after the change with the body of a happy teenager, but instead my thoughts raced with memories of hearing Dr. Marshall tell me of my diagnosis. with memories of nights where I was so sick and weak I wanted to give in to everything and let go, with memories of having to learn to walk again.
I tried to give Dr. Marshall a valid response of a hopeful smile as the fluorescent lights hummed, but I couldn't. | I shouldn't, I couldn't, help but laugh at me
At least I would've, if I weren't so angsty
My wrinkled skin, now pale and acne'd
Strange hate for my reflection, hating back at me.
&#x200B;
If I'd took to the window, and forgot the mirror
I'd have seen it was everyone, not just me that was thinner
In waist, wallet and debt, and 9 to 5s
And fatter in dreams of women's behinds.
&#x200B;
And as the world shaped to our volatile brains
Stock markets swung hard with waves of mood change
And change was everywhere, the news displayed-
"THE ESTABLISHMENT - BANNED - BY ORDER OF THE SAME!"
&#x200B;
And all-night parties turned all-year raves
And gap years swelled to gap decades
Till being cool wasn't, and hipsters were lame
Till even the hardcore wanted bedtime again.
&#x200B;
With elastic bodies and fresh-faced agendas
When lost virginities became legal tender
As the fray turned grey, we realised our plight:
"It's no fun being young when there's no one to fight." | 2020-11-02T11:00:41 | 2020-11-02T10:58:27 | 62 | 36 |
[WP] One day you wake up with 30 dollars and a note that says “For Rent”. The thing is you aren’t renting out the place. The next day you see a spider and right before you kill it you hear it say, “Please i paid my rent don’t kill me”. | I'm not a particularly picky person. If I find thirty dollars with a strange note, I'm up thirty bucks. Hell, if they're paying, that's way better than my dogs were doing.
After interrogating my brother about it, he seemed to assume I was fucking with him and that was that. I've got places to be. Mysteries tend to unravel with time.
Returning home twelvish hours later, and my pups appeared to extremely angry at the corner. This wasn't unusual, I've had a spider web down from the ceiling to land on my hand. Unnerving, but spiders are almost entirely harmless.
A few minutes of inspection of the offending corner, I see the subject of their ire. A crab spider. A fuckin big one too. Really not my favorite, but I'm....pretty sure aren't very dangerous.
Sighing, and wondering if I should just left it to it's fate, I put my hand down flat in front of it, and go to poke it in the butt so it'll run onto my hand, when it looks me square in the eye and speaks.
"Please don't kill me, I paid rent!" Well. I'll be fucked. I've hallucinated in my day, but I'm fresh off work. This is as horrifying sober as I get.
"You, did?" I stammer. "Wait, that cash was you"? "Paid fair and square! Call off the beasts!" The pups had calmed since I came to take care of the problem, and didn't seem to register the spiders speech, which was all the better. "Well... Hop onto my hand then, I think we need to talk."
As it turns out, he has aspirations. Wanted to be a web developer. | [POEM]
It wasn't a wolf, not a bat or a badger.
Eight legs and furry, we began to chatter.
"I'm a spider you see, six eyes, I'm fanged.
I won't be a bother, my payment was arranged.
And if I can say, one simple thing I need,
listen, it's important, please don't kill me."
Bewildered and dumb struck, it was beyond meaning.
But I paused and gave a listen to reason.
"I've heard your accord, and I think it's fair.
Just stay off the ground, or your life you dare.
For I've a cat you see, two paws on he,
with fangs possessed and senses keen."
So now I live with a spider named Queen
She pays for her board but eats for free.
My only issue left is her dining affairs,
webs in the rafters, her scraps on the stairs.
And maybe perhaps, one thing more.
She won't shut up, about the length of my hair. | 2021-02-18T20:02:32 | 2021-02-18T19:16:49 | 485 | 52 |
[WP] You arrive in the year 1000, and all you have are the clothes on your back, a laptop with the entire Wikipedia library, and a solar charger. | 1000 - An unshaven man in mysterious garb is found at a local inn, attempting to communicate with the occupants with the aid of a glowing shape-shifting mirror. Man is robbed at knifepoint within the night.
1002 - It is claimed that for a modest fee, a peddler near the local fish market can perform strange magic with moving paintings for a few minutes a day during summer time.
1003 - The magical device of much notoriety finally makes its way into the hands of the King, placing a sizeable bounty on any information concerning previous owners.
1006 - After years of dead ends and hanged charlatans, a drunk vagrant from a border town is brought forth before the King and is intensely questioned. After a series of convincing operations performed upon the device, the vagrant is assigned the role of the King's Teknikal advisor.
1010 - A rudimentary printing press is formalized and used to dispatch all manner of propaganda and royal decrees throughout the land using a psychologically clever medium: captioned cartoon cats.
1020 - Literacy rates shoot up to 65%. Perinatal mortality rate declines by as much as 80% in the Capitol.
1030 - The first musket rifle is rolled out of production and used to defeat English Longbowmen in a decisive battle. Rail tracks are laid down between the main four cities as an entire workforce is conscripted into digging for coal. Allies and enemies alike refer to the Kingdom as "the place of terrifying wonder".
1040 - Mass transit is common, and tungsten filaments operate day and night in the capital city powered by a small coal power station. The kingdom spans half a continent and shows no sign of stopping. Capitol-approved "magic-men" are dispensed all around the kingdom as ad-hoc apothecaries and agriculture specialists, boosting crop yields and survivability rates for all manner of ailments.
1045 - The King's loyal teknikal advisor dies of liver complications. Without a successor, the court devolves into infighting, and a coup is staged. The magical kompewter device is destroyed in the confusion.
1120 - The kingdom has split into five separate provinces specialising in one of either coal production, musket production, or agriculture.
1580 - First powered flight.
******
^^^Edit: ^^^Wow, ^^^slow ^^^WP ^^^day ^^^huh. ^^^I ^^^mean ^^^this ^^^is ^^^garbage, ^^^but ^^^I'll ^^^happily ^^^take ^^^your ^^^upvotes.
^^^If ^^^you ^^^want ^^^more ^^^please ^^^consider [^^^my ^^^bullshit ^^^sub](http://www.whyisadvertizingpersonalsubsthefuckingnormnow.com) | I should have prepared more. I didn't though it will work on the first run. And the return mechanism is not ready yet - and never will be now. I do have most of the required knowledge and a good memory of my own plans but even with all that knowledge I'll never be able manufacture, or in that manner, create the machinery to manufacture the delicate and microscopic components of the machine. Not in my life time.
But first I need to ensure the safety of the laptop. I could dig a hole and hide it but the ground is damp and I don't have plastic bags. And it could rain any time.
Anyone interested in part 2?
Edit: Part 2
I'll just hide it under the coat. Damn! My clothes! I don't want to draw attention.. Think think.. Dirt. I'll pretend as a beggar. First I need to get rid of the shoes. I'll dig here.. Shoes are gone, hope nobody ever find them. Now let's get dirty.. Ok but something is missing.. I need to wear the clothes. I'll rub it with this rock. A little hole here and a little rub there. Looking good. Were there socks in that time? Let's check.. There were but not machine knitted and definitely not for beggar status. Off they go.
I'm walking 10 minutes and my feet are already hurt. I'll just rip the bottom part of the coat and wrap it around feet.. It still hurts but a little less.
Ok. I can see the village. I hope the people are nice. But what should I do? I need shelter but I don't have any money. It's probably some silver and gold coins. Lets see... Silver and Cooper also. Wait a minute!!! The silver mine 10 kilometers to the South. When did they found it? Lets see... They found the first nugget only 200 years from now. That is great! I can later go there and look for some nuggets to get me started. For now I'll try to find some shelter and food in exchange for some work they might have for me.
