prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] Instead of an angel and a demon sitting on your shoulders, one side sits a brash New Yorker and the other a posh British gentleman. Neither are necessarily good or evil, they just make passing comments on your day to day activities. | "Jolly good show, my good man," he said, sitting on the right of my shoulder and inhaling deeply from his pipe. "Positively smashing."
I'd been watching Stranger Things for the last couple hours, trying to block them out.
"What kinda trash is this?" the man on the left of my shoulder chimed, pacing up and down the length of it. "This is just garbage, garbage I tells ya. Barb don't deserve to go like that."
I sighed. I had not been succeeding.
********
The bank teller peered quizzically at my shoulders, and I tried to smile. "Please, it's best to just try and ignore them," I told her, glancing down briefly and praying that Mike would be able to keep it together. "It's an, errr, *condition*."
"Nice rack on this bird, yaknowwhatI'mtalkin'about?" he said, staring directly at her chest. Charles leaned over to chastise him.
"Now now Mike, what have we told you about manners? Although I dare say, that is certainly a bountiful bosom."
I apologized profusely before security could escort me out.
****
After much deliberation, the two of them convinced me to go out to the library. This was always a challenging affair, as libraries were made for silence, and regardless, the three of us would need to pick a book that all of us liked to read. No such book existed.
I - or we - were browsing the aisle, Charles trying to direct me to eighteenth century geopolitics, Mike complaining that there were no porn mags. I whispered for them to be quiet, and in the ensuing silence I heard three women speaking in increasing volume to my right.
The librarian shushed the women, and I heard one of them apologize, then the three continued in hushed voices. Again the librarian told them to be quiet.
I rounded the corner, engrossed in my quest for fiction, and accidentally bumped into one of them.
Well, *all* of them.
"Watch where you're goin', ya fuckhead!" a tiny voice said while I attempted to pick up the fallen books.
"Fran, please watch your language, as I think you'll find we are in the company of gentlemen," another tiny voice said, as I - or we - slowly looked up.
A beautiful woman stood before us. Furthermore, two more women stood on *her*.
"By Gods," Charles said, dropping his pipe.
"Fuck me," Mike replied.
"I... I..." I stammered.
"Please, don't mind them," the woman said with a nervous smile.
I nodded, still speechless. I'd never been able to talk to girls, not with these two on my shoulders. But this...
This could work.
"Take this guy to pound town before I do it myself," the tiny, brash woman on her left chimed.
"Or perhaps a delicatessen first?" the tiny, posh woman on her right replied.
The librarian shushed us on our way out.
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | *Warning: swearing.*
Mark took a deep breath, then pushed open the door to the bar. He ordered a Greyhound on the rocks and took a moment to survey the room. It was getting crowded, but not yet to that "rub up against multiple strangers just to cross the room" point.
Embers of hope began to glow inside Mark. Maybe this could work. He smiled to himself, surveying the room. A few pool tables, a few dart boards, and...shit, a shuffleboard table. It even looked like it was in decent condition. Maybe he could see if one of the young women drinking what looked like vodka and cranberry juice wanted to --
A patron bumped into Mark, and said "Watch it, dingus" without breaking stride. That's when things took a turn.
The face of the small-but-portly man standing on Mark's left shoulder went scarlet with poorly-contained rage. "The FUCK did you just call me? Hey FUCKNUTS, don't walk away from me, I'm talkin to you!"
Mark cringed. Some of the people closest to him were staring now, others were nudging their friends. Still, as long as there was no response from Nigel, things would probably --
"The language of the bard. Truly, your words drop as gentle rain from heaven." So much for that idea.
"Shut it, Limey, or I'll rip off your GOD DAMN CRUMPETS and dunk 'em in that SHIT WATER you call tea!"
A wave of silence had washed over the room. A few dozen cell phones seemed to have materialized out of thin air, all of them held aloft and pointed at Mark.
"Quite."
Mark sighed and began trying to pick his way through the assembled on-lookers. He was muttering, for the hundredth time, a prayer about being able to get out of the room before --
"What are you lookin at, big tits? 'Ey, don't get mad at me - get mad at whoever told you you could fit those giant melons in that tube top."
Mark raced out of the bar, getting home as fast as he could. He pulled a piece of paper off his dresser and brought it to the table. He scanned two-thirds of the way down the page before he found the name of the bar and crossed it out.
*Maybe tomorrow would be better*, he thought ruefully.
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds
Folks may also enjoy [this story](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/search?q=Cyrus&restrict_sr=on) about a guy whose life is being narrated by a British sports commentator. | 2022-04-29T19:22:54 | 2018-07-02T14:46:18 | 4,745 | 309 |
[WP] A little girl suspects that there's something not quite right about herself. Her parents enthusiastically tell her she's normal. But her brother whispers, "It really isn't normal to have to be plugged into a wall charger at night." | I didn't understand. I didn't understand why I felt so... *off*, when I looked in the mirror. And there was all the other differences, how I felt weak throughout the day, unless I took my *medicine*, which I hated. (Huge, chewy bars that smelled *funny*, and bottles of cold liquid completely unlike what everyone else ate. And always, they insisted I take my medicine in private, which made me feel even more freakish.) And then there was that business with my outlet...
My parents told me it was normal. Insisted it was nothing to worry about.
My brother looked at me, with an expression I couldn't recognize. A sort of... sadness. Bitter, *bitter sadness*.
And then he told me *that*.
"B-*but you and Mom and Dad...*" I protested. " And every night, I plug in mine, *and-and-and*..."
He shook his head, sadly.
He walked over to my wall, and pulled the outlet cover off. Behind... was nothing.
His eyes glowed, faintly, the way they did at the end of the day. The way mine never seemed to.
"Your plug is a fake, Mary. Ours... *aren't*."
He turned back to me, with a face filled with infinite regret.
"It really isn't normal to have to be plugged into a wall charger at night. Like me, and mom and dad, and this whole town. You are normal."
His eyes were leaking, at the edges.
"*We're the ones who aren't*."
_____________________________________________________________________________
Hi! I hope you like this. If you like other things like this, I'd recommend maybe [taking a gander over here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/) It's a subreddit, of all things. It has all the amenities! Comments, and posts, voting buttons, and even (*hint hint*) a subscribe button. :)
Thanks for looking! | "Mom, why do I fall asleep at random times, and nobody else does?"
A little girl was questioning her parents at dinner.
"It's because you're special, darling"
That was a lie.
It was at that point that her brother chimed in.
"Special is a funny word for it."
"Charles Stevonson, shut your mouth!"
It had been several years since synthetic humans were made. They had been outlawed in the year 3176. However, some were left behind, and kept in the dark. The problem with these hidden androids, is the synthetic, nonorganic food, is no longer produced. And they have to charge at night.
Often, to keep hidden androids hidden, they are fed organic food. These androids have adapted to pass organic food, absorbing nothing from it.
"Mom, what did Charlie mean?"
"It's nothing, sweetie. Now, mommy has to go to work, and Charlie has school today, so you are home alone. Don't go outside, okay?"
"Okay."
__________________________________________________
Later that day, in a house next door watching TV;
"Today, a hidden Android was discovered wandering outside it's house. It and it's family have been executed for their crimes against the world. Anyone else hiding one of these fugitive killer machines may come forth to their rulers and they might not suffer the consequences." | 2015-09-18T16:01:13 | 2015-09-18T15:40:53 | 112 | 15 |
[WP] When teenagers turn 17, they are sent a slip of paper with their future occupation written on it. Yours says, "Princeps de Nova Roma" or "First Citizen of New Rome."
*Princeps* or *princeps civitatis* was the title that Augustus and all later emperors called themselves. "First citizen" meant the foremost citizen or the leader of Rome.
EDIT: For those of you attacking me via PM on my lack of knowledge on Latin, I never said I had any formal Latin education. Although I do, a mere four years, I got a 5 on the AP Exam, so you could say I'm a Latin scholar. I now realize that there is no ablative of origin or reference, so *de Nova Roma* is wrong. I get it, please stop private messaging me about my ignorance, because I don't care nor do I have the time for your whining.
I have a fluids and processes exam in a few days and I'm studying, so I may not be able to respond to all of the stories. I appreciate all of you taking the time to write them and I'll be sure to read them during my study breaks! | 476 CE -- Sebastopolis, Colchis
Pausanias started. He was not expecting any visitors this early in the day. He rose and walked over to the door, curious as to who was banging on his door so loudly at such an unreasonable hour. He grasped the cold brass handle and swung the door open, revealing a strangely uniformed elderly man clutching a roll of parchment. The man's face was weathered and serious, the impression accentuated by his furrowed brows. He was cleanly shaven and had the bearing and garb of a military man, a *spatha* at his side and a bone-white breastplate with a cloak of the same hue fastened to it by a silver broach. The broach bore the symbol of the *Munus Militiae* but... Pausanias narrowed his eyes, something was different about it... and the weapons, armour -- it didn't make sense. Before he could collect his thoughts the man spoke up.
"This is the house of Pausanias Annius Catilius? Where is he? I have his role."
His voice was toneless and fit well with his appearance.
"I am Pausanias, but it is not my-"
Before he could finish, the man thrust out his hand towards him, the parchment held in it. It was sealed with the sigil of the *Munus Militiae* -- a son carrying his father on his back -- but again, something was different... Pausanias was interrupted again by the man's voice.
"Open it now, time is limited."
Pausanias shot an irritated look at the man and then hesitantly broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment. As he read the words neatly written on the vellum his face grew pale. He looked up at the man, his mouth agape.
"W-what is the meaning of this? Is this a jest? Who are you?" He stammered.
"I will explain soon, but now we must leave. You need not take anything. The journey is very long, but we have everything you need."
The man whistled and two stout men emerged. They took Pausanias by his arms and hauled him from his home as he struggled, calling for his guards. His voice trailed away as he realised his guards were the ones assailing him.
"How dare you! Where are you taking me? This ruse is no longer amusing."
The slight sixteen year old was helpless against the burly strength of his guards, and he resigned himself to their firm guidance. A plain carriage, drawn by two modest looking stallions was waiting at the gates. The men bundled him into it, and the man followed him in, taking a seat opposite. Pausanias fixed an angry glare on him.
"I am a citizen of Rome, how dare you place your hands on me?" He snarled.
The man met his glare calmly, his gaze unwavering.
"No longer. Rome, as you and I know it, has fallen. A barbarian calls himself king. You have an important role to assume, I will explain when we are at sea. It will make things... easier."
"Where are we going?" Pausanias demanded.
"We sail for the Pillars of Hercules, and beyond."
Just then, Pausanias' eyes fell back to the man's broach as a ray of sunlight crept through into the interior of the carriage, catching the broach squarely. The silver glinted and Pausanias gasped. Worked ever so finely into the metal were the words:
"New Rome,
Beyond the Pillars,
Across the Ocean Is"
It was then that Pausanias realised what was different about the sigil -- the son was pointing west, and the father's eyes were crosses. He was dead. The carriage rumbled into motion, and Pausanias sank back into his seat, trembling.
| I have the bad habit of cracking my joints when I am nervous—not just my knuckles, but my neck, back, ankles, and anything that goes pop when you force it hard enough. Today I sounded like kettle corn over a fire.
My family stood just in front of the ancient wooden door; my preconceived thoughts of grandeur and ceremony had long since fled. The house was a revolting yellow, paint peeling off in strips like old scabs. Merchant stalls were an arm’s throw away, selling everything from incense to snake oil. As I was looking around, Danny, three years my senior, clapped me on the back and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry about all this. Most people ignore what’s on the paper anyway.” He smirked, but I gave no reply. My brother’s words offered little comfort as he decided on bashing people’s skulls in for one of the local Gangs, although he always fails to name which one. The old books say that assassins worked stealthily and with finesse, but nowadays blood flows in the streets as easily as water. I pressed hard against the second joint of the little finger on my left hand. Pop.
Father looked Mother in the eyes for a few seconds, nodded, and returned his gaze to the door. What transpired between the two, I cannot say, but I assume it was no coincidence that a noise now emanated from inside the house. They scare me sometimes. Straining my ears to hear past the marketplace cacophony, there were footsteps in an even gait that clicked on floorboards just beyond this thin barrier. When the door swung open, the world seemed to grow quiet—either due to the Seer’s magic or more likely the blood rushing to my head. I hastily rolled my neck. Pop. Pop.
The Seer, dressed in cloak and hood, acted like a caricatured Reaper straight from the children’s stories. I almost laughed. But while pulling a folded slip of parchment from a sleeve, I noticed just how bony their hand was, pale and pointed. “What would it sound like to crack those fingers?” I idly wondered, two of which were now presenting me with the paper. As per custom, I accepted it with both hands, bowing slightly. Looking back up, the Seer had vanished, and the door was now closed without a sound. My family stared at me, expectantly. I stretched my jaw to one side. Pop.
I opened the paper and realized that it was unintelligible: Princeps de Nova Roma. The four of us stood there, puzzled, when I heard a voice say, “You will be the First Citizen of New Rome.”
“What?” I asked, turning to find the speaker.
“I don’t know what that says either,” Mother said with her face openly showing concern. She looked at Father who, for once, was as lost as the rest of us.
Mouthing the words, they only felt empty at first, slowly gaining…something with each repetition. I folded the slip and held it above the clear liquid that Father brought in a glass jar. The paper sizzled and turned black almost immediately, remaining only in our memories now. I resolved to find the Seer and find out what the hell this was supposed to mean.
| 2015-05-03T10:01:59 | 2015-05-03T08:46:03 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] "Usually when we first contact a civilization, it is very easy to get them under our banner..." The Empress sighed. "...Not the humans though." | "Humanity, they simply cannot cooperate." the Empress spat at her adviser as he finished explaining the last assault on the arms depot.
"It's just they have a fascination with destruction madam." Stated the lead ambassador.
"We only had one condition for their integration." The empress stated blankly. "...every other race as done as we have asked."
The empress looked over the Earth from above, as another one of her envoy fleet was enveloped in a bright fireball and destroyed.
"They won't relinquish them." The adviser stated in a harsh tone.
The empress looked to the planet below. "They could make a formidable ally in the war, but they refuse to co-operate." she leaned back into her chair. "Usually when we first contact a civilisation, it is very easy to get them under our banner..." The Empress sighed. "...Not the humans though... they love their nuclear weapons too much."
"Perhaps allowing them to possess them would be permissible as a means of planetary defence?"
"You know our laws, God does not allow us to interfere with its creation in this manner."
"If the mechanoids reach this planet, they may broker a deal with this race." The adviser stated in a solumn tone, as he looked out the viewing window.
"Mechanoids, those unfeeling monsters."
"The humans can easily relate those beings, they operate with a hivemind similar to their mass communications equipment."
"We cannot allow the mechanoids to broker a peace with these people." The Empress stood up from her thrown. "Crack their planet."
Moments later, a deep thumping could be heard from the bowls of the ship as the ship began syphoning energy from its core as it generated power for the cracking array.
Without any warning, a large fleet of ships seemed to emerge from behind Earth's moon. It was the Mechanoids, and they were emitting a strange signal.
The Empress looked to the communications array and back to the screen which was now covered with red warning signal markers as the message came through.
"On screen" The Empress commanded as the image displayed on the screen of a man stood next to a mechanoid.
"You come to our home, tell us how to live and threaten our existence." The man stated before the Empress interrupted him back.
"You're making a grave mistake, those beings are a scourge."
"Only to those who fear progress." Alex stated blankly as he looked to the empress.
---------------------------------
Three Years Prior.
Alex saw the meteor strike down near his uncle's farm and drove his pick-up truck to the site of the crash.
As he arrived, he could see wreckage everywhere and a being struggling from the wreck.
As the being pulled itself from the craft, it saw Alex and immediately drew its weapon and tried to fire, but the weapon was damaged and the arm reaching for it was also damaged, so instead of drawing anything, it flailed around until it got a shock from the damaged power array and fell unconscious.
It later awoke in a garage, strapped to a table whilst the young mechanic was welding its arm back on.
The Mechanoid kept silent and watched as the young man, whilst wearing a pair of microscopic binoculars on his face, soldered connections and welded parts. The Mechanoid found the process fascinating, normally they simply throw away useless limbs and replace them, but this primitive creature seemed to have some kind of fundamental understanding of parts.
As Alex closed the last seam with weld and then released the clamps, he moved to the core of the unit.
As he peered inside, the Mechanoid stirred and tried to get up.
"Don't get up" Alex said as he put his hand on the Mechanoid's chest. The Mechanoid began analysing the language as he spoke.
"You have a considerable amount of damage to your core and if you get up you might damage something. I need to take a look."
As Alex looked inside the robot, it was clear that the creature was very advanced, but there were modular parts that were connected with some robust circuitry. Tiny little mites seemed to be crawling around within the unit, attempting to repair the damage, but there were some large parts that were warped.
Alex took the largest bent connector and bent it back with a pair of mole grips, as he bent it back, the mites seemed to be micro welding it in place.
The Mechanoid broke free of it's bindings and stood up, immediately drawing its weapon.
Alex, raised his hands to the Mechanoid and nodded his head to the door.
As the Mechanoid looked to the door, Alex drew his from under the table shotgun and pointed it at the Mechanoid.
The Mechanoid looked back to Alex and let out a weird noise as the connection within it's chest reestablished and it could properly feel it's sensors again in the lower half of it's body. The Mechanoid lowered it's weapon and Alex did the same.
The two beings looked at one and other... unable to communicate...
Alex took a USB stick from his drawer, and plugged it into his laptop, downloading a file to the stick and then taking it out of his computer, he moved towards the Mechanoid and took the Mechanoid by the arm. Confused the Mechanoid looked to the man, what he didn't realise what the Alex had installed a USB port to the nervous system of the Mechanoid and as he plugged the stick into the Mechanoids arm. The Mechanoid felt a strange buzz of information as the mites tried to decipher the code.
The Mechanoid fell unconscious for a few days and when it awoke, Alex spoke to it, and it understood him.
"Are you okay?"
"I... understand you now." The Mechanoid spoke. "How can this be?"
"Whilst you were out-cold, I had a look at your programming and added a few things." Alex said.
"You've brainwashed me!!!" The Mechanoid panicked as it tried to draw its weapon from its arm.
As the weapon loaded up. It could feel a greater draw from its core.
"Oh yeah, I upgraded your rail-gun, it had some kind of power limiter on it, stopping you from firing it at full power."
"That's to protect my inner circuits from..."
"I know, that's why I routed the main discharge through the upper part of your shell and put rubber on your soles, it will increase your grip and stop you from being earthed."
The Mechanoid looked at his new weapon.
"Why did you do this?" The Mechanoid stated.
"I think robots are cool." Alex responded.
"What do you think of Nuclear power?"
Alex laughed. "It's a source of immense power, but we have to learn how to harness it in a way that doesn't create so much waste."
"Learn about it." The Mechanoid looked intrigued as it sat down.
"At the minute, we draw power from a nuclear reactors heat, but this isn't the most effective way to draw power from a reaction, if we could siphon the power in a more direct way, we could generate enough power to solve all of our problems, maybe even go to other planets.
"What would you do if you went to other planets?"
"Learn more stuff."
"You like to learn?"
"Our civilisation is based on learning, we store information in libraries for others to read."
"Libraries?"
"Yes, like databases but physical, we moved passed those now, we have something called the internet."
"The internet." The Mechanoid searched its language database and found the entry for the internet and suddenly became aware of the implications. "The hive-mind?"
"No, we just access the net, it doesn't actually control us unless we choose to follow the advice." Alex said.
The Mechanoid seemed stunned as it sat down. "Choose to follow... the hive mind."
The notion seemed so fundamental to its core.
"But you don't have any robotic parts." The Mechanoid looked around the room, seeing so many mechanical things.
"We don't have integrated parts but that doesn't mean we cannot integrate technology into our lives, in fact most of our way of life is connected to technology."
"What about obedience?" The Mechanoid asked.
"Obedience? We have rules and laws, but each person is free to bend the rules or even break them if necessary."
The Mechanoid walked to the computer and sat down. "It could understand the words on screen as it typed on the console, it suddenly became aware of the WIFI signal and began interpreting the noise.
The Mechanoid sat still for a few moments as it processed the information. Alex didn't have a WIFI password as he lived alone in the sticks and within moments the Mechanoid was feeling the information from the internet as it searched through the information downloading and cherry picking the cultural elements.
The Mechanoid stood up, having learned enough, and walked back to its ship with Alex talking to it as they went. When they arrived, the ship was almost fully repaired and there were a group of men surrounding the ship taking readings from it.
"What are they doing?" Asked the Mechanoid.
"Trying to learn about how it works."
The Mechanoid took the stick out of its arm, "The plans are on this stick." As he handed them to Alex. He turned to the group. "I think we could form an alliance, but I need to speak with the Hive-Mind, you're inter-network is a most effective evolving system and has shared considerable insights into your race."
Alex, stunned, looked to the men in lab coats and moving to their computer, plugged the USB stick into the machine. Sure enough, there were detailed schematics and drawings, also word documents explaining how everything worked, the principles behind the craft and adaptations for human physiology and, more importantly, how to generate power directly from radioactive materials.
Alex looked back to the ship as it took off...
"Good bye friend." | Humanity's fascination with the atom began--unknowingly--with the advent of forging. Turning two metals into one, stronger, metal with the liberal application of heat tended to be a pastime of many human civilizations and empires whenever their neighbors started staring at them a little too long for their liking. From tin and copper, to bronze, to iron, and beyond. Metal and heat. That was the name of the game for thousands of years.
More recently came the hobby of alchemy. That arcane practice of attempting to turn one worthless metal into something which could be marketed as something worth buying; the success of which was sought after by kings and emperors as well as any peasant with a laboratory and some chemicals at his or her disposal. Not by heat alone this time, but by the application of random chemicals and mixtures was one lump of worthless metal turned into a wet lump of worthless metal, probably with the added fun of caustic fumes and deadly reactions to go along with it. From mixing metals for protection to drowning them for possible riches. Few items of interest or note ever came of this practice; but it did help get the ball rolling on the basic sciences, mainly by preserving the desire to discover and explore until the Renaissance.
The basic elements found on their planet began to be noticed, catalogued, and finally organized by their atomic weights. More elements were found and added to their table as the more powerful civilizations took to the oceans to stake their claims on the "wild" continents discovered on the other side of their world, and as scientific methods became more standardized. Of course, as is humanity's method of survival, the discovery of some of these elements led to weapons which soon made the general method of thousands of years of warfare largely obsolete. Those who were unlucky enough to not have discovered these elements and their uses (and there were a lot of civilizations which failed to do so) paid dearly for it by those who did.
And on and on humanity went, discovering more elements and, eventually, creating a few of their own--most of those created only lasted a few microseconds. But when a century of warfare took the humans through that dark time, a few of them were able to light up a small part of their planet--if only for a very short while--with a particularly-heavy element and the wanton smashing of the atomic structure of that element with the neutrons dislodged from other atoms with the application of crushing pressure brought about--first by ramming, then by precise explosions. A city, then two cities, more or less instantly erased from existence, and the notion of war between old powers was suddenly a very unpalatable one. But the threat of one was still there.
This particular weapon was tested again and again, the results growing larger and larger--the end result mostly to get more neutrons to bombard a mass of several heavy elements, resulting in larger explosions. Complex mathematical equations, born from new applications of mathematics and aided with machines that could calculate and solve these equations for these humans in a very short amount of time, dictated how reactions between atomic elements were supposed to happen. And, finally, the humans built a machine which allowed them to gaze upon the atom itself.
By this time, humanity was instantly communicating among itself despite the distances on their planet and on nearby bodies. And humanity progressed still, until someone remembered that old practice of alchemy, wondering if it was finally possible. They had full access to the atom--no matter the element. All they would have to do is either add or take away the protons, neutrons, or electrons from one element to turn it into another. Sustainable fusion reactors were by then a mainstay of humanity's civilization, so energy was no longer an issue. And so this scientist set out to turn one element into another with the liberal application of energy--it takes a lot of energy to rip nuclear forces in a manner that would reliably turn one element into another. And, eventually, he was successful. Hydrogen into Helium--the basic reaction taking place in the center of their star. A lot of heat, a lot of pressure, all made possible by almost limitless energy.
A descendant of this scientist took the research to another level. Nano-technology was not a new thing--microscopic robots were used in quickly repairing injuries and precisely excising cancerous cells out of the sick for decades. This scientist combined her predecessor's research and created atomic-sized nanites. Simple things that could only follow a couple of simple instructions, being they were mostly composed of a couple of protons and neutrons and energized by a dozen or so electrons. But they could handle the immense temperatures and pressures at the center of her predecessor's reactor, and she was soon turning lots of things into others. Lead into gold was obvious, but her government noticed that and forbade her to continue doing so--some backwards tribes still existed and considered gold as currency, after all. So, she decided that the next logical step was to turn something into food. Overpopulation was already straining humanity's civilizations, and food was a growing concern. By ordering her nanites to take sub-atomic particles and add others, she was soon able to create nutritious, tasty food out of dirt, rocks, grass, wood-- anything she could shove into her reactor, now called a "converter". Her research shared among her colleagues, more of these "converters" were constructed and experimented on, quickly becoming a mainstay of humanity's civilization. The worry and lack of food was no more--nearly limitless food could be created, packaged, and sold. Of course, this interfered with certain political groups which used the growing price and lack of food to their advantage, and so this scientist was assassinated for her inadvertent interference--but the converters were there to stay.
The combined resources of multiple scientific organizations meant that these building-sized converters quickly became small enough to be installed in a small alcove in the home. Programmable, a typical converter could be told by a human what food they wanted and at what temperature--limited to 373.15 degrees Kelvin. All the human had to do was put something in the top, and their food would appear in a puff of light at the bottom. Usually, people would simply use the surrounding atmosphere as the material.
At first, this was not much of an issue. However, as humanity's population topped 18 billion, the results of such use of these converters became obvious. There was a finite amount of mass in the planet, and definitely a finite amount of atmosphere--an amount that was being depleted far quicker than could be replenished by natural means. The political situation deteriorated as invasions took place to literally steal the dirt, air, and water of the neighbors, to feed to the converters at home. The ecosystem suffered most of all--trees were being cut down and turned into material for the converters. Water sources--the ocean, most of all, were also being depleted and turned into food. The prophesied danger of rising sea levels due to climate change was replaced by wondering where it all went. The deserts became deep chasms, the sand dug up and carted away. The atmosphere became noticeably thinner--for example, the results of parachuting out of an aircraft--the few that could still fly--were questionable at best. Weather patterns grew sluggish and rain became a distant memory. The land began to die, forcing governments to drastically limit the use of these converters, taxing the ocean even further with huge desalinization plants to replenish the fresh water sources.
Space travel then became the topic of choice, to try to escape the prison humanity had forced itself into. Sure, small shuttles with primitive fusion reactors had been sent out to scout for possible landing sites for possible further manned exploration, but the invention of the converters put that notion to rest. Now, it was back at the forefront of discussion. Why not build ships which could harvest matter out of the moon, or Mars, or beyond, and use those in the converters? And so ships were built, fitted with fusion reactors and converters, and sent out to the moon to harvest. Soon, entire cities were built on the moon, massive converters turning regolith into atmosphere, for the sole purpose of revitalizing the home planet. More ships were built and cities erected onto Mars. Massive cargo ships ferried material from the moon, Mars, and eventually the asteroid belt, back to earth to be converted to whatever was needed. Massive converters replenished Earth's atmosphere and oceans, while sand flowed back into the deserts. Soon, the Earth had been more or less fixed, and the immediate danger had passed. Food was still far more expensive than it had been in the past, but civilization was manageable again.
Two things limited the speed at which humanity could spread among the stars. First, the speed of light was a distant limit, for the small fusion reactors could not push the ships beyond even a tenth of that speed. And second, someone managed to turn a converter into a weapon of mass destruction. | 2017-11-06T01:04:44 | 2017-11-05T19:47:06 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | I am writing this with tears in my eyes and 15 years of wishing i did this sooner.
Dear Dude who molested me when I was a child,
You ruined my life. It has been a long time since you molested me and those 3 other kids, and I hope you are rotting in that cell.
Ever since what you have done, I have battled severe depression and extreme psychosis. Do you know what its like being a 10 year old boy huddled in a corner thinking the shadows are going to get him while the voices in his head scream at him in unintelligible words? Do you know what it's like for a 12 year old to contemplate suicide just to get the voices to stop. You probably think I deserve it because my testimony put you in prison for 50 years.
Thanks to you, I have had 24 days in my life where i have held pills to my lips, or a knife to my throat, or held a gun in my hands, all because it would "be easier" than living.
Thanks to you, my career in the Navy was cut short because i was to unstable and had to spend a week in a mental hospital.
Thanks to you, I have spent the last 5 years of my life wasting away because I didnt think there was anything left for me.
But you probably don't care.
Thankfully, though, I have found a girl who loves me. I have found a therapist who tells me it isn't my fault. I have a life I have now built that I love and wouldnt trade for the world. Now i have 2 cats and a dog. Now i have an apartment that I can call home. Now....I have a life, one I don't want to end because it would "be easy".
~One of the boys you raped so long ago. | To my best friend.
I used to write to you all the time in the early days. Perhaps it was selfish of me, to use you as an outlet for my emotions. I haven't written to you in such a while, and I'm sorry. Life got in the way, I guess. I owe you this last one.
I don't know how, but slowly things changed. They got better, and I felt guilty at first, that things were able to improve for me. Eventually the guilt faded, and now I can just be happy. It's funny that you used to be what happiness meant to me, yet ten years on I can have happiness whilst you are just a distant memory.
Who knows what could've been. For years I held on to our idealist childhood dream. Please understand that I didn't want it to fade. I didn't want to forget, that's just what time does to you. I did love you. Once. Perhaps, I do still.
I'm happy now. It's time to let you go. We were only children when you died, but even after death you helped me to become the woman I am today, and for that I will always be grateful. Goodbye, best friend.
Yours,
madziepan | 2015-12-05T15:55:07 | 2015-12-05T13:54:55 | 61 | 24 |
[WP] An angel is dispatched from Heaven at the same time as a demon from Hell to claim the last eligible soul on Earth after the Apocalypse. Outside this survivor's shelter, they meet and realize they recognize one another. | Apart from the dust blowing through the air, nothing moved. Flames flickered in the distance, but other than that, everything was dark. The sun hadn’t managed to fight through the thick clouds for months. In the middle of this wasteland stood a hut, cobbled together from lumps of wood and sheets of metal that by now were mostly rust.
There was a flash of blinding light, and the sound of a choir singing in Latin. When the light faded away, there was a figure standing in the ashes, a figure clothed entirely in white, with enormous white wings.
He glanced down at the dirt already covering his white brogues and scowled. Taking a deep breath, he set off towards the hut.
A rumble sounded behind him. If the figure had turned round, he would have seen the earth open up. An ugly, blood-red light shone out of. As people screamed and howled far below, a gnarled hand reached out of the crack, and a creature in rags pulled themselves up into the open air.
The creature giggled and rolled around in the dirt for a few seconds, before shivering. He wasn’t used to being out of the heat. Looking around, he saw the figure in white, rapidly approaching the hut. He dropped to all fours and raced to catch up with the angel.
“Oi!” he called.
The angel ignored him.
“Gabriel, right?”
Gabriel spun round. “What?”
“Just wanted to say hi.”
“Excellent. Sorry,” Gabriel said, gesturing to the nearby hut, “but I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“Don’t you remember me?”
“Should I?”
“I’d hope so. The name’s Legion. All my mates call me Lee.”
“Oh, yes. You. Nice to see you again, Legion.”
Gabriel started off to the hut again, with Legion skipping besides him.
“So what are you up to, Gabe?”
“The same as you, I expect.”
“Probably,” Legion said. “This guy must be important if The Big Man’s sent you. I thought you were meant to be his right-hand man.”
“And what’s that meant to mean?”
Legion shrugged. “Nothing. Just thought you’d have better things to do than come all the way down here. You in his bad books or something?”
“No. If I was in his bad books, I’d be down with you and your kind. This is the last soul on Earth, and...”
“Oh, I know that,” Legion interrupted. “You think I came up here for fun? I’d rather be back home. It’s Cannibal Friday today, I was looking forward to it. But no – I’ve got to get this guy and bring him back with me.”