To be continued? | 2016-12-27T13:43:34 | 2016-12-27T12:31:19 | 991 | 21 |
[WP] A mother notices her young son has been spending an excessive amount of time playing a game on his computer. She forces him to go outside and play for the day. She ends up playing the game out of curiosity but notices some disturbing messages in it that little children would not pick up on. | Jimmy slammed the front door behind him.
Sasha reached towards the computer. She looked over the whole screen, but there was no 'x' to close the game.
Along the top of the screen were portraits of little animals. Sasha leaned down. They looked like colorful little dogs, or maybe cats. Small, furry creatures. They looked quite happy, with big, toothy smiles, all except the last one, which had a little pink ribbon on her neck. There were little, full bars next to their portraits. Sasha reached down for the power button.
She regretted buying this game for him. He'd begged and begged to get a puppy, so she'd bought this pet game for him so he could see how much work taking care of a pet was. Like a child, except it never grew up.
Instead of boring him, the game had engrossed him. So much that he didn't want a dog anymore; he was more than happy with his virtual animals. A little too happy. He had been glued to the computer for three days. Today she'd finally gotten fed up with it and sent him outside. She'd told him to find one of the Richardsons and see if they wanted to play in the woods. Jimmy had seemed really upset.
*But mom, you can't!* Jimmy had pleaded. *Deni is sick! If I don't take care of her today, she'll die! You're killing her! And I have to play with the others or they'll get sad!*
She took her hand away from the power button. It was her fault, really. She should've realized he'd get attached to any sort of pet, even if it wasn't real. And he had worked a lot harder at taking care of them than she'd expected. Maybe he was ready for a pet. Either way, it would be cruel to take these ones away from him.
She sat down at the computer and clicked on the last portrait--a sad, cat-like creature. That must be Deni. A sad, tinny tune began to play from the computer speakers. In the middle of the screen a rotating model of Deni appeared, a purple furry thing with a pink ribbon around her neck. Three big buttons showed up right under her: "Feed," "Wash," and "Play." Under those were numerous smaller ones, including "Personality" and "Abandon." Sasha clicked on the one that said "Take to the Vet."
Deni stopped rotating and stared straight out of the screen, hissing through the speakers, her teeth sharp. "I don't want to go to the vet," she said on the screen.
Below were two options: "Coax" or "Put in kennel". Sasha clicked on "Coax". The options disappeared, replaced by "Call me by my name:". A blinking cursor appeared. Sasha smiled, typing in "D-E-N-I".
Deni smiled. A short video played of a boy who looked vaguely like Jimmy carrying the purple pet into a building. A few moments later, they emerged, Deni walking on her own, both looking happy.
The screen returned to the row of portraits. A happy tune began to play. There were words. She turned the speakers up until she could make them out.
*Don't grow up, we never grow up*
*We're your pets, we don't grow up*
*Feed us, wash us, take care of us*
*Don't grow up with us*
Sasha clicked on the first portrait. This pet looked much bigger than Deni, its rotating model nearly filling the screen. It was more dog-like, almost wolf-like, with a longer snout, its mouth curling into a toothy smile.
Sasha clicked "Feed". Something that looked like a red-colored steak appeared in the game, and the pet dove onto it, ripping it apart and devouring it quickly. That was pretty easy. Sasha then clicked "Play".
The boy appeared again, this time in a field with the dog-creature. There were trees in the distance. The dog-creature was much bigger than the boy. A diagram with arrow keys blinked in the upper right corner. Sasha tried pressing the arrow keys, and the boy moved around. The dog-creature did not follow. She hovered the cursor over the dog-creature. A button appeared, reading "Call me by my name." She clicked it.
A blank line appeared, again, with a blinking cursor. She had no idea what this thing's name was. She typed in "D-O-G-G-Y".
A howl blared through the speakers. The dog-creature's face filled the screen, drool dripping from his open jaws. "THAT'S NOT MY NAME!" it said. Sasha jumped up, banging her knee on the underside of the desk, swearing. She turned the speakers down. Was that blood staining his mouth? "Isn't that a little unnecessary?" she muttered. After a moment, she sat back down, chuckling. Scared by a children's virtual pet game.
The blinking cursor appeared again. This time there was a little exclamation point with some text in the upper right. It read: "WARNING: You have not trained this pet well."
She typed in "J-I-M-M-Y".
Somehow the growl didn't seem any quieter. "THAT'S NOT MY NAME!" the dog-creature yelled again on the screen, even angrier than before, yellow eyes wild.
This time the blinking cursor didn't reappear. Instead, the dog-creature lunged towards her, snapping its jaws. When its face came back into view, the stain on its mouth was unmistakable. It was blood. Then it tilted its head and said something else.
"WHO ARE YOU? I DON'T KNOW YOU."
The warning reappeared, slightly different. "WARNING: You have not trained this pet at all."
The screen returned to the field with the boy. The dog-creature ran off into the trees in the distance. Once it disappeared, Sasha looked at the boy more closely.
He was missing an arm.
Sasha stabbed the power button. "ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO QUIT?" She clicked "Yes" as fast as she could.
Before the screen went black, she looked towards the front door. Through the windows beside it, she could see the woods in the distance. | Edith flicked the pen between her fingers and tapped the end against her forehead. Her eyes switched between three spots. A large internet browser on the bottom left of her skin showing the min-max statistics of a melee DPS mage, a piece of gridded paper on her desk working out the time-to-EXP calculations for each mob, and the actual game, the latest hit F2P, fantasy, looter-style, microtransactions-filled MMORPG/TPS known as Lootsquest, stuck in the top-right corner of her son's computer screen.
"Damn this micro transactions bullshit and their stupid RNG stat boosts. What the fuck happened to the good old days with action-adventure puzzle platformers and 2D sidescrollers..."
Edith was on a mission. According to the latest rumor sites and update patch notes, there was supposed to be some strange ARPG on-going in Lootsquest. Based off the terms of agreements listed in a foreign version of the game site, there was supposed to be some form of substantial real-world reward in place for whoever manages to place in the first 200 (per each international region) to discover the secret of the ARPG.
This ARPG, known as the "Mirrors of Dothrokia" event, was rather simple. To put it into layman terms, after getting in the endgame stages of the actual main story campaign (which only lasted about two hours which was significantly longer than the average 20XX MMORPG), anyone (with at least 20 dollars in accrued Lootsquest microtransactions credits) would have the opportunity to go and seek out the Mirror Dungeon, which was located at the bottom of the main single-faction populated hub world. To gain access to this Mirror Dungeon was where the actual ARPG malarky started.
"Darick... Alphonso.... Nyfelgiearda... Kerrick..." Edith muttered, scratching their names off her list as her toon ventured throughout the hub world.
Using the new "photo-feature" presented in the game, one would use their linked webcam/recording device in order to snap a photo of their own face to one of the four aforementioned NPC shopkeepers.
Eerily enough, each of these NPCs seemed to be... responding to the images in their own strange ways.
"Aren't you a little too old for adventure, miss?"
"Nice crow's feet."
"DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA. DAKKA!~"
"[Random elven gibberish signifying some positive affirmation of something.]"
Edith shrugged the strange dialogue off. And continued to venture into the dungeon. The soundtrack that went into the city underground was a lovely orchestral composition reminiscent of some specifically older open-world RPG involving some form of convicted fantasy-land dweller as the protagonist in at least the past three-out-of-five iterations of that series.
Edith worked out the final calculations of her class build and finally began dumping her skill points after several hours of grinding.
After a few more good bits of time clearly the forty-floors to the Mirror Room at the very, very bottom of the dungeon. Edith was forced to queue up for a thirteen-member party in order to defeat the final boss of the dungeon. Each member of the party was required to submit their (parent's) credit card information, give up their home address, check off on some agreement written in German, and then agree to verbally give up legal rights to complain about misuse without clarification of what misuse might've been conducted.