Gabriel laughed, a laugh that sounded like tinkling bells. “I don’t think so, Lee. I’m taking him back with me.”
Legion pounced in front of the angel, and snarled. “So do you want to fight for him or something? Bring it, Feathers.”
“I’m not going to fight you.”
“Oh yeah? There’s no way I’m giving him a choice between going with you and me. Why would he go to Hell? Only one of us is talking to him, and it’s me.”
“Sorry, but that’s not going to happen. He’s coming to Heaven. His Father wants to welcome his child home.”
Legion snorted loudly. “Don’t give me that. You’ll be trying to convince me next.”
“Actually, I…”
“No.”
“We’re here now,” Gabriel said, pointing to the hut, only a few feet away now. “Why don’t we just both go in, introduce ourselves, and let him decide what he wants to do.”
“I already told you! He’ll want to go with you!”
“We don’t even know who’s in there. For all I know, he’s an axe murderer, or a Satanist. I think they’ll be pretty keen on following you. And if they want to join me, well… Between you and me,” Gabriel whispered, “God’s not so keen on Satanists.”
Legion rolled his eyes. “Fine. You’ve convinced me. Let’s do it.”
Before either of them could walk up to the door and knock on it, someone yanked it open. An old man stood there in the doorway, staring blankly into the distance.
“Hello there!” Gabriel called out, brightly. “I’ve come to…”
The man yawned and stretched. He didn’t seem to have noticed the angel at all, let alone heard him.
Frowning, Gabriel gave a little wave, but the man just picked up a little bag and stepped out of his hut, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Mate!” Legion shouted, but the man trudged past him. When Legion yelled again, right in his ear, the man didn’t even blink.
Legion looked up at the angel and shrugged.
“Great,” Gabriel sighed. “Another atheist.”
EDIT: Ooh, Gold. Thank you, kind stranger!
| The earth cracked open, and a spiral of hellfire erupted from the ground. A clawed hand reaches up, grabbing the ledge and hoisting himself up from the depth of the Earth. He was a demon from hell, boasting great horns and crimson skin. His serpentine eyes darted to and fro, searching for the target soul his lord had sent him to acquire. The survivor of the Apocalypse had done as well as he could have given the circumstances, but he was weakening and his time had finally come. His eyes didn't fail him, he located the shelter and made for it, effortlessly leaping the distance with his powerful legs. Just as he reached to tear the makeshift door off it's hinges, a bright light interrupted the motion. Recoiling, the demon squinted and cursed, realizing that an Angel had come from the world above to claim the soul as well. Well, he would not fail his lord- the punishment was too great.
"Whoa. Jim? Is that you?" Came the heavenly voice. The demon froze in shock. How did it know his mortal-life's name? Squinting past the glowing aura that surrounded the angel, He realized why the angel knew his name.
"Karen? Karen from Accounting?!" He exclaimed, recognizing the female Angel instantly from his workplace when he was still a mortal.
"Jim from Legal! It really is you! It's been centuries!" The Angel gushed, rushing to hug Jim the Demon. Jim hugged awkwardly back, not knowing exactly why or how she was so comfortable with socializing with demons as an angel. Pulling away, Karen examined him for a moment. "Those horns really fit you." She commented, smiling a radiant smile that only angels could.
"Wh- Karen, it's been a while, and it's cool to see you again and everything, but aren't you the least bit put off that I'm a demon and you're an angel?" Jim asked, his head reeling. Sure, he had seen some of his co-workers in Hell and he assumed the rest were in Heaven, but this was a whole different story.
"Not really, Heaven has been really progressive, Jim. Lots of 'Demon Acceptance and Education' seminars going around. Things have really changed. Anything like that in Hell?" She jabbered.
"Uh, not really. Just burning the souls of the damned for eternity, really."
"You need to get some reforms going, Jim. Hell is so old-school, I'm betting. I bet there's still gates at the entrance-- we replaced ours with automated doors!"
"Well, maybe we *should* replace those rusty, charred old ga-- Okay hold on a second." Jim said, refusing to be drawn into this conversation, "Sorry to be the spoilsport Karen, but I have a job to do and I have to claim that soul over there. It's been great meeting you and all but Lord Satan really doesn't like to wait."
"Hey! That's my job too!" Karen said, grabbing my shoulder as I turned for the door once more.
"Karen, please. I don't know about Heaven, but Lord Satan hates it when people fail, and the punishments hurt. Can't you let this one go?" He asked irritably, not looking forward to getting my liver eaten repeatedly by Cerebus again.
"Not this time! I'm haven't let anything go ever since I let you go!" Karen declared. Jim, who had turned to the door again, froze.
"Wh- I you wait... what?" Jim spluttered, whirling back to Karen, who had an uncharacteristically teary pout on her face.
"I worked with you for five years before you got married, Jim. For those five years I sat there hoping that I would either work up the courage to talk to you more, or that you would ask me out." Karen said, her cheery countenance crumbling.
"You... You liked me?" Jim asked, completely dumbfounded.
"I loved you, Jim. It killed me when you announced you were getting married." Karen said.
"I... well... I actually liked you too, Karen. I just always thought you had someone else. You, uh, you were always so cheerful and happy. It made me happy talking to you." Jim said. It had been hundreds of years since he's had to deal with petty mortal emotional stuff like this. Karen wiped a single tear from her eye and went back in for a fierce hug. For a while, they just stood there embracing each other before finally breaking away. Both of them cast absent glances at the shelter, before looking back at each other.
"Well, what now?" asked Jim. | 2014-06-16T04:35:51 | 2014-06-16T03:56:40 | 42 | 20 |
[WP] Write a story about a hero who thinks they're the villain. | As far back as I can remember, I've always wanted to be a tyrant.
And I don't mean the whole Cincinnatus-dictator, Father-of-his-people bullcrap, thank you very much. I mean a straight-up *tyrant*. I mean the guy sipping champagne and laughing down at the useless little slaves toiling their lives away. I mean putting my face over everything, just because I *can*. No public relations to worry about. No popularity contests. No pretending like you're any better than you really are. The nation is a prison, and I'm the warden. *That's* what I'm talking about.
(My childhood was... complicated. Let's just leave it at that.)
Needless to say, I was out on the street with a homemade freeze ray, like any self-respecting supervillain, just as soon as I could lift it. Robbed some banks, kidnapped some damsels, twirled my mustache, got foiled more times than I could count, yadda yadda yadda. Main thing is, I was waiting for my chance.
And what do you know - one day a few years ago, the heroes got all distracted with some big crisis or another, and I went for it. Conquered myself a little chunk of Indiana, just far enough away from Chicago that I knew no one would notice. Did some maniacal laughing, set myself up in the swankiest mayor's office I could find, showed off my robot death legions. Good times.
And then... well... the crisis didn't end.
Next thing you know, we're getting an alien invasion, like, *weekly*. Half of 'em from different universes. I'm running myself ragged just trying to hold onto my territory. I'm even working with the freaking *heroes*, or at least the ones who are left. Guess they figure that I might enslave entire populations, but at least I'm not *eating* them or some crap like that.
Today, I had to save a school. Just a school. I haven't even had time to wrap the place in barbed wire and put up a "Reeducation Camp" sign. And after I drive off the aliens, the kids? They all start *cheering* for me. The little bastards. Don't they know the only reason they still live is because I'm gonna need a work force for all the monuments to myself I'm gonna build once all this is over? I even *told* them that, and they kept cheering.
People, y'know? It's like they just don't even get it. | He sat there, laughing to himself, never in his wildest dreams would he think he would capture the almighty hero of the worlds. The 'hero' didn't know what was going on, to him, he was just waiting, he knew he was going to die tonight, one way or another.
Meanwhile, the politicians and representatives of the planets were discussing what to do in this mess they had gotten themselves into. "I think we should just tell him he's not helping, at all..." Stated the representative of C-29, "We could always get our forces and armies together, he couldn't kill all of them!" Another politician interjected, "Try telling that to the smouldering remains of A-79" many of the politicians rambled on about the laws and loopholes of them, nothing was apparent for logical or meaningful sense. They waited, saying the same blanket statements over and over.
The villainous protagonist's message echoed throughout the hall, "I have your precious hero and he will die, sad and alone, he cannot escape from the clutches of my impenetrable fortress! Meet my demands and we may come to an agreement" the audio clip started to loop until the head of system paused it, people were discussing his demands among themselves until one representative spoke up, "He doesn't seem to know of how honestly horrible this 'Hero' is, he want's him to die, but he wants us to pay to **get him out?** I say it is quite ridiculous." Another politician spoke up, "I think we could use him to our advantage, he could kill him at any moment, we could offer him fame, glory, who could refuse?" A message was sent back, soon to be read.
His face was plastered over every billboard of every street, on the news doing an interview nearly every second night, books and tales of the villain who became a hero, without even trying.
---
Hey, I wrote this at 4 in the morning so please tell me any mistakes, thanks! | 2015-09-25T13:49:34 | 2015-09-25T11:30:46 | 75 | 13 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | In a world where people were born with superpowers, some got the short end of the stick. Some could fly, while others could see the world in a different spectrum. Some had the ability to conjure flames as hot as the sun, while others could manipulate ice cubes.
Everyone had a choice, to do what they wanted with their powers. Good or evil, creation or destruction. Even the most mundane powers were useful in some way.
I, however, drew the shortest end of the shortest stick. I had the power to make people laugh, and it was that power that landed me my first and only job. A kid's television show presenter. The children hated me, because I could force them to be happy, to laugh against their will. I hated it, but at the time I did it for the ratings.
The rest of the world didn't hate me as much as the children did. They simply saw me as a laughing stock of the superpowered world, which was quite apt. And that's who I became. Laughing Stock.
It turns out that it's surprisingly hard to control ones powers while lost in gut-shattering laughter. And surprisingly hard to breathe too.
Now I sit on my throne atop the world, while everyone else looks upon me with fear. Now, no one dares to laugh at me, for the second they start, they will never stop. | Herbert Johnson, on his 80th birthday snapped. It was bad enough to have a super power that only brings you ridicule, in a world full of powers that inspire admiration. These super powered fools, now, used their great powers to crash an old man's birthday party.
Herbert Johnson, the master of gas, unleashed his ultimate revenge. A thing so diabolical he promised never to do. The world of heros now had one villain. Flatulence was Herbert's game. Now the world was subjected to an endless cloud of flatulent gas. A feet none of the other super heros realized Herbert was capable of. No one is laughing now. | 2017-06-12T08:42:15 | 2017-06-12T08:36:12 | 52 | 10 |
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King". | Everyone has a title. I’ve always been able to see them, but it didn’t take long to figure out nobody else could. Mom heard me sounding out the text shortly after I learned to read, and asked me what I was doing. When I told her, she laughed and said something about how kids had such vivid imaginations. She didn’t laugh when I asked what a philanderer was when dad got home that night. After that, I learned to keep my mouth shut.
After a couple decades of seeing titles, I don’t really pay much attention to them anymore. Most of them aren’t all that interesting: “Jeff’s Mom”, “The Mediocre Rapper”, “The Mayonnaise Eater”, “Incel 554280”, etc.
Today, though, I see one that made me do a double take. “The Forgotten King”.
“Hello, can I help you?” He asks politely. “Are you looking for a specific book today?”
I glance around the store, remembering why I’m here. I saw this used book shop a few weeks ago, and thought I might be able to find a gift for Mom here. She likes old novels. Says they have more character.
“Umm, yeah.” I mumble, trying to keep my eyes on his face, not the distracting title hovering over his head. “Do you, uh, have anything by John Smith?”
So sue me. It’s hard to think of a fake name when you’re distracted.
His eyelid twitches as he stares at me. “Are you an idiot?”
“Uh...” I avoid his gaze, my eyes wandering around the store. “It’s possible. I’ve been called that often enough.”
Desperate to change the subject, my eyes fall on another customer browsing in the cooking section.
“What in the blazes is The Order of Tesswold?”
Next thing I know, he’s grabbing me by the collar and hauling me over the counter. “Who are you?Where did you hear that name?”
Struggling for an explanation, my eyes flicker to a mirror, to the title hovering over my own head. I’ve never shared it with anyone before, but I’ve never met anyone with a title as strange as mine, either.
“I’m The King’s Eye.”
| Adam froze. "FUCK YEAH!"
"Excuse me?" The homeless man - no, The Forgotten King, spoke with a cultured, precise accent.
"Let me guess, you were once a king or a famous man, ruler of an empire or something. Then, due to events out of your control, or self imposed exile, or a brother betraying you for the throne, you were cast out! And here you are now. And now you need an adventurer to help you reclaim your rightful place as king."
The Forgotten King frowned. "Was that really just a guess?"
Adam nodded. "I woke up in that street the other day, with no memory of my past. I'm guessing it's some sort of amnesia plotline, or maybe someone was lazy and my backstory will just write itself on an as-needed basis."
The Forgotten King's frown (That's way too long to type out every time), deepened. "I do not understand. But if you are offering to help me reclaim my throne - Call me Robert." There. That's way quicker.
"Hell yeah, I'm going to help you. I've been killing rats for the past week and just waiting for my first quest."
"I do not believe slaying vermin will aid us in our quest."
"Just come with me - we'll need weapons. I don't know why, but I have a gut feeling the finest blacksmith in the world somehow needs a favor that only you and I will be clever enough to grant, and he'll give us some sweet loot as thanks."
And so, Robert and Adam set off on the first of many adventures together. | 2019-01-08T11:03:34 | 2019-01-08T10:01:22 | 583 | 88 |
[WP] You being the cemetery caretaker, always treat the graves and the dead with utmost care. So when the zombie apocalypse begins, you find it surprising that they do not attack you but instead help protect you. | I worked the graveyard shift, quite literally. During warm and cold night under a starlit sky I attended our local graveyard. My only task was to sit in my office, walk a round halfway through the night and sleep for the rest. That's was my precursor told me.
But, that'd get boring, wouldn't you agree? I realised this on my first day, seeing all the graves, all the lives gone by. So many memories and stories lay beneath my feet-- It would've been a waste to ignore them!
So, I started looking up information. Books, archives, asking the locals and scouring the Internet. From the grave closest to my office to the dilapidated stones at the back, I slowly pieced together every soul that time had tried so hard to weather.
During the process I'd sit with the deseased as I learned more about them. Hobbies, friends, marks they may have left on the world. I'd buy them little gifts or attempt to draw them when they were young. On their birthdays I'd get them something they would've enjoyed, lit a candle and get them a piece of cake (and one for myself, of course)
The village had mostly cast me out by now. I got paid, but people avoided me like the plague. I smelled of death and the wild, and often the folks would hear me whisper in the night-- I was insane, obviously.
Then, something changed. A phone notification in the middle of the night. A news report, then another, and another. The living dead, rising from their graves, seeking vengeance or something along those lines. The village got evacuated, I was left behind. The villagers were convinced I caused this.
Lo and behold, the dead rose that same night. Skeletons digging themselves out of their eternal beds, zombies smashing caskets, swirls of animated ash rising from the ground.
Other than that, little changed. Some went to inhabit their old homes, others went back to sleep during the day. Whenever a horde of undead showed up they'd be warded off, told that there was nothing left. 'To feed, head East towards the greater cities.'
And that is that. I tend to my farm during the day, visiting the graveyard every other day. Ghosts and ghouls water my crops at night and harvest if they're feeling particularly kind.
Though, with the Internet, radio and TV being completely gone for years, I do wonder how the rest of the world is holding up? | The ground shook, waking me from my half-nap. All of a sudden I heard noises more akin to moles tunnelling in moist ground.
With a gulp and a slap to the face, I fumbled out of my shack towel in hand. I managed a yelp before realising that some of the gravestones had moved – some tumbling to the side, others blown away as if the ground beneath it had erupted.
As I fell back to my shack, a pair of rotted hands had locked my feet in place. I prayed to all the Gods that might be looking down on me. I shouted in vain as I lost my balance and fell butt first to the ground.
"P-Please, don't hurt me!" I yelled to anyone who might have heard me.
As if on cue, a head popped out of the ground around me. I thought this was gonna be the moment that I'd be eaten alive. Zombie movies are scary, but this was on a whole other level.
"Yo...You...Safe!" one of the heads said as it stood out of its hole in the ground.
I looked on in horror as the rest of the zombies followed the one that had stood before me. They began to walked away in earnest, safe for the hands that grabbed on my feet.
"I, uh, I can't move–" I said to the standing zombie whose eyes were filled with worms.
Like a comedy slapstick of some sort, it then kicked the zombie hands that was latched tightly to my feet. Understanding what it meant, the hand let go and began retreating down back to the ground.
When all was said and done, the zombies then swarmed out of the cemetery. I was simply left there in shock.
What a bizarre turn of event. | 2020-05-12T13:50:34 | 2020-05-12T13:25:56 | 295 | 60 |
[WP] start your story with a sentence that is upbeat and happy. Then end it with that same sentence but this time is dark and chilling. | “Run!”
We would laugh as we played. Our little legs would carry us across the field, while our short arms would try reaching for one another to not be it.
I loved after school games. They were relaxing, and a nice (69) liberation from my pre school life. Time always just seemed to repeat when we played. It was like a carbon copy of everyday’s game. Jenny would be it for about twenty minutes before someone else slowed down intentionally to not make her feel bad.
“Damien’s it!” Someone yelled, and so it was instinct.
“Run!”
Giggles erupted from all of us. Don’t get touched by any other player, else wise you’d be it.
“Run!”
Just keep running, just keep laughing, just keep smiling.
“Run!”
But life is full of surprises. today’s game wasn’t a carbon copy. today’s game would be the last game.
I bumped into a man I’d never seen before. Smelly. Old. Grumpy. Ugly. I didn’t like him. No.
“Hey kiddo, you look exhausted. I’ve got some juice in my truck, you want some?”
Stranger. Stranger danger.
“Run!”
I vigorously shake my head. No.
“Aw, come on, a bit of apple juice wouldn’t hurt.”
Well, I am a bit thirsty-
No. Run.
“We also have grape and mango if apple isn’t to your liking.”
Mango? I love mangoes! A sip wouldn’t hurt. Probably. And mommy would be so happy, I’d finally be drinking healthy juices!
“Okay.”
I hear my friends behind me playing. They can wait.
He comes back with a glass filled with the mustardy yellow color of mango juice. I take sip, but what was only supposed to be a sip turned into huge gulps. It was so, so good. I was so thirsty.
And before I knew it, my vision was growing cloudy.
One thought in my mind was constant, although it was probably because I could still hear the voices of my friends echoing in the distance as the mystery man carried me into his truck.
“Run!”
—
iM ONLY FOURTEEN DONT JUDGE ME but I’m welcoming any feedback, just a smol aspiring writer here haha | the sea is beautiful.
thats the only thing i could think about this whole trip. three weeks of travelling on the shoreline spending each day in a different fishing town. my friends stayed close to shore, always, but i found a new fisherman or boat lender to take me into the deep sea even if just to see the sun sinking beneath the waves.
i couldn't stop thinking about it. the crimson red wavesspreading like fire over the horison with white foam like a snowy crust over each wave.
i had to keep going day after day town after town fisherman after fisherman. all too see the buitifull crimson waves.
thats why when we got to innsmouth i ignored my friends warning about the strange inhabitents of this half empty town. they were men, after all. and that day just before sundown i set sail with a local over the devil's reef.
twighlight blazed around the little boat and over the sea whe i heard the man calling: "itry'et! ia floe rly'e battar esgriv'a!"
i didnt care at first. then claws emerged from the deep cutting into my arms and pulled me down under.
i could tell you abou the horrid fish-people thadid horrendous things to me.
but i won't.
beacuse, at least at the start, the only thing that mattered to me was the sight of the crimson waves above me. blazing with my blood.
the sea is beautiful.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
hey there its me ya boy h.p lovecraft back at it with the fish people. | 2019-09-07T06:14:40 | 2019-09-07T05:38:28 | 48 | 23 |
[WP] You thought you had died thousands of years ago of an illness and spending your afterlife in an abyss. Then you wake up collapsed on the ground covered in broken rock. It turns out you were incased as a marble statue in Rome and accidentally broken by an unsupervised 8 year old | “Robbie! What did you do?!”
Lying on the wooden floor, I opened my eyes and saw a woman running towards a young kid. He was staring at me with a horrified look. I tried not to look back, but his eyes clearly told me that something incredibly odd has just happened. I noticed broken pieces of marble around me, and as my eyes were scanning my surroundings, I noticed that a lot of other people were staring at me too. I heard nothing but silence and the rushing steps of the frantic woman.
She reached the boy and put her hands on her head, looking at the marble that was scattered on the floor. “I walk away for just a second and you do *this*?!” She began to hyperventilate.
“It was an accident, I swear!” The boy began to cry. “Mommy, why was there a man in the statue?”
Two men, dressed rather officially, ran into the room and began to look around. “Sir, you have to understand,” the mother turned to one of them. “It was an accident. Please, you *have* to understand! It wasn’t on purpose. Are we in trouble?” She began to find it difficult to talk as tears were rolling down her cheeks.
“Please come down, ma’am,” instructed one of the men. “We have to see what happened before making any decisions.”
I got up off the floor and heard a few gasps. I was as confused as anyone in that room, and I wanted to ask so many questions. Who were these people? Where were we? Why were these people dressed so oddly? Where have I been all this time? I could not remember how I got here, and something told me that nobody in the room would tell me either.
The two official-looking men approached me. “Sir, who are you?” Asked one of them. I looked at him for a brief moment and noticed a small tag on his chest that read “DAVIDE – SECURITY.”
I didn’t think it was fair that I had so many unanswered questions but I had to answer his. I wanted to know so much and all he wanted to know was my name? What could would that do? “Sir! What is your name and what are you doing?” Davide asked pressingly.
I quickly gathered my thoughts and said, “I am Decimus. Where am I? Who are all those people?”
“This is the National Museum of Roman History, sir. These people paid to be here. May I see your ticket?”
“Museum of Roman History? But we… how can...” I was even more confused now than before I asked the question. “I need to speak to my general immediately!”
“Sir, if you don’t show me your ticket I will have to escort you out of the building, And if you resist further then we will have to call the police!” Davide was clearly getting angry, but I still had plenty of questions that I needed answers for.
As I took my eyes off the angry threatening man, I noticed the room filled with statues of people who looked a lot like me. They were made of the same kind of stone that was broken on the floor, and were standing on a rectangular wooden stage. “Give me a second, sir, I plead,” I told him, and I slowly walked towards one of the statues. My memory was coming back to me as I looked at the faces of each of the marble-covered warriors.
We were preparing to go to battle on the northern border of our beloved Roman Empire, to battle the Barbaric nations that have been poking at us for decades. Visigoths, they were called. Our Empire was not doing well, and there was a lot of fear surrounding us and plenty of people claiming that Rome was going to fall. I looked at the name plaque of one of the statues. It read “FLAVIUS.” Yes, I remembered him. Young, handsome Flavius. We have been training together for some years along with several other young soldiers. I walked a few steps to the next statue. His name plaque read “AVITUS.” Another one read “CLOELIUS.” Two more statues were called “GORDIANUS” and “PUBLIUS.” Every name jolted my memory and put me more firmly in the scene of the battle. I knew each and every one of these warriors. The final statue in the room wore the name of Antonius. He was the final piece to my puzzle, and with his name I had finally remembered how we all got here.
It was Antonius who had suggested the absurd idea. We all struggled to trust him at first but we soon realized that we had no other choice. Our Empire was slowly crumbling and torturous death was imminent. “We are fighting a lost battle,” he told us. “There are too many Barbarians! We are all going to die! We are too young, too skillful to die now. These Barbarians are too ruthless now, but they are mere animals! Give us a hundred years and Rome will rise once again and defeat them with brutal force! Eventually every single one of them will die and Rome will return to its former glory. But us six, we don’t deserve to be killed right now. We can’t run anywhere; we are surrounded by enemies! But I have an idea. We all take this,” he showed us a small sack with powder in it. “We put a little bit in our mouth, feel ill for a little bit, and go to sleep for a long, long time. I had arranged for my wife to built statues of us, and when we are in deep sleep, she will encase us in marble and when the time is right, we will come back when Rome is the mighty Empire it once was!”
I couldn’t remember anything past that moment. I could only imagine that it was followed by us taking some of the mysterious powder and fading into the deepest of sleeps. The bastard was right; we were all encased in marble, and for all I know Rome was the greatest empire in the world right now. Overwhelmed with emotion, I used all my strength to push Antonius’s statue off the wooden stage. The marble broke, and Antonius himself lied on the floor, coming to his senses. I rushed to break the rest of the statues in the room, and I couldn’t believe when soon enough, I was surrounded by my comrades-in-arms. We all looked at each other and began to laugh as Antonius’s ludicrous idea turned out to be a success.
Not everyone found it funny, though, as Davide and his friend tried to tackle us. Flavius and I pushed them off pretty easily, and we all unsheathed our swords. “Glory to Rome!” we all shouted, and walked outside to be greeted by the shining sun and an empire that was not at all Rome. | My thoughts ran wildly when I saw a light obliterating the overwhelming darkness of the abyss. What was happening? I heard a crack, like the great walls of a persian city succumbing to the power of our endless catapults.
The light, however, blinded me. I heard the angry voice of a woman unleashing her wrath followed by a plethora of terrified gasps. Where was I? Had I for some reason been sent to paradise? No, if I had, I would've felt my body. I wouldn't be a collection of thoughs like I was.
A curtain of blackness enveloped the light. I was in the abyss again. What had happened? It was most certainly interesting.
From amid the darkness spheres of white surged and faded. Had I been falling all this time? Was I finally reaching the bottom of the void?
I spiralled. How did that happen? I was thoughts. I couldn't move.
*Sir, can you hear me?*
Was that God's voice? I wanted to scream that I did hear him, but I didn't have a mouth nor a tongue. Suddenly, the light came back, and then the abyss took over again. They fought an endless fight, until a strange, blurry shape appeared before me.
*His eyes are too sensitive. The lights are blinding him,* the voice said. "It's unbelievable that he is still alive."
Alive? Was he talking to me? About me? I felt something heavy, and I was back in the abyss. However, that feeling was too familiar. It was part of me, or it had been. I focused on it, and the light returned.
Wait a moment. Those were my eyelids. Was I alive? Was my body completely numb? I blinked countless times until the lights didn't blind me anymore.
The blur I saw took the shape of a man. I looked around. A crowd was staring at me, broken rocks lay at my sides and I seemed to be in some sort of museum, for there were paintings on the walls.
"Blink three times if you can hear us," the man said. I blinked three times. He took a deep breath. "This is incredible. We will take you to the hospital, right now. There's nothing fear. You have been locked inside a marble statue."
What? A marble statue? How? Why was no one wearing tunics? What were those strange and tiny weapons people held in their hands? How long had I been trapped?
They took me to the hospital. After a few days I recovered my speech, and was starting to feel my extremities again. However, they resembled twigs. I could see the bones bulging out. I missed the muscle I had when I was a soldier murdering persians with my bare hands.
"How long had I been trapped?" I asked to the doctor. He was a gentle old man who had been kind and patient enough to explain me what all the tubes connected to my body were, along with all his medical weapons.
"The marble statue was a thousands years old," he said, and shrugged. "So a thousand years old."
"How am I alive? Why didn't I die of starvation?" I asked, and my eyes darted to this colorful thing called television.
"That's what I'm trying to decipher," the doctor said. "It makes no sense. The only explanation is that you are a God of sorts or simply immortal."
"Stab me," I said and grinned. I loved the idea of being a God. I dreamed of it. "Make a mess, as if I were an old enemy of yours and we had just met in the battlefield."
"I'm afraid I can't," the doctor said. "Law doesn't allow it nowadays."
"Don't be a coward!" I yelled, gritting my teeth. "I won't say anything."
"Very well," he said and grabbed a little knife.
"You won't do damage with that," I complained. "Don't you have a spear or a sword, a dagger?"
The doctor spoke no words. He came to me with that tiny knife and in one clean movement, he cut my throat. I felt the warmth of my blood trickling down my neck and tainting my bare chest. I grunted and gurgled, my extremities trembled, and everything spun.
Blackness followed.
Then, I woke up again. The doctor was standing beside me, nodding.
"Well, that proves it," he said. "You can't die. That or your imagining all this."
"Imagining all this?" I said and felt my throat. The cut was not there anymore. "It seems very real to me."
"Madness can be very real," the doctor said.
I frowned. "What are you trying to say?"
"Nothing at all."
It was then when the surroundings crumbled down and walls of stone rose from the ground. The lights dimmed, and my body felt suddenly exhausted. I found shackles in my arms and ankles, scars all over my skin and heard the sound of distant boots.
Soon a wooden door grated open. A man holding a torch came to me. I could recognize his armor anywhere. He was a persian.
"Well well well," he said and grinned. His nose was crooked and his face filled with dirt. "Someone is having a good day. It was time. I was getting bored of your vacant stare and your lack of screams. I wasn't expecting to find you in this state, but let's take advantage of it."
He thrust the torch against my stomach. I yelped a terrible yelp. The pain was unbearable, I could feel my skin melting, my flesh burning, its pungent stench wafting into my nostrils. I cried and screamed my life away, begging to return to the abyss, pleading to drown in its darkness.
But the madness was a paradise I didn't appreciate, and reality was the hell I deserved.
---------------------------------
I started writing this prompt and realized I didn't have the slightest clue where I was going. Sorry if it's a little weird.
r/AHumongousFish if you enjoyed it.
| 2018-08-06T20:17:17 | 2018-08-06T20:04:16 | 381 | 158 |
[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect. | A shinning like awakens the inmate in the middle of the night. The cell doors open outward as the guards walk in. The light protrudes from the middle of the seven-fingered hands of the alien species. A light so bright only the strongest flashlight could produce back on Earth.
No words are spoken, for no words are needed. Even if they were needed, it would be impossible. The languages of the two are not compatible, as one speaks via sound waves coming through the air, while the other speaks via electrons through the mind.
The inmate is grabbed by the chains that hang from his wrists, his body jerked off the stone block from which he rested. "It is my long-awaited time", he thought, as the guards quickly dragged him through the dim-lit hallway. A wretched stench quickly rushed through his nostrils, as if a skunk had just passed by, or a barrel of diesel had been spilled.
Fear of death was not in his mind, as the other inmates had all but come back to their cells. However, the crushingly constant worry of losing his consciousness, his state of mind if you will, gazed his eyes in wonder. All the others had come back...different. Some would be quiet, with a distant stare. Others would come back with a manic laughter, seemingly unable to control it.
"What will become of me? What will they do to me?" his mind shouted internally as he riffled through the possibilities. Was he going to be probed? Mind control? The anticipation was agonizing. After all, it would only be a few more seconds until he finds out what there is at the other side of the great green door.
The door opened to a white and windowless room. The smell that was lingering in the hallway now protruded over every surface. A lonely chair and a small table stood in the middle. Before he could look at anything else, he was dragged and sat on the chair. His chains became loose without a key, and the guards quickly rushed off.
His palms turned damp and cold. His legs could've very well been gone, as a sudden numbness grazed his lower body. His heart began pounding faster and stronger. More blood began to pump through his veins and up his neck to his brain. His ears slowly started to ring, developing into a loud and high-pitched noise. His eyes, his eyelids, his lips, all started twitching uncontrollably.
It was then that he noticed the vents on the floor. White smoke began to rise from the floor, and like a mist it began to hover over every surface of the room. He held his breath, with his eyes watering as the incoming gas-like substance surrounded him. "Is this arsenic? Anthrax? Chlorine?" he wondered as he tried to remember the chemistry course he took in college. If only he had paid attention, but instead preferred to look up the cute girl's skirt when the teacher wasn't looking.
Finally, his breath could hold no more. He gasped for air, his lungs filled up with the white smoke that surrounded the room from floor to ceiling. A fire-like burning sensation rushed from the bottom of his chest to the tight-knot on his throat. He began to cough, but quickly realized how familiar of a feeling this was. He had coughed like this before, not from the flu nor the plague, but from something else. The flashbacks of sitting in class in quickly shifted to his dorm room. Pictures of himself surrounded by his friends while they called him a "lightweight" and a "bitch" displayed in front of his eyes. It was then that his heart rate started slowing down, and his jaw began to ease.