Edith groaned loudly throughout all of this, went into the kitchen to grab a can of beer, and then sat back down as the ungodly loading screen went into play for the next ten minutes.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Night fell when that moment happened. Doritos sat spilled onto Edith's belly and slippers as dried beer stained the top of her tee-shirt. Her eyes were bloodshot red as she continued to delve deeper into the fifty steps that led to Gron du Folmoent ka Dothrokia, the inventor of the Mirrors of Dothrokia and the final boss of the dungeon that needed to be defeated within a twenty minute time limit in order to finally win the event.
Finally, after letting out suburbia's loudest burp from the comfort of her son, Jimmy's room, Gron was defeated. Edith would sign off on a few more bits and pieces of personal information before the game would finally give her the ARPG reward of about seven dollars, a keychain of her avatar, and a new keyboard.
It was at that moment, that Edith awoke from her NEET-like episode of a twenty-six-hour gaming session and saw that cryptic message on her screen.
**"It appears that you have been gaming for more than 3+ hours... Maybe it's time to take a break."**
It was a relic of the olden times of MMO.
One that only Edith would recognize as a true testament of a nerd's lack of life and real, acceptable social interests.
One that would remind Edith that her son, Jimmy, has literally been locked outside the house for about twenty-six hours and would probably be off playing detective or doctor or patent lawyer with that stupid Suzy from next door. Indoors. Again.
Edith felt a sugar-filled vein pop along her backside as she pondered on this thought, shrugged, and decided that she needed to empty her bucket. But not before swearing that she would never play this filty, pathetic, weak, spineless excuse of an MMO ever again.
After all, she had reached the endgame and burnt two-hundred dollars on microtransactions. There was really no more point in playing. | 2017-05-06T11:21:36 | 2017-05-06T10:07:34 | 269 | 21 |
[WP] Everyone is born with either a curse or power. You have one of the two, but you're not sure which. | The date was September 17th, after so many attempts at finding what her power was, Morgan decided she was fed up with the lost memories. With no indication of how her left hand was missing, or her pinky and ring finger on her right hand, and various scars across her chest, she decided she'd had enough.
She approached the building with a handgun in her coat, easy enough to conceal in the cavity where she was missing a rib or two. On entering she pulled the gun and fired into the air. "Everyone on the floor, or you'll --" her exclamation was cut short by a sharpshooter, who in a single swift motion drew his gun, fired, and it pierced straight through her eye.
--
The date was September 17th, Morgan woke with a pounding headache, and upon approaching the mirror, she was missing an eye. "When did that happen?" She wondered.
Edit: fixing an auto correct
Please be gentle, this is the first thing I've written since book reports in high school. | [POEM]
There once lived a man in Kazoo,
The strongest that anyone knew.
He once drove in a car,
Had twelve drinks at a bar,
So he carried it home from Peru.
The man in Kazoo lives alone,
Even though he is loved and well known.
On his first married night,
He pancaked his wife.
Is he blessed? Is he cursed? I don't know. | 2019-07-28T04:57:17 | 2019-07-28T03:39:31 | 314 | 19 |
[WP] Write a story that makes absolutely no sense, until the last sentence. | "Honey, the ceiling's dripping," Catherine said, wire-cutters in hand. She looked at her cat, who merely stretched and sat back down on the wall again.
"I'm sorry," Katherine's husband said, "What do you mean? Is the paint still dry?"
"No, the actual ceiling," Kathy replied, "It's dripping chunks of what kind of looks like polysterine."
"I thought that was an astroturf ceiling," her husband responded, "We should contact the electrician."
Katy sighed, this was the fifth time in the next two hours that she had called out a repairman. This flat was proving to be a nightmare. If it wasn't the gas not working, it was the windows breaking, or the walls shifting perpendicular to the wrong shade of lavender, or the gas working.
It has been so promising on paper, a lovely two story flat comprised of three floors, Kat had loved it from the moment she first smelt it. But now they were living in it, it was constantly revealing all it's problems.
"Alright," Cat's husband responded, "They'll be here at eighty past seven, give or take thirty hours. In the meantime, they've suggested we shutdown the paradox generators."
Ca nodded, "I really hope they fix them properly last time," she said as she flew to the stasis grid, "I'm getting sick of living in a broken warp."
The generator turned off, leaving the pair in a four foot by four foot blank room. Catherine sighed, the worst part about waiting for a reality repairman was that her husband would also be offline until it was fixed. | Death to the infidels. When one door closes, it remains closed. Ribbons, colours, balloons. And the crisis in Syria, that is incredibly tragic.
My hands are so smooth, why doesn't hair grow on palms? Oh God, its growing right now. Not the hair, my palms. They are getting bigger, ever so much. Please stop them.
They hit me. I hit me. Not me, myself. What would my Grammar teacher say? She is sitting besides me, why don't I ask her. No wait its not her its a sheep. A black sheep. It's my friend. Might not actually be a sheep. Definitely not my friend though.
They can see me, I can't see them. The mirror is a window. I can hear pink and purple. They are calling my name, "Moth, moth." Who is he?
The mirror opens and the white-coats speak. "Meth is one hell of a drug." | 2015-06-12T23:08:17 | 2015-06-12T22:30:16 | 115 | 13 |
[WP] "Academy Magic" is generally regarded as safe magic. "Fell Magic" is dangerous and can almost only be used for evil. "Vile Magic," meanwhile, is 'safe' but is also the magical equivalent of "don't google that, if you don't already know then you really don't want to know, I promise" | They all knew she had arrived. They had heard the the thick oaken door creak open.
All in the grand guildhall of the mages were quiet, afraid that they might offend - for none dared defy the legendary "Vile mage" - hell, even calling her that would likely see oneself struck with a litany of curses and hellbrands upon one's soul.
Of course, all of this hesitation, even among the most learned of arcane scholars present in the guildhall, was not without good reason. It took a mind with a most steely resolve to master that kind of magic.
Still, this was a gathering of the masters, so it was expected that she would turn up. The greatest of the vile mages, renowned for her power. Moving without touching the floor, she approached the main hall and stood resplendent before the guildmaster.
She didn't even bow. Aside from the guildmaster, then all others averted their gaze.
"Have my throne ready. I'll just freshen up a bit before I'm seated" she said, oozing confidence while relishing in her own display of power.
All present in the main hall breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she left for the water closet. A few dared question if it was necesary to walk on eggshells around her, but they were quickly silenced, with hushed reminders of what had happened last time the guild had attempted to ban the study of that particular school of magic. A number of the younger mages found this to be rather silly, again calling for the school to be banned.
To quiet down the wizards present, before things erupted into a debate club, the guildmaster rose and tapped his crystal staff for attention: "Now now - we must respect those who master this strange dicipline. Few of us have the stomach for it, and who knows what dark places the vile masters would seek refuge in should we ban their presence from these lands. The imperial armies would be powerless to enforce such a decree, and the imperial magistrates would repeal it just the same - for many regions depend on vile magic for their agricultural sector"
There were murmurs, some in agreement, some begrudgingly so, others just shook their head but otherwise sat down and awaited the return of the vile mage.
When she finally did appear from the water closet one could see how the air inside had been rendered thick with her magic. It poured out like velvet powder, hanging in the air.
It didn't help that her version of a levitation spell saw this magical miasma spread around her quite energetically as she floated past her esteemed peers, who all waited with baited, if not held, breath.
For such was the power of the dookie-mancer, mistress of the school of shit magic. | It was dark, yet so bright my eyes would water. I could barely hear anything but the sounds of my heartbeat, and the crackling of my bones as I breathed. The smell of rot and mould lingered in my nostrils.
I could see them swimming, reaching out to me, desperate and struggling to keep afloat. I didn't care, but then their faces lit up. I wished not to see my brother, nor my best friend beside him.
My gloved hands would reach out, the figures I would see were not farther than my hand, yet I still couldn't reach them. They're drowning, drowning in the dark ocean under my eyes.
I tried to remember what happened next, but it was that monster. That monster stole their hope, stole their skin. The bleeding wouldn't stop, until my now only friend lives again, becoming one. The monster laughed, I tried to stop myself, but my jaws broke, and I laughed too.
That is why I betrayed her, forsaking her guidance. I couldn't handle the corruption of my senses, the malevolent love, stuck to my face like a vile bag of flesh. My best brother's new form was so beautiful, but so wrong. They didn't believe me, but that is why I swallowed my eyes.
"A few pennies for a happy old man?" I repeated blindly in the streets of my home, with a smile strewn across my face.
It's been a few days since I last heard the clatter of metal dropping into my cup, but I do hear some distant whispers speaking of me sometimes. They must be recognizing the sigil on my forehead as a sign of illness, the craft of vile magic. Stupid superstitions... If only they were more than half wrong.
At least I won't starve, or grow bored. For an invisible friend always has me company, whispering behind my nibbled ear.
They say that they like to drink tea, and the taste of people... How charming. | 2022-05-25T13:51:52 | 2022-05-25T12:07:14 | 34 | 21 |
[WP] You push your way through the party and clink a champagne glass, “Ladies and gentlemen, we gather here at the end of the world. The last 24 hours of the apocalypse, after which the earth’s condition will trigger our safehouse, and prison, to self-destruct. I would like to make a toast.” | “Ladies and gentlemen, we gather here at the end of the world. The last 24 hours of the apocalypse, after which the earth’s condition will trigger our safehouse, and prison, to self-destruct. I would like to make a toast.” His smile reminded me a little of Leonardo DiCaprio in the Great Gatsby. There was something earnest about him, something pure. He had a jovial demeaner, even here and now.
I had the presence of mind to scan the faces of the last people I knew I would ever see. They were all looking at him adoringly. I recognized some of the faces, people from my college campus. People who had been my friends back when we were allowed to call ourselves friends.
Now we were a family. We were brothers and sisters under our God, and under the great Communicator.
We'd been preparing for this day for months. Today, we knew, a series of bombs were going off above us. The bunker was already shielding us from distant radiation from Houston, which had likely already been vaporized.
We weren't going to wait to die of exposure or starvation in the fallout. Our father would provide our escape. In only a few hours, the bunker would explode, and our souls and only our souls would ascend to the heavenly realm.
I was a little sad about that. Before I gave up my cell phone to the Communicator, my sister had begged me to come home every day, sending text after text, telling me I had lost my mind.
People just don't understand. Only he knows the truth, and we're blessed to share it with him.
I noticed as the Communicator took a drink from his glass that the music was getting louder. I wasn't really sure whether that was to cover the sound of the bombs above us, which I had not heard so far. But in my heart, I was beginning to suspect it was to prevent us from asking questions. | Rowan Frainworth checked his notes meticulously and let out a grunt. "I suppose it shall be permitted," he said. The dozens of guests in their tuxes and dresses nodded in silence. My request had been granted. The world was about to end, and none seemed eager to waste their sparse time arguing.
As I plugged in the metal box the lights flickered for a moment and we all held our breaths. Electricity had grown scarce. We burned through our reserves as if there were no tomorrow. Because there weren't.
"Could you be as kind as to add a slice for me, dear Jonathan?"
"Of course, Ms Plumroth. There are, after all, two slits."
An aroma of wheat and yeast filled the room. Soon, the instrument dinged and my meal was ready.
"After you, Ms Plumroth," I said. She glanced at me with kind eyes, and she extracted her piece. I took mine and placed it carefully on a plate, before covering it with a generous smear of butter.
As the world fell apart outside our crammed bunker, heralding the apocalypse that would swallow us all, I took a bite.
The taste was divine. For though the world was ending, I craved nothing more than some toast. | 2021-12-23T17:00:16 | 2021-12-23T11:48:52 | 49 | 29 |
[WP] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test. You are one of the ten, but nobody knows from which group they came. | part 1 of (I don’t even know)
let me know if I should post the rest
"this is all they could come up with?"
Jennifer shrugged, not really having a worthwhile reply. We sat at our assigned table and looked around the large, mostly empty, conference hall surveying its eight other occupants. "I thought it would be easier to tell." I said to nobody in particular with a tone that was somewhere between frustration and disappointment.
This was it, all of it. One of the most expensive multinational projects in the world. Five years ago without much warning every established nation in the world instituted a mandatory standardised unified test course, for the purpose of determining the five most, and least intelligent people on earth. This "test" included measurements of logic, social intelligence, fundamental and advanced creative problem solving, reflexes, literal brain scans, memory tests, and the list goes on. Billions of dollars every year, and this, is it?
Looking around the room you'd expect to be able to tell which is which, the most and least intelligent I mean, I've known math types who can do calculus in their head but couldn't hold a conversation if they were payed to, and I've seen the opposite as well. Only a few things were sure, everyone was weird, and nobody knew why they were here.
I looked around again, this time taking in each team in turn. Once the security guys put us in here we were each given a name tag and a list of teams. Jennifer was my partner and, honestly, the most normal person there. I decided to start looking at the teams by the order on the list, not alphabetical of course.
Milo and Isaac. I looked up and saw in the far corner of the room there was a very tan and muscular man with more than a few tattoos (visible because of the amount of shirt he wasn't wearing) with the nametag reading Milo. Next to him talking quietly was an eastern european looking guy was wearing a purple beanie, far too much makeup, and a badge that read Isaac.
James and Maria. Maria (mid thirties, slightly annoying) was on her way to talk to Milo and introduce herself, clearly not interested in her own partner. Meanwhile James (who must have been someone famous based on the reactions he provoked from some of the others) was talking to two girls from the other teams and was about to be joined by jennifer, fine let her talk I've been busy checking out the competition. Surely thats what this is about, competition, why would they put us in teams otherwise.
Lisa and Chelsea. They were almost twins and made up the majority of the present cult of James.
Michael and Shey. Michael was a fifty something man who despite his apparent age carried himself in a very imposing manner. Conversely Shey appeared to be a high school age girl still wearing her uniform.
Nothing clear, nothing obvious. I wondered who was who, but only briefly. Jennifer returned just then, saying in a casual way, "musician". "what?" I was actually surprised. "he's a musician," She nodded in James' direction. "you seemed curious about why they were crowding him so I pretended to join in so they'd let it slip naturally." Whoever set this up, they picked me a good partner.
Five minutes of casual conversation, getting to know each other. Then the LCD panel in the front of the room lit up. On the screen red text began creating itself. "you have been selected as the most and least intelligent people on earth by a rigorous testing system, however two of you were not. Find and evict the impostors. You have two hours." below this was a timer showing the remaining time.
It took a few of us a moment to process this. "one of the teams was fake?" Maria lost her composure (if she had any to begin with) immediately. James was nice enough to try and calm her down, with limited success. Isaac chimed in a quick reply in an obviously fake British accent he used to cover his obviously real Russian one. "not necessarily luv, they could be split up." "that would make the most sense." Shey said, and everyone nodded silently. "but how are we supposed to know?" Milo said, sweat clearly forming on his brow. "that," I pointed out "is up to us." "what if we can't do it?" This came from chelsea. There was a pause while we all remembered how the chosen ten were never announced to the public. The pause grew into an all consuming silence that spared nothing but a faint ticking and the fainter hum of electronics behind the monitor. 1:57:05, 1:57:04, 1:57:03... | I pace the waiting room. Up and down, up and down. Everyone is isolated from each other initially to prevent reading the others and finding out which group they came from. Well, most of the candidates knew which group they came from anyway. The room had a couch, a dresser, and a bit of refreshments on the small table in front of the couch.