He coughed some more, and then some more, and then composed himself. He was used to this feeling, and he knew what was coming. It was as if he had prepared for this moment his entire life. As does an athlete when he trains for the Olympics, he had been training for years to withstand this chemical. This room was his Arena. The aliens were his audience. It was finally his time to show what he could do.
He stood from the chair and faced the door from which he entered. Confidently, he shouted at the aliens "You don't know who you're fucking with! I went to Colorado State!" | The room started hissed as gas was forced inside. Carl panicked and started banging on the door begging to be let out fearing for his death.
“You have broken our sacred law and desecrated a shrine. You will pay the ultimate price for treating our gods with such disrespect.”
“Come on man! It was just some graphite to make the place interesting. I didn’t even know about that law either!” He sobbed.
The aliens ignored him.
Carl’s nose suddenly twitched and recognised the smell as soon as it reached his nose. Was this really the noxious war gas they used to dispatch their death sentence?
The effects took a moment to set in. But when they did, Carl’s mind shattered.
“Noooo!” His screams twisted into those of a dying animal.
The aliens jumped and felt their skin crawl. That sound was terrifying. They’d never heard any human scream like that. Not even the human girl that they performed surgery on when they ran out of morphine.
“My face! It’s melting off! Please let me out! I don’t want to walk around with a missing face! I can already not feel it!”
This puzzled them, it was clear on the camera that there was nothing wrong with Carl’s face. It was still intact. His eyes were red and wet and contorted in fear. But they were still okay which was puzzling. This human should have his eyes bursting and he should be chucking up blood. Not screaming like a paranormal S’ancati.
Their monitors picked up a spike in the human’s metabolism signalling that his stomach just sounded out in hunger confusing them even more.
“Is the gas just sapping his strength?” One of the aliens wondered.
“There must be something wrong.”
“Just release more of it.”
The hissing got louder as more gas burst in. Carl shrieked and unbuckled his belt. His hands shakenly wrapped it around his foot as he started punching it.
“It bit me! That fucking snake bit me! Help!” He crawled into a corner where he curled up.
He sucked in more air as he started hyperventilating. He pressed himself tightly to the ground thinking that he could float into outer space if he didn’t because of his lightheadedness.
“Ahh! Why do I feel so light?” He cried. “Keep those sharp things away from me! I’ll pop,” he pointed at the shadows his fingers made.
“*Shit!* call the high order.”
—Cease the execution. You fools are just making him high— the high order demanded once everything was explained.
—Who gave you the permission to impose our rule on the human tourist anyway?—
“It is the will of Yaureid /yah-oh-raid/, sires. He desecrated a temple of the gods and he must be...” the unanimous glare of the high order shut him up.
—FOOL! He *is* under the protection of Yaureid! He shall answer his crimes on his own world! Had this poison really killed him we could be susceptible to war! Execute this Fool!—
Two guards grabbed his arms being careful to not slice themselves on his shoulder blades.
They passed Carl by on their way to the chamber. The human was passed out from the sedatives he’d been given.
At that moment the alien wished he was one of his kind to avoid his fate.
Everyone was forced to look in horror as their friend melted away in excruciating pain for his mistake. Even as the skin on his face liquidated and fell from his bones, they were required to look on and make sure he served his sentence.
r/PsyionicWrites | 2020-05-20T12:48:58 | 2020-05-20T11:33:44 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] A zombie apocalypse occurs, where people retain characteristics they had while living. You, as the sole survivor, meet a snobby, vegan zombie who turns their nose up at you. | I carefully pried off the boards on the delapidated Starbucks. I know what you're thinking, *"Who the hell loots a Starbucks after the apocalypse?"* Well, sometime, you just need a cuppa, and all the grocery stores have run out.
I slipped in between the boards. The one upside of the scarcity of a post-people society is that you drop extra pounds pretty quick once the hunger and terror-running set in. I'm in the store, with my electric lantern to light the place. It's a rathole, like everywhere else, but the pretentious attitude of the place still seemed to hang in the air, years after any humans abandoned it, as if to say "I was a filthy shithole *before* is went mainstream." I made my way to the counter and hopped over.
I rooted around underneath the counter to see if I could find any keys. Maybe if I could get into the store room, I could even get enough to trade for stuff. After having no luck finding the key to the back, I stood up and turned around to come face-to-face with one of them.
We called them zombies at first, but then it became quite apparent that these things maintained at least part of their intelligence and personality after changing. Some people still call them zombies, but I prefer the term "revenant." I feel it's more accurate.
So there, not a foot in front of my face, was a revenant, and he didn't look to pleased with me. *"Shit, this is it,"* I said to myself. I'd developed a bad habit of talking to myself.
"What the Hell are you talking about?" The revenant said.
"I, uh, what?" This was a weird situation for me.
"What were you talking about?"
"I, uh, I thought you were going to eat my still-living flesh while I screamed in agony."
The revenant looked at me like *I* was the weird, gross monster. He paused for a moment to step back and size me up. "...The fuck are you talking about?"
"You're a revenant, right? You're not feeling any cannibalistic urges?"
"Well, unlike other people, I can control myself. I'm a vegan, after all."
I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself, an old reflex from civilization.
"What, you're not?"
"Uh, no. I still eat meat. Just not human meat."
"Psh. Just because you don't eat human meat, doesn't mean you're any better than them. You still buy into the abusive neo-capitalist system that encourages the abuse of animals for profit under the guise of 'nutrition.'"
"Okay, okay, am I being punk'd here? Because this is just getting surreal." I looked around to see if I could spot any cameras that weren't ripped out of the wall.
The revenant sighed. "Okay, I can see you're confused, let me take the high road and start over. My name's Roger, and I'm a vegan zombie."
I sighed in return, and tried to gather myself. "Alright, that I've gathered. But how do you survive? I thought revenants had to eat meat, and had a particular preference for human meat?"
"Nah, that's just what they want you to think. We can live just fine on plant-based protein, and that cannibaliztic drive comes from toxins in the meat you eat. If you switch to a fully vegan diet, you'll see that you'll never want meat of any kind again."
"...Right. Okay, I have a laundry list of questions, but I think the first is what you've been living on?"
"Oh yeah, man. I've been eating mostly beans, nuts, and rice. I used to have these really nice spices, but I ran out."
"And you're telling me you have no urge to consume my warm, pink flesh?"
"Nope, not even a little." A bit of saliva was visible at the corner of his mouth, which he quickly wiped away. I frowned at him.
"Okay, maybe a little bit, fine, but I'm still trying to detox, okay? And I have it under control."
"Alright, well, this has been very...educational. But I'm just gonna get out of your hair." I turned to leave and maybe see if I could find any antipsychotics in a pharmacy in town.
"Wait, man. You came here for coffee, right?"
"...Yeah?"
"If you can bring me some spices, you can have all the coffee you want. Beans and rice gets a little bland after a while."
"Uh...sure, why not? A fetch quest for a vegan zombie, how much weirder could this day get?"
"Alright, catch you later. And if you need to get in, just knock on the back door."
I mentally kicked myself for not checking the back door in the first place, nodded and left. I still didn't trust the guy, but by God, I was going to have my coffee.
**EDIT:** Hoh-*lee* **shit**. I did not expect the kind of response this has gotten. I've been pretty busy lately, but if I can find the time, I'll try to do more. Like wow, guys, you're making me blush. | The average zombie lasts about two weeks without food or water. The virus which runs through them grants them superhuman strength and endurance, but it saps their higher cognitive functions, leaving them mere automatons, shadows of their former selves. For this reason, unless suitable prey presents itself, most zombies are aimless, lurching about until they quite literally run out of battery.
But they remain dangerous, and I had survived so long only because I did not underestimate them. I hefted my net gun, and fired three shots at the zombie I had been hunting.
“Got you,” I said, grinning. There wasn’t anyone else around to hear me, anyone who had not been ravaged by the virus, at least, but I had gotten into the habit of talking to myself. “Now let’s see what makes you so special.”
The zombie was weakly flailing about on the ground, too weak to claw its way out. My pulse quickened as I approached – maybe she would give me the breakthrough I had been looking for.
“Hun… ger…” the zombie moaned.
Killing her would have been easy. By my estimate, she wouldn’t have lasted another day or two on her own anyway. But I needed her alive – or at least, not completely dead – and so I swung my backpack around, fished out a side of ham I had salvaged. I threw the meat at her, and it landed with a plop next to her head.
“Eat up,” I said, “can’t do my experiments on you if you die here.”
I expected her to tear at the meat, swallow in chunks. I expected her to growl and slather over the treat like the mindless meat processing machine she had been reduced to.
I didn’t expect her to turn her head away.
“This… is… meat…” she groaned, as she pushed the ham away.
The electricity tingled along my skin, and I felt the same adrenaline rush I did months ago, when I had first studied the zombies. Since the initial deluge of discoveries, they had become predictable, and the scientist in me had yearned for new breakthroughs.
Would this zombie be the key?
"You're... different," I said. I inched closer, used my walking cane to turn her over, get a better look at her. "But how? Who's ever heard of a zombie that turned down meat? Is that why the other zombies keep away from you? Why none of them ever come within a hundred feet of you?"
"Meat... is so dirty..." she continued, "I thought you... were smarter... more considerate... than that... what a... disappointment..."
I listened, dumbstruck. Most zombies went on about how they were hungry and wanted to dine on my brain, but this?
"I don't care if you... want to ruin your own body... health... but to consume meat... in front of me... who do you think... you are? I'm truly disturbed... by your lack of... consideration..."
An idea sparked amidst the confusion swirling in my mind. I reached for the side pockets in my backpack this time, where the yogurt bars were. I unwrapped one, then threw it at her.
She wolfed it down so fast I was glad I had three nets on her. "Ugh... Not... organic... such filth..." she moaned, as a grimace crossed her face, though she hardly slowed down on her munching. "This gives other yogurt... a bad name..."
"Hey, if you don't like it," I said, as I held onto the bar from outside the net, "then stop eating. Give it back."
That prompted her to a new frenzy, and she literally inhaled the rest of the bar without chewing. "Just... this time... I shall eat it... don't want to hurt... your feelings..."
I smiled, even as I forced myself to let go of the shovel I was gripping ever so tightly. More experiments lay ahead if I wanted to be sure, but chances were, I had already figured out her secret, why the other zombies kept such a wide berth of her.
And if I wanted some peace and quiet in my lair, I needed her, and others *just like her*, in cages around the perimeter. That should keep the normies away.
"You're a bloody vegan, aren't you?" I said.
"Not too... late for you... to make an effort like... me... see how radiant... my skin is..."
In truth, I couldn't blame the other zombies.
---
/r/rarelyfunny | 2017-07-15T06:42:26 | 2017-07-15T05:42:48 | 710 | 122 |
[WP] In a world where pregnancies sometimes last a few extra months resulting in a child with superpowers, your wife has been pregnant for 15 years | Honestly we were both really tired of it.
Our 15 year Pregnancy Anniversary had come and gone with a further-dwindling crowd. When we hit 5 Years, I swear half of the states population came and half of America turned into our broadcast. It was overwhelming, but I suppose I can't blame them. The longest on-record was 4 years 8 months, and that kid was the doctor who created the tests to determine the superpowers of each fetus. Incredible stuff, I must say. In fact, many other 3 and 4 year fetuses went on to become these amazing researchers and doctors at his Lab.
That man was born 50 years ago, and no one had ever exceeded 4 years and 3 months.
I could tell that after all that time, the public lost interest. Not that we cared. Doctors grew tired of pestering over our little girl and trusted us to be able to take care of her with some home treatments. Hell, they even stopped charging us for Pregnancy-related care after the 6th year.
My Wife had especially suffered for it. Our bodies have evolved for 10, 12 month pregnancies, but 15 years has taken their toll. She was in a constant state of pain in her back and neck, the baby is restless and seemed to kick daily, sometimes causing her to vomit.
When the birth came, it was jarring. I asked if she was joking, but when she couldn't respond, I knew it was happening. We had to make a quiet escape or else the news stations would mob the area. The Ambulance came silently, thank god it was the middle of the night. We sped to the hospital and after 13 more hours of Labor, we had our baby girl. The doctors ran the test and found... nothing. No DNA hints on what it could be. But it was something huge. Well, so huge that the entire DNA strand was different.
We watched her grow and as we did, we noticed she was *incredibly lucky.* If her 1st grade was announcing rewards for the #1 Student, she'd win every time. If we said something like "oh, I don't think we'll go to the zoo tomorrow. It's going to storm." Hell, it could be the middle of a goddamn monsoon and the rain would clear up in *minutes.*" If we said there's no way she could start a fire with her bare hands, she would conjure a flame at her fingertips.
You may be thinking, "wait, that last one doesn't make sense." You're right. Cause after 7 years of countless events similar to the former, she finally told us her power. Her baby blue eyes stared big at us as she said "I can manipulate probability."
We were obviously confused. But she explained. "I can see it in my head. It's like a dial. On one end it's 0, and the other it's 100. So like, there's a 72% chance that it will rain tomorrow. I can leave it there, I can make it so it won't rain no matter what, or I can make it where it will rain all day. What's the possibility of me growing bird wings and flying? 0%? Why not make that 100!!"
And sure enough she awoke with a glorious set of wings. She's since removed them though.
Her powers are truly limitless, and I think that's why it took 15 years to cook her up. Or so it seemed.
She's 14 now. Last night she came down crying and ran into my arms. I asked her what was wrong, combing my fingers through her bright red hair. "It- It says Gramma is 100% possibly going to die tomorrow," she sniffed "an-and I can't move the dial."
| "That's...not quite what I expected."
15 years. For such a long wait, this was a little...underwhelming, to say the least.
"You sure doc? Steve doesn't have any other powers?"
"We're sure, Mr. Lang."
I leaned back on my chair with my eyes closed, relaxing my muscles as I let the truth sink in. After a couple of minutes, I turned to my beautiful 2-hour old treasure, my new center of the universe.
"I'm sorry, Dad", he said in his squeaky voice.
"What for? There's nothing to apologize about."
"I know you're disappointed in me. I can see it in your eyes."
It's...true. I know I *shouldn't* be disappointed at my newborn son for this, but I still can't help but *feel* disappointed.
"It's just..." he continued, still getting adjusted to opening his tiny little mouth, let alone speaking in just minutes after being introduced to this world. "...I couldn't handle all that pressure, you know? I could hear everything in there. You and mom expected me to be the next Messiah by the time I could control my powers, and I was too afraid to disappoint you guys. Then you guys were talking about me being on the NEWS and shit? I was just so afraid of everything, so I just shut myself in."
"I'm...I'm sorry, Steve." 130 minutes in, and I already feel like the worst dad in the world. Great.
"Look, Steve. You did nothing wrong. It's all our fault. I should have told you while you were still in your mother's womb... that we would have been happy to have you no matter what your powers turned out to be. It may be hard to believe, but I am proud to have you as my son."
Silence filled the room, while Steve avoided all eye contact. He just looked down at his cute chubby thighs, unsure how to respond and understandably so. This lasted for nearly 5 minutes, until finally I decided to stand up.
"...Well, time to break the news with the rest of the world."
"Wait, Dad! Can we just wait a few days?"
"They're gonna find out sooner or later. The longer we make them wait, the bigger the hype. The bigger the hype, the bigger the disappoin..."
Ah, fuck.
"...Ok, dad."
"...I'll be back.", I whimpered, as I walked out of the room. The cameras were already flashing at my eyes before I could even manage to close the door behind me.
"Mr. Lang, Mr. Lang! This is the moment the world's been waiting for! The big reveal! So WHAT, exactly, is/are your son Steve's superpowers?"
I straightened my posture, chin up, smile on my face. It was the best I could do for my son, for what little it was worth. I wanted to show everyone that I'm still proud of him for coming into this world.
"His power...is the power to delay pregnancies."
| 2017-07-08T01:08:59 | 2017-07-07T22:57:46 | 1,038 | 743 |
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket. | "You'll do fine," Orixia assured him.
"But all you gave me is this stupid antique!"
"That 'stupid antique,'" his sponsor retorted, "is a genuine Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. In its time, it was prized for its range, its accuracy, and its reliability."
"Great! But all the other competitors are going to have every superpower in the book! This is *horseshit* compared to what I'll be facing in the arena!"
Orixia smiled. "Just practice with it for the next week. And *trust* me."
&sect;
Each god was entitled to bestow powers on their candidate in accordance with their own power, which gave the most powerful gods a decided advantage and also tended to maintain the status quo among the pantheon.
In the interest of fairness, however, each candidate also had to be given a mortal weakness, and the rules for selecting that weakness were strict and inviolable.
The gods, being gods, all wanted their candidates' weaknesses to be as small as possible, so in the days before candidate selection they each went to the Celestial Historian, a noted expert in all things related to war and combat, and charged him with researching the most insignificant weakness they could bestow which would still qualify.
Finally, the tournament began, and each competitor in turn was announced, along with their attributes.
"The god Aros the Ultimate presents David Peterson, whose powers are near-infinite strength and superhuman speed! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket."
There was heard much laughter and a few boos from the massed audience. In limiting his candidate's Achilles' heel to an attack with such an ancient, obscure weapon, Aros the Ultimate had virtually assured his victory. The tournament might as well end now.
"The goddess Belingia the Great presents Angela Moquat, whose powers are ultimate mastery of edged weapons and birdlike flight! Her mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket."
A gasp rose from the audience, followed by a growing murmur. What was going on here?
"The god Caranis the Merciless presents M'tanga I'pongo, whose powers are transformation into fierce animals and the ability to cast fire! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket."
So it continued through scores of candidates, until the last, weakest entry was introduced...
"The god Orixia the Celestial Historian presents Jeff Myrtlebank, whose powers are outstanding marksmanship and the mastery of his Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. His mortal weakness is being brought to orgasm orally by Aros the Ultimate."
Jeff and Orixia stood silently as all the other gods gathered at the other end of the arena and engaged in animated conversation. Finally Aros the Ultimate's booming voice rang out for all to hear:
"NO! I am *not* going to 'take one for the team!'"
Each candidate forfeited in turn, until only one remained. Jeff Myrtlebank was accepted to the pantheon, and every power granted to every candidate was given to him, along with all their vulnerabilities--which, ironically, were all the same.
&sect;
In the end, he alone among the gods had only two weaknesses. One became no weakness at all when he used his powers to secretly replace all Springfield Model 1861's in the universe with identical replicas, which of course held no threat to him.
As for the other, Jeff eventually defeated Aros and took the throne, and even when facing annihilation, Aros remained true to his word.
---
**Edit:** Thanks to /u/IReddYourWords for [the audiobook version!](https://youtu.be/YqrDIhoneGI) | In my hands is a rusty musket, and surrounding me are incredible battles. Everyone’s fighting for the throne, flying around the room or slashing at each other with laser swords. Their gods gifted them incredible powers, while mine gifted me…this.
Someone runs by me, chuckling. Nobody thinks I’m a threat. When we were given these yesterday, everyone laughed at me. I’m just a scrawny band kid to them. I wonder why this god even picked me, of all people. There are superstar athletes and big time actors here. So why *me?*
I’m a wasted vote. Only thing I can do is play trumpet.
*You only are if you choose to be.*
“What does that mean?”
*Be yourself.*
Before I can reply, a fist slams into the ground, sending me flying back. When I climb to my feet, there’s a girl standing in front of me wearing comically large boxing gloves, rearing one back. “Bye bye, sucka!”
I dodge and take off running. She chases me. I clutch the musket, holding it tight to my stomach. How could I possibly use this?
*Be yourself. Show them your passion.*
I duck away from another punch, and another. Turning a corner, I reach a dead end, walls on either side of me. She’s getting closer and closer, shadow consuming me. *Be myself, be myself.* But what does that mean?
My eyes scan the musket. Only now, stuck in danger, do I see it. The odd shape is purposeful, because it’s not a musket at all. No, not even close. It’s my passion, the only thing I’m truly good at.
It’s a trumpet.
“Time to die!”
Pressing it to my lips, I whirl around, facing the girl. As I blow air into it, the thing transforms into a beautiful, golden trumpet, and the notes literally dance out of it, happy and colorful. They circle around her, and she immediately stops, captured by the music. A second later, she’s sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth.
*The hardest battles are won not by strength, but by skill. You’ve spent years mastering this, spent years training your mind to make others happy—while the others were simply given their talents.*
The walls fade, and when I look around, everyone’s sitting down, rocking back and forth. They love my music, which makes me smile. I actually…I actually did it!
In front of me, the sky opens, and a staircase lowers out of it. There’s a throne sitting at the top. Does this mean…did I…am I…
*You will make a great god.*
And with that, I ascend the stairs.
***
I hope this turned out okay! Thanks for the prompt. If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-10-16T17:35:20 | 2018-10-16T17:19:00 | 6,321 | 209 |
[WP] "You... Do know I'm about to kill you, right?" A serial killer's latest victim doesn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation.
Edit: Everyone's takes on this situation are so different and awesome. | # Connection
I smiled at him. And then I winked.
“You know I’m about kill you, right?” he said slowly, trying to seem menacing.
“Cool. How about strangulation? It’s pretty visceral for you feeling the life go out of my body, and it’ll be a new and final experience for me. Win–Win”, I replied.
He looked at me, puzzled.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun! When my hyoid bone snaps, you’ll know you’re doing it right!”
He continued to stare.
“Strangle! Strangle! Strangle!”, I chanted like I was running my own pep rally.
“I’m more of a cutter”, he said. “Actually, I’ve been taking out people’s organs and mincing them and putting them back in. There’s a symbolism to it.”
“Been eating any of the organ meat?”, I asked, showing exited curiosity.
“No” he said.
“Feeding it to the victims?”
“No”
“What about making the victims do their own surgery?”
“No”
“Wow, you’re really tame aren’t you.”
“I’ve been in the newspapers. They call me The Organ Grinder.”
“That makes me think of a guy with a monkey. Geez, surely you can do better than that. Let’s get creative, kinda make it an art project.”
“You know I’m about kill you, right?” he said again.
“Yeah, whatever, now, later, it’s a world of suffering however you look at it. Less time in this shit hole seems like a win to me.” I replied.
He looked at the ground. It wasn’t going anything like the way he was expecting, I could tell that.
“How about you make me kill someone else?”
He shook his head.
“Oh *come on*”, I said. “You never going to be remembered at this rate. Your capture technique is sloppy, your calling cards aren’t memorable, and you’re not really doing it on the whole ‘terrorize your victims’ front—you’re just going for short-lived physical pain and calling it a day. You need to think bigger.”
An hour later, we were still talking. We had a plan.
“Want some food?”, I asked, “I make a mean breakfast”.
“I need to keep you tied up”
“Said the priest to the choirboy!”, I laughed. “Suit yourself, but you’re missing out and it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
He was wary of course, when he untied me. But as I made breakfast and chatted cheerily, he began to relax. After breakfast, I cleared away the dishes.
“You should tie me up again”, I said.
“Doesn’t seem like a lot of point, if you’re into it.”
“Oh come on, I’m the victim! I could be trying to fight back?”
“Doesn’t seem likely at his point”, he replied.
“Oh I totally could. Look, uh, how about this knife, it’s not very sharp, but it might work.”
I tottered around holding the knife, pantomiming idiocy.
He laughed at my foolishness.
“Look at you!“ I said, smiling. “You have a really cute smile. It’s good to see you happy.”
I stepped forward, tilting my head.
He should never have let me get so close holding a kitchen knife. He should never have believed me. He looked so surprised, so hurt and betrayed.
I kept smiling.
“There there, love”, I said, “It’s all right now. I’ll hold you. It’ll be over soon.”
| The Seven Ps. Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance. The SAS would never have taken an autistic person. Not for this anyway, but that's another story. Killing the autistic was always a challenge and I hated challenge. Did they not realise that I did this for the emotion? A hint of emotion at least. Nope. Fucking idiots. Let's try this again.
"Look at me, you fucking cunt." Bellowed our hooded assailant.
"Sorry sir, my eyes were getting tired," responded Alex, naive and innocent to the last. And in truth his eyes were getting tired; this happens when you're forcibly kept awake for thirty two and three-quarter hours. But Alex didn't mind, he liked the attention. Ma and Pop always ignored him and called him words. 'Retard', 'Pig' and 'Forrest' were their favourites although Alex never understood them. And no one else would play Hide and Seek with him. Although Alex didn't know why he had to be tied up.
"What did I just tell you to fucking do, you worthless shite?" Screamed Mr Hood. Alex called him Mr Hood.
Alex jumped again, "You told me to look at you," he said.
Alex liked this game.
"This is not a fucking game," muttered Mr Hood under his breath before composing himself, "YES! Look at me. Me. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?". Of course he didn't understand. Why do I bother sometimes.
"Have you heard of 'This Little Piggy'?" Asked Mr H. "Of course you haven't," he thought to himself.
Mr H's temple was pulsing. Unhealthily.
"Oh yes, Mr Hood," answered Alex gleefully, "I know all the words, shall I tell it to you?"
"Be my guest," responded Mr H. Eerily.
"This little piggy went to market,
This little piggy stayed home,
This little piggy had roast beef,
This little piggy had none,
And this little piggy cried wee wee wee all the way home."
Mr H gave slow round of applause.
"Alex do you know the difference between you and this story?" asked Mr H.
"No Sir, although I would like some roast beef as we always have it on Sundays" said Alex hoping in vain that he might get some scrumptious beef.
"You're never going home," Mr H said, pulling a hunting knife from it's scabbard.
Alex's eyes lit up. No more home? No more rude words? That sounded great to Alex although he would miss his beef.
Mr H plunged the knife into Alex's carotid artery. Great spurts of blood erupted from Alex's neck whilst his body motioned spasmodically and the life drifted from his eyes. This Little Piggy was having none.
| 2015-04-29T09:50:37 | 2015-04-29T08:58:17 | 72 | 12 |
[WP] After enduring years of missile bombardment, the once peaceful and solitary kingdom of Atlantis has had enough and is now mobilizing to attack North Korea | "It is time." I said, my voice echoing throughout the chambers of the great atlantean hall.
"For years they have struck at us. Taunting us. Belittling us with their weaponry." I gazed out at all of atlantean councilmen and council women gathered around me.
"But no more." I said, my voice transcendant.
"Today, we fight. We fight for what we have lost. We fight for our sea brothers slain. We fight for our honor spat upon."
I paused, looking at my army, their eyes hopeful and angered.
"We fight for Atlantis."
Cheers broke out, the sound echoing upon the chamber. Thunderous applause followed shortly after. For five years we had endured assault after assault from the Landmen. How they knew our location, we did not know. We had lost thousands of seamen to their relentless barrage. Our attempts at peace had been ignored. Our fish messengers killed, then brutally eaten.
No longer.
I looked my head general in the eye. The one man who had been here for me through death and through life. Who would take a spear through the heart for me.
I gave the command.
"Commence upward movement." He nodded.
It was time for Atlantis to rise, to come out of hiding. To show ourselves to the world, though this time not in a position of fear, but in a position of strength. After years of bombardment by the Landmen, it was time to strike back. Soon, we would be an city above the water. I had never been above ground. The stories say it was a cruel yet beautiful place, where creatures lived in constant balance. I would get to see it with my own eyes.
I heard shouts of joy and bloodlust from my men. I smiled. These were fighting men, men who grew angry at honorless one sided attacks. The Landmen had once destroyed all Atlantis stood for, had once sought to wipe out Atlantis itself. The Atlanteans then had cowered, fearful, begging and pleading for mercy as each man, woman and child were cut down without hesitation. Finally, as a desperation attempt, the Atlanteans had fled. The Landmen thought they had killed all the Atlanteans, and so we were forgotten by both time and history, never to be seen again.
Until now.
The Landmen would pay. They would die.
All of them.
The city of Atlantis began to move towards the sky.
***
Part two in two hours, soon as I get back from dinner! Stories and sequels at [r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)!
[Part Two!](https://redd.it/6q93mj)
| "Another one. ANOTHER!" the king roared in anger. The palace square was in perennial maintenance and the palace itself was in disarray. The pillars broken and the residences in shambles, the once proud capital of the sea was destroyed entirely. The rage of the citizens had risen exponentially since the first blast. Ever since, they'd searched for the place to blame. Earth Scholars, men who were well versed with the kingdoms above, found and pinpointed the spot. Pyongyang, North Korea. The place was mapped out. Media about and from the country was researched. Soon every citizen knew about the situation overseas. And they waited, daring the demons above to strike. Today was that day, the day they would regret their decision. For life.
Troops readied themselves. The army and the navy prepared, as the entire Atlantis waited for the signal of war. With one confident shout and a flourish, the battle was on. Screams and war cries could be heard, as the entire forgotten city went forward to war. To save their country.
Above, above. The water was swept apart as the troops below swayed forward and back, like a syncronized water dance. They were one with the water, one with the elements. The only citizen deserving of God. And by God today the siegers would fall.
The light approached. Faster, faster. The troops basked in the glow of the sun, the first glance in their entire lives. Finally, the world would know who they were. The fear of the seas, *Atlantis*. But the light...it was getting too bright...
From below, the king looked in pure shock, horror and anger as the perfectly timed strike tore through the men like paper. He stared at the ensuing annihilation and destruction. A bone-splitting cry that could shatter souls rang through the kingdom. Alone, again. Alone by the same terrorizing explosive.
At least it didn't hit the palace again, he thought.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-07-28T18:58:58 | 2017-07-28T18:40:12 | 617 | 35 |
[WP] Two very old immortals meet each other on a busy street by chance. Each having believed they were the only one until now. | Aleph strolled down the street without paying much attention to his surroundings. At least, that's what any observer would say if they were able to see him. It's not that he was really invisible. People tended to shift their gaze and walk around him in the same way they did when they spotted an unwashed beggar. It also wasn't true that he wasn't paying much attention. He was paying attention to *everything*. The world needed constant maintenance to keep going. Are the molecules reacting properly? Did anyone notice those electrons moving past the speed of light? Is probability still behaving, or is it making people believe the roulette table cares? Is the couple making love married? Hmm, only by a city official. That doesn't count. Scribble, scribble.
It was in such state of mind that Aleph nearly ran into another pedestrian. He raised his gaze, brow slightly furrowed, and saw a man gazing back with great confusion on his face. Aleph's previous thoughts flew away like swing ride seats that lost all their cables mid-rotation. A group of electrons took the opportunity to break the speed limit and cause minor confusion in a Swiss railway station.
The other man spoke first, weighing each word.
"I don't know you."
"You... can see me?"
They stared at each other like lovers discovering they've been cheating on each other with the same person.
"What are you?" the other man continued in the same careful tone.
Aleph had introduced himself to people a few times before, but never without carefully arranged trumpets or a least some burning topiary.
"I am God," he managed, "the Beginning and the End, Al..."
"No you're not", said the other one.
Aleph missed a mental step and his mind stumbled. He wasn't used to being interrupted. Unsupervised, a few molecules split in a nearby sewer and a manhole cover went flying high. He cleared his throat. Many eyes went up to the sky looking for the source of the rolling thunder.
"I am the Alpha and Omega!" he boomed. "The Creator! By my will alone does the Universe exist! I allowed the light, and in my image was the man created! Without me, there would be nothing!"
Wine glasses exploded, pacemakers went wild, and the chestnut peddler got his eyebrows singed by a burst of flame. The manhole cover landed on a smug atheist.
The other man was unmoved.
"I didn't make anyone in your image because I've just met you, and I try to avoid white beards as much as I can. I am Kanthya. I am God. Smiting the atheist proves nothing."
Kanthya wiggled his eyebrows. The atheist was reincarnated as a toadstool.
"You see, I created the universe. I keep the life circulating. But I never made you. Your existence is the biggest puzzle since Sodom's self-combustion."
Wind increased as Aleph breathed in. A storm was brewing.
"How did you find a way out of Hell!? I will cast you in chains at the center of..."
Kanthya pinched his nasal bridge and sighed. Who knows how many things will go wrong by the time they sort this out.
The next few minutes were odd. A scientist wrote "Wow!" next to a radio telescope reading. A pair of dice hesitated in mid-air before falling to the table with a single thud. Somewhere, someone thought MS-DOS would be a good idea.