"Well, figures I'd be the top 5 dumbest people in the world."
I smoked my way through high school and dropped out of college. For what? I thought I had a plan. My buddy and I, the start-up. Then shit went south and the fucker ditched me. Started doing odd-jobs, lived on the streets for a bit. Smoked a bit of this, shot up a bit of that. Got my ass beat so many times I barely feel physical pain anymore. Oh, that reminds me. If I'm going to humiliate myself on global television I might as well just do it while I'm feeling good and not getting the shakes. I'm sorry, mom, dad. I should have listened after all.
I pull out my syringe.
|
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome, to the 3rd GC! I am your host for today, Quin Jackson, and I am joined with my amazing co-host, Victor. The Generation Contrast is a decennial event, where by 5 of the brightest minds of each new generation has to work with the 5 dumbest minds of the generation for the GC test. Now the GCT has been set, funded and organised by an anonymous individual ever since the creation of the GC in 2020. Even I don't know who he is."
The crowd murmurs.
"Now, we are going to move on to the live interviews, where the participants will be interviewed individually in their respective waiting rooms." The crowd goes wild as the anticipation to see who were the lucky few to be chosen. Or unlucky.
"Now, we will be looking at James, 26, jobless. But one of the smartest men of the generation. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TO TOGETHER FOR-"
The stadium's large screen changed from the faces of the casters, to a man sitting in the waiting room with his face in ecstasy and his arm with a needle sticking out of it. His entire head was thrown back on the couch as his eyes rolled back.
|
As I shoot up, thoughts run wild in my head. What's going to happen to me after the GC? Will my life be better after being known as the biggest dumbass in the world? Fuck it, I might just off myself after this shit is done. I'll OD on whatever, feel good when I pass out at least. Or not, if I get money.
My thoughts clear as the my body circulates the liquid of the gods. That hits the fucking spot, Mable's stuff is damn good as always. As I roll back my eyes to enjoy the pleasure, the door opens.
And suddenly, the whole world can see me shooting up heroin.
|
"JAMES? WHAT THE-? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE?"
Quin turns off the mics and calms Victor down before he destroys the production desk.
"FUCK, HAVE YOU NOT DISGRACED THE FAMILY ENOUGH?" "Victor, you have to calm down. We have the biggest gig of the decade. Don't let your brother or anything stop you. And why are you pissed off? He's one of the brightest minds in his generation." "It must be a mistake. That doesn't make any sense for him to be here as one of the smartest. Dumbest, maybe, but not a snowball's chance in hell is he one of the smartest. You know what, professionalism. Let's get back to the show." Quin smiles at Victor.
Quin turns the mics back on.
"Er, James seems to be in, well, wonderland. We'll get back to him in a bit." "Apologies, everyone. I was not expecting my brother to be on the GC."
The crowd has mixed reactions, as Quin and Victor masterfully shifts the attention away from James and to the next participant.
"And moving on to the next brightest mind..."
EDIT: Formatting | 2016-03-03T06:19:08 | 2016-03-03T05:47:53 | 40 | 26 |
[WP] For once there were no monologues, no quick quips or dramatic flashy movements, barely a moment of acknowledgement before every dirty trick was pulled and all honour forgotten. For the first time in years, maybe ever, the hero and villain truly fought | Watchers are witnesses; and with neither to hold court to their clash, there was no further need for theatrics.
It's in the way they tear across the sand to meet the other, knives as sharp as the curses that spit from furious mouths. Golden armour dents as black leathers tear. The sun is setting and it draws long shadows across the dunes, letting their outlines box as they swing and snarl and **hate.**
It's in the way they leave no quarter after a vicious blow. One clutches at their stomach as a slash stains the white beneath them, welling out the evidence of life between squeezing fingers. The other advances, drives home the advantage: and hisses as knuckles bruise their throat, breath rattling.
It's in the way they're both tired of the speeches about glory and righteousness, about justice and revenge. Under the dying light, they etch their battle into the sand. Eventually there's enough red in their eyes and on their armours that they blur together.
It's in the way that one stumbles as the sun falls, aching legs collapsing beneath a tired body.
It's in the way that they don't even beg as a hand tangles their hair and holds them up, throat exposed, arms too weak to resist further.
It's in the way the survivor falls to their knees and stares up at the uncaring stars, covered in too many wounds to be confident of their own survival.
Watchers are witnesses; and nobody is there to witness as hatred finally bears fruit. | It was complicated.
Both sides had a job.
Both sides had a motive.
But in that moment, there were no words, no monologues of justified evil plans, no gallant speeches of honour and justice. Just the will to fight
It was complicated. It was terrifying and yet gorgeous, thrilling but still beautiful and peaceful.
It was a fight between two people who in that moment saw nothing else but each other, and wanted nothing more than utter victory over the other.
Soldiers dream to have a fight so glorious, henchman scheme to have an enemy so worthy.
The battle of Timor Metam is a battle in the scriptures. No legend of holy knights or wicked dragons compare.
It was a battle of no moral stance. It was a battle in it's truest form.
That is all | 2021-11-27T06:51:20 | 2021-11-27T04:44:34 | 143 | 25 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not. | The city hums with life. The people oozing by like a faceless blob.
On good days I dive into the grime, and pull out society's cancerous refuse. Other days I acknowledge we've lost a member of blue. He crossed the line, and went dirty. There's no coming back once you're a crooked cop.
.55. My birthday was only a few weeks away. Retirement teased me with daydreams of fishing out by my cabin, yet haunted me at the same time. As a child I was lucky to know my calling. As a man it defined me. My ex wives can attest to that.
I was framed. I never stole the drugs from evidence. I never fed info to the local dealers. What I did do, was take my trusty glock -and two decades of tactical experience- and visited those that dared tarnish my good name.
When I had taken out the crew in a whirling din of smoke, profanity and lead, I lay bleeding on the concrete of the ruined warehouse.
I didn't call it in. No point. The wall of blue had long since turned their back on me. Even the medics would surely be "late" to arrive.
This is how my final act played out, I thought.
I was surprised when I woke up here. This giant Hall, with many doors. Food of gluttonous proportions provided in mountains. Enough booz to make an alcoholic blush. Every day I join the legion of warriors to enact moments of glory. They didn't take kindly to me using my gun, so now I'm learning how to swing an axe.
Apparently this place is run by an old man, and his son. I picked up the son's hammer the other day: he wasn't too pleased. I have a lot to learn, but it doesn't help that I can't speak their language. | The felt table reached as far as he could see in front, and stretched farther than he could see to his sides. Beside him on either side sat another being, and beside them more. Their eyes peeking down at the two cards tucked under their hands.
His turn was coming up, he knew this even though he did not understand. From his left he could hear another being calling "check", and so next and the next, until the one next to him folded.
Silence seemed to loom, almost crushing as everyone, and he could feel all their eyes, their million eyes, on him. Shrinking he panicked...
"Your turn to talk!" grumbled the being to his right, "look at your cards and make a call."
Two cards lay on the table, face down, their backs black and red a symbol he didn't recognize adorned them. Picking them up revealed a 10 of diamonds and a 7 of hearts.
"Check?" the words whispered out of his mouth weakly.
"Check!" the being next to him said, continuing a long line of checks and folds, occasionally he heard "Raise" followed by a collecting groan of a million voices. | 2016-03-07T19:21:03 | 2016-03-07T17:54:48 | 128 | 17 |
[WP] You're walking down the street, when suddenly someone yells "That's it! I can't do this any longer" and takes off his wig. Everyone stops, and one by one everyone does the same. Turns out, everyone is bald. Except you. | Christopher Walkins was shocked but secretly relieved when he saw the mass unveiling of bald heads in the small town of Perkins, Indiana. He'd been spending exhorbitant amounts of money on products that kept what little hair he had intact. After the scientists came in to examine what was going on, they realized that there was a special weed that had started growing in the town of 1,000 people. As the seeds spread through the air, people breathed them in, and it caused them to lose their hair.
&#x200B;
Christopher was one of the only men in the town who had the money and resources to try to keep his hair. He'd found oil on his property years ago, and smartly invested the money he'd made.
&#x200B;
Three years ago, he finally found a syrum that worked, but it costed over $500 a month. When the manufacturer went out of business, he'd bought several crates worth of the product and kept it in a storage locker. He'd carted it in under the cover of darkness, lest anyone discover his hairy (or not-so-hairy) secret.
&#x200B;
Turns out, Christopher had lucked out yet again, struck oil. He was the one person in the world now who could cure the affliction that now plagued the small town of Perkins. He had a finite amount of the stuff, and he'd sell it to the highest bidder.
&#x200B;
As he poured himself a drink, Christopher smiled. He was going to be very rich. Who cared if he was bald? | I smiled. Every breed of monster has at least one weakness. For these Calvo-Killers, it was impatience. I waited, one hand on my sanctified six-gun, the other on my rune-edged Bowie knife. Sure enough, off came the gloves, and there were the claws.
My smile broadened. All these hours walking down the streets of their little infiltrated town had paid off. I'd known something wasn't quite right with the place the moment I stepped out of the stagecoach and paid the weirdly-grinning driver. The rumors had been right.
"Shoulda tried to lure me into a building at least!" I yelled as the dozen or so Calvo-Killers turned my way. "Now it's me against what, twelve of ya, out in the open? Them's bad odds."
They descended, and I started killing.
&#x200B;
Come by r/Magleby for more elaborate lies. | 2019-05-28T09:58:35 | 2019-05-28T08:39:36 | 47 | 14 |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | A lot of people think the deeper you go into the Pacific Forest, the quieter it gets, until in the darkest, deepest reaches it is utterly silent.
It's actually the other way around. In the depths of the Pacific, you can hardly hear yourself think, over the rumbles and rustling and crashing of the wildlife moving around.
The thing is, the floor under your feet in there isn't really the floor. The forest has been crawling up and over itself for millions of years, building on the skyscraper carcasses of the trees that came before. There are really three floors: the one you're walking on, the tangled canopy blocking out all the sun, and a bottomless underworld beneath.
Down there - that's where the really nasty shit is.
There are snakes down there the size of subway trains. They feel like a subway, too, when they pass by underfoot. Most of the normal-sized wildlife ekes out a timid existence in the middle layer, where the explorers tread. The greatest danger to a guy like me out there is stepping on a false patch of moss and falling through - ten feet, fifty feet, one hundred feet, you never know where you're going to find the bottom - falling down to become some monster's midafternoon snack.
Some of the shit down there won't even know it's eaten you, that's how insignificant you are.
So those of us who explore the Pacific, we're not striding ahead, whacking undergrowth out of our way with a machete. We're taking it goddamn slow, paying close attention to every footfall, and keeping a light finger on the trigger of our grapple guns in case something nasty decides today is the day to take a look around the upper layers.
When that happens - maybe a pack of Tropico spiders (those are the size of a Honda Civic) come hissing and clacking up from below - we'll zip up a tree and hide in the branches until they head back down. It's too bright for them up here. Even the dim and scattered light that makes it through the canopy is too much for their little eye clusters. So they never hang around long.
Of course, we don't go too far up the trees when we're dodging something down below. There's shit in the canopy you don't want to mess with either. That's why we don't send helicopters any more. You get lost or hurt out here, don't expect rescue.
Don't get me wrong - I love my job. And I'm damn good at it, one of the best. But don't think that I don't take survival seriously, that I won't leave you behind in a second if you trip and break your ankle. I like being in the jungle - but I'll be damned if I die in there.
EDIT: Part Two here - http://www.reddit.com/r/FormerFutureAuthor/comments/2ugxs1/forest_part_two/ | Towering oaks gently swayed in the wind with orange trees acting the boundary of the Forests. The supple earth molded around its border, the showcase of the feet that have treaded on the edge. Every once in a while, a brave crew would set out into the forest, exploration at its deepest motivation, but not without greed lurking behind. The appeal of these missions was not necessarily to find the tallest trees but the most expensive animal, the two often coinciding. The group labelled 'Harv', after the explorer who had found the tallest section of Redwoods yet, was geared and sitting 50 feet from the Forest. "We've briefed on the plans. We stay together at all costs. No one left behind. We'll be heading towards the Ridge first. At 5 miles out, pu--," said the leader.
"I'm not out here to listen to a youngin' get scared before we even get in. We been over the plan more than enough," interrupted a seasoned looking man who stood up, his eyes locked with the leader, a young looking man having just come back from the military.
"All the same, if one of you fall behind, the mission is in danger of failing," spoke the youth firmly, eyes not leaving the other man's. The man sat down again, slowly, looking confused at his own actions. The others watched this unfold, eyes darting between both till they finally rested on the leader once more.
The sun had shown itself before the directions were retold. All of them standing up, they grabbed the packs, looked at each other, and headed into the forest.
Their footsteps pranced along in their ears, clicking and clacking like a horse's hooves, monotonously rhythmic. They passed the first section known as 'Simple', decorated with small wildlife and friendly trees. The Forest grew dimmer here in the next part. Each group member unclasped their flashlights from the belts and pointed them forward, illuminating the makeshift path made by previous parties. Squawks echoed around them as the once dry forest floor turned damp. Trickles of water fell with leaps from leaf to leaf.
*I wanted to post what I already had but I have to go for a bit. If you like what you've read, make sure to tell me and I'll return to write more.* | 2015-02-01T08:13:57 | 2015-02-01T07:19:38 | 120 | 27 |
[WP] You have an ability to hear a ‘Ding’ sound to know if someone’s speaking the truth. One day, your childhood friend of 17 years says “I swear, I’ll kill you one day.” You both laugh but then you heard a ‘Ding’. Scared, you asked if it’s true. “No” they replied. Silence. | I owed my life to him. A foster child, and a gay foster child at that, had very little safe places. I met him when we were 8 or so, and were inseparable from then on. His family became mine, and we were ready to take on the world. It was almost time for university applications, and my friend was gunning for medschool.
It was during a round of mario kart in the basement when he said it. I'd pulled ahead of him by redshelling him on a drift just near the final lap, and he ended up in 5th place after some COMP racers sped past. Sighing, slouching in his computer chair, he announced "One day, I'm gonna kill you."
I was about to laugh, call him a sore loser, when a bell rings in my ear. A bell that chills me to the bone. "You're joking, right?" I ask in an ineffectual attempt at changing what I knew the second I heard the bell.
His face screws up, probably wondering why I'm asking. "What? Of course I am."
The silence rings louder than any bell can.
It takes a long time to understand, and in that time I found it hard to stay friends with the man. We drifted apart, and I struggled to forget him. I avoided him, year after year, and moved on with my life.
I got myself a wife, a family, two decades worth of dogs and no children to spoil it. Every once in a while, when I saw someone with a similar look to my old...friend, I would feel my heart slam against my chest, and worry start to bubble in my mind, only for them to pass by, complete strangers one and all.
Then, I turned 45 and found out I had terminal cancer. There was the smallest of chances I could make it out, but it laid across a river of pain and agony.
Agony I was uncertain I could deal with, due in part to cost, and due in part to my family.
If I didn't make it, which was the most likely situation, their last memory of me would be a weak and hollow husk, coughing and crying in pain, too delirious to speak and too far gone to make my own choices.
But, I lived in a Right to Die with Dignity province. It took a while, with a dozen petitions on my behalf when my pain became too much, and then...