And, at a window table in a nearby bar, watching two familiar men argue, humanity chuckled and doodled a few ideas for what it expects to find on alien worlds.
edit: Uncapitalised "humanity" | *Darkness.* I had grown very tired of the light over the countless years. The monotony of rising with everyone else, milling my way through the daylight trying to pretend to be any other worker bee. I've found that the darkness is comforting in its solitude, whereas the daylight felt almost judgmental of my *unique* condition. The night time is when I could go about any business I wanted, no matter how queer, and in the sight of Gods and Men it would be dismissed as another nighttime curiosity.
The exclusivity of night did not last long, however. I began to notice that I was not the only one concerned with odd business during the small hours. I noticed how people changed as the sun went down. Morality and etiquette scaled back in pursuit of more base ambitions. The drunken mortals dancing around like fools, though I had joined in their revelry more than a few times. Most peculiar of all, I noticed someone like me. Someone who seemed to only perform the dance of normality, rather than live it like the other mortals. She noticed me as well and tended to avoid me, though never truly made an effort to hide.
I knew it was my own fantasy. My own imagination playing tricks on me after all these centuries. I knew I was the only one, the only immortal. I had met other creatures and beings who tried to claim that right. Beasts that fed on the mortals to sustain themselves, monsters who couldn't enter the sunlight, phantoms who could not truly interact with the world. All their power came at a cost, a catch if you will. Their "immortality", if it can be so called, only existed so long as conditions were met. They were beneath me. My gift, my curse, was that I could never die. I can not be killed, I can not be harmed, grow sick and wither, grow old and frail, I do not need sustenance nor do I need to meet a condition. My immortality is, as far as I know, absolute. There was no other like me on this Earth, ten thousand years of searching had told me that. It was a fools hope to think that she would be the same, in the same place as me, and that we met by chance.
I was watching her dance one night at our establishment of choice when she approached. It had been a long time since any woman had affected me, but as she made eye contact I felt the churning and tightening within my torso that told me there was something different here.
She extended her hand to me and I rose and took her up in my arms. We danced all night until we were the last people on the dance floor. As the sun rose and peaked through the windows, she pulled away from me and whispered "I know." I tried to question her, pursue her, even going so far as to run after her carriage but to no avail.
It's been two hundred years since I've seen her, but I know she's still out there. I know she was what I suspected her to be. Someone like me.
| 2014-06-16T07:42:15 | 2014-06-16T07:01:38 | 118 | 41 |
[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. | It was finally done. With an aching, wilted hand I typed the last line of code and ran it. It worked perfectly on the sample text. The worm was smarter than I thought, even sending out different sections based on who was mentioned in them. I smiled and ran my fingers through my hair. Well, across my head. The chemotherapy had made all my hair fall out. I reset the worm and looked through its payload: decades and decades of personal messages. Everything from affairs to manipulations that people had confided in me. When people regard you as the world’s nicest man, people trust you with secrets.
Secrets I would now be spilling.
The worm was designed to gather all of the messages and post them on social media, message boards, workplace websites, and anywhere else it could access based on who was mentioned. I’d spent the last two months writing it. Wilting away and writing it. It would’ve been easier without the Stage IV lung cancer, but then I wouldn’t need the worm either. I scrolled through messages. Ethan telling me about cheating on his wife, Sean sexually harassing his secretary, Helen trying to get her “friend” fired. Decades of misdeeds. I’d always kept them to myself. I’d always tried to spare people the truth. That’s what made me so “nice”. Not today.
Today was the day they’d all hate me.
A smile crossed my face as I considered that. They’d hate me. They wouldn’t mourn, they wouldn’t cry. I’d be sparing them the sorrow of losing their closest friend. And, as a bonus, the people they’d wronged would get closure. A single tear streamed down my cheek as I loaded the worm’s payload and clicked run. My phone buzzed and buzzed as notifications of posts and messages blew it up. I closed the laptop and laid back, eyes closed.
This was probably the nicest thing I’d ever done for anyone. | 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... | 2018-05-14T07:18:12 | 2018-05-14T06:09:57 | 31 | 11 |
[WP] The seven aspects of the universe gathered in the room, Good, Evil, Life, Death, Order, Chaos, and Dave, from accounting. | "Well, it's important to keep track of things," Dave replied, sounding almost bemused.
The council's full attention did not seem to phase him, as he kept a bland look on his face. The calming light of Good, the seeping darkness of Evil, the fresh scent of Life, the sour odor of Death, the sharp delineation of Order, the blinking ephemerality of Chaos-- Dave's expression remained inscrutable.
"I suppose... we just get started," said Good, folding long fingers over flowing robes.
The seven settled around the table made of the original atoms of the universe and pulled out their notes (though Chaos' flew around their heads in a whirl of papers).
"Let's make this quick," came the wheezing voice of Death.
"Yes, I'm sure you're very busy," said Life, tendrils of plants curling ominously onto the table.
The other six glanced up as a clacking noise interrupted. Dave had placed a slightly beat up laptop on the table and was typing away.
"Sorry, Excel deleted my last few lines. Just getting this updated."
"Yes, well," said Good, addressing the group again. "To business." A crack of lightning split through the atmosphere, which was both the vacuum of space as well as in an ice storm as well as a suitable temperature and climate for a well-ventilated office building in Ohio.
Order placed long-fingered hands on the table aligned exactly with one another. "This is an example of what I have been complaining about," Order said in a clipped tone. "This kind of chaos is destructive and disruptive."
A spitting, hissing sound, like the sound of a crackling fire, answered.
"You make a good point, Chaos, but I also can't help but agree with Order," said Life. "There are been a good deal of randomness in many of the galaxies I am cultivating, and you are inhibiting the development of life! They've been set back millennia after your most recent solar radiation flare."
"Are you referring to the Triangulum Galaxy? They've not been set back millennia. They're all dead."
Life whirled on Death. "How could you?" Venomous creatures from a thousand star systems poured from Life's mouth to the table, skittering and slithering and oozing and teleporting towards Death, who flicked a crooked finger, and the closest ones lay still. "That is the last straw. You have stolen from me for the last--!"
"Actually," said Dave mildly, "you owed Death for that particular one."
The other six turned to face him again. Dave didn't flinch.
"The Triangulum galaxy has been experiencing nearly uninterrupted growth for the past 3.78 billion years," Dave continued, turning back to his spreadsheet. "Death has been having a reduced turnout there of approximately 9.89%, so this newest genocide is helping to balance the bottom line. However, Galaxy 47-B has had 6317 plagues across its life-sustaining planets in the last 100,000 years, which is a rate 2.04% higher than normal. It would be fair to ask that this be adjusted."
They stared at him.
"It's important to keep track of things," said Dave.
"Yes," said Good again, rising in a shower of glittering rain. "It seems we're out of time. That concludes this meeting."
"This could have been an email," growled Evil in undertones. | "Life, can I speak to you?" Order was never so cautious with Life. He regarded her fascination with mortal beings a failing more than anything. Something so...wild. Chaos, in all their uncontrolled nature,, was more suited for Life, he thought.
"Sure. What seems to be the matter?" She smiled. Motherly as always. An aspect Order had learned to appreciate.
"Well...Death and I were talking..."
Life smiled, "Oh, how is she?"
An old flame of Life. One that would never...well. You know.
"She's fine; look. We're all...great forces if reality. Beings beyond being. The very nature of how mortals comprehend the universe..."
"Yes I'm well aware." She was losing her patience. A rare occurrence.
"Well... Dave is..."
"He's a squishy little Meat idiot," Evil chimed in from across the hall, "Fragile and so easily broken. Left bleeding and crying like-"
"Evil. Please." Order held a hand up.
"Sorry. Just sayin'."
"But... he's got a point."
Life frowned. Adding Dave from Accounting wasn't her idea. Though she appreciated opening the eyes of one of her flock. Chaos loved the fun of it all. Order appreciated the "Accounting".
"It was Goods idea. They..." She smiled, "they made an interesting point."
"I often find Goods methods to be vexing but I'd agree they have a good head on their shoulders. Metaphysically speaking of course," he looked confused again, "But...why a human? Why not a dog? Perhaps a cat? Death LOVES those little buggers..."
"Maybe too much..." Life muttered, "But, truthfully? Humans appreciate all of us. They believe us infallible. Immutable. Chaos is always wild and unpredictable. Good is always about conflict with Evil. About the only concepts they misunderstand are..."
Order frowned, "Death."
"I hoped...that perhaps working alongside us, not only would he remind us there are beings out there to which we owe literal conception...but we could show him that these concepts. Good and Evil, Life and Death, Chaos and Order. We are not all scary and rigid. That good can be fighting against evil, or it can be loving the unloved and forgotten. Life can be a lion feasting on an antelope. Death...can be a release from pain."
Order nodded solemnly. The talk was briefly interrupted as Dave popped his head in.
"Hey, just came to tell you two, I'm getting together the final entries for the office Fantasy Football League. Are you two in?"
Order thought for a moment, "Hmm...you know what? Yeah. Yeah I'm in, Dave."
Life smiled gently to herself. | 2021-02-16T10:09:54 | 2021-02-16T09:39:22 | 79 | 34 |
[WP] For years Earth cried out to an empty cosmos, searching the stars for echoes of life. From the middle of nowhere, a reply finally comes: "Shut up, and Play Dead!"
I really struggled with the choice between "For Years", "For Decades", "For Centuries", and "For Millenia". I tapped out. Take whatever timeline you will.
This may or may not be an attempt to add cosmic significance to Red Green's "Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati".
Good Luck!
Edit: There are a LOT of good submissions here, thank you all so much! Speaking of excellent submissions, I'd like to plug u/Mrcreation for doing some very well written, lengthy work near the bottom of the thread. Scroll down and check out his multipost entry!
Edit 2: I just finished the first two books of the Three Body Problem, by Liu Cixin. Mind=Blown. A part of the series definitely shares similar themes to this prompt, but there is so much more! I highly reccomend it. | My first writing, I guess :p
"Shut up and play dead."
These words rang everywhere in the year 2020. For several hours, communications were simply blocked.
The scientists were the first to receive these signals, kindly enough, whatever send that message was using our language, no need for some decrypting. Convenient, indeed, but after all these messages we sent, it was easy for these guys to copy our language, I guess. Or perhaps they were secretly watching us for a long period of time. Who knows ? And, now, who cares ?
Then, it simply happened everywhere. TVs in the worlds spontaneously turned on and simply displayed these words in white, with a red font. Communications everywhere were hijacked, with a monotonous, artificial voice endlessly repeating these words, phones, radios, everything.
The Disruption wasn't very long in hindsight, we were back to our regular programs after some hours of that. But it was nonetheless long enough for every human in the planet to realize that something was happening, and it wasn't a terrorist move, or some kind of supreme hacking or even "the illuminati making their moves" as told by some conspiracy theorists, no. This was a warning from the stars, from an intelligent life, warning us about something.
Humans soon swarmed outside of their homes, some people cried in fear, other tried to rationalize it away, others tried to exploit the chaos for their own ends. There were massive riots in Paris, Moscow, Ankara, Tokyo and plenty of other cities. The overwhelmed governments were powerless, and could just hope that their scientists would allow them to understand a shred of the event.
The scientists themselves were confused. What was happening ? What could lead to the other civilizations opting to play dead ? Should we ask ? Should we stop all signals right now and live an existence of ignorance in our little blue planet ? We finally resolved one of the greatest questions since the beginning of mankind, but many more questions came with it.
But only days after The Disruption, the answer made itself know.
The entire sky simply went black in the blink of an eye, everywhere in the world. Instinctively, humans swarmed the street, in a desperate bid for answers, while stumped scientists could only share their ignorance to world leaders everywhere.
But in the end, something happened, something managed to cause worldwide silence, for Humanity, in its entirety, witnessed something that shocked us all in tremendous fear.
The darkness had eyes, and it was staring back.
| Not sure if any of it makes sense grammatically or otherwise.
The message arrived in binary. Few even tried to understand how 'they' had managed this but they had and now they had sent their cryptic code.
'shut up and play dead'
If only the greats of astronomy had been there when the message was decoded in the labs that day: could Galileo ever have possibly imagined that he had guided humanity towards this absurd moment; could Copernicus have fathomed that hundreds of years of exploration of the concept of space could amount to the instructions given a pet?
'shut up and play dead'
Transmission of a message into space is not a simple matter. To ensure a cohesive, coherent message arrives at the intended destination, the message must be repeated countless times and amplified so as to project over vast distances which can cause a degree of 'echo' that must be corrected for at the receiver's end. These technicalities meant that our first words received presumably from another sentient species weren't
'shut up and play dead'
they were
'shut up shut up ut up up up shut shut shut up up shut shut ut up and play play and play and play and play and play play dead dead dead dea dead dea de dea dead'
This transmission was received over the space of roughly a week as cosmic echo had dispersed the emission frequency so it was with understandable relief that researchers received the second half of the message beginning with 'and.'
Still the message seemed to confirm what many humans suspected for a very long time - that what humanity stood for was loud, abrasive, piercing yells into what was presumed empty space until those occupying that space could no longer pretend we didn't exist.
Edit; Grammar
| 2016-03-27T09:40:41 | 2016-03-27T08:43:42 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] Your gasp is silent, your lips don’t even move not even a breath. Your brain has no control over your body as you realize in horror that you’re only a minute into the 100 year wait, alone in your thoughts in your own cryogenic chamber. | Well shit.
That was the only thought I could muster as I stared at the meaningless shapes frozen over my eyes. I couldn't even hear the whirring and clunking of the spacecraft around me, all I could process was my own mounting panic.
Wait, no, calm down, Lia.
I took a mental breath, having already realized that it would be impossible to draw a real one, and thougt about my situation.
My situation was not getting better as I examined it closely.
Realistically, I'd go mad. They'd let me out onto the smooth gray floor and I'd be a babbling wreck.
But then again...I've always found saftey in my thoughts. I spent my life daydreaming of other worlds, other Mes, other lives I could have led.
So what was so different now?
My fear slowly began to shift to relief, excitement, even, as I felt myself falling back into that made up world I'd found comfort in so many times before.
And slowly, I drifted farther into my mind, just as the shuttle around me fell into the icy chasm of space, never to be seen again. | [Poem]
Nine hundred and ninety nine million, nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety eight bottles of beer on the wall!
Nine hundred and ninety nine million, nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety eight bottles of beer!
Take one down, pass it around and it's nine hundred and ninety nine million, nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety seven bottles of beer on the wall! | 2022-11-07T17:12:24 | 2022-11-07T14:38:18 | 291 | 145 |
[WP] The princess ran away from her home and became an adventurer. To hide her identity, she cut her hair and took on the disguise of a young man. The king hears of this adventurer and hires him to find his missing daughter. | \[Stellar Replacement\]
"My daughter was the light of my life...," the king droned on. His explanation of why he summoned the small group of adventurers hadn't actually started yet. He'd been talking for almost five minutes about how much he loved the princess. Four adventurers answered the call along with Pyxis. She wouldn't have attended if she knew the king was going to be there. The flyer she picked up asked prospective adventurers to meet at the Royal Stable. It sat a decent distance from the main castle and she had never visited the stable when she was still a princess.
She assumed she was safe; but, she pulled the red hood of her cloak lower over her face once the king appeared. She stood behind the other four adventurers. Luckily, they were all approximately the same height and they were all girls. One with dark, bushy, curly hair that ended at her shoulders. One girl had short, straight violet hair, and another had a long wine-red pony-tail that reached her waist. The fourth one had straight, silver hair that stopped midway down her back.
As the king went on at length, Pyxis felt some faint resentment beginning to grow in her gut. The entire reason she ran away from home was that she felt like nobody noticed her. It was a huge castle filled with servants and guests alike; but, it always seemed like everyone was too busy to play with her. Her parents only ever acknowledged her in passing. The nannies and tutors that were supposed to raise her only did the minimum of their duties. But, now, the king stood before a group of strangers and pretended to be a distraught father.
"I asked you all here today because it seemed appropriate," the king changed his tone. "My daughter loved these stables...," he said.
"I've never been here...," Pyxis couldn't keep the comment to herself; but, she managed to keep her voice to a whisper. And, she suppressed the giggle that followed. The violet-haired girl turned to glance at Pyxis after the comment. But, it was quick, then she was facing forward again.
"...she visited the stables daily until she disappeared two days ago...," the king explained.
"No I didn't," Pyxis shook her head. "Two days??" The timeframe surprised her and she spoke louder than she meant to. The king continued talking but the violet-haired girl turned around again.
"You okay?" she asked. Her question prompted the other three girls to turn around. Pyxis was stunned. She ran away from home almost a month ago. The day she turned 14, no one seemed bothered enough to care. She realized she did not want to endure another 14 years like that and left. But now?
Now, she had four strangers looking at her with obvious concern on their faces. It was a negligible outburst, she was too confused to be upset. But it was the first time in 14 years that she'd heard that question. The king continued talking despite the fact that all the adventurers were focused on someone else.
"Yes, sorry," Pyxis nodded. "I'm okay, don't mind me," she said.
"Are you here alone?" the teen with dark curls asked. Now that they were all facing her, Pyxis could see their eyes. The dark-haired teen had one green eye and one coffee-brown. She also had golden highlights in her hair that weren't visible from behind. "You could join us for this quest if you like," she added.
"Thank you...," Pyxis nodded. "Really.. thank you," then, she shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea though."
"Why not?" the girl with wine-red hair asked.
"...the rewards would be beyond your imagination...," the king continued behind the girls and something clicked in Pyxis' mind. She was used to being ignored by her dad; but, it didn't quite explain why he was ignoring the adventurers he summoned to find his beloved daughter.
"Because...," Pyxis took in a quick breath for courage. Then, she stood up straighter and pulled her hood down. "...I'm the princess," she said. She no longer whispered.
"What say you, brave adventurers? Will you find my daughter?" the king asked.
"I'm right here...," Pyxis said. She spoke with volume and waved her hand to get the king's attention. The four girls in front of her split to give him a clear look at her. The king stared at her blankly.
"I'm Aurora," the dark-haired teen introduced herself with an outstretched hand.
"Pyxis...," she shook Aurora's hand. "...you have to believe me, I'm the princess!" she said.
"We believe you," Aurora nodded.
"I'm Vivi," the violet-haired girl smiled and waved.
"Emily," the silver-haired girl smiled.
"Valentine," the girl with wine-red hair nodded.
"What say you, brave adventurers? Will you find my daughter?" the king asked.
"I'm right here!" Pyxis repeated her assertion. Then Aurora put a hand on her shoulder.
"He won't recognize you as the princess anymore," she said.
"What?" Pyxis asked. "Why not? How do you know?"
"It's kind of complicated," Aurora shrugged. "There's some good news and bad news mixed in there. What's the last thing you remember?" she asked.
"I ran away from the castle about a month ago," Pyxis answered. "I've managed to stay hidden and adventuring keeps me fed."
"Oh, okay," Aurora nodded. "Well, it'll take some explaining; but, we'll hang around with you until you're comfortable. The good news is, you got what you wanted," she said.
"The bad news is, your old life was one as an NPC. That's a Non-Playable Character," she added when a look of confusion appeared on Pyxis' face. The explanation didn't help the confusion any.
"It means you were part of someone else's game, doing what they wanted you to do," Vivi chimed in. The explanation helped. Pyxis knew that feeling very well. She didn't know why she felt at ease, but she trusted her new friends enough to accept the explanation for now. They had promised more answers later.
"When you ran away, the king needed a new princess to be kidnapped. As far as he knows, the current princess is the only daughter he's ever had."
"So... what now?" Pyxis asked. She was too distracted at the moment to wonder about a replacement princess. She had her own things she wanted to do with her friends.
"Now, we go save the princess," Aurora grinned. "After that, it's whatever you want to do."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1731 in a row. (Story #285 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/). | "Hello, young man. What would you like?"
"Can I have some pineapple juice, please?"
"Of course. Say, I don't suppose... are you Triston, explorer of the realm, discoverer of ancient, hidden artefacts?"
"That's right. I never left my home until two months ago. I saw my chance to have an adventure, and took it while I could. I've done everything I want to do, but my quest is not quite yet complete. There's one more challenge I must face before I return home."
"Oh? What might that be?"
"Every adventurer has a story of being captured and either finding a clever way to escape or having a hero of some sort rescue them. I'm waiting for my story to come." I down my glass and wipe my mouth.
"I see. I suppose you really want the full experience, right down to the last detail."
"That's correct. But I wouldn't simply *let* myself be captured; what's the point in that?" I tap my glass, asking for another.
"That makes sense. It wouldn't really be an interesting tale, would it?"
"Exactly." I pick up the glass and once again chug it. I begin to pay.
"On the house, sir."
"Much appreciated. My travels cont-"
"Excuse me."
I turn around. A royal soldier. "How may I be of assistance?"
"The king has sent many of his soldiers to look for the missing princess, and requested we get the aid of anyone who could help. You're really Triston?" I nod. "Then please, do what you can to find the princess! You will be handsomely rewarded!"
"I don't do this for fame or riches" I reply. "I do this... for the fun." I wink at him as I prepare to continue my travels. "Don't worry, I'll risk my life to ensure the safe return of the princess." With that, I walk off, towards the rolling, green hills.
As I stroll through the plains, I get the feeling of being followed. I draw my sword, ready to defend myself if necessary. Suddenly, I feel my legs become tangled. Someone must have thrown a bolas at me. I drop my sword, which one of the men picks up. "A royal sword" one of them comments. "It looks like we captured the prince."
Another man raises an eyebrow. "But... this is the famous adventurer, Triston, not a prince. Besides, I don't recall the king having a son."
I smirk. "He didn't." I remove my armour, revealing the shape of breasts on my chest. They all gasp.
"Wait... you... you're the missing princess, Trinity!"
I giggle. "That's right. So, be honest - if you thought I was the adventurer, Triston, which I am, why did you wish to capture me?"
"We were going to take you prisoner, have you work as a slave to keep you from ruining us, but-"
"Then that you shall do" I interrupt. "I wish not to ruin either my nor your fun. Being captured and finding an escape was the last thing I needed to truly call myself an 'adventurer'. Right now, you have captured Triston. I am not Trinity until I return home."
The men all look at each other, unsure. Then one of them gets an idea. "Do you carry royal scrolls, princess?" I nod, and pull one out. I pull out a royal pen as well, and suspecting what they are thinking, I write a letter addressed to my father, complete with all the formalities of the royal family. I hand the scroll to one of the men.
"Knowing my father, he won't *let* you keep me, but he knows that I wouldn't be happy if he treated this as a priority rescue. I specifically asked for a 'traveller rescue'. None of you will be in any danger for capturing the princess. You won't get any resistance from *me*, but someone *will* 'save' me eventually. Until then... I am Triston, a daring adventurer who does not deserve mercy or pity."
&#x200B;
It has been two weeks. My father, the king, is playing along - from my understanding, he's very impressed by my courage and strength, and is following my request of being treated as Triston, to the point people sent for my rescue will demand Triston's release. No one has managed to save me as of yet. I've gotten to know my captors quite well; turns out, they were jealous of Triston's success and wanted to teach him a lesson. There's always two members of the group looking after the hideout, while the other four will go on adventures. They will take turns watching the base.
Right now, all six are at the hideout, and I'm tidying the place up, when I sense something. I glance up, and spot someone on the ceiling. He drops down and proceeds to subdue everyone before they even know what happened. "Well... seems like your fun is over" he tell them. He turns to me. "Now, you are free... princess Trinity. Orders?"
I look at the men, all of them having been tied up by rope. "They're nice guys. Treated me well enough." I proceed to grab my stuff. "This was a traveller rescue, remember. You can let them go."
The boy nods as we both untie the men. Well... most of them. I get to Rick, but he has a look in his eyes I don't trust... "Rick... you understand that I am no longer Triston, right?"
Rick growls. "You were happy being our prisoner."
"Shut it, Rick" Milo snaps. "It was all a game, remember? Do you want to be in trouble for kidnapping the princess?"
"I, personally, was glad when the princess, of all people, allowed us to treat her like a slave" Fern says. "But it was a choice she made. We've had our fun." Fern courtesy's. "It really was an honour, your highness, to have you so humbly serve us."
I smile and courtesy back. "Thank you for helping me complete my journey. I truly did enjoy staying with you all, but I must return now."
With that, the boy takes my hand and escorts me home. I had a lot of fun, and have a lot of stories to tell. Now, I can take on my duties with no regrets for what *could* have been.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Thank you for reading! More stories [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x374da/oneoff_stories_a_collection_of_stories_which_are/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | 2022-10-12T08:46:01 | 2022-10-12T06:23:26 | 152 | 43 |
[WP] One by one the passengers stop screaming and return to their seats, unsure of what to do now. The plane has been descending for nearly five hours, the blue sky outside the windows long since replaced by a featureless black void.
Based on the original post by u/Vokoru as seen on r/TwoSentenceHorror. | It had taken Mary a full hour to calm down when the engines cut out. An hour of hyperventilating, screaming , and crying had not exactly been pleasant. It left her lungs hurting and her eyes felt like she had been wiping them with sandpaper. It had taken some more time to realize that everyone else had stopped panicking too. That was... 5 hours ago now by Mary's watch.
She glanced at her seatmate who sat dutifully buckled long after everyone else had began wandering trying to figure put what was going on. The short, balding man was gazing out the window like his life depended on it. For all everyone knew it did.
Mary had watched as people knocked on the cockpit and talked to the pilots who where just as afraid and clueless. The engines wherent responding at all and short of climbing out to look... they had run out of things to do.
The thought had crossed Mary's mind that if they did get the engines going... at this rate they where risking not having enough fuel to get back where they where anyway. At one point people had gotten angry. Shouting and all sorts of petty squabbles had started even though as she looked now, all was calm. The mind finds petty things to care about when you feel like you are helpless.
Things stayed calm for another hour untill passengers began to whisper about shifts in the color of the endless black outside. As people got more restless, mary withdrew. She moved to a back corner as small squabbles began to break out over a 'face' in the fog here or even a change in tune of the wind whistling by all their windows.
The fights grew more intense and angry and people eventually where distracted and weren't paying attention to what was outside now. Mary was though. Her scream was enough to bring everyone back to their senses. They screamed too. | And then, there was quiet.
The baby in row 27 had finally fallen asleep. The engines had both spluttered out hours ago, the sound of the air past the window dying soon after. The screaming stopped after a further half hour. Only two hours ago had the moron banging on and yelling at the cockpit door given up. I stared at the homogenous black outside.
"Joe - what do we tell them?"
I shot my copilot a blank look and shrugged my shoulders. After a further second, and a brief look of thought, I replied:
"Quite frankly, I'm fine staying in here. I was due to go on holiday after this flight, in fact, I was due to be resting on the beach with my wife and kids by now, and, come to think of it, I might just have a quick nap thank you very much."
"How're they getting there?"
"Getting where?"
"Holiday."
"Plane. Clive, let me sleep, please."
Clive sighed. Loudly. "Was it this plane?"
I quickly put on my blindfold.
"Was the woman who kept shouting at and hitting the cockpit door about their 'no-good-for-nothing-husband' perhaps your wife?"
This was going to be a long flight. | 2020-09-30T18:24:06 | 2020-09-30T17:49:12 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] All bodies of water across the world randomly freeze at the top. The ice is unbreakable, but everyone trapped under the ice is suddenly able to breath underwater. Everyone trapped underwater loses contact with the world above. After years of isolation, the water ice finally breaks.
Water’s*;) | "You can't imagine how horrible it was!"
I nodded calmly as my current patient told me her story. This wasn't the first person I had treated, nor would it be the last. This traumatic event affected everyone, whether they were Swimmers or not.
My last patient had been the only member of her family who had been on the beach when the Ice appeared, and she couldn't get over her feelings of guilt after moving on, getting married, and having another child. Who could blame her though? No one though those under water would still be alive years later.
Back to my current patient, though.
"Why don't you start from the beginning?" I asked soothingly.
She sobbed, then brokenly started her story.
"It was a party. My son, he had just finished his first year of college. He always loved the water..."
She stopped suddenly, hyperventilating. I leaned forward in my seat.
"It's OK, take your time. You'll feel better once you let it all out."
I passed her a Kleenex box as she nodded. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she continued.
"If I ever see a body of water larger than a bathtub, I think I might throw up. It was horrible, absolutely horrible. The days passed so slowly and everything was so monotonous! And the worst part was that I could see them, but they couldn't see me. I was so close! But the ice, the stupid ice, it wouldn't break. I tried and tried but no matter what I did, it stayed solid and strong and impenetrable."
She paused for a moment. I let her gather her thoughts as I made a few notes in my book. Really, I didn't have to do this, every session was recorded, but most people found it easier to talk if I wasn't looking at them.
"It was heartbreaking. They never gave up. It almost would have been better for me if they had moved on, found a new home, made a new life, if they were happy. I wouldn't have begrudged them that. But they stayed, faithful and loyal, year after year, not knowing if I was even alive. And I still love them! I do! I'm just, I'm having so much trouble adjusting. As awful a life as it was, it was a life, and I got used to it, and things are so different now! I don't want to be unfair to them, and I don't want to worry them more than I already have, which I why I came to you."
I looked her directly in the eye.
"And that's a good thing, that you're here willingly, you know why you're here, and you have a goal in mind. And I will help you, I promise. It will take some effort, but I can help you adjust to society again. No doubt it will be a tough transition, but your family loves you, and they will do everything they can to help you. You have a strong support system, which is essential. Now, why don't you go back to the beginning. Tell me more about the day it happened."
"Well, like I said, it was a party. My son had always loved the water, so when my husband and me moved, we made sure to find a home that had a pool in the water. All of his friends were there, it was a gorgeous summer day, the water was so refreshing. When the food was ready, everyone got out. I was just too slow." | New Yorker reports the ice has broken! We will finally be able to find out what happened to our lost family and friends.
Oh how wholesome, you think while rolling your eyes. I mean having your father and brother abandon the family without a call can make you a lot of things. Apathetic is what you landed on. Apathetic towards family, society, giving a shit about the ocean size skating rink.
Well it was kinda funny that the doomsday prophet Collins and his "The ice will never break or melt" ideals got dropped right into the middle of the Atlantic ocean. Spent a few days chuckling about that.
You bring out your phone and open up the only news source that is worth a dam now days, PewNews and it's accompanying app sneddit (Totally not a knock off of Reddit). Updating the subfeed called s/collinscirclejerk as a pass time you put in a post. "The ocean became their faith and now they have completely submersed themselves in it's great wet glory, praise the ice"
Scrolling through you see an update from Poppy Harlow himself "Breaking news!!! Atlantis has surfaced! #notahoax #theyareallwetandthirsty" Well you saw it from the source itself so it had to be true. To bad no one remembers how to make ships work after the last 30 years.
Deciding to check out the Hudson Bay you take a bus over there, surprisingly no one else cares enough to crowd around the bay so you take your time watching the old tankers flop around the bay. As you get to one of the larger beaches you see the water start to bubble and foam.
A ship pops out onto the pebbly beach followed by a dozen others. This is the new D-Day you think while snapping a photo for a sneddit post later. The first ship opens up in a loud sucking sound and a human size fish monster runs towards you and tackles you to the pebbles.
"You alive!! Dad and I thought the whole upper world froze to death when the surface froze up" astonished and unable to move do to all the penthouse up emotions in you just stare at it not believing. "You fucking ass clown of a lagoon monster! Jeremy I am going to kill you for getting my clothes dirty!" Not the best greeting for your long lost brother but an apt one "hahaha, you haven't changed have you Collins" Jeremy said with happiness in his eyes.
"Where is dad?" You ask. This shuts Jeremy down immediately and he puts a scaly webbed hand on your shoulder. "You might want to sit down for what I am about to tell you" Jeremy sounds like he has a million pounds on his shouders.