There he was. My old friend. He came in the night, a crisp white coat, horn rimmed glasses, dressed smartly.
"I almost couldn't believe my charts when I read them..." He said softly, sitting at my bedside. I couldn't even summon the strength to turn my head. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Nearly...twenty two some odd years? A lot changed...I-I went made it to med school, became a resident! I mean...obviously, since I'm...here." he chuckles weakly, voice thin and reedy. "...I'm sorry, man. Your petition failed. The courts...they said you're no longer in your right mind. You can't make the choice anymore."
"No..." I croak. "No, please..." Tears run down my face, unbidden. I try to lift a half skeletal arm to wipe them away, but my wrist only twitches. It hurts, it hurts so much...
It's a few seconds that feel like hours, between him coming in and me trying to make sense of my last few years on this earth being filled with this sterile coldness, living in this hospital...
"...Do you mind?" He asks, breaking the silence at last as he takes my hand, standing so he's in my line of sight. "If it's just me here?"
Through blurry vision, I see him. Brows knit in concern, eyes red with tears I haven't seen him shed, an old friend I haven't seen or spoke to in years...this man had seen me through a decade of hell, pulled me out of an abyss I thought I could never escape, took me in when no one else would and... "No...I-I don't...mind..."
He stands, going to my machine that's been hooked up to give me my medication, and sets it to 11. I'll be blissfully numb by the time I die...
And he stays with me, talking about his parents, how much they missed me, how he and his own wife had met, how my wife seemed like such a nice lady and our dog was so sweet...
"...Why'd we stop being friends?" He asks softly. "My kids would've loved their double income, no kids vodka aunts." Through a thin attempt to laugh, I hear a distant ding in the back of my mind. He's telling the truth.
"Years ago...you said...you'd kill me one day...and I knew you were telling me the truth..." I say, eyelids growing heavy. "You know how I could always know when someone was lying? I could hear a bell in my head, when they told the truth. I just didn't...know how. I'm sorry, man...I'm so sorry..."
He sniffles, rubbing at his eyes as he tries to laugh. "Y-yeah...thats no big issue, I think...you thought I'd kill you, I'd have avoided me too in your position..." he chuckles, and my heart monitor dips low, setting off alarms for nurses that are too fsr to help me. "Goodbye, man. Show me around on the otherside, alright? We can be friends again when I meet you there." The bell in my head dings again.
I squeeze his hand as tight as I can, nodding. "See you, love you." I rasp.
"I love you, too." He says through his tears, just as the door swings open and nurses come running in.
A final ringing bell sends me off into oblivion. | / i haven’t written in first person in a while, but i hope this is sufficiently entertaining. hope you guys enjoy it even though i’m writing this so late at night, lol
(please excuse any typos, i’ll edit them in the morning)
•
Eli Sanchez has always been different.
Perhaps that was why I felt inexplicably drawn to him. He understood me so well that sometimes there was no need for words to articulate my feelings. Eli was always able to see right through me.
I wish I could say the same about him. I have this ability, you see, one which I possessed since I became aware of what lying meant and how it affected people. Whenever someone spoke the truth, I hear a ‘ding’ sound in my head. The sound would resonate, making me pause for a moment to brand the speaker’s words as they were: complete honesty.
Eli seemed to be the one person this “power” of mine refused to work on. Whether it was because he spoke half-truths, or there was simply something about him that my ability couldn’t penetrate, still remained.
Today, the Sanchez family invited me over for Sunday lunch. The summer heat was unbearable at best, but I managed to traipse through the sweltering streets to get to my destination. Once Eli’s house came into view, I broke into a half-jog before ringing the doorbell.
I wiped my sweaty hands across the fabric of my pants. The sun’s rays pierced through my clothes, flushing my skin a slight red.
Eli pulled the gate open just in time. I walked in without as much as a hello, before turning around to flash him a grin.
“Hey, you.” I said.
“Hey, you.” Eli replied.
We stood there for a moment, before we burst out laughing.
Soon, I was whisked inside by an indignant Mrs. Sanchez. The jade rosary around her neck swung about as she set the table, filling it with plates upon plates of food.
After a lighthearted lunch (in which Mr and Mrs. Sanchez shared stories about Eli’s childhood and Andre’s wedding preparations), Eli pulled me upstairs and into his room.
“Man, that was unbearable.” Eli plopped onto his bed, his black hair forming a halo around his head. “Ma can be so talkative sometimes. So annoying.”
Still, I heard no sound in my head. I’ve expected as much; in the seventeen years I’ve known him, my ability was never able to verify Eli‘s words as true.
I sat down beside him, somewhat tentatively. My childhood friend was as unpredictable as the weather. At times, even when he didn’t seem clearly agitated, he would lash out at me for no reason. Although it happened only once in a blue moon, it was better to be safe than sorry.
“She’s just excited. You know, with Andre’s wedding and all.”
Ah, there it was. Eli’s expression darkened at the mention of his older brother; while I was tempted to reach out and pat his arm as a gesture of comfort, I knew it would be stupid to attempt it.
So instead, I settled for the sudden uncomfortable silence between us. I struggled to prevent myself from picking at my nails, or looking around the bedroom I’ve spent so much of my childhood in. It always took a while for Eli to calm down.
“You really know how to push all my buttons.”
The words swirled in the empty space between us. I lifted my gaze from where it was fixated on his messy desk, and directed it towards him.
“I don’t do it on purpose,” was my defensive reply. Must he always try to blame me for his moods?
Eli propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes threatening to burn holes into my head.
“I swear, James Enriquez.” His voice was low, but loud enough for me to hear. I curled my hands on my lap, as if—as if acting submissive would help ease his annoyance. “I swear, I’m going to kill you one day.”
A small chuckle bubbled out of my throat. Eli’s lips quirked into a smile, before he laughed and—
‘Ding’.
The sound was unmistakable. I froze, feeling all manner of emotion climb up my spine. Most prominent of them all was fear, which threatened to turn all my innards into ice. Despite the way my throat closed up and my chest tightened, I managed to speak.
“You wouldn’t actually do that, right?”
My words were faint, and lacking in conviction. As if I was trying to convince myself to believe anything BUT the truth.
Of course he was joking. Eli wouldn’t do that. He could never do that to me—his best friend—the one person to believe in him despite everything he’s said and done and failed to do.
He couldn’t kill me.
But the fact that he apparently WOULD terrified me to no end, rooting me in place as he sent a slow grin in my direction.
“Of course not, James.”
No sound. He’s lying.
My skin crawled. It took all of my self control to not bolt out of the room with the way my heart pounded so vigorously in my ribcage.
After that, I never saw Eli Sanchez again.
Until today, that is. | 2019-05-27T06:20:17 | 2019-05-27T06:05:27 | 39 | 11 |
[WP] Humans are actually the most friendly and curious beings in the galaxy, in comparison to all others.
Inspired from http://imgur.com/gallery/S82QF
(Sorry if this has been brought up before, its my 1st WP after months of lurking ) | It would seem 2342 would be as good as any year to summarize and chronologize humanity's interactions with extraterrestrial life. Perhaps it's only because I dove into an archive of classic films ripe with grey-skinned elongated humanoids muddling about, spooking people for no good reason. Then we actually met them and realized, the spookiest thing about them, were their complete lack of common decency. From what we knew today, humans are, surprisingly, the most friendly and curious beings in the galaxy. Below are the years and first interactions humanity has had with extraterrestrial civilizations.
**2092**
The Dormarks.
Oh my, the Dormarks. A crude-rough scaled tetrapod with a consistent unexcused flatulence problem. And above all of Earth's delicious and delectable cuisine, they, of course, enjoyed beans.
It is recorded the first landing occurred in Siloam Springs, Arkansas, in a farmer's field. Lucky for them, it was green beans. According to the farmer, they exited in a group of three and promptly began chowing down on the delicious beans, which, to the dismay of the farmer, were ready to be harvested later that week.