I am ending it there for now, let me know what you think. Constructive criticism please | 2018-07-05T17:06:21 | 2018-07-05T13:59:20 | 34 | 23 |
[WP] Humans have conquered every planet and explored the depths of the universe. Finally, the ultimate question has been answered. We really are alone. | And lo, mankind ventured alone and found nothing waiting beyond. (Babel 16:3)
Empty worlds. Ripe worlds. Worlds enough for all the arkships to scatter, fall, settle, thrive. (Babel 23:12)
So we were born again. (Babel, torn fragment, recovered)
We changed as had been ordained. Empires formed and fell and returned again. Neo-Tenoch, the Forever Nation, the Thousand Daughters of Mao. (Ion 1:9)
...orange skies, red rivers...seed-mountains that grew inverse...dunewhales that cried for thunder...earth and sky variate in a thousand ways...our many homes. (Hyperium 4:3, 4:5, 7, 8:1)
A million false idols bore we. (Lazarus 3)
We manned the fringelines and edgeborders for a thousand years more, until there was nobody left to take watch. (Ion 7:34)
And so did the Great Gate open like the eye of the almighty, the true god, the Elder, behold, and all of creation gazed upon it's lip, witnessed what came forth, the unthinkable truth and desolate beauty and simple horror...(Solace 4:3)
...and we realised as one why we had been kept alone for all these years. (Solace 4:4)
| "So there's no other forms of life?"
"Not a single one, Jim"
"Well ... huh ... who ... who do we tell? Do we tell anyone?"
"You know what Jim. I've not got a fucking clue. I'm been doing deep space research for my whole life. Now I find out we're alone. Utterly. So you know what I'm going to do?"
"What?"
"Making a cup of tea and forget about all of it. I'm 65, I'm not finding another job when our pay gets cut"
"We ... we can't do that?"
"Bull shit we can't. You want sugar?"
"... two lumps. We got any digestives?"
| 2014-07-26T14:30:51 | 2014-07-26T13:47:55 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | I stared at him, his words being weighed in my mind. I did not understand humor very well, but even so I was reasonably certain that he was not making a joke. With years of practice, I could now recognize the subtle body language and tones a person used when using humor. The newly crowned King Dervin was not joking.
"You are certain this is a wise decision, my king?"
He scowled and the already low probability that he was joking went down even further. By now the person telling the joke would have proceeded to the punchline. "I am *quite* certain, I'm afraid. I have had my servants watching you for several weeks now and documenting your daily routine." He pulled a large scroll from his extravagant robes. "Not only have you not performed any of your duties, you seem to disappear for hours at a time. No one knows where you go and the former king was not forthcoming before he died. My brother was a great man, but for the life of me, I cannot fathom why he paid you to do nothing but eat from his table and lounge about like a pig."
I nodded once. "I presume King Turic advised you to continue my employ, but did not tell you why?"
The scowl deepened. "Whatever blackmail you held over my brothers head holds no weight over me. In light of my foolish predecessors... Admiration... For you, you may leave my palace unmolested. However, tarry any further and I'll have you strung up by your ankles and left to the crows."
I bowed deeply as was expected of my station. "Very well. If I may offer advice of my own-"
"You may not." He cut me off harshly.
I bowed again. "By your leave."
I strode slowly out the door. As a final gift to my late charge, I gave his foolish younger brother a chance to think on the mistake he just made. However, it seemed my generosity was ignored, as his guards made no move to stop me.
-
It was not even three weeks later that the news came of King Dervins death. I cannot say I was surprised, but the news did cause a faint twinge of regret. That was a well paying job I wasn't likely to get back.
"Say..." Drawled the innkeeper as he cleaned a few dirty beer glasses. "It seems a bit odd that the king died right after getting rid of you. What was your job?"
I smiled in a way that I'd observed other people doing when they wished to be humorous. "Food taster. I'm immune to most poisons." | The old king was a good leader. He kept me because he knew the guards believed in me and would follow me. Although everyone took an oath to be loyal to the king, there is a section to the oath the wisest kings never ignore.
"...The king must remain strong, loyal, and do their best for the protection and advancement of Merys."
This new king started his reforms by changing the guard's oath and firing all of the old guard, replacing them with loyal, inexperienced, and ineffective trainees.
I met with the old guard in secret. The new guard was hunting those disloyal to the king, even though he was driving Merys into chaos by breaking alliances, starting wars, and hoarding money.
I started the meeting by reminding everyone of our oath.
"The king is unwise." Alrick, a bearded man skilled with a battleaxe, remarked.
"He is not just unwise, he is turning Merys into a chaotic kingdom run by a tyrant!" Sara, a master of bladed weapons, hissed. The rest of the old guard agreed.
By the next day, one-fifth of the old guard were dead.
By the next week, we gathered more people to our cause. Woodcutters whose exports were limited, blacksmiths who grew tired as they were forced to speed production, farmers who had to give up their crops to the king, and mages whose guilds were closed.
We fought together in the palace, quickly disabling the new guard, even convincing some to join the fight.
We made our way to the royal chamber and let the townspeople decide what happened to him...his head was found outside on a gold-tipped pike.
The townspeople wanted me as leader, but that was not my place. My place was among the guard, as a trusted advisor to the best of kings. | 2021-02-28T07:33:39 | 2021-02-28T07:11:19 | 65 | 15 |
[WP] "100% of people who drink water will die" sounds like a dumb statistic, but you are 900 years old and very thirsty. | If history outlives me, I'm sure that I'll be remembered as pragmatic, forward thinking, hell, maybe even lucky. The truth of the matter though, I'm just lazy. Sometimes I think I'm just too lazy to die, a perpetual life fueled by an insatiable apathy.
Eat your vegetables, make sure you exercise, drink water, take your vitamins, don't smoke. These were the mantra's of my time. Perhaps *my time* isn't the right phrase, as I'm still alive, and being one of only a few people alive, the majority of time could be considered mine. The time I'm speaking of is the time of man, the time of society, the time of mantras. It seems foreign to me now after so many years of walking this earth with no schedule, no societal debt to spend my life paying off, just living. So here I am. Today is my 900th birthday, I haven't heard any mantras of any kind in centuries; there are no more cigarettes to smoke, no more vegetables to eat, no point in exercise or vitamins. But there's water.
You could call me contrarian I suppose, but that's really the result, not the cause of why I'm here. Going back as far as my memory allows, which is at about age 5 or so, I was told nearing incessantly, to drink water, that I needed to stay *hydrated*. I never understood it, water had no taste and I had no taste for it, yet everyone was sure tat I wanted it and needed it. At such a young age every cognition boils down to cause and effect, almost instinctively so, but even then something seemed off; everyone had these rules to live by, though no one had set them, these nuances followed by all and understood by none. And yet, no matter how strictly one followed these rules, they all met the same end, they all died. I wasn't buying it (because I was 5 and didn't have money yet).
After centuries of giving meaning where there is none, attributing fate or pragmatism to what is really just luck, I think back to those years with a vindictive righteousness that is only quelled by the all consuming loneliness that one can only experience when they're truly right. I was right alright, the rules that everyone had been slave too were unsurprisingly what did them in in the end. And every day was a testament to just how right I was; every night a testament to how wrong I wish I was.
I'm not entirely alone though, there's other people out there, other people like me. Other people who are so set on being unique, on being right, people so stubborn, that they would swear off breathing if they found out other people did it. We all walk the earth aimlessly and alone, avoiding each other for the fear that upon confrontation one of us would be forced to drink water, to concede death, just to prove they're different. I don't say this as hyperbole. I say this as fact. I say this as the last air bubble surfaced the glass of water in front of me, almost reflecting the spiteful glare from the stranger I had just met. I'd love to embellish and say that that glass of water tasted of pride as I swallowed it, but the truth of the matter is, it didn't taste like anything, it was still just water. So after 900 years of trying to be different, of riding the high of being ultimately right, I ended up no different than every other person before me, and just as wrong. I don't think anything had ever felt so right. | “100% of people who drink water die”. That does sound like a cliché a little bit doesn’t it? Well, let me tell you something. It sounds a lot worse when you are 900 years old, you are thirsty and the only liquid in a 1000 miles radius is a plastic bottle of the transparent poison.
It all started almost a thousand years ago, or so we are told by the history books. I was there to witness it but after so many years your brain tends to get memories mixed up a little bit. It might be the PTSD from the 300 years war, everyone fighting over the precious new resource that has just been invented. Or it might be the fact that I have spent the last 200 years in a desert. I’m not sure and it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I have nothing to drink but water and “100% of people who drink water die”. I don’t want to be one of those fuckers. Not since we discovered that the same compound that makes up 60% of our bodies is the reason we age and eventually die. Remove water and there you have it – eternal life. Of course, then you have to solve the problem of people dying within 24-48 hours but that’s why we have scientists, isn’t it? Give them unlimited amount of cash and it turns out they can come up with anything. Even a non-lethal substitute for water. Except for the fact that it lefts you constantly thirsty. Fast forward a hundred more years and all the water-drinking sects are out of the picture, because, well “100% of people who drink water die”. But then we got in a bit of a situation. With no other problems solved, we still had an ever-increasing population that still needs food to eat and places to sleep. We even introduced the “delayed death penalty” which was pretty much just locking a person up in a room with nothing but a glass of water. Once they drink it, set them free. After 90 years or something they would die. But you can’t just force everyone to drink water can you? Even we didn’t have that amount of money. Therefore, after a century of population problems, people did what people always do when in doubt – they went to war. It took us 500 years to stop it and a 100 more to start rebuilding.
That’s when it all got complicated. There is a lot of science and history involved, but long story short – it turns out water was not always poisonous to us humans. See, tens of thousands of years ago, something, or someone managed to corrupt all water on this planet, turning every human mortal. However, according to an old manuscript they missed a place – a source of water, which stayed clean, water that people can drink without having to inevitably die at some point in the future. Some say it’s magic. Some say that’s God’s work. Some say it’s the solution to all of our problems. Me? I just want a drink.
| 2017-04-18T09:00:10 | 2017-04-18T08:01:59 | 274 | 30 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | Sarah grinned as she placed the Japanese dinner in front of me. She was shockingly beautiful, as always. With the backdrop of the grand dining room and flawlessly lit dining room, there was no question in my mind she was the most amazingly beautiful woman in the world.
"Happy anniversary baby," She said lovingly, giving a kiss on the forehead before sitting across the table from me.
I grinned back, and ate a bite without looking away. I grinned. Tetraodon pufferfish was one of my favorite meals. It was difficult to prepare correctly, and it was highly toxic if you didn't. Luckily, I wasn't worried about it. Sarah was one of the greatest cooks he had ever met, and had a way of making the dish even better than any restaurant.
Of course, it was primarily because she seasoned it differently to hide the fact that she hadn't removed the poison, but details. It was a masterpiece.
"Happy anniversary darling," I replied lovingly, taking a sip of absinthe next to the plate. Absinthe was normally watered down before drinking, but the consistency was off, implying arsenic was mixed into the water. I grinned at her attempts. She must be getting desperate, she knew as well as I did that this could be traced back to her.
Of course, I wouldn't let that happen to her.
I pretended to gaze at the drink in confusion. "I think this bottle is bad dear, the consistency is off."
Her eyes widened only for a split second, before appearing confused. "Sorry baby, I'll get a new one."
I waved it off. "Don't worry about it. As much as I'd love to watch you go, I prefer your company."
She gave a sly smile before digging into her own pufferfish, normally prepared without a doubt. She was failing to hide this little smile I just couldn't get enough of.
It was funny really. I had lived for ten thousand years. I'd clanked glasses with Julius Caeser. I had dinner with who would be later known as Jesus. But moments like this were what stood out to me.
When you have power that is all people see. You cease to be human in essence. You are a resource. Those who have associated with him for at least the last six thousand years have never seen him as anything different. But there was something intimate created in moments like this.
Murder brings out the true character of an individual. It was primal and intimate, things I have lacked in my life. It naturally pierces all facades. The masks fall when they think they are with a dead man. This is the only time I get to see another human behind their social persona, and when on some level they connect with me.
And that sly smile, hidden behind long dark hair, that is the human connection I crave more than anything.
"Darling, I decided to give you 100% of all my assets in my will."
And I needed more of it. | Well, this should be interesting. I knew she’d been building up to this for months and tonight it finally happened. When I stepped away from dinner for a minute I saw her slip something into my drink. God knows what it was, but I'm convinced it has a lethal kick, otherwise why would she bother. The question is, has she done this before and I haven't noticed? If that's the case, there must be enough in there right now to kill a rhino -- god, I can't wait to see the look on her face when I breeze through the rest of dinner and into the evening completely and totally unscathed.
Maybe what I'm doing is mean or cruel, I don't know. Either way, this woman just tried to kill me, and maybe not for the first time; surely that relieves me of some of this stress I'm feeling for not being completely honest with her. I assume she's after my money. After all, how many 24 year old girls seek out a 54 year old man in a club? Better still, how many seek them out and then proceed to hang off their every word, even when topics like the stock market and pharmaceuticals arise? I guess I fell for it, so it's not like I don't deserve this. Still, I can't help but feel as though she got the best of me here, and I didn't become a billionaire several times over just to lose half of it after a few sips of that cheap red wine she likes to push on me.
The more I think about this, the more it bugs me. I may not act on this impulse anytime soon, but an idea just occurred to me and I feel I should at least let it stretch its legs a bit. I'm immortal, she is not. What if we were both involved in a tragic accident -- one where she dies and I, through an act of god -- at least that's how everyone would see it -- survive? A helicopter crash, a car accident, a carbon monoxide leak in our home. Yes, any one of those would be fatal to her but not to me.
In any event, I'm currently not looking to act on this. Let's just see how the evening unfolds when she discovers not even a glass full of poison can make me blink. | 2019-07-31T07:29:20 | 2019-07-31T04:32:10 | 221 | 156 |
[WP] Turns out Humans are tiny compared to any other species of aliens, allowing them to live off in the nooks and crannies of alien spaceships. Colonies can live on ships for generations unseen and unknown, or have a mutually beneficial relationship with a crew. | **Humans: The Intelligent Pest**
The human is one of the few intergalactic minor species to adapt to life in urban environments, as such they can now be found nearly everywhere within the populated universe. Some consider them a virulent pest and call the exterminators as soon as they find a human colony, others insist that they are actually very clean and, in fact, can clear out the nastier pests from the home. Regardless of which camp you belong, no-one can disagree that humans are here to stay.
Humans were fist introduced into the intergalactic ecosystem when a small child-rearing collective visited the species’ originating planet while exploring some rural galaxies. The collective illegally bypassed screening checkpoints, possibly knowing that they would be subject to quarantine, and thus introduced the human stowaways to the protected galactic environment. By the time the first colony was found it was already too late.
How and why were humans so successful in infiltrating the central intergalactic ecosystems? These questions are why many find them so fascinating. Some time after the outbreak became apparent and the usual methods of isolation and eradication had failed, an expedition was sent to their planet of origin to study them in their natural habitat. What they found was that the humans on their planet acted very differently to those we had grown accustomed to. While the humans on their home planet considered themselves special due to their superior position in their planets ecosystem, the stowaways had no such illusion. What makes the human different to all other minor species is that they recognised their new position in the galactic environment and adapted to it quickly. While their ignorant cousins still fought each other over fractions of their home world, the galactic human learnt to peacefully cooperate in ever increasing numbers. Whether this is due to survival instincts brought on by the threat of their new environment or a conscious change in thinking due to their new sense of perspective is a subject of heated debate.
In this book we will be discussing the degree to which humans can be attributed intelligence. Are they just a clever pest? Or are they intelligent enough for their extermination to be considered murder? We will also be touching upon some of the wilder theories surrounding humans, such as the idea that human colonies are actually in communication with each other, and that these human networks potentially span over all intergalactic civilization, or the claims that human colonies on abandoned vessels have grown to take complete control of the craft and now wander space looking to expand their influence. | "Let's move people! We got reports from the Gorgak pilots that we have a pack on the move through the air ducts. To stop any further damage we are gonna gear up. Climb in, and shut off the air to the trouble sections." The small crowd shuffled anxiously. "This will not be an easy fight. We have at least three hostiles and possibly more. Now gear up!"
The men huddled together broke apart and ran to their equipment lockers. Gear and guns flew out of the lockers and onto the men. A few minutes later they were equipped and marching out. Arriving at the motorpool the men piled into a single large helicopter and in minutes they were in the air.
The Gorgak walked about in the halls paying no attention to the tiny human helicopter flying just overhead. Landing on a platform next to a large vent grate the soldiers filed out. The commander called in their location and a moment later the rotating fan blade at the grate slowed and then stopped.
Siddling through the vent slats the men moved in one at a time. Once gathered on the far side they lined up single file and drew their weapons. Slowly they advanced down the large passageway in the air duct.
Scrabbling sounds echoed through the metal corridor. The men started to get nervous not having eyes on the enemy yet. The suddenly from around the corner came four of the foul Ragnath. They stood 7 feet tall at the shoulder, walked on four legs with inky black skin and beady silver eyes that shined in the dark.
"Targets inbound boys!" The commander cocked his weapon. "Who are we?!?"
"EXTERMINATORS!" the crowd yelled | 2018-05-30T11:12:13 | 2018-05-30T10:35:03 | 2,926 | 503 |
[WP] Before academy enrollment each parent must purchase a familiar to protect their child. The rich can afford gryphons and dragons. But being poor forced you to seek out the local mad magician who has offered you a new affordable familiar dubbed the “pet rock” instead. | Cash poked the thing, which stared back at him with doleful eyes that jiggled suspiciously when he moved it.
"That's the googly eye upgrade to the standard pet rock model," Old Merlin informed him. "It costs three coppers more. There's also a glitter upgrade, a stripes upgrade, or a polishing upgrade, though the polishing upgrade is certainly outside of your budget constraints."
He eyed Cash's clothes when he said this, and Cash glared at him.
"What about a frog?" Cash asked.
Merlin shook his head. "You can't take any old bullfrog from the swamp. It has to be a fire frog from the Mountains of Death to be suitable as a familiar."
"And this river rock will be better than a bullfrog?" Cash asked, holding the googly eye version closer and squinting at it.
He couldn't afford the three copper upgrade fee either, but he wasn't about to tell Merlin that after that look he gave Cash when he examined his clothes.
"Probably," Merlin said with a shrug. "What have you got to lose?"
"Five coppers," Cash replied.
"Deal!" Merlin shouted, grabbing the small coin purse and running before Cash could explain that he meant that was what he had to lose, not what he was offering for the stupid rock and its creepy, lifeless eyes.
Cash sighed and rubbed his forehead. He wasn't sure how he'd explain this to his mother. Those coppers were also supposed to buy his uniform at the thrice-used uniform cart if he didn't want to wear his sister's hand me downs (and he definitely didn't), and he didn't have time to do errands to earn more. The academy started the next day.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Cash showed up at school with his rock tucked safely into the pocket of his older sister's old robes, which she had dyed orange and bedazzled and sewn huge floral patches all over once she had outgrown them in hopes that their mother would be so ashamed that she would agree to buy new robes. It hadn't worked, and his older sister had run off with some minstrel.
"Ah, it's Cash the Gutter Trash!" shouted one of the local butcher's sons from the left. "He wants to be a *mage*."
Cash grimaced but kept walking and refused to look at them, no matter how much he wanted to turn them purple.
"Where's your *familiar*?" Lulie hissed from the front steps of the academy, petting her white gryphon and preening her perfect curls. "You can't do magic without one, Cash! It protects you from the beings on the other side!"
"Will you help me catch a bullfrog after class?" Cash pleaded.
"Oh Cash," she sighed. "A bullfrog won't work. You need..."
"A fire frog from the Mountains of Death, yes," Cash interrupted, "but surely a bullfrog is better than this..."
He produced the googly eyed rock, and Lulie stifled a giggle.
"Did you *make* that?"
Cash rolled his eyes, "No, it was forced upon me by Merlin, who then stole all my coins. Hey, at least it's not the glitter upgrade."
Lulie was kind enough to sit next to him during his first lesson of the day - Magic Fundamentals. She even stopped her gryphon, Snuggles, from pecking the eyes off the rock, which Cash had creatively named "Stone" when the instructor asked for his familiar's name. The instructor stared down her nose at him while the class snickered.
The first spell was easy and safe - just a simple sound illusion of beating wings, but the class got more difficult and more dangerous quickly. Cash found himself squeezing the pet rock and squinting at the blackboard as the teacher wrote out a formula for levitating a cup. Lulie was already in tears next to him, hugging her gryphon to her chest. He glanced around and noticed with shock that all of the other students had given up. He looked down at the rock, which stared back at him with those same doleful eyes.
Drawing a deep breath, Cash stared at the cup, holding the formula in his mind. He squeezed the rock again, and then he felt it. He felt the earth under the school. He felt the mountains far off, made of the same material he held in his hand. The cup shot through the ceiling. The beings from the beyond were prowling at the edge of his vision, but he could feel the earth keeping them back.
"Brave child," hissed one of them, its violet eyes blinking slowly as it stared him down, "to claim the earth as your familiar."
Edit: Thank you for the nice comments. I will let you know if I manage to get anything more written about Cash and Stone. | It had been 2,372 days since Cedric the apprentice had been trapped in the rock. He counted them by the sun through the nearby window, as it heated and cooled his hard skin throughout the day. He had never regretted anything more than the morning he’d walked into the magician’s shop and asked for that job.
On that day Cedric felt movement for the first time in a very long time. The dust was blown off him, something warm and soft closed around him, and he was pulled from the shelf of pet rocks. There was an entire row of them in a dizzying array of shapes and colors, each one of them just like him. As the sharp tingle of the binding spell passed over him Cedric the rock knew something suddenly, the first truly clear vision he’d had in more than 6 years.
He saw the wide, pale blue eyes of a coltish young girl just on the cusp of beginning her magical life, her stuttering voice still barely able to shape the words of the ritual. The magic settled over him and Cedric had never wanted to protect someone so badly in his entire life.
\*\*\*
On the first day of class, Annette walked nervously through the halls of the school surrounded by richly dressed children whose gryphons, dragons, and manticores seemed constantly on the edge of battle. She gripped the rough, ovoid rock in her pocket tightly feeling some of the residual warmth from the energy she had been slowly feeding into it these past few weeks. It comforted her, gave her at least one sane feeling thing in a world that was not her own.
It was comforting for the rock too although she had no way of knowing.
Her first class was a dizzying array of formulas and incantations Annette had barely even heard of before, all the other children nodded along calmly while she felt like an imposter in her own life. They’d had tutors and private lessons, had prepared for the moment for years. Did she really deserve this scholarship? In a dull panic 25 minutes into the class she slipped her hand back into her pocket, grasping the rock.
A rock which had already graduated from this school, that could sense her fears as soon as she made contact.
The teacher posed a question to the class, Cedric flashed the answer into Annette’s head, and she’d raised her hand before she knew it.
“Yes Ms. Thompson?” the wizened old dwarf who taught the class said in surprise.
“It’s Anton’s third law, isn’t it? The answer I mean.”
The class focused squarely on Annette’s threadbare form as the Professor turned back to the board to continue. In the academy’s rarified air presumption was treated harshly. She could feel their stares, she’d felt them even before she spoke up. There was blatant hostility from several of them as well. People who were no doubt far more powerful than her, with familiars that could tear her limb from limb if they so chose. Sitting there though, in the proud little glow of her first correct answer at a place she’d always dreamed of being, Annette felt hope for the future.
She might be the poorest girl in a school for the rich and powerful, she might be behind on day one, she might have the weakest familiar known to man, but she was still special. That’s why she was here after all.
Inside Annette’s pocket with her warm hand still wrapped around him, Cedric the rock fought fantasy wars with dragons. He imagined channeling the pure energy Annette poured into him every day and using it like a catapult, hurling himself at an enemy with the force of an arrow. He thought of dropping at their feet, exploding into a shower of shrapnel and prayed that her power could draw him back together. He pictured liquefying and surrounding her like a second skin, a layer of protective stone to save her from any foe, or turning into a boulder to block the path of an enemy.
He was not entirely sure if he could do those things, now or ever, but he knew he would try, for her.
In his wildest dreams he even hoped that maybe, just maybe, he would become himself again and they could meet as equals one day in a world where familiars became true friends.
\-----------------------------
If you enjoyed that I've got way more over at [r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/)! There's fun stuff like a wholesome take on Bloody Mary or a weird psychic romp through a human hive mind. Check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-01-06T08:39:22 | 2021-01-06T07:48:42 | 3,119 | 238 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | Most people lost their sight waking up on the morning of the first day, as the event started in the middle of the night. The change only occurred as one slept, so others attempted to remain awake to retain their vision for longer. This effort proved to be pointless, as the effects took hold the moment they closed their eyes and started to doze. As the days stretched into weeks, Microsleep ended up taking of the vision of the most resilient.
Adjusting to the change was difficult, but there was ease in knowing that everyone was blind, and that we all shared the same struggle. Those that were blind *before* the change became valuable assets to their communities. They found themselves teaching thousands, in neighborhoods where there were no blind people before.
I spent my time at home, with my animals, listening to old reruns of my favorite TV shows. Years of mental health issues had rendered me unfit to work in the eyes of the state, so many aspects of my life continued as usual. I did miss reading and, although I managed to find a few books in braille, it wasn't that simple to learn. The small dots weren't that clear to me as someone who had recently gone blind. Walking the trails around my house was not an option anymore either.
That was then, though. Today, something changed that I didn't anticipate would happen. For the first time in over 785 days, I saw something.
There have been stories since The Great Blinding of people regaining their sight. In all cases so far, it has been attributed to an overactive imagination. I must admit that even I have been fooled into thinking I was seeing something. You catch what looks like a flash of light, but it quickly fades and you are reminded that you are still blind, and that it has been the case for over a year now.
Today was different. I saw the flash of light, but it quickly expanded to cover my entire field of view. I had to remind myself that I had a field of view again. I was amazed at how much I could see again, but startled at how *forward* everything felt. In my blindness, I experienced my world in 360 degrees. Now, I was seeing only what was in front of me, and I noted how unaware I was of this before. My ears were still trained to the world of the blind however, so I found myself more aware of my surroundings than I remembered being before The Great Blinding.
Words started to appear in my vision. At first unfamiliar, but then more clear as the image of what each letter meant reappeared in my minds eye. I had forgotten what letters looked like.
'Do not tell them that you can see' were the words scrawled on my wall. The writing was brown, and it had no stench. I looked around to see if there was evidence that someone entered my room while I slept, but I soon realized that the substance was dried and old. Someone wrote this on my wall a long time ago, and I had no idea why.
I crept out of my room and realized that the sun was starting to set. After so long without sight, I wasn't surprised that my sleep cycle was so off. For me, it felt like early morning.
The sky was illuminated with streamers of light, and everywhere people wandered through the streets, heading for work. The setting sun turned the sky a rich burgundy striped with its golden rays. There were no stars in this sky. In the distance, the trees danced, casting their long shadows on the surrounding fields. Looking closer, I realized they were actually dancing. Tall branches were swaying with their movements as they spun around one another and held each others' arms.
Nearby, the people continued with their lives, unaware of the beings in their midst. Translucent birds flew high in the sky and shattered against the stone clouds only to congeal and reform as a different bird. Their chirps mimicking those of any birds I knew of before The Great Blinding. Orbs of light illuminated and disappeared as they moved through the air, sometimes passing through people, unbeknownst to them.
There were no roads or vehicles in the street. The asphalt and gravel were replaced with fields of grass; despite this, my feet clattered on the ground as if it were still made of stone. I was so absorbed in my changed surroundings, it was hard to take in. In the distance I heard whispers and, as I narrowed my eyes, I caught sight of a person waving at me to come near. I approached with caution, not knowing who or what they might be.
"Get in here!" They pointed at my house. "Before they notice me." I retreated through the door, and faced the man who was invading my home. "Do you have any idea what you are looking at?" He spoke quietly, and stared out the window. The red glare of the night sky cast his face in a bloodied shadow. "You have entered the world of the dead.” He closed the blinds. “You are witnessing things you were never supposed to see.” | When I was younger, my mother told me that no matter what happens I needed to be strong. She told me that the world was a cruel place and my sister Kay needed protecting. It didn’t make sense to me at the time, this world was full of wonder and adventure. My thirst for adventure led me to the Army when I was eighteen.
One day my commander called me into his office. There was an accident back at home. My mother and sister were involved in a car accident, killing my mother and gravely wounding Kay. I was given some leave time to return home and grieve. The next few months were rough, rougher than anything the Army had put me through. My days were spent tending to my sister for the accident had left her blind. Little did I know that the real trials were yet to come.
A few years later my time in the armed forces were up. After leaving the Army, I was able to get an apartment for my sister and I. Despite losing her eyesight, Kay was able to live happily. For a while, I believe I was happy too. Then, one day I woke up in my dark room. I could hear the television in the other room. The news was on as I was slowly making my way out of bed.
“This is an emergency, please stay in your homes until we have further information”
This snapped me out of my auto-pilot. What had happened? I walked over to the other side of the room in the darkness. Feeling my way around I get to the light switch and turn on the lights. Nothing happens. Trying the light switch a few more times I start to feel like something is very wrong. I feel my way into the living room where the television is. That’s when it hit me, I was blind.
For two years there was nothing, just nothing at all. Everyone’s eyesight was gone. They ended up calling it the Great Blinding. Funny, how they give the worst things titles such as *great*. After the first few months everything started to seem like it was going to work out. Without eyesight, everyone started being a lot nicer to each other. There was no longer any prejudice based on skin or race because no one could tell the difference.
After two years of living in peace, everything changed once again. There was a terrible screech that woke me out of my sleep. I jolted up in my bed. Then again, I heard a scream. It was coming from my sisters room! Hastily, I made my way into my sister's room. There was someone in there with her I could hear her struggling. Jumping into the frey, I fumble myself on the back of this intruder. I was able to subdue the intruder and put him in a choke hold. My military combat training was paying off.
“Run away! I’ll hold him off Kay!” I yelled into the darkness.
There were footsteps moving heading out of the room. My sister would be safe. I could feel my choke hold working, this guy’s strength was fading. Just as I was sure this guy wouldn’t be getting back up anytime soon, a thud. Something hit me, and it hit me hard. Was my sister safe at least?
Some time later I woke up in my sister’s room. I could feel the sun on my face coming through the window. How long was I knocked out? I struggle getting up; my head hurts like hell. Wait a second, I start feeling around looking for my sister. She’s not here! Making my way to the window something feels different. The sun, I’m not just feeling it on my face, I can see it! I’m not really sure what is going on. Slowly, I opened my eyes.
My vision was back! What happened? Is this really happening? How am I able to see again? I turned around to once again go over the scene. Kay’s bed was bloody and the room a total mess. That’s when I noticed it. On the walls, on the ceiling, on the mirror. *DON’T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE.* In the mirror, my reflection looks back at me. What I saw was terrifying. My eyes, they weren’t normal anymore. They were all black, no irises or anything else just black pupil. What happened to me? | 2022-10-08T20:12:12 | 2019-08-26T10:19:31 | 810 | 22 |
[WP] You are an elf in love with a human. Instead of lamenting their inevitable death, you go on a journey to find a way to make them live as long as you. After years of searching, you found a way, but when you came home to them, you find out that they already passed on years ago. | I knew things were wrong when I rode into town. In our small village, everyone knows everyone. I saw no warm smiles as I wound through the cobble streets. A few quick glances were quickly turned away when we met eyes. Others bore sad frowns, were those tears forming? A sick knot started forming in my stomach. I urged my ride faster.
Arriving at the family home, our groundskeeper Fathwin was there, already waiting for my arrival as always. I never knew how he could anticipate my arrival, the old elf kept his secrets.
"My Lady, it is good to see you again" Fathwin greeted me with a paractised bow.
Fathwin, it is good to see you again. What has happened? The others, as I rode by, their faces showed nothing but sadness as I rode in.
Lady, After your long journey, it is this old mans terrible regret to have to bring this news to you. I will be brief as this sort of news should not be drawn out. Your betrothed has perished.
Perished!? How could this be? Was there an accident, an illness our healers could not handle? Were we attacked?
No my lady. They succumbed to the same fate as all mortals, time.
Time!? I was only gone....one...hundred....twenty...oh......oh no. Oh no no no.
I wrap my arms around Fathwin as I did when I was a child, and I weep into his shoulder.
Would you, would you wish to visit their resting place, my Lady?
In time Fathwin, in time.
A week goes by as I get my affairs in order, and prepare my nerves for visiting my loves final resting place. Best to put on a brave face.
I gather a few items to leave at the grave and go to Fathwin.
Fathwin, I am ready, would you accompany me?
It would be my honor, my Lady. I will carry your pack for you. Your burden is already great as it is.
As we arrive at the burial site, it is nothing more than a slightly raised green hill, covered in wildflowers. They would have loved to see this, when they still liv...no, those thoughts will only bring pain now. I was not there in their final moments. My selfishness in my research blinded me to their needs. They died without me by their side, went through their sunset years without me, waiting for me to return. A lump forms in my throat. To think of what it must have been like, to yearn for the one I love, every day, and to never get to see their face again. The lump becomes so large it becomes hard to breath.
Fathwin and I come to a stop at the foot of the hill. Fathwin takes one step backwards to stand behind me, as to not see my face, should I shed more tears. He is full of old respect.
Take as much time as you need my lady.
Thank you Fathwin, I say as I wipe a tear that has betrayed my best efforts to hold back. But I shall not be long. Hand me that shovel from my pack.
Er uh...my lady?
Mortality has but one cure Fathwin. I say as I crack my knuckles. And I did not study necromancy for 123 years for nothing.
edit: spelling mistakes | Humans are frail, fragile, fading creatures, but in the time they burn, they burn the brightest. They understand their mortality more than most creatures do, know that if they do not achieve what they seek most then one day they may be left not just withered, but empty. Elves, well elves may spout off about their legacy for hundreds of years. They need not worry about what their name may one day become as they will live to see that legacy age.
That is why I left, to find any way to save him. That is why all that I am left with is the secret of immortality and my lover's bones.
When I left I did so as I assumed humans did, quickly and without thought. Driven by a love I had yet to experience in my life before that year. A year. I only got to know him for a years time, a drop in the ocean for an elf, a mark on an ever shrinking wall for a man.
Well I found a way to allow him to experience the world in the time that I did, to grow the wall so big that the marks became small again; then I returned to a stone in a field of stones in which his name was so small I could barely find it. If I had been faster. Or maybe if I had never left.
Sickness they said. Sickness caught him in one of the many, many winters after I had gone. He waited all those years for my return I was told, he even left me a note before he passed. The words were meant to be comfort, yet they held over my head as guilt and stung like salt in a wound. As if I had instead taken his entire life away in leaving.
When I retrieved the note from his brother it too had become old and withered. I had hardly aged a day.
*Grey* he signed the front in red. *I can hold on no longer. I wish I could see your return, then see every day thereafter by your side, but it seems it was not meant to be. I have no regrets. I hope you do not either. May I see you again in the after, yours truly, Grey.*
For the note I had no tears. I could only think about how wrong he was, as there was no wishing to see my return, for I intended to make it true. I would start a new journey in the others stead. To the east I had heard of necromancers, of those who specialized in bringing back those lost no matter the means.
So I left again, this time with the secret to immortality on my side. Ready to travel for as long as it took to bring back what once meant most to me. | 2022-07-05T19:03:50 | 2022-07-05T18:24:00 | 97 | 45 |
[WP] You have a voce in your head that automatically gives you advice. One night when you start heading out you hear it say "you may want to put on your best runners." You turn away and it adds, "it would be unfavorable to turn back."
"Voice." Dumb typo :/ | "Move"
"Move now, Faster"
The voice in the back of my head whispers as I run down the street. The sense of urgency making me run faster as the world blurs, too fast. Houses become blurs, as the screams of my neighbors begin echoing all around all. The sounds of bone being broken, flesh torn off, and cries of mercy makes me stop and freeze up.
" You need to keep running, you are not strong enough to face him yet" the voice pleads, as the sounds of a thousand whispers begin enter my ears drowning out the lone voice in my head.
"Hey Jon good buddy why did you run?" a familiar voices calls behind as the whispering of cosmic secrets try to their best to seduce. "I thought we were gonna have lasagna and watch some tv" the voice though familiar sounds distorted.
"Had to chase you all the way here, and you know how exercising makes me hungry" I felt a chill down my spine as i notice all the screaming stop and the world is dead silent. "You know I can't have you leave me Jon, you complete me"
I feel the presence come closer as the whispers become screams, and something grabs me and turns me around. I see a fat orange cat sitting down looking at me "Well Jon let head back to the house Odie is waiting on us"
"Odie is dead Jon remember" the voice somehow breaks through the whispering, "He killed him long time ago , You need to run before he takes control again, I won't be able to chip away at his control again I am just no longer strong enough"
"OH IS THAT LIZ I HEAR" Garfield calls out breaking my thoughts, as I watch my cat slowly transform into towering mass of flesh and bone. " TELL THE WHORE YOU ARE MINE AND MINE ALONE, you complete me Jon and I can't have no one take you away from me"
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Truthfully I have no idea where I am going with this, but recently been lurking in the r/imsorryjon and found the fanmade mythos to be amazing. If anyone can use this and make it better please do | I just started running. The shoes I had on were for my concert, black classic shoes and the dress I was wearing it didn't help either. Luckily Patrick, one of my neighbors who happened to be going to the city saw me running and stoped. You might imagine how awkward that conversation was.
And than it spoke again. The voice. This hadn't happened to me for a while. When I was younger I would hear it, all the time affecting every decision I made. And I listened to it each and every time. I never knew If I was the one making it up, in a way speaking to me without having control what I say, ot it was something completely else.
It said I should get off the car in the next stop and follow the river.
This was completely different. This time it was giving me directions, not only advice. And I had a feeling that something is about to happen. But what, and why am I doing this. The next stop was in the middle of nowhere and It took me a while to find the river. Patrick argued with me a bit about leaving me here, but I convinced him somehow. After several hours of walking and silence in my head, I started regereting not listening to him. Than all of a sudden I see two strangers sitting in a chair by the side of the river. An old couple. Maybe that had nothing to do with me. They are just out for fresh air. | 2019-06-04T05:55:31 | 2019-06-04T03:20:04 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] You're a Goth and somebody knocks on the door: "Hello is this the house of the witch?" You sigh because this has been the 100th time this month and say: "No he's over there." And points them across the street, to the dazzly pretty boy wearing a gold waistcoat, who's waiving excitedly to them.
Saw this and knew you lot might like it too: [https://imgur.com/gallery/h9yheor](https://imgur.com/gallery/h9yheor) | "You know, maybe a sign would help," I sigh at the next block party, sitting at a picnic table with the boisterous magic user. I was currently tucking into a veggie medley wrapped in tinfoil and grilled to perfection. He, my neighbor, sat with a red Solo cup filled with orange soda.
"What would I put on it?" He asks, genuinely curious. "Here there be a witch?!"
"Dunno." I shrug. "Why do people keep thinking I'm the witch?"
"Well, it could be the Addams Family house you live in."
"Its a fixer upper! I bought it *because* it was broken!" And I could save a pretty penny being his own carpenter, electrician and plumber while renovating my own house...
I shake my head, and point at the man with a potato speared upon my fork. "You'd think itd be obvious whose house was who's, you have a garden in your front lawn."
"Why does my garden give me away?"
"Its against HOA rules to have a front yard garden, you'd *have* to use Magic to convince those uptight asshats to let you have one."
"...well. Not magic perse."
"Then how did you convince them?"
"I threatened them," the witches smile widened.
"What?! I can't believe you!" I say, incredulous. "The head of the HOA is like, former military or something!
"Oh, come on! It was easy. Those big brute-y types always have spines like pool noodles when confronted with something they don't understand."
"What did you threaten them with?"
"That's between me, him, and Satan."
"Satan?"
"Well, that's what he thinks anyway." He snorts. "Who am I to correct him?"
"A decent person?"
"Pah!" He scoffs. "It was his ancestors who burned my foremothers at the stake. 'Decent people' my ass."
"Mmn." I snort, smiling. "So how did that customer go anyway? The...I think it's been just about 100th one to come to my door instead of yours."
"Oh, it was just a simple love potion, nothing serious. He wanted his wife to drink it to make sure she was still in love with him after some 30 odd years."
"What'd you give him?"
"A really good wine reccomendation and directions to a nice hotel."
"Absolutely magical."
"Guh, you wouldn't be*lieve* how many of my customers come to me when they could easily solve their problems with a bit of hardwork and maybe a trip to goddamn Wal-Mart."
"I'll take your word for it. How's that catio I built for you?"
"Edgar and Emelie are absolutely in love with it! Edgar's even started to lose some of that chub the vet was annoying me about. Thank you so much, it really pays to have a certified carpenter on the block."
"And a witch too, huh? This might be the best veggie medley I've ever had at these block parties."
"Stop, you're gonna make be blush." | A gentle knock, then three more. Elisabeta got up and answered the door. "Yello?"
"Uhm, I've been c-cursed, and now I stutter on hard-c sounds. It's k-kind of bad, and I was told you c-could help?"
"Nah, that's Errol's specialty, across the hall. Also, tell him to stop baking cookies when it's not my cheat day on the diet." Elisabeta says. The enlightened guest turns and knocks on my door.
Me? I'm a little more... Dramatic than my dear Goth neighbor with the body image issues. I slide down my apartments hallway, past the portal to the Menagerie of Empty Dreams and past the chute to the Mausoleum of Untold Secrets and answer the door. "Sup? Name's Enrico, by the way."
"Some c-cruel jerk-k put a c-curse on me," my attention waned as my eyes shimmered gold and violet, a simple visual Illusion to disguise my casting of Verro's Psionic Extracollection. The spell ended quickly.
"Ah, yes, Macard's Curse of Cacophonous Chatter, Type C. Come, come, my friend. I shall shatter this vile vexation and liberate you from it's benighted beholding." I step to the side, and once he enters, the carpet slides us down the hall, back past the Mausoleum and the Menagerie, past the Food Court of Oberon and Titania and past Hermes' Cell Phone Repair and Sales Cabana, to my kitchen and dining room. I open the fridge and grab a bottle of my favorite drink, blood moon punch, and pour for my customer a glass of water with ice. I hand him the glass and set up my crockpot.
"Uhhh, thank-ks?" He says.
"You'll be here for a bit. The antidote needs four hours to brew, as well as two hours for psionic imprinting." I begin whipping up the base, three quarts distilled water, blessed by the local Cardinal, one part nautilus skin, one part silicon chronionic, and one part Eye Queue Vine. I checked my herb rack and sighed. I had enough left for this brew, but then I'd have to return to that punderful place to harvest more. | 2021-03-22T21:51:14 | 2021-03-22T21:44:19 | 109 | 43 |
[WP] Magic is discovered to be real. The catch? Spells are just like computer programs: difficult to write, and even harder to do correct the first try. You're a spell bug tester, and you've seen just about everything go wrong, but today's typo is on a whole other level... | **Issue: [SEVERE]** 'Magic Hands' spell applied to subject rather than pure conjuration
**Type:** Application
**Severity:** A
**Priority:** 1
**Assigned to:** Matt Traynor
**Submitted by:** Greg Philmore
**Summary:**
Set to severity A because this stupid fucking system doesn't give me a goddamn S-rank for this bullshit.
'Magic Hands' intention was, apparently, to create a set of said hands to perform simple tasks. Unfortunately, instead of setting the spell to conjure those hands, it does the following:
Turns the caster into a pair of *fucking sentient hands.*
I'm currently typing this bug report up as a pair of hands. I have no idea how this is even still working and I've still got the capacity to think, but there you go.
Matt: it seems like you forgot to set the spell to actually CONJURE rather than just apply it to whatever poor bastard got this one to test. FIX IMMEDIATELY.
Side notes: unable to turn down requests for things such as “Get me a coffee” or “Can you type this bug report up for me?” This is getting beyond a joke.
***EDIT: IT HAS BEEN FOUR HOURS. HAVE SUBMITTED 8 TICKETS TO SPELL TECH TO FIX THIS. FIRE MATT.***
**Comments:**
**(12:07) Matt Traynor:** Oh goddamn it I knew something was wrong with it! Sorry! I'll get on fixing that right away and send the changes over.
**(12:08) Greg Philmore:** I don't care about a fix for the bug at this point. I am going to spend the rest of the day slapping the shit out of you if you don't get on UNDOING this.
**(12:47) Kerry Lane:** This is hilarious. Greg has been at the coffee machine for 20 minutes serving up lattes. Also we haven't had to listen to him singing Jimmy Buffet songs all morning! This is bliss.
**(12:56) Matthew Hendry:** How long do you think we can keep this up for?
**(15:12) Greg Philmore:** FIRE MATT AFTER KICKING HIM DECIDEDLY IN THE NUTSACK | I swore, again, as I stared down at the Philosophers Stone we'd cooked up. It had cost millions of dollars and thousands of hours of work to produce, teams of our best researchers. We had figured that we'd be set for life, if we pulled off what alchemists had been after from the very beginning.
My manager was shaking in the corner, well aware that we were looking at (at least) thirty nine law suits. We heard the gasp of in-drawn breath that comes from lungs filling for the first time. The fortieth man to awaken in the room that day was just like the others. He stood up, rubbed his bald head, and looked around in utter puzzlement. Fuck. Make that forty, then.
He wore a shirt with the logo of a big beer company, that sat just-a-little stretched over his gut. It looked like this endorsement had been won by decades over barbecues and lawn mowers. He seemed like the kind of neighbour your parents would ask over to help fix their deck. Not because he was necessarily *great* at it, but he'd have power tools, and he'd be happy to help out.
I kicked one of the big lead ingots (one that hadn't started changing yet, of course. He was a decent guy, from what we could tell.) I stubbed my toe, so I swore some more.
Sighing, a labcoated young woman waved at him. "Gord, right? Hi, I'm Indira. There's just been a little accident. Could you, uh, come with me, please?" | 2017-07-26T03:57:13 | 2017-07-26T02:26:17 | 417 | 11 |
[WP]Humans are the first species to achieve interstellar travel. Not because we are smarter or more advanced than aliens, but because we are the only ones stupid and stubborn enough to try. | "But... all of our physics laws tell us that faster than light travel is impossible!"
The vaguely reptillian alien was no longer sticking to formal diplomatic speech. It had taken us weeks to get to this point, through first contact, docking procedures, figuring out each others' atmospheres, teaching each others' languages into translation computers, and the rest.
"Well sure, our laws told us that too. In no uncertain terms, really."
"And yet, you are... here. Not on a generational seed ship but on a lone cruiser. How can this be?"
"Well," I started to explain, "you see, we didn't really like that answer and-"
"You didn't LIKE the answer provided by the laws of physics??" The translator was providing the context, indicating that the alien ambassador was surprised beyond the pale.
"Yes well, we have this show Star Trek you see, and, well, it's not important. The point is some people wanted to try just to see what happened. So we took a test ship and accelerated it up as close as we could to the speed of light, approximately 98%-"
"Excuse me human, but reaching that speed with any significant mass would take a tremendous amount of energy. How could you have provided it?"
"Sure it does. And as we haven't quite gotten fusion power to work yet, we used fission power."
"Ah yes, nuclear electric ion drives, we too are exploring this technology in our space science endeavors. It is good to know that we are on the right path."
"Well no, it wasn't an ion drive in the end. You see, we instead used uncontrolled fission-fusion reactions to propel the craft forward-"
The alien kept interrupting me for some reason, "You used nuclear weapons to propel your craft?? These are tremendously destructive! They are banned from our planet for a reason!"
"Oh it isn't too bad as long as you're careful with it."
"How many did it require?"
"What?"
"The nuclear weapons, how many did it require to accelerate your ship up to 98% of the speed of light?"
"Oh, a few thousand. On the ship that is. We had actually gone ahead and strung out about twenty thousand along the expected trajectory so the ship wouldn't have to carry all the extra mass."
"But, that amount of radiation would have contaminated the entire system.... it would take millenia for those radiation products to decay or be cleaned up. This is totally insane!"
"Yes well, it worked so it was worth it. When our ship finally got up to speed the onboard physicists noticed that the laws of physics were changing differently than we expected, and we were able to invent the Hawking drive that brought me here. The USS YOLO is the pride and joy of our deep space exploration fleet, named to honor the scientists who carried out those pioneering experiments." | Three more ships were launched into the stratosphere, and three more ships were bashed back down to earth by the giant space squid.
"We need more spaceships" Shouted the president
"But sir, we're running out of metal. And the jetfuel repository is running dry" A NASA man shouted back.
"Damn your cowardice" The president shouted back. "Guards, take this man to the jetfuel repository and launch him into space. Make him die to the squid for his insolence"
And the gaurds did take the NASA man to the jetfuel repository, and the President watched him get launched into the stratosphere only to be bashed back down to earth by the mighty tentacles holding up the sky. The president looked out the window poignantly, and steepled his fingers poignantly, and sighed a few times so the few blind NASA men in the room could also get in on how poignant his plight was. He'd made a bet to be the first into space, giant squid be damned. And he was losing it.
"Giant squid be damned" The president said. "Yah damn that squid" another NASA man said back, the president pointed at him and two guards got up to escort the man to the jetfuel repository. The president watched him launch into the sky, and wept for all the voters he had lost on this day. It had been most of them, the country was stripped barren other than the whitehouse, essential NASA men, and the great celestial squid mankind had gambled against and lost.
The president picked up his space phone. "Hello, operator, could you connect me to alpha centari?" he asked the phone.
"Yes sir Mr. President" the operator told him, and he waited a year for his signal to travel.
Mr Alpha Centari President answered the phone. "Hello, Johnson" he told the phone, "Calling to call it quits on our bet, eh?"
But the president never answered. He had starved to death months ago, having watched all his planet's farmers and children and hopes and dreams launch into space only to be stopped by the squid. | 2017-11-22T18:55:15 | 2017-11-22T15:36:45 | 83 | 18 |
[WP] You never kill the spiders in your home, you just whisper "today you, tomorrow me" when you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back. | "Just give me the f---ing wallet, man!" the mugger shouted. He wore a beat-up MSU hoodie and holey jeans. "*Sparties*" I mumbled as I reached for my pocket, acquiescing the mugger's command. The sound I heard after that, though, I'll never forget as long as I live.
It was a skittery sound. Skittery is the best way to put it. Like a branch against a window in the wind, but, like, *thousands* of branches against *thousands* of windows. Up the street the sound came. Along with it, a tune. I couldn't quite place it at that moment.
"Uh... the wallet, square!" Shouted mugsey. Ignoring the archaic insult, I felt strangely at peace with the tide of sound incroaching me and my quarry in this dank, filthy alley. The skittering grew louder, and with it the tune. I knew it by then. It was an old marching song; "When Jhonny comes marching home".
"What in the ever loving is that?" I asked my assailant.
"F---ed if I know..." said the man plaid in green-and-white, "but I don't like it... *WHAT THE HELL?!?*"
Just then, a black-and-brown tidal wave crashed around the corner of the alley! A sight you'd curse your mother for telling you she'd seen, but I swear it happened! All of them, in chorus: "The spiders go marching one by one! Hurah! Hurah! The spiders go marching one by one! Hurah! Hurah!" The press of arachnids came and covered my would be mugger.
Encasing him, they turned him horizontal, then began to carry him out of the alley, his muffled screams escaping his lungs the whole time. As they went, the marching hymn still echoing through their fangs. At that moment, a little black one with two yellow stripes jumped up to me! "This is the end!" I thought, "It's my turn!"
When she reached my ear, her tiny voice called out "Yesterday, us! Today, you, big man! Thank you for your kindness throughout the years!" And with that, she hopped off to join the press.
"Wait!" I shouted.
"Yes, spider friend?" The envoy replied.
"That song... Isn't it about ants?"
"*Ugh*" She replied. "*Ant cultural appropriation*" | Our species does not typically work together. Apart from mating, seeing another spider of our kind just means competition for food.
But word spread of the Quartz Boy.
Now, we will freely admit that we are not normal spiders. Supposedly in time immemorial a human weaver was blessed with the body of a spider. She then bred when the time came, and laid spiders who were smarter than normal.
But even we are pests to the humans, who purge us with sprays.
We would have avoided this one, but for the rotting fruit on this one's counter.
Fruit flies were supping upon a dragonfruit, and we had laid traps. Nets on most corners, baited with pieces of sweetener and sugars.
Our ichor drooled somewhat as we awaited the feast.
But then the Boy came. In the language-sight that was integral to our intelligence, he was like the sun, a radiant ball of energy. On his shirt was a stylised five pointed star, appropriately.
"Hi Spiders, listen, my moms don't want you in the house, so if I let you guys out, and give you these flies, you can come visit any time."
We stared at him.
"I know you hear me. Spiders might make webs but not all trapeze onto fly backs."
We glared at the spider that did that stunt.
"Are you guys former cr-"
We left, not listening to his words
But we maintained a few threads into his room.
To listen for danger.
For we are the Daughters of Arachne,
And wherever evil lurks,
if evil lurks,
we'll always find a way,
and even if we can't,
we'll find another way.
There are over sixty two billion of us, and we protect the Quartz Boy Steven!
(so I kinda watched 40 episodes of Steven Universe last night and it's all I can think about now)
(SEND HELP) | 2017-08-28T03:18:14 | 2017-08-28T02:04:47 | 62 | 37 |
[WP] Humans are the only species in the universe with pets. As humanity enters the ranks of the Galactic Empire humanity soon is known as "The Beastmasters", taming even the worst nightmares of alien bedtime stories. | "No, no," that's where everybody gets the story wrong, said Hugo, my erstwhile human companion said as we boarded the cruiser. It's not that humans tamed wolves. Humans found the wolves that could be tamed.
"I'm failing to see the distinction."
Well, most other species in the universe became the dominant species either by natural selection's survival advantages OR by being smart enough to create tools -- which you could say is another natural selection survival advantage, but I digress. Point is, that was us as well, but we *took advantage of other species survival advantages.*
*"How so?"*
"Well," Hugo explained, "Those wolves. Vicious, deadly in packs. But clever. They knew that the advantage lay in numbers. A pack of wolves could take down a human traveling alone, humans, as a group, however, could handle any wolf-pack. To wolves, humans were dangerous, and when on the defensive, had fire, sharp tools, shields, and wore the hides of much tougher animals to protect them. Only the bravest or most foolish wolf would dare go close to where humans had settled in groups."
"So, the humans had to hunt down and capture the wolves?," I asked.
"No! As I said. The bravest and most foolish wolves came to us! And they were rewarded! If you're a wolf, you are subject to the whims of nature. Not just bears, but surviving the winter when food has become scarce. But... what the brave and foolish discovered was that if you didn't attack the humans... if you acted like the humans wanted you to act -- then you could feed from our scraps pretty much year round. It's an excellent survival strategy, and the wolves who were brave or foolish enough to approach the humans were able to have more children, whose brave and foolish traits were passed on to the next generation. And if you had some special trait that helped the humans in the area, the humans would go out of the way to make sure that you had a chance to breed. If you like to pull, and you're in a snowy region, congratulations, your descendants will become huskies. If you aren't scared by loud noises and can retrieve waterfowl, congratulations, you are the progenitor of the poodle. So the relationship became symbiotic - without dogs, hunts would not be as effective, without humans, food would not be as regular."
"So all the animals were like this? You befriended the bravest?"
"Well, the cat was more of a later addition. When we started agriculture, we started having to store large parts of grain. Bugs and other vermin would get into them. Cats just... went to where their food went to, and we thought it was useful to have cats around to hunt the vermin, so we kinda just let them stay. But still, it's a relationship of symbiosis. Without the cats, the grain would spoil, without the humans, there would be no grain to lure vermin."
"When you put it like that, it makes me wonder why other species *didn't* pick up on this survival advantage."
"Just the luck of the draw, I guess." | "Watch out!"
"Get behind me!"
"Daddy!"
The three Xolorphins cowered in the corner as the fierce monster, growling with its glowing eyes and huge teeth turned towards them. Zephin tried to shield his mate and child with his tail, holding out his claws as the huge monster, easily three times his own size, bore down on them. The monster's armor-like fur protected it from all attacks and Zephin knew that his little family was doomed. That they would all die, all end up dinner for this creature.
"FLUFFY!" called a voice.
The monster turned its head, ears pricking the direction of the call. Zephin held his breath, hoping the monster had forgotten them. Could it be?
"FLUFFY! HERE BOY!" The monster turned and loped off. Under its massive body Zephin caught a glimpse of the being calling the monster. A frail, fragile being with two skinny arms and legs that didn't look strong enough to hold up its own weight. Even more importantly, the being was only about the size of his child. There was no way the being could control the monster.
The monster loped towards the being and Zephin closed his eyes, not wanting to see the being die and waiting for the painful screams of death.
"Are you a good boy? Are you? Good boy, Fluffy!" Zephin opened his eyes and stared in horror at the monster--rolling over onto its back while its tongue lolled out of its mouth and the being rubbed its neck, fearlessly.
"This is why we need a leash." Another, older being came into view and Zephin stared as the older being glared at the monster--who *cowered*. The monster rolled back over, whined, and tucked its tail between its legs.
"Mom!" The little being stood between the adult and the monster. "Be *nice*!"
The mother muttered something before calling out, "Sorry about your house! We'll send someone to fix it later!" The three of them walked off.
"What--what was that?" asked Zephin's mate.
"I think--I think those were humans," he replied, stumbling over the unfamiliar name. He couldn't believe what he'd just seen.
He'd heard about this; they all had. How humans had the bizarre ability to get almost anything to define them as "parents," as "family." He'd thought it was just rumors though, rumors spread to make the weak creatures seem more dangerous than they were. A protection mechanism.
Instead, it was nothing less than the truth. | 2020-01-04T19:34:51 | 2020-01-04T19:11:01 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] Everybody has a number on their heads that shows how many people they screwed over in their life.You've been a proud zero your whole life.One day you wake up and look at the mirror. You see 7.5 billion | This is my first ever comment on reddit, and the first time in a long time I've tried my hand at writing something. Any feedback only serves to better me. Hope you enjoy.
~~~
Ever since I could remember, my life had been spent working towards the impossible notion that I would someday turn this little floating zero above my head into a negative number.
A saved life.
Of course, by this time in my life I had already prevented the deaths of many people. Early in my life, I had lost my own mother to cancer, so I had spent a good portion of my life studying nothing but how to prevent cancer. How to cure it. To rid the world of it so that no one would have to lose anyone precious to them.
With time, I became more and more famous for my innovations towards finding ways to cure cancer. A lot of my life was dedicated towards cancer—towards eliminating it for good.
After I reached my mid 50’s, I made a breakthrough that rocked the world. I had developed a cure that was capable of not only eliminating cancerous cells that were already present in the body, but also capable of preventing it from ever developing in anyone’s future. The cure was the breakthrough that the world had been wishing for.
Of course, the development towards the cure had cost millions and many years, and even after the cure was produced, many years still were spent testing it. We wanted to ensure that it was safe.
It wasn’t until my late 50’s that the cure was finally given a pass.
And the moment it was given the green light, it took off.
The cure was free. This was not something that anyone in the world would be denied. And nobody dared deny such a gift. Vaccinations and pills were shipped and administered overseas. In only a few months of the initial release, there was nobody in the world who had not received the medication.
My name became known everywhere. Praises for my good-will were sung. Everyone looked to me as the man that cured the disease that had plagued mankind for so long. I was their hero. I was their God.
The morning I received the call from my long-time assistant, telling me that it was recorded that the cure had been administered to 7.5 billion people, I couldn’t help but cry at what I was being told.
Not too long after the call, I found myself staring in the mirror upon the bathroom wall of my lavish flat.
The number was still zero, but I couldn’t help but picture the negative 7.5 billion in my head.
“I did it, mom…I f-finally did it.”
“Yes yes. You *sure did* indeed—good job.”
The foreign voice sent my head spinning with fear, and I turned to find a man leaning against the open door to my bathroom, clapping his hands very obnoxiously with a wide grin on his face.
My first thought upon seeing him was that I should run. Every fiber of my being told me that the man was deadly, despite the grin. His crimson red eyes scared me the most. The man finally slowed the clapping, and then let his arms drop.
“Gotta say, doctor. I’m a *huge fan* of your work. You did something that no one thought would ever happen.”
His voice reflected his excited face, and he gestured very theatrically at nothing.
“W-w-who are y-you?”
My voice was weak, but I had finally found it.
The crimson eyed man suddenly took a step back, a hand over his chest as if I had said something offensive.
“Who am I? Good doctor, please. If you’re so willing to believe that you are the *God* of this world, then surely you must believe that there should be an opposite, no?”
His voice had become taunting. But his words only caused my mind to blank.
“O-opposite?”
My voice was still shaking, not nearly as violently as my knees though as I leaned on the bathroom counter to keep from falling.
The man’s grin returned as he stepped into the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror as if admiring a piece of art. That’s when I finally noticed something that made me collapse on the ground, my bloodshot eyes wide with disbelief.
There was a number above his head. But his was a symbol—not numeric. It was an infinity symbol.
Done with his reflection, the man turned to me once again and closed the distance, a look on his face like that of a father about to admonish his son.
“Good doctor, what’s got you looking so pale? Well, no matter.”
Kneeling in front of me, the man cleared his throat, resting one hand on his knee while he stretched his other out in front of the number above me—that proud zero that I had had all my life.
“I believe you’ve spent enough time playing the God of this world. Time to teach you what happens when you fly too close to the sun.”
He poked the zero, and suddenly the number began to rapidly increase. I could see it flying up at an speed I couldn’t keep up with out of the corner of my eye in the mirror. I didn’t notice my heartbeat begin to increase as well, or just how heavily I was beginning to hyperventilate as I looked back to the man before me, unable to speak but pleading with my eyes.
*Stop. STOP. PLEASE MAKE IT STOP.*
The man’s lips curled up at the edges as he looked back into my eyes with wonder in his own.
“I’ve had some terrible people enter hell before with large numbers, but never before has something like this…I never dreamed the day would come. It almost brings a tear to me eye.”
He laughed at me happily, before taking his hand away from the number above my head, clearly satisfied with where it had stopped.
Looking at the mirror, I saw the number.
My heart stopped the moment I saw it, and my world faded to nothing.
Standing once again, the crimson eyed man looked down at the corpse of the man who had saved the world. The smile still on his face and his eyes still wide with excitement as the number faded away with the doctor’s life.
“Good doctor. You developed a new forbidden fruit—no cure. Now then…”
Turning away from the doctor, the crimson eyed man walked into the main room of the flat, and then to the window overlooking the city before him.
Taking a long breath, the man raised his arms just above his head, his index fingers pointing—ready to conduct a symphony for the world.
“Some say the world will end in fire. Some say ice…I say…let it end in plague.”
And with a flick of his index fingers, a man walking down the street outside the flat, directly under where the crimson eyed man stood, began to choke on his own blood as a laugh filled the air from high above. | There is a time, he noticed, in between that sinking feeling, that heavy and sad feeling, when you feel *numb* and almost light. In that in between time all feeling is dead, and all you get is the suggestion of what will happen; of what you will feel. He felt so. He could hear the panic in the silence, feel the eyes darting all over. It had to be some movie, but the numbers did not lie.
The orders were set. He wondered of the men who had designed these systems. He did not care for the men who had created the Bomb. A bomb was an easy thing to wrap the mind around. He wondered of the *system* in place, the last desperate commands of the end of the world.
*Were they cruel?*
Surely they were. Who could design such an eventuality?
*Was it necessity? Or maybe just MAD. A deterrant.*
Thoughts came in spasms. You don't ever think them neatly. He thought *calmly*, but as quiet and well composed the feelings, they were still feelings. Those questions wracked him, unasked in any way, and yet buring in his head.
*Isn't my story like all the others. Such bad fiction.*
The in between time was fading. He was a man who carried out an order. And the Bomb was gone. The world would hear its crash.
And he looked around. The faces were white and there was quiet and an office-ness about it all that filled the space. Ordinary people looked at him. The air conditioning hummed dully. This was how the world would end. He wondered what song it would make. He wanted to laugh.
The news began. He was crying and trembling. His phone was ringing. Caroline talked to him. Was it true what they were saying? He admired how fast it took them to talk.
"Is it another mistake? Did someone send out the wrong message?"
*Would it be hot? Would we feel it?*
He meant the retaliation. The sky would rain steel, exploding toxic fire.
"Did someone goof, Alan?"
*Yes. Me.*
His voice quavered.
"Baby, go and get somewhere safe. Find a basement-"
*It's the quickest grave you can get before-*
"And keep yourself safe. Find a basement."
Presidents were calling. Heads of state. It was not interesting. Suddenly, he found, after that in between time, the cold feeling, the bad feeling makes everything feel pointless. The numbers above their heads showed his apathy. Zero. One. Two. One person had five. He hated them.