News teams around the world flocked to the site with their cameras and helicopters, telescopes and binoculars to catch a glimpse of the aliens before the US army set up a protective perimeter. People around the world marveled at the lizard-like beings as the aliens continued to eat all the poor farmer's field. Some quotes from the time were:
"And here I thought them aliens was gonna try and introduce themselves when they done landed." - Farmer Joe, Siloam Springs
"Incredible. A tetrapod of all matters of beings, advancing to an intra- or even perhaps intergalactic space travel. What a time to be alive!" - Kelly Greif, Harvard University
Within hours, the military had the sight under quarantine and attempted to approach the aliens with a peaceful intent. They asked the first question, the one everyone always imagines to ask when they first meet an alien.
"Where did you come from and do you come in peace?"
The whole world waited in anticipation, hoping the aliens understood and their intentions were not ill. And the whole world waited a few hours as the tetrapods continued eating until the entire field was bare. It was then they turned the messenger and spoke the first alien words humanity would ever hear (in perfect English too!).
"More green things," which was followed by a gaseous release that churned the stomachs of the messenger and surrounding soldiers.
Then the messenger asked their question again.
"Where are you from and do you come in peace?"
To which the aliens replied, "don't ignore me you primitives. You call them beans, don't you? More beans. Show me more beans."
The negotiations (if you can call them that) lasted another two hours until the aliens broke through the military barrier and began to eat the neighboring farmer's field of beans. It wasn't until they cleared out all the fields in the town and make their way back to their ship that they answered humanity's question.
"We come from over there," they gestured with their head, which was patterned and coloured like a beautiful turquoise gem. "And sure, long as there's beans."
"What can we call you?" asked the messenger before their ash-coloured bodies disappeared behind their ship's main door.
"Dormarks."
And then they left, until the next year when they returned to eat the farmer's fields again, as they have every year since that memorable meeting.
-------------------------------
More interactions to come! (I will fix all the grammatical and tense issues when I finish the entire series. I plan for there to be about 4 or 5 total interactions). | June 3, 3012
As my first year in space comes to a close, I feel myself compelled to write, more thoroughly, of some of the events that have come to pass. My journal entries until this point have been spotty at best, and I am ashamed. I realize now that it is my responsibility to carry the message and intent of the human race past the confines of my mortal life.
50 years ago, we learned how to travel faster than light. This was an exciting day in the eyes of scientists and civilians alike! Immediately, governments from all over the world joined forces to start exploring the vast blackness surrounding our home. Yes, I remember the humbling sight of mortal enemies coming together for -parden the cliche- the greater good. I am not a scientist, engineer or mathematician. I represent the average Earthling, an ambassador to what great civilizations we may encounter on our thousands of years abroad.
The first signs of life came out of Andromeda. I'm not sure on all of the details that transpired between the engineers and scientists, but I know that eventually we came to a consensus that we would land on the surface of a planet that looked like little more than a frozen wasteland. In my earlier entries you will find what conspired there, at least from my limited point of view on the ship. Those great beasts, not unlike woolly mammoths, charged the ship. I have no doubt that they meant to kill us, for their food supplies were dwindling and there were no other signs of life. Frightening, though it was, it seemed those creatures were little more than animals, scared for their lives and desperate for survival. Once we entered Bode's, everything changed.
There were many planets there that resembled earth. They had stable atmospheres and water; one of them even had great structures visible before landing. I shudder now, thinking of how enthusiastic I was to explore this neighborhood where we might meet intelligent beings.
On the first planet (we affectionately named it Dean, after our captain), reptilian beings waited to greet us. We could not communicate, of course, but somehow a couple of scientists deciphered that the beings wanted them to come to a nearby mound of dirt. Following, the scientists chatted on the way about what an exciting find this was and what it could mean for the future of Earth. Once they arrived at the mound, the reptilian hosts promptly snapped the scientists in half, and shucked out their insides like crab legs. They discarded the bones onto the mound, which I realized was a kind of compost heap.
The next two planets were not any more kind to us. Each species had a different, more malevolent way to kill us humans. Sometimes eating us, sometimes taking our bodies away for some purpose I will never know. We started with 100 humans on our journey to explore and further understand the space around us. There are nine of us left, somehow managing to pilot the ship on a course back to Earth.
I fear there is no safe corner of the universe for us to go. Taking care of our planet is critical now, more than ever. If we should have to leave...God help us.
| 2017-01-13T19:12:02 | 2017-01-13T19:05:15 | 51 | 11 |
[WP] Orc protecting village pretends like he's just helping because he's bloodthirsty, but in reality he likes the people there. | Great, more bandits. This makes the third time this month if my memory serves. It doesn't matter though, they won't step foot inside Lodinsville.
&#x200B;
Hefting my warhammer over my shoulder, I took the trademark, lumbering steps of an Orc forward. From what I could see, there were eight of them. Six human men, a half-elf man, and a half-orc woman who appeared to be the leader.
&#x200B;
As custom between Orcish warriors, we didn't exchange taunts or jabs, we just charged.
&#x200B;
The half-elf went down in a single blow, my warhammer obliterating his skull. While I did laugh a berserker's laugh, I didn't enjoy it. Truth be told, as I destroyed the bodies of my opponents in single blows, I winced at the gore and death. There was a time when I enjoyed a fight, and truth be told I still do, but I lost my taste for *killing* a few years ago.
&#x200B;
Only the half-orc was left by this point.
&#x200B;
"Why do you defend this stupid village? Who are you?" She demanded, brandishing her warpick and shield. "You would have all you want in my group!" Her tusks, large for a half-orc, were bared in anger.
&#x200B;
Usually, I'd give the typical answer a simple barbarian would, claiming free food, power, and combat as my motivations. I was tired of it though. There can't be too much harm in the telling the truth if she's just going to be dead in a minute. "This village has gifted me with education, friends, and a *very* pregnant wife," I lumbered forward a few more feet, knowing damn well my imposing figure has intimidated her.
&#x200B;
"What in the **nine circles of** ***hell*** **could you** ***possibly*** **offer** ***me?***" Other than a red mist spraying my face, not much it seems.
&#x200B;
"Well," I muttered to myself, wincing at the bodies I made, "Better take care of these, it's almost tea time." | Very short entry, will come back later for more.
GGorg’s mighty club smashed trees to splinters as he swung frenzyingly at the ghoul. This ghoul was particularly nimble, and extremely hard to hit.
“YOU..WILL..NOT..HURT..ANYONE!!!” GGorg bellowed in between swings.
“Oh, yes I will,” the ghoul whispered sweetly while ducking.
“After I’ve finished killing you, I’ll eat you to gain your strength, and then I’ll sneak throughout the village ripping children’s windows off their hinges, and eat them one by one! THEN I’ll start in on the parents!!”
With a savage roar, GGorg swung is club over the ghoul’s head again. The ghoul ducked, but this time, GGorg was ready. He tramped the ghoul’s foot with his own, preventing him from fleeing. The ghoul’s eyes widened as GGorg’s free hand closed around his throat.
“I said,” squeezing tighter, “you will not. Hurt. Anyone.”
The ghoul could definitely *not* dodge the club this time as it smashed his head like an egg.
After washing off in the stream, GGorg returned to the village.
“He’s back! The guardian is back!”
GGorg was greeted by a small band of villagers.
“Yes, I have vanquished a ghoul today. You will all be sa—.....secure in knowing that I am pleased with the bloodlust you offer me through battle. So long as that remains, I will stay here. Now let us drink mead and look forward to another day of combat!”
The party retreated further into the village to celebrate. | 2019-01-10T16:46:48 | 2019-01-10T15:55:59 | 20 | 10 |
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