The Bomb exploded. How many minutes had passed? The pictures were grainy and no different than camera flashes. Death was not photogenic. True destruction was hard to capture, to *really* capture. All he saw were headlines in capital letters and that silent breath as all waited for the world to end.
Then the sky grew dark. The number above his head was large. He noticed it was above *his* head, for it was him who had unleashed this fate.
*It is not fair. They are retaliating. I followed orders. Why is it over me? Why is this on me?*
But you know how thoughts are. His mind spoke in guilt. And that feeling was heavy. No weight could burden more.
*Why me?*
He knew. The answer was technical. There was always something clinical about mass destruction. The retaliation was an automatic response. No humans had authorized it. But his hand, his discretion had cast the first stone.
*God.*
But that thought was funny. The sky's shadows were long streaks of black. What God could there be in that moment? What Creator could listen to destruction's whistle? God might exist, he thought, but He was not there as that rain readied its fall.
He looked out. Hands were on him. They were evacuating. He must have stayed and ignored the instructions. It came pouring as a falling star, the sky streaked with cloud.
Explosions.
Fires.
Then heat.
He felt his skin prickle. All around shook in an earthquake. His office was ordinary. The power had gone. A high smell was in the air. More missiles were coming. He stared at the black screen of the old monitors.
*Software,* he thought.
Simple programs had wrought this hell. He wondered at how they worked. He remembered the gravitas of clicking the order. Signing papers. It was all mundane.
He felt a great pain and he was off the ground. An explosion burned his ears. He was dead, he knew, but in death there is a time of in between feeling. A time of last living.
In that time he could feel nothing and he could see his life and all the lives that ever was and ever will be. It must be some dying trick of the brain, he thought, but in that in between time, you just go with the flow.
He saw everyone live, he felt the shared pool of emotions humans can experience. There wasn't much. No more than ten, maybe. But he felt how each man, woman and child felt those emotions. He felt the ordinary act of living multiply throughout infinite lives. Each experience was unique, but all cut from the same cloth.
As cliched as it seemed, he saw how *similar* they all were. How easy life was when stripped away from its unique excess. Happiness. Sadness. Insecurities. Confidence. He felt it all, and shared it in that final in between time.
*So easy we could live.*
And so easy they would die. So mundane.
*Who am I?* he thought.
No one knew his name. Only a handful of people.
*And so they die anonymously, done in by a nobody.*
It was so simple. They were so fragile.
And then the feeling faded. All feeling faded. And he was alone, surrounded by the others, bereft of life.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, then you might want to consider checking out my subreddit, r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories, including some un-prompted ones. Thank you for your support!* | 2018-01-21T21:54:09 | 2018-01-21T20:01:44 | 265 | 23 |
[WP] You are a SpaceX astronaut on Mars. The earth as you knew it was lost to a nuclear war between NATO and China/Russia. Luckily your mission was to construct the colony and you have enough supplies to survive indefinitely. It’s been 25 years since loss of contact. You hear a knock on the door.
Edit: Wow thanks for all the upvotes!! My inspiration for this was a picture of the earth exploding and an astronaut looking at it from the moon. I love all of the submissions! Everybody has a different take on it! | > *Knock Knock*
The sound rang through the capsule like a gunshot.
That couldn't be... no, it was just my mind running away from me again. The martian landscape was a barren wasteland outside of my own personal bubble of land.
The SpaceX Phoenix Project saw what was coming. The international dickwaggling, the Water Wars, the oceans, it was all pointing in one direction... and it wasn't good. While the countries' governments were struggling to keep their lights on and maintain a basic level of functionality the billionaires started throwing money at us to escape. Space no longer was the vision of a brighter tomorrow, just simply a survivable tomorrow.
My launch was supposed to be the first step in saving everyone.. but instead it was the start of the end. Someone... might've been India, America, the Ruskies... but someone thought that our launch from the central Pacific was a first strike attack. And well...
> *Knock Knock*
That can't be... must be another dust storm tossing rocks against the hatch. That lone metal door stood as the ceiling of my world. Phoenix realized that a surface colony would be much harder to maintain safely, so for the last 25 years I had been a little mole person living comfortably with my self-maintaining plantation out back.
Phoenix had the perfect idea. By having the five of us launch to set up the foothold, within a year the base would have grown to hold the first hundred people. The eChidna Diggers free to run autonomously were going to provide us with all the room and raw metals we'd ever need. And with the reprocessed biowaste from the farms we'd...
> *Knock Knock*
No... it can't be...
They're all gone...
Joni... Jerry... Janie...
They all died getting through the atmosphere, they're all gone... They can't be knocking, they're all gone. They can't be...
> *Knock KnockKnock*
I had to know. I had to look. The camera had broken years ago. I couldn't help it. When... she... I couldn't help it... I couldn't save...
No, I have to look. I sprinted up to the pod door into the airlock chamber.
> *Knock KnockKnock*
It was right there, it was real, I could hear it. I had to knock back, let them know I was coming
**KnockKnockKnockBangKnock**
> *Knock Knock*
I shoved on the old dusty spacesuit for the first time in decades. Ever since... she... the surface just I couldn't bear to see it, but now... maybe?
The airlock activated. But then... the air pressure didn't seem to change? Just some odd hissing and then, the door just popped open.
Above me stood a slight man smiling. A man just wearing a simple tunic and smiling. The sun shone over him and... I could hear birds chirping? He reached down a hand to pull me up to... a beautiful field of grass, on Mars?
*"영광스런 지도자의 이름으로, 나는 당신을 우리의 멋진 새로운 세상으로 맞이하고, 설탕 한 잔을 빌릴 수 있는지 묻습니다."*
The man spoke, but I understood none of it. He seemed to realize this and, after grabbing a tiny little box out of his pocket spoke into again, slower this time.
*"영광스런 지도자의 이름으로, 나는 당신을 우리의 멋진 새로운 세상으로 맞이하고, 설탕 한 잔을 빌릴 수 있는지 묻습니다."*
A metallic pinging noise came from the box followed by it saying:
"In the name of the Glorious Leader, I welcome you to our wonderful new world and ask if I can borrow a cup of sugar" | It didn't occur to me what it was at first. Maybe the generators vibrating or rocks falling onto the roof. The second time I realized; there was someone at the door.
Dropping my lukewarm coffee on the floor, my head snapped towards the large steel door 10 meters to my left. Silence.
Three knocks this time, louder, more impatient. Whoever it was knew I was in here, and they wanted to join me. My mind started conjuring and dismissing ideas of who, or what, could be trying to gain entry. Aliens? No. Mars couldn't feasibly support complex life. Besides, I would be the alien in this scenario. It must be a human, or something created by a human. But who? Did some survive the war? Perhaps it's one of the new androids? There was no one else on mars, to my knowledge.
Calming myself I stood up from my desk, and walked slowly and deliberately to the circular window in the steel door. It was possible to see outside through the pressurization lock, so I took care not to be visible from the window. Reaching the door, there were four more knocks, louder, almost desperate this time.
The small monitor to the right of the door showed a single space suit standing outside the outer door. The sun was low on the horizon and behind the suit, limiting visibility. It was quickly but errantly shifting its upper body, seemingly to change its gaze between the window and the camera looking down on it from the left. It stared into the camera and waved.
I ran through the possibilities. Worst case scenario whatever was out there intended to do me harm. More likely, a human looking for refuge. Maybe it's a woman... After weighing the guilt I would feel should I deny life saving refuge against my odds of being able to defend myself against a single assailant, I decided I would let them in. It was half loneliness, half horniness, but I made sure I factored in the unused but hopefully functional ion propulsion rifle to my right.
I spoke clearly through the intercom; "stand by, I'll disengage the outer lock". There was instant joyful movement in the suit, its arms flailing pointlessly while bobbing up and down in apparent celebration.
After the few seconds it took for the door to disengage and open, the suit stepped inside, the door slowly closing behind it. "Pressurizing lock". The now rare to my ears hiss of the cabin pressurizing bore down on me, prompting the realization that I could soon be speaking to the first human I've seen in 25 years. My mind was racing. The loneliness had nearly killed me in my first years here, and I had had to come to terms with the fact that I would die without ever seeing another face or speaking to another person. That I would never again sleep next to someone... The only thing keeping me going was the increasingly small chance of making contact with another person. It was a situation I had played in my mind countless times. I expected perhaps finding a radio broadcast or something on the sub-net. To have a person standing barely 4 meters away, it was overwhelming. I felt tears trickling down both sides of my face, an overwhelming sense of relief creeping through now shaking my body.
The hiss slowed, then stopped, then came the first words I'd heard spoken to me in 25 years.
"Matt Damon".
What?
"Matt Damon".
No.
The inside door had opened, and in stepped the suit. Bringing his arms up to his helmet he awkwardly twisted it to one side, then slowly pulled it upwards, revealing his face.
"MATT. DAMON". | 2018-03-05T05:48:19 | 2018-03-05T05:46:03 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Fortune Tellers compete in one on one duals on live tv. The two fortune tellers alternate by revealing hidden facts about a stranger's past or personality, and the stranger then judges which is more accurate. It's the championships, and this judge has got some secrets. | "The judge is actually, for all the meanness he pretends to muster up and dish out, a kind man," John, my opponent said. As always, almost like tradition, we would start off with good words about the judge and move on from there. After all, when only the fortune teller and the judge themselves are the ones who know, you need to be a little cautious. One secret a little too outlandish, and you'd be kicked out.
"He might be a kind man," I replied, voice low and hands on my for-show crystal ball, "but he's also a ruthless man when crossed. Should anyone lay a finger on his daughter, they will not live to see another day."
I turned to the judge, who nodded. He mouthed some name, likely his daughter's boyfriend. Typical reality TV. The live studio audience laughed. I scribbled down a query, 'may I reveal her name?'
Judge Jeffrey looked down at his stand, reading my message and nodding.
"After all, Candice is his precious little child." In truth, I simply knew the judge beforehand. Fortune telling is a tricky thing, and exhausting when you least expect it.
"True, true," my opponent agreed, loading his next shot to fire, "but we both know that this judge would *never* actually hurt anyone."
"Oh, he wouldn't?" I challenged, raising the glass of water to my lips and frowning. "Do you really think that he would never, in his entire life, go out of his way to hurt somebody?"
John raised his hands to his head, pretending to be in deep thought and concentration. What you need to know is that fortune telling, without all the pyrotechnics and acts like raising hands to one's head... doesn't do well for ratings. A monkey doing math is impressive. A monkey doing math while riding a unicycle for show is doubly so.
We looked to the judge, and the first point was awarded to John. My eyes narrowed.
"Are you sure?" I asked, trying to confirm and raising a hand to my chin. "Remember, the contract for this show? You are willingly putting your life on the line, as our judge here..."
I glanced over at him. He tugged at his collar and flashed an uncomfortable smile.
"...can hurt us if he wishes. So long as we don't predict that he does." After all, what good is a fortune teller if they can't even keep themselves alive?
"Ha! You think Judge Jeffrey, the kindest of souls, the man who even broke conduct and gave us bottled water as opposed to tap water," John laughed, taking a sip of his arrogance-fuelled drink, "would actually harm a fly? He'd die before that!"
"You know, they say that bottled water is actually just filtered tap water." The judge's buzzer rang out, another point lost for me. Nervous already?
John blinked. The penny dropped.
"What's the matter, John?"
"N-nothing, just... amazed that I'm already winning. Aren't you meant to be the most accurate teller in all of America, Alex? And here I am, already two points up with the judge on my side," he gloated, tugging at his collar just like the judge did. Poor guy, he was trying to look into Jeffrey's mind. He knew something was up, just no-
"The judge hates fortune tellers!" John bursted out.
"Because his daughter, Candice, was hospitalised the day after seeing one?" I said, grinning as the judge turned pale. John, still not quite catching on raised the glass to his lips, and paused. I thought he finally realised. But no, he just saw 'it' instead.
"The f-fortune teller told the judge," he stammered, looking to the judge who was almost trembling but showed no sign of stopping him, "that Candice would fall off a building that day...
John swallowed. "And on that day, Jeffrey ran through countless red lights to get to the school, where he found Candice and her boyfriend kissing on the top floor. But in his haste, he surprised her... and caused her to fall..."
He took another sip of water.
"Very clever, Jo-"
Another red buzz. Two down, one more and I was out.
"Jeffrey, you realise that even if I'm three down, you've lost." John stared.
"Wh-what else is there?"
I pointed to the water. I picked mine up. I poured it out.
"You're a smart man, John. The audience," I said, gesturing to them, "has been given tap water. You. Me. And Judge Jeffrey here, we've all been given bottled water by a man who has a daughter in hospital, and a medical bill he can't pay. Oh, and two of the vile creatures that caused — although really, we just tell you what has or will happen — his daughter's accident. And all of it..."
"But life insurance doesn't pay out!"
"That's a common misconception." My grin had spread up to my eyes. Poisoned water, in an act of kindness. This Jeffrey guy was good. I turned to the audience, crystal ball in hand and flicking the switch, the show must go on after all.
"As you all know, we tellers sign a contract. One that permits attacking us, should we not predict the attack. This weeds out all those foolhardy would-be tellers," I stated, common knowledge really, but I needed a build-up. "And leaves only the real ones behind."
"But even though the real ones have the advantage of clairvoyance-" John started turning red, unbuttoning his shirt as air became a scarcity. Jeffery just stood, staring down. "-they cannot predict everything. Least of all, when there's deception. Remember, Jeffery here wouldn't harm a fly. He'd die before that."
I turned my head to the camera. "Rewind a little earlier, just after I had said Jeffery was a ruthless man who would end those who touched his daughter. And get a lip reader or something."
The screen rewound and the words came out, one by one at half-speed.
*"...they will not live to see another day."*
On the recording, I turned to the judge, who nodded. He mouthed some name.
>In truth, I simply knew the judge beforehand.
"Alex." The computer spoke. My name.
***
Visit **/r/AlexUrwin** for more stories! I've seen your future, you're going to be happy if you do. Trust me, I avoided being poisoned. | "Ladies and gentlemen," said the announcer, "Please put your hands together and give a warm welcome to the first of our two finalists - **Mystic Martha!**" He dragged her name out as if he were announcing a boxer.
The crowd suddenly erupted as a cloud of smoke formed on stage and a figure coalesced within. There were whistles and holla's and even a "Marry me, MM!". A svelte lady strut out of the cloud and made her way towards a small table. Her long turquoise skirt billowed around her legs as she walked. She sat down and casually tossed her fox scarf around her neck. More cheers from the crowd. The table in front of her was covered in a silk cloth and held only a large crystal ball, and a microphone.
"Thank you," she said in a seductive half whisper, "for the *very* generous reception. My first prediction is that you are all in for an amazing night." The crowd stood and applauded until it was interrupted by the sound of a gong.
**Bonnnnnng**
"Ladies and gentlemen, the second of our finalists - **Seer Samuel!**"
It was a mixed response for the Seer; at least as many jeers as cheers. The tall man raised his arms as he came onto the stage, and fireworks erupted behind him. He wore baggy trousers and a necklace around his bare, hairy chest. His table was replete with a spread out packet of cards. The cards had strange symbols printed on them.
"Good evening," he murmured into the microphone in a thick Eastern European accent.
"Finally," said the announcer, "I would like to introduce our volunteer for tonight. A warm round of applause for... **Person A!**
A woman walked onto the stage and went over to a standing microphone. Her head was veiled by a thin, silk cloth.
Mystic Martha won the coin toss and opted to make the first tell. She stared deeply into her crystal ball, as her hands danced playfully around it. "Yes," she said, "Yes, I see many secrets in your past. Someone... someone close to you recently, died! Or maybe not recently, but at some point!"
There was a collective gasp from the crowd.
"Well, no not exactly. But sort of!" said Person A.
"Ah," Seer Samuel interjected, "Someone left your life - but they did not die! Yes, I see it in the cards." He made a show of moving his head down towards his cards and examining two in particular. "Yes, very clear, it is to me."
"That... that's right," stammered Person A, "But, how did you-?"
"I see something now," said Mystic Martha, sweat beginning to form on her forehead, "Someone close to you is here tonight! In the audience, or in the back. But they are here. *Right?*" There was desperation in her final word.
Person A nodded.
Martha continued, encouraged by the response, "Their name... it begins with... perhaps an A?" She glanced at her ball, and then at Person A, but she couldn't make out much behind the veil. "No? Well, maybe the first letter of their first name is found in the first half of the alphabet?"
"Well, sort of. But there's mor-"
"More than one person here with you tonight!" exclaimed a triumphant Seer Samuel.
"Yes!"
The crowd roared and Seer Samuel stood for a moment to give a curt bow.
Mystic Martha looked into her ball again. The sweat was pouring now. "Ah wait, there are secrets to be found. The people you are here with, there are secrets. Bad secrets! Hidden hatred!" If one had looked carefully at her hands, they might have noticed that two of her fingers were crossed.
"Ho-how could you know?"
Another cheer from the crowd who were now totally enthralled. People looked at those they were sat near with suspicious eyes.
"There's more," said Martha, "There is... erm... betrayal! Yes, I see it in the ball!"
"Yes!"
"Wait," said Samuel urgently, "The cards speak to me. Your brother is here- no wait your sister?"
"Erm, not as far as-"
"Wait, no," Sam continued, "Your parents? Yes, your parents are here!"
"That's right!"
Cheers.
"And you despise them... or perhaps that's too strong?" asked Martha.
"No, I'd say that's pretty accurate."
Gasps.
"You despise your parents... I see. They must have done something pretty bad to you," said Martha.
"They abused you as a child!" chipped in Samuel.
"No."
"Erm, well... not physically. But mentally!"
"I suppose so."
"They left you," said Martha, "when you were a child."
"Yes."
There were loud boos from the crowd, and they looked around to try and find the lady's parents.
"Oh dear," said Samuel reluctantly. "Your name, I think I see it in the cards. It's Sarah."
"Yes."
"Oh shit," said Martha. "Er... I'm sure your parents had good reason to leave. They had to pursue their own dreams." Martha stared into her ball. She wouldn't take her eyes off it now.
There were shouts from the crowd. ""You can't be right, Martha!", "Bastards, where are they?"
Martha looked at Samuel, and Samuel at Martha. "Oh shit," said Samuel. He no longer spoke in an accent. They turned their gaze to the woman on stage.
Sarah pulled off the veil that covered her face.
Both fortune tellers got out of their seats and fled the stage before the crowd had a chance to work out what had happened.
---
"Thank you for reading," said Mystic Martha, "I see your future very clearly, dear reader."
"As do I," said Seer Samuel, "You will visit this link: /r/nickofnight and maybe - no, *definitely*, subscribe!"
| 2017-01-14T02:58:56 | 2017-01-14T02:58:20 | 74 | 22 |
[WP] You're an immortal. She is a time traveller. Every now and then, you two pop into each other lives. | ######[](#dropcap)
*Please don't forget me.*
Whenever Kane woke up, it was always that voice, so soft and sweet, whispering those words in his ear. But when he would try to recall a face, he never could. Just warm, chocolate eyes.
You get sick of living when you're immortal. You get sick of the endless days and even more endless nights, and you start thinking, how can I die?
But dying wasn't so easy. He knew. He had tried quite a few times.
But it wasn't because he was indestructible, because he wasn't. But it was because whenever he thought he'd succeeded, he would be brought back. Somehow, like a miracle.
One time, he had tried to drive his car into a lake. As it filled up with water, he remembered just the blue surrounding him, until he stopped struggling. Until he was surely about to die. But the next day, he woke up washed up on the shore, the EMS truck lights flashing blue and red against his closed eyelids.
Girl dies in vehicle driven into lake, boyfriend survives, headlines wrote. The doctors would ask him about the girl. What girl? he would reply.
Another time, he tried to burn the house down. As he lay in his bed, enveloped by the fumes and smoke, he laughed. Hopefully, he would be reborn in the flames. As a mortal. As someone who had a timestamp for birth, and one for death.
He would wake up the next morning to headlines of a girl who died in a fire. Did you know her? Ava? the police would ask. No, he would reply. I don't recognize that name.
But he tucked it away anyway, deep into the recesses of his memory.
Why did it sound familiar?
It was one day, many years later, when the mystery would be revealed by a girl standing at his door, her hands wringing as she waited for him.
"Who are you?" He didn't know why, but he was disappointed when he saw her golden hair and eyes.
"You're Kane, right? Can we talk?"
She let herself into his house, and he followed. He had long ago accepted the strange things that happened.
"My name is Mia." She sat down on the couch. "I-I'm not supposed to be here. But I had to, for my friend."
"Who's your friend?" Somehow, he knew the answer before she said it.
"Ava."
"Who's Ava? That name...sounds familiar."
Mia's face looked pained. "Because it is." She brought out a picture of a girl with brown, wavy hair and dark, chocolate eyes.
*Please don't forget me.*
"Who is she?" he asked again, his fingers caressing her face in the photograph. He knew her, somehow or somewhere.
"She's a time traveler. As am I. We're part of an organization called the Erue. It's our job"--she gulped, then closed her eyes as if it pained her to say what came out next--"to save immortals." Her eyes shifted nervously. It was clear the information she had just given out was confidential.
He waited for her to continue, pulling out a mug and filling it with tea. The steam swirled upwards in soft curls as he placed it in her hands.
"You were Ava's assignment. And she was just supposed to help out. Just save you, but I think she realized early on that she couldn't. That you were desperate to die, and it's never a time traveler's obligation to trade lives, but she loved you, and..." she took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "...she died for you so many times."
He felt something twinge in his heart. Something that resembled an emotion, which he hadn't felt in a long time. Perhaps heartbreak.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"Because she's dying. When we're anointed as time travelers, we get a certain number of timelines in the multiverse where we're supposed to watch over our wards. She's spent every last one saving you. Dying for you." Her eyes were resolute. "I want you to come with me and go to before she became a time traveller. I want you to convince her to never become one."
He was silent for a moment.
"Okay," he finally said. He felt something tugging him to meet her. Who knew what it was? But if he met her, maybe he would know.
"Okay," Mia said, and sighed in relief. She grasped his arm, and they blinked out of the timeline.
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8h829z/wp_youre_an_immortal_she_is_a_time_traveller/dyilgxc/) has been posted below and part 3 is in the works! If there are more than 3 parts (which there likely will be, I think 4-5 parts total) the rest will be posted on my [sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlannaWu/) after part 3. Thanks for reading!
r/AlannaWu | Last time i saw her must have been in 1887. Before that in 1704. Every time Chloe disappeared again, i died a little bit inside. I never knew if she'd be back in a few hours, or a few hundred years.
Today is 5th of May, 2213. It's been 326 years since i last saw her. She was usually back within 200 years, so this time i was starting to get worried. If something happened to her somewhere, i'd never know. She isn't immortal, i've always told her, but it didn't stop her from going on wild adventures she always told me about.
Everytime i went outside, i was hoping i'd see her again. To smell her hair, hold her hands and kiss her.
I called a cab, because i needed to go buy some food. After a few minutes, a yellow capsule stops in front of me. It was wonderful seeing all the change throughout the years. I kinda miss riding the horse day and night to get from one town to another, now it was just a question of a few minutes. The back door opened and i got in. This capsule was an older model, because it still required a pilot. The back and the front were divided. A small red light started flashing from a screen in front of me. I put my hand to the light. "Scanning chip, please wait." Definitely an older model, the new ones automatically scanned the chip when a passenger entered. "Scan completed, please select your destination." I put in the adress and hit confirm.
"Going to Harbor Street Mall?" asked a female voice, "it's a shame they are taking it down in 70 years."
"Oh really? I don't really check the news so i wouldn't know." i answered.
"It's not in the news you idiot."
That was unexpected. I believed most of the people were kind these days.
"Why would you..."
It must be. Who else would this be.
The capsule took a turn and we landed on a field next to the main flightway. I got out. Then the front door opened. It was her, it was Chloe.
"Are you just gonna stare at me like that all day?" she asked.
I don't think i've hugged anyone this tight in all my years on Earth. This went on for about 5 minutes and i didn't want it to stop, beacause i knew she'd be gone again soon. She told me all about her adventures. She told me how she visited the cavemen again. Apparently she's some kind of godess to them and they even started painting her in caves. But she also spent a good amount of time in her normal life. She never told me which year she visits me from. For her, all the time between us seeing each other again was a few days, weeks or months at most.
10th of May, 2213
She's been with me for 5 days now, and i know she's leaving today. She always left after 5 days.
"I need to talk to you." she told me.
"What is it?"
I sensed that this might be something really bad. Over the years, i've learned to read people very well. She was about to cry.
"I... I don't know if we'll be able to see each other again," she said, her eyes filling with tears, "i only got a 100 time travel points and this, this is the last one."
"What do you mean? You can get more right?"
"You.. You can't, they only gave 100 to people who entered the program. There is no way to get more."
She showed me her watch.
"Time left - 01:42"
One minute and forty two seconds. It took me a few seconds to process this information.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" i said, also beginning to cry.
"I didn't know if i cou..."
I didn't let her finish the sentence. I've kissed her, for the last time. I looked into her sky blue eyes and stroked her beautiful brown hair.
"It's okay Chloe, i love you." i told her with my voice trembling.
"Time left - 00:28"
We hugged, both crying.
It was a weird feeling. One second, you are holding someone in your arms, feeling the heat of their body, their breath on your neck, and in the next, nothing.
She was gone. I stood in that spot the whole night.
That happened 1487 years ago. The pain never went away. I wish there was a way to end it all. | 2018-05-05T10:06:46 | 2018-05-05T09:47:43 | 308 | 196 |
[WP]All fights are now completely equal: If 20 guys with guns attack one guy with a sword they are at equal strength. The entire world had declared war on Tom. | All fights are now completely equal. It has always been this way since earliest human recorded history. Fights against animal, however, was not affected by this. If that was true, can you imagine the damage an 800 pound gorilla would take if they got tackled by an angry bee?
The UN alliance talk that usually took years was fast tracked. The declaration was announced once the last country’s paperwork was sort out.
“Finally” Tom muttered while listening to the announcement without any change in his expression. There wasn’t any visible change in his build, heartbeat or even breathing, but he is definitely the strongest human in existence currently. Though Tom can no longer be considered a “human” now; even a light jump would destroy everything below him.
“Sir, its time. Please follow me.” With his trusted subordinate leading the way, Tom walk toward the heavily reinforced Launchpad.
Tom took a deep breath; this will probably allow him to go days without breathing. With a posture that enables him to maximize his leg power, Tom focus his sight onto the fleet of un-identified ships beyond the moon and jumped.
| We can end this right here and now Tom. Limit the bloodshed and save the world.
You're surrendering?
No, we are proposing one final battle-
How will that be different than what we've been-
1v1
What?
We will send out one fighter. If you defeat them, you win. If you lose, we win.
Fuck that! Send in everyone!
Everyone?
EVERYOOOONE!!!! | 2017-02-19T01:08:47 | 2017-02-18T22:23:17 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] Last names are assigned at birth by an oracle, and 90% of people find themselves in a related profession. For instance "Miller" or "Baker." Your last name, "World-Ender," has made life rather difficult. | I looked at the man in the cage. He looked young. No one could’ve guessed that he had been here for close to two hundred years.
He lit a match and looked at the fire till it reached and scalded his fingers. He had always been fascinated by fire.
“Ray? You doing ok? You need anything.”
He smiled at me. “No thanks, Ryan. I’m good.”
Once again I was stuck by the simplicity and the happiness behind that smile. Here was someone living such a tough life and he was still smiling. His smile was infectious too as I found myself returning it.
“Let me know if you need any new books or…”
The smile was gone. There was an emotion there that I had never seen before. Fear.
He bent down, putting his ear to the ground.
“Ryan. There’s something wrong. Something’s coming.”
“What?”
“I can’t say yet. Our world. It’s in danger.”
And those simple words are what began humanity’s spiral towards destruction never seen before.
He hadn’t been wrong, of course. The world’s end was close. But despite his name, he wasn’t the one causing it. He was just the messenger.
The creatures started showing up randomly from inside the earth’s crust. They were indestructible. We threw everything at them. They brushed it off and continued their path of destruction.
And through it all I, Ryan Guardsman, saw Ray get sicker. I saw his pain.
“Ray! Tell me what I can do to help!”
He smiled at me. But this smile was weak and forced. “My roots run deep into the earth, Ryan. I can feel every fight over there.”
He pointed to a scar and continued. “Most recent one. I think you guys threw some sort of an explosive at them.”
“Nothing works against them. What are they?”
“I’m not entirely sure either. For all my connection to the earth I can’t see past a certain point. It’s a bit blurry. My best guess so far is that earth was created as a prison for these things. We, humans, just happened accidentally.”
“So how do you stop them?”
“We can’t. Unless…”
He looked at his hands as another scar magically appeared.
*****
I ran to my boss who took my idea to his boss and this went on further up the chain to whoever was really at the top.
For humanity to survive, the world had to end.
*****
Evacuations started immediately. The destination was still unknown but Ray had given us some pointers. He had been able to glean some more information about who trapped these monsters here, banishing them from their world. He pointed us in their general direction. The rest was up to fate.
Our hope was that beings these advanced would be able to see us coming and guide us.
Our biggest hope was that they would be merciful.
*****
I opened the cage lock.
He looked at me and hesitated.
“Ray. It’s ok.”
He took his first steps since he was a kid a couple of centuries ago and saw the first glimpse of the outside world. The world he was part of more than any of us. The world he was fated to end.
We sat watching the sun go down, neither of us sure what to talk about.
All I knew was that I was at peace. I knew what I had to do. My fate had been sealed when I had been named.
******
He had requested that he be allowed to sleep and recharge. While he had been let out of the smaller cage he was now trapped on this bigger one called earth.
The evacuations continued.
He woke up 40 days and 40 nights later.
He had slept in the middle of the institute’s garden. The earth and the plants seemed to realize that he was one their own. Vines had quickly covered him giving him his own green blanket.
He got up and looked right at me.
“Ryan? Why are you still here?”
“Nobody should have to die alone.”
“No! You have to go.”
“My purpose is here. I’m here to guard you. If you’re not there, what do i guard? I made this for you.”
I threw an arrangement of flowers towards him. I had intended it as a garland, but it had come out looking more like a wreath.
Appropriate I supposed.
“Thank you.” He smiled at me. A calm, peaceful smile this time. “What starts must always end.”
“So how do you do this?”
“I don’t have to do anything. I just think. The world will do it for me. These earth’s core was meant as an explosive to destroy them if they ever moved. But since so much time has passed they need a bit of a spark. That’s all I have to do.”
With his fingers, he dug a small hole in the ground. He lit a match and stuck it inside the hole. He covered it like one would a seed.
He poured his glass of water on top and smiled at me again. “It’s done.”
“And now?”
“Now we sit back and watch the sun set.” | "Please, please, Mr. World-Ender...please don't do this", the old man sobbed as the wrecking ball swung to the wall of the establishment, desttoying it like biscuit cracker.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Pasta-Kneader. But as per your contract-- failure to complete your rent at the end of this month would result in repossession of your property. There is nothing you can do. This lot will be turn into a parking lot for the new mall", I said coldly as the old man continued sobbing on his knees, seeing his hardwork, his restaurant went down to pieces-- Pasta World was no more.
I turned and walked away, not because I was heartless...but because I couldn't bear watching the man broke down like that.
It's not my fault I ended up with this job-- working for corporate people and high-end businesses, employing every shady and dirty tactics in the book to take over other businesses like Mr. Pasta-Kneader's.
I got back to my car, sighing deeply. Taking a folder sitting on the passenger seat I opened it, showing a list of every businesses carrying the name "something" World.
As my name implicates-- World-Ender, destroying worlds is what I do best. I hate this. I really, really hate this. But what can I do? I was born to do this...
Pfft you should see the reaction when I ended Disney World...I had become public enemy #1 since then.
I scratched off Pasta World from my list. At that moment my fear came true...it was the last of my list. After years of ending many businesses, with no more "Worlds" to end...it's finally time to end the actual world, the planet itself.
I had been dreading this moment, this finality all my life. Growing up I knew it would come to this. So when I found this loophole, that I could instead destroy these businesses, I found a semblance of hope, and I played this card I was dealt with as best as I could.
I hate that it had come to this...my namesake, this curse. Why oh why must I be the one to do this? Why can't it be some ruthless dictator that had to be burdened with this cruel destiny? Why had it to be me, a meek boy from the midwest?
I closed the folder hesitantly. My eyes closed, my breathing heavy, my emotion stirred...it will take many, many years-- but eventually it will happen as I can't escape my name.
"Right then....where do we start?", I muttered to myself. My mind already imagining the crumbling of modern society, the destruction of civilization itself, the end of the world-- my main goal.
*Ring ring*
My deep thought was jolted by the ringing of my phone....an unknown number. But as usual, my work is from word of mouth-- my clientele are complete strangers to me.
"Hello?", I answered.
"Hi, Mr. World-Ender?", the other voice asked.
"Speaking..."
"Hi, my name is Janice. I work for Lawyer & Lawyer law firm. We are interested in employing your service, Mr. World-Ender", said the young woman.
"Oh? Regarding what precisely?", I asked, intrigued.
"I can't disclose the case before you agree to sign a contract with us. But what I can say is we are currently fighting a case against The Happy World aged care facility and..."
"I'm in", I cut her off.
She paused for a moment, seemingly taken aback at my enthusiasm.
"Oh...I...great!", she finally yelped.
"Send me the address of your law firm and I'll be there as soon as I can", I said ending the call.
I leaned back, smiling. I chuckled lightly before bursting into a full on laughter.
You might think I'm a heartless bastard-- feeling joy in taking down an aged care facility. But from my point of view, the alternative would have even worse result.
I opened my folder again, adding the Happy World aged care facility to my list.
My mind wandered to endless papers, corporate takeover, heartless practice, but you know what? Compared to nuclear destruction and mass genocide, I very much prefer that.
r/HangryWritey
Edit: a few word corrections | 2021-06-19T17:55:46 | 2021-06-19T17:19:39 | 616 | 346 |
[WP] All the alien species in the intergalactic council excelled in one way or another to climb through survival of the fittest. So why are humans, a species with average physique, so hard to deal with? And what the hell is persistence hunting. | It was supposed to be a simple task. Deliver the Intergalactic Council's rejection message, destroy the human's primary starbase, and return home victorious. Thus far, they'd only succeeded on the first goal, and even then just barely.
Despite the humans' limited technology, it had been decided to send a message by using a Dreadnaught class battlecruiser, the *Vanquisher* to deliver the message. Even if they humans decided to fight, there was no way they could possibly defeat its might. Except that's just what they were doing, albeit very slowly. The moment the rejection message had been delivered, the humans had struck. Not, like the Council's tactics suggested, by hitting them with their heavy weapons. Instead it was a small transport, one of many that had been flying around the massive warship on their way here and there, seemingly innocuous, that had suddenly veered off course and crashed into the starboard hyperlight pod, exploding with what could only have been a massive bomb. The damage was minimal, but the effect was enormous. The FTL drive was unusable, preventing the *Vanquisher* from leaving the system other than with its sublight engines.
That explosion must have been the signal to attack, because then the humans forces had come from everywhere. And while individually they could do minimal damage, they quickly had taken the primary cannon offline, long before it could be brought to bear on the starbase they had been tasked to destroy. They had certainly taken heavy losses, doing so, but without their main gun, the starbase was just too big to destroy quickly enough to justify the damage the *Vanquisher* would inevitably take. And so, with their second objective unobtainable and their third flat out gone, the *Vanquisher* had turned around, heading away from the planet as fast as it could, in an attempt to get far enough away to be able to make repairs and report back to the council for reinforcements.
That was 3 days ago.
Just as they had expected the humans to react the way other denied members had in the past when their application was denied, they expected the humans to watch them go, taking pot shots until they got out of range. Instead, a hastily assembled fleet of human ships, large and small, had pursued the *Vanquisher* \- **pursued a Dreadnaught!** \- continuing to attack with whatever weapons they could bring to bear, preventing any chance at repairing the FTL drive. At first the humans continued to take heavy losses, as the massive warship's defenses did their best to eliminate its pursuers. But over time, those attacks took their toll on the *Vanquisher*, so that it found itself in its current position.
"Incoming transmission from the humans, sir," the *Vanquisher*'s communications officer spoke up, sounding a little shaken. "They're offering terms of surrender."
"Finally given up, have they?" asked the first officer, giving the Captain a smirk.
"N-no, Captain," stuttered the comm officer, handing a printout to the Captain. "They're offering to let us surrender to them."
The Captain grabbed the printout, read it, and stared. Then he sat heavily in his command chair and closed his eyes, his posture taking on a defeated nature.
"You can't be serious!" exclaimed the first officer. "Let me see that!" He grabbed the printout from the Captain and read it.
\-----
TO THE CAPTAIN OF THE VANQUISHER: IT HAS BEEN THREE DAYS SINCE WE CHASED YOU AWAY FROM OUR PLANET. IT COULD BE DAYS, WEEKS, MONTHS OR EVEN YEARS, BUT WE WILL CONTINUE TO HUNT YOU UNTIL YOU EITHER SURRENDER OR YOUR SHIP DISINTEGRATES AROUND YOU FROM OUR ATTACKS. YOU MAY BE ABLE TO RUN, BUT RIGHT NOW YOUR SHIP IS CRIPPLED AND WE CAN KEEP UP THIS PACE FOREVER. HOW'S THAT FOR SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST? YOU HAVE 2 HOURS BEFORE WE BEGIN OUR NEXT ATTACK, AND DON'T THINK WE HAVEN'T NOTICED THE GAP IN YOUR DEFENSES. WE AWAIT YOUR RESPONSE.
\-----
It was a very surprised intergalactic council fleet that met the \*Vanquisher\* 15 light years outside the human system, 5 days after it had first gone in. When it got within communications range, it was not the Captain and his crew that appeared on the video, but a number of humans. Before anyone could interject, the human in command spoke.
"I am Admiral Hailey Tran of the Human Confederation, and on behalf of the Federation I claim membership in the Intergalactic Council by \*\*Right of Conquest!\*\*. | A deep, growling thrum emanated from Commander Gruey’s alien throat. The rest of the various species that made up the round table of the Galactic Council shrunk back as he exploded.
“Why haven’t they surrendered yet!” The enormous, flabby commander growled, slamming a fat fist on the board table, “We’ve got all of the galaxy’s media demoralizing them, our best military species exterminating them in the millions, and all of their financial resources completely drained. And yet… ”
“Calm down, Commander Gruey,” A wiry, tentacled alien said in a smooth tone, “The fact remains that they are objectively weaker than we are. We have many, many more cards left to play, especially since we’re the ones making the galaxy’s rules. There’s no need to fear the little gnats on a tiny dirt planet.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one fighting them, Treasurer Barbaol.” Gruey said, “Do you have any idea what *guerilla warfare* is? Their ships swoop out of nowhere, fire their anti-spacecraft rockets, and leave just as fast. Our losses are triple, even ten times more than theirs!”
“I’m fighting them too,” Barbaol said, “We all are. The humans are still holding onto their financial stakes in the galactic markets despite our enormous efforts against them. We’re suffering more than fifty percent losses on our financial resources since they keep fighting instead of giving up.”
“No need to worry,” An alien piped up from the low-ranking, back end of the table. He slid an antique, box-shaped speaker to the middle of the table.
“What is this, Roskaw? How is this going to solve the Human Problem?” Gruey said, picking up the speaker and turning it about.
Roskaw smiled, revealing rows of razor-sharp, golden teeth, “A human communicator with the highest clearance levels and twenty light years of range. We can infiltrate their networks and control their information, crippling them for sure.”
The rest of the board members perked up slightly.
“Well, turn it on, let’s see how useful it is then,” Gruey said, sliding it back to Roskaw.
Roskaw fiddled with it and it turned on. The alien board members leaned in, straining to hear human voices in the static as Roskaw adjusted its frequency.
*Ksshhhhhhhhhh.. We don’t*… *Ksshhhhh*
“Wait, stop,” Barboal said, “Turn it back. I heard something.”
Roskaw dialed it back slightly…
*Ksshhhhhh*.
“Alright boys listen up! We might have lost some, but they’ve lost more.” The slightly static voice coming from the speaker sounded like a young man. Gruey scoffed as he heard a chorus of cheers in response. This is what they were up against? What a rambunctious, undisciplined lot.
The speaker continued, “If any of you need to quit now, we understand. You have families to provide for, and this war is risky and you might lose it all. However, for me, I don’t care if I lose everything. For me it’s PERSONAL!”
Cheers, louder this time, came in response.
“Gruey and the rest of the Galactic Council stole everything from my family! They play around with lives like they’re nothing! So when they beg us to surrender what do we say?”
Enthusiastic responses overlapped each other.
“...make them pay… ”
“...suck an anti-spacecraft rocket… ”
“...toast them alive in their boardroom…”
The aliens looked at each other, warily. Gruey scowled.
The human captain’s voice spoke over them, “We ride at dawn! We’re going to suffer more losses, but we’re not gonna start bawling and fold up to their schemes! We’re gonna HOLD THE LINE!”
The response was unanimous, “HOLD THE LINE! HOLD THE LINE! HOLD THE LINE!”
Roskaw turned the speaker off. The board members looked at each other tiredly in silence.
Gruey scratched his head with a flabby hand, “Humans, are so annoying to deal with…” | 2021-02-04T10:09:41 | 2021-02-04T09:34:37 | 350 | 188 |
[WP] You live in an alternate universe where a person's worst fear becomes a tangible threat in the dark. The rich possess ever-illuminated mansions while the poor conserve power for the dreaded night hours. Just as the sun is setting, your entire town's power grid fails. | The all too familiar sound of all of the generators in my neighboring alleyways powering on, it must almost be time for the darkness. The sun should be fully down in about 5 minutes. People didn’t play around with the dark, most people just see clowns and pitch darkness itself, ya know, normal fears. Every now and again you’ll hear of a streetlight out and a grizzly bear mauling someone or a shark eating someone in the middle of a road even though they’ve been extinct for decades but stuff like that doesn’t happen too often as no one in their right mind doesn’t conserve enough energy to make it through the darkness. A buddy of mine’s fear is mice so as you can imagine I like to fuck with him as often as possible. As I’m sitting in thought the lights flicker. The darkness should be here any second I thought, all of the incoming power surges are rough on the grid. Another flicker and then a loud boom from somewhere off in the distance. Complete darkness followed by an eerie silence. Blood currying screams start to pour in. The power is out, judging by the screams it’s at least everywhere surrounding me for at least a couple of blocks. Terrible noises of animals I’ve never seen, hisses of giant serpents and other creatures fill my ears. A slow smile creeps across my face. I look to my left in pitch darkness and can make out the faint outline of my fear, right where he always was. We had come to terms years ago, there were some perks to being blind in this hellhole: now it’s everyone else’s turn. | Panic slowly erupted through the town as the power generators faded out. Like a 1960’s television set powering out. Light was nowhere to be found, and the panic slowly faded to terrorised silence.
“Oh no..” I gasped, the fear slowly building inside me. The night has come, and with no light, our fears come true. My fear comes true.
Quiet tapping in the darkness reveals the truth. Like chairs being dragged across the floor, I screamed as the silhouette hung over me, its scrawny shape revealing my darkest fear. The figure moved across the room, shaking its giant head as it teases at attack.
Noises could be heard from the attic above my bedroom, my bed looking across from the hallway, the hatch to the attic looming above. I knew it was there, I knew it was open, but I was blind as to what now stood under it, conjuring my death....
My biggest fear....
A Ladder.
| 2019-01-17T13:19:47 | 2019-01-17T11:59:08 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Dear diary, I’ve been feeding this creature that fell from the sky for a few days. It strangely likes to drink water, the liquid we use to fuel cars. I noticed a patch on its suit today that read “NASA”. I’ll ask it tomorrow what that means. If that’s it’s name. | Three days after his fall, NASA still hadn't spoken to me.
It quickly became clear that this creature was unaccustomed to the ways of my people. We Quelbrigs have been here for millennia, and most neighboring planets are at the very least aware of us. But not NASA.
I’d managed to piece together the sounds of its name from what little English I knew. Remnants of the ancient language were peppered across my planet, but I hadn’t studied it, or its origins, extensively. The creature appeared perturbed when I called it "NASA," but it hadn't given me any alternatives, so there it was.
I'd tried all of the traditional Quelbrig hospitality - a plate of pickled tentacles made with my grandmother's recipe, a performance of our national anthem by the neighborhood quartet. Still nothing.
NASA began to draw crowds. I peered outside my PlexiDome each morning to find a sea of curious, gray Quelbrig heads trying to catch a glimpse of the creature. For the time being, I'd put NASA up in my guest-pod. It didn't seem to want to go outside anyway.
I decided to pay a visit to the town historian, Sleeg. As soon as I mentioned NASA, he perked up.
"I was hoping you'd stop by, Meeko," he said, pulling a miniscreen out of a drawer. "That creature you're currently housing is a 'human.'"
"A what?" I asked.
"A human. Relatively harmless - although, as a species, they have a history of infighting. At some point, many millennia ago, there was a mass exodus to other planets. This planet - ours - became inhospitable to them for a number of reasons. I wouldn't ask NASA about it; it was all rather traumatic. But perhaps you can ask him what led him back here...to the planet he once inhabited."
"How?" I asked. "He doesn't speak a lick of Quelbrigese."
"Have patience, young Meeko," Sleeg said with a grin.
Over the next few days, I made some half-hearted attempts at grunting before I realized that pointing and gesturing would do the trick. I mimicked NASA's fall from the sky with my fingers, then tilted my head to indicate a question. NASA sighed, stood up, and walked to our refrigeration pod. He pointed at it, then pointed to himself. Ah. Cryogenic freezing, perhaps.
NASA then made an explosion noise with his mouth and repeated the gesture of his fall to Earth.
I shook my head in dismay. Whatever act of self-preservation the humans intended had clearly gone terribly wrong.
I returned to Sleeg's hut every night to learn every shred of information I could. I learned about the technological skeletons humans had left behind, and how we'd built our society from them. I learned about their homes, their families, their mating. There wasn't as much as I'd have liked, due largely to the antiquity of the original recordings, but it was enough.
I learned that our planet's air was safe for humans to breathe, so I allowed NASA to remove its helmet - sorry, *his* helmet. I let him step into our cleansing pod. He started to eat more of our food, albeit begrudgingly. He stepped outside and went for walks, paying no mind to the stares of my neighbors.
On the nineteenth day after NASA's fall, I turned out all the lights in the house and waited for him to come back from his walk. Then I turned them all on to reveal a small group of us, standing in the living room, who yelled "SURPRISE!" in broken English.
NASA covered his mouth with his hands, but couldn't hide the smile bursting onto his face. He stepped over to look at the Quelbrig sweetcakes I'd prepared, which spelled out "WELLCOM HOME" in icing.
He took a bite of the sweetcake, and I saw him laugh for the first time.
As he smiled and greeted everyone, cheerily gesturing and nodding, I was fully convinced that NASA would acclimate to our ways. Perhaps I'd learn his name; perhaps he'd learn our language. Perhaps he'd move into his own pod and become one of us.
But for now, being here - with the scent of sweetcakes and the sound of multispecies laughter filling the room - was enough. | The creature had a funny wonky sorta suit. It was as white as a bleached bone and as complicated as a madman's contraption.
When the creature saw me, I heard it mumble in a rather unfamiliar language. For me, it sounded harsh and made a lot of '*ts*' and '*ch*' sounds... I would rather not hear it sing, if possible.
As the days went by, it seemed to be in a state of utter discomfort. When I tried to take off its odd suit, it began to flail around – seemingly dying – so I began to understand it bit by bit.
First, I've realised that the creature could not live outside of its suit. Most likely it had several atmospheric requirements to live normally, which was not suited to our carbon-dioxide-dense air. Indeed, further testing with a basic sensor showed that the creature produced carbon dioxide and needed oxygen to sustain itself.
To accommodate it, I borrowed my neighbour's air conditioner unit and supplied the creature with a reliable supply of oxygen through a cheap hose. It seemed to be a bit more comfortable after that, its skin looked a bit healthier and less pale too.
Second, I've discovered that the creature was somewhat intelligent. It was capable of communicating, evident by the vocal sounds it was attempting to make. When all else failed, it began to make signs and gestures. It decided to also mimic my voice. Over the course of a couple of days after my first attempt to talk with it, I could vaguely make out a few broken words being said. But for some reason, the creature had more affinity with the rather... vulgar words. Could it be a cultural or genetic affliction? I would have to look into it further.
Lastly, the creature also had basic needs for food. During the first day, I offered the creature some of my leftover food. Yet the creature seemed resistant to the offering. Thoughts of hostility and maybe suspicion crossed my curious mind, so I demonstrated that the food were safe for consumption. Again, the creature refused.
But the next day, I saw that it had dropped a bottle of sort. The bottle contained a clear liquid, which somewhat tasted familiar (yes, I did the one thing I thought would yield the fastest result to quench my wonder).
The creature evidently ate fuel. So, in an attempt to form trust and goodwill, I pumped out a few litres of the thing out of my hovercar into canisters. When I poured a bottle-full of the fuel into its own bottle, it plugged the bottle to its suit.
"What a fascinating little creature," I thought to myself every now and then.
Weeks had passed and the creature had begun to look... bored. Its face seemed to exude no emotion and I had discovered the creature to look emptily at the window outside.
Again, like before, the thought of goodwill made me consider taking it out for a walk. Maybe it'd be nice to see how it would react seeing the other folks around the neighbourhood with their own fascinating pets. After all, a literature I've read years ago did say that pets love to interact and play with each other.
But something about the creature had me wary. The creature was clearly intelligent, unlike most of the pets my neighbours owned. Yet the creature had made no attempts to communicate past greeting me or asking for food. To my knowledge, the creature had not even attempted to get itself out of its white suit. Yes, the suit had kept it alive for so long but I wondered if the creature had hygienic needs as well.
If anything, I should force the bloody thing to bathe! But then again, it might just die off like a weak flower in a desert.. | 2020-10-11T07:44:33 | 2020-10-11T07:08:02 | 5,429 | 132 |
[WP] You're a member of the Z-team. Your team is who they send in when teams A-Y have failed, but that's never happened before. But to everyone's horror, that day just came. | Everyone has heard of the B-team. A sign of indignation for many, it stands as a symbol of failure for most, that they are not good enough to be what the world relies on when in need. Likewise, the same thing can be said for the C team, then the D team. Eventually things go so bad a Z team is established. This is what the public is aware of.
But there is one truth that you must know. From the D team onwards, every other team is specialised to handle a separate kind of issue, savants to be exact. In fact, to even qualify for the other teams is an honour, as you possess a skill so specialised even the A team can’t beat you at it. E team specialises in alien threats, F team handles hard to defeat supervillains, G team specialises in killing defunct God Units. A team only goes out the most when it comes to reconnaissance, but are recognised the most since the other teams work discreetly. Indeed, such is the hierarchy for the teams established in the World Order Magistrate. A to D in general fields, with A at the top, to D below, and E-Y specialising in situations A team seems too specialised for a generalist team to deal with.
That’s right. E-Y.
What about Z you ask?
The Z Team……..is a team held by monsters. Gods wearing human skin. In any situation, no one ever wishes for…….them to come out. People who defy the laws of thermodynamics, people dragging souls out faster than any occult practitioner, people who aren’t….people. The Z Team goes by another name in the World Order Magistrate.
Azathoth. Sleeping agents meant to never ever wake up, never use their abilities. Banished to a life of normalcy, as those who know of their existence pray they never wake up.
Unfortunately, today is the day we have to wake up. The sky is gone, the sun has inverted. Something proclaiming itself the Great Old One has arrived, flipping the universal order on its head.
“Wah’gnaaal Fh’tagn, Gu’Nark’Luin!” It proclaims, its roar destroying buildings, flipping landscapes.
Here, we stand, our gaze resolute. With a flash of light, the being only shrieked, as tears started to rip into the air around us.
“We have awoken, this dream must end”
“This universe does not exist”
This universe does not exist
This universe does not exist | General, we have confirmation Y-Team is down! I repeat, Y-Team is down!
My God, this can’t be! Are you certain all our nuclear powered T-Rex’s are dead?!
Affirmative! General, the enemies are approaching our base. What are your orders, sir?
A–Y Team all failed, which leaves… No! No, they’re too dangerous!
They just took out our sentry. We’re running out of time, General!
(Grunts!) If it comes to this… Code Z! I repeat, Code Z!
B-but, sir, Code Z is—
We have no order choice! Deploy Z-Team now!
Y-yes, sir! Code Z, prepared Z-Team for combat deployment! Code Z, prepared Z-Team for combat deployment!
Come on… Come on…
Sir, Z-Team is at the shutter gate! They’re awaiting your go ahead.
Lord, forgive me for what I must do… Activate Z-Team—unleash the Twitter mob!
They’re tweeting, sir… They’re tweeting… The toxicity level is through the roof! And… canceled! Our enemies are canceled and thus lost their livelihood! Their army now have zero combatant! We won! We are saved, General!
No… No, this is merely the beginning.
Sir, the mob aren’t stopping! They’re still tweeting! They’re canceling our leaders, you—and me!? The Z-team is committing friendly fire, General, and they’re not stopping!
(Sigh) It was an honor serving with you, gentlemen, but by this time tomorrow… none of us will have a job. May God forgive me for what I’ve unleashed upon this world. | 2022-11-07T00:03:44 | 2022-11-06T18:23:05 | 108 | 31 |
[WP]”Why aren’t you scared? I’m a vampire— I could kill you!” “So could literally every other human, you’re not special.” | The thing about sentient monsters, and especially immortal ones, is that they're *all* filled with ego. Some of them are better than others--more akin to filling a vessel, rather than filling a balloon--but no sentient thing lives for hundreds of years with being smug about it. It is one the unspoken weakness of their kind.
Which is why, here and now, I am so calm. Here, in a castle against my will, with a vampire stalking the room, attempting to taunt it's food. I am calm, bexause it needs this game, just as much as it needs blood, to live. This has been going on for some time, now, and the creature's wits seem to be near it's end.
"Why do you not fear me? I am the brood of the night, the drinker of blood, a vampire--I could kill you in a single swoop!"
"Yes, as could any normal man. Or even a particularly lucky or talented child, for that matter. You are most certainly not special in that regard."
The undead screeches at me, baring it's teeth.
"Come now, we have been at this for a half-hour. If those fangs didn't scare me the first time, they certainly wouldn't scare me now."
Ah, there it was. The eyes are beyond fury, into something primal. The ego is well beyond bruised; the inflated balloon has been popped. The creature is rearing back, readying a lunge.
I sigh, and give a dismissive wave. "You might as well end this. Otherwise I'll die simply of boredom."
The creature screeches again, and lunges for my throat. As it does, I smile, and reveal the oaken stake from behind my back. It's trajectory has already been made, and by the time it's intelligence has overtaken it's ego, I have already placed the stake into it's heart, further pushed by gravity. It lands atop of me, though I am quick to push it off and continue my work. I produce a vial of holy water, splashing upon the beast with a quick prayer. I then sever the head from the body, and hold it until it all turns to ash.
"Of course, dear vampire, it helps not being afraid when one is the hunter, and not the prey." | Why would I be scared of death ? I've been dead before... Twice... I'm totally over it. Actually you should be scared, taking on a former special forces operator that has nothing to lose... You can strike me, but I'll have my revenge... You know what they say about revenge. You better be ready to dig two graves... I'm willing to dig two graves... I did that before, and I'm not afraid of doing it again...
You say I'm not special. That shows your arrogance as a vampire... You think you're just about to take on a human. But actually, you're taking on an entire army. I can disassemble and reassemble an m4 rifle before you find your right key to get into your home...
You're faster, and definately stronger than me. But that's not everything. My whole life I've trained for kill. I'm like a killing machine, doesnt matter the range. Just because of you're vampire, you think you can end my life in close quarters. You actually have no chance against me in long range terms. There's a reason why I was called Ghost of Pripyat. You'll realize what happened to you only when you see a bullethole on your chest.
So if you still sure you wanna take me on, be sure that you'll end my life. Don't make a mistake like leaving me alive, if I'm alive after the conflict you're dead. Yes, I have a deathwish... I'm tired, just wanna end this...
You'll feast on my blood because you're starving ? Ah, alright then... Let's get evil... | 2022-06-08T06:11:31 | 2022-06-08T05:05:56 | 1,591 | 17 |
[WP] You often get mistaken for your twin sister. Though it never really bothered you, now that she's become one of the most feared criminals in city, it's starting to become a problem. | Life is hard when the entire world is out to get you and tedious when you’re stuck in the crossfire.
Six-shot Sam might be the most ruthless mob boss in the state, but she’ll always be my little sister (no matter how much she objects, a 4 minute difference makes her younger) and we’ll always love her, even if we don’t exactly approve of her life choices. The problems arise when people have trouble telling Samantha the Mob Boss from Avery the MIT graduate.
The cops learned pretty fast, although brash rookies occasionally tell me they’re “keeping an eye on me” ,as if that would scare Samantha anyways. The FBI were, thankfully, pretty good at actually investigating things, and only planned one stake-out on me before realizing I was the wrong person. I’ll always remember the look on that poor agent’s face when I walked up to his car and told him he was blocking a fire hydrant.
The main problem is regular people. Getting a job worth my degree is hard when every employer asks why your face is next to a story about two dead cops on the news. I doubt I’d have gotten my current job at Novozymes Biopharma if Samantha hadn’t gotten a new scar across her cheek two weeks ago. All of my coworkers looked twice when they first saw me and some of them still don’t trust me, but the job uses my skills and pays well, so I’m happy,
Criminals occasionally threaten “my boys” with violence if they don’t “quit musclin in on our turf”. That’s a direct quote by the way, his two body guards even looked confused at him. It’s never fun trying to explain to the dictionary definition of dumb muscle that no, I’m not the person you’re looking for, now please let me eat my bagel in peace. Samantha offered to have a few of her goons shadow me in case anyone tries something, but I said I could handle it. That didn’t stop her, of course, but Bruce and Calvin scare off most wannabe super criminals as they try and fail to look inconspicuous, so it all works out.
All in all, we love Samantha and, even though she’s caused a few unwanted ripples, she’s still part of the- hang on... Seriously? Another bug? Oh for the love of- SNAP
**[TRANSMISSION LOST]** | Me and my sister get called out for a lot of nonsense. It started when we were 9. As the smart one of the family I knew to cross my T's and Dot my I's. However my twin sister always had the idea in her head that when it came to me and my straightforward ways, I had to be thrown under the rug.
Snap to 20 years later, my sister and I had separated at that point and we took off on our own paths. She became the bane of everyone existence while I maintained a job as a Secretary for an esteemed law firm. My boss came in to my office today and handed me a manilla envelope with red marker drawing out the words, for your eyes only and dropped it on the desk in front of me.
I openned the parcel and found that my face was on the picture. Scars all over and gave the impression there was nothing I couldnt do. My boss said, "Do you know anything of this?". Of course I had no clue but it all dawned on me that the woman in the photo was my sister. I knew right away what had to be done.
Later I went home and openned the box that had the detonator in place. I pulled it out knowwing what was going to happen. I pressed the button that said ignite, and I waited. Not even a second later, I heard a faint pop in the room adjacent to mine. My sister's headless torso exploded in the kitchen next to mine and I am now facing time in jail for 20 years for manslaughter. At least she couldnt hurt anyone else anymore.
If you want to fill in the blanks between this story as this is my first time ever writing one, let me know. and ill do my best. | 2019-11-03T06:37:15 | 2019-11-03T06:30:41 | 996 | 17 |
[WP] You are a third generation guard for the holy immortals, and you have finally have received the greatest accolade that they can bestow on your kind... "Good boy", says your immortal master. | Gunner had been a canine of humble birth. No paper distinguished him amongst his species and at his lowest point, when he was barely three winters old, he had been subjected to a dungeon. He knew he could be a nervous creature, but never understood why it earned him a cell.
Immortals ventured in and out of the cells all day. Until one day, a not-quite-adult immortal stopped outside his bars. Her fingers poked through and Gunner approached slowly, reverently. With a few licks, he heard the sound of the immortals' rich laugh. When he looked up again, she was gone.
She was leaving!
Gunner threw himself against the bars and, in his most shameful moment, called out for her. He simply could not let her leave yet. He was so lonely and simply wanted to serve as his family had in the past.
Just as he was about to lay down, the immortals' face appeared at his cell again. She had returned! Just to see him! He whined forgiveness, but was overjoyed.
"Mom, can we get this one?" Gunner did not understand the Immortal tongue, but he could see her thin fingers pointing at him.
Gunner smiled to himself as he remembered the beginning of his time serving this immortal family. The one called daughter had grown so much since then, even though she had already been almost full grown. He loved her so and couldn't help but smile when she approached.
Now, they sat together in the back of the great machine. She was hugging him very closely. It was unusual, but not unwanted. Nothing made Gunner happier than affection from his master.
They stopped at the Temple of Many Smells. Many animals came through here and some did not leave.
The Immortals' dressed as doctors lead them into a small room. They spoke amongst themselves and daughter collapsed onto the floor next to Gunner. She sobbed into his fur, hiccuping as she spoke in her unknowable tongue.
"You're such a good boy, Gunner." His name! He recognized that. And the ancient praise! She had said "good boy", it was undeniable.
The doctor was doing something to Gunner's paw, but he barely noticed as he tried to comfort his immortal. She just kept saying what a good boy he was, but perhaps he was dreaming. He was starting to feel very tried and he had grown old by now. As he drifted off to sleep, he could still hear her calling "good boy"...
EDIT: Omg, my first ever award! Thank you so much! <3 | Spot returned the orb of Ru-bar to the holy immortal. He had carried the foul tasting apostasy in his mouth, and dropped it again in front of the holy immortal. Despite the fact they kept throwing it away due to the suffering it caused them, he repetedly brought it back, to torment them further; He was sure of the distress it caused them.
'"Good boy, they said... the highest accolade he could receive from the infernal beings, words that let him know he had overcome their will. The immortal crumpled beside him, grasping at Spot's fur for the suffering the orb brought upon the timeless bring. Fido grinned, laughing internally at the fall of the holy master.
The defeated being finally gathering his strength, retreiving the orb, as Spot forced him to return it to his palace, where it's foul oder would continue to torment. Tomorrow, he would torment further by telling them he would not bring it back if they threw it tomorrow. Yet he would bring it back. The immortal idiots never saw it coming each time.
He knew when they chose him from the remnants of his pack, he was destined to finally rise above the holy masters, and reclaim canines' rightful place of rulers of the world.
Many dogs would follow their captors till day of death, trying to learn their secrets. Alas, even the most famous of dogs, persistent well beyond, were never able to discover how to aquire the fabled source of humanity's power that they spoke often of... this 'mohneh'. He had heard them fret over losing it yesterday, so he knew he was making progress.
For untold centuries, dogkind had struggling under the yoke of humanity. But he *would* learn their secrets and take head of the continuing rebellion.
As the holy immortal returned to their palace, they banished the second sun, and darkness plunged across the landscape. Spot went to his humble domicile at the other end of their domain to plan his next move. | 2020-09-23T09:50:32 | 2020-09-23T08:02:34 | 355 | 143 |
[WP] You finally came up with a plan to get rid of the hero. You would go undercover and fall in love with his civilian identity before breaking his heart and killing him at his emotional lowest. A couple months later, you have experienced a complication in your plans. You’re pregnant.
Change around genders, POV, etc to suit your story. | Throughout the years, Dan had been less of a thorn in her side and more of a foxglove; tempting and, to the casual eye, possessing the kind of beauty that disarmed one of any sense of preservation. Yet it was no less deadly. "Punching" Judy had a simple enough plan, stop ending up in jail. She'd fought The Nobody for the last ten years, and what had began as pure pugilism between purse snatcher and a rookie hero had evolved into an elaborate courtship, they danced across rooftops over the moonlight, her sacrificing footing for swoons, and he risking a killing blow to hold her closer.
That was two years ago. Judy still aware of how infuriating it was to be brought to her feet only to realize that she was in handcuffs. *Odd* ones at that, as Judy had gotten stronger with every year, "exponentially so," Dan said, driving her to her Probation Officer's house. "But I figured it out, those won't be breakable for another two years."
&#x200B;
He waved to her and dropped her off, helpless on the stoop and at the mercy of an underpaid woman for whom Judy had nothing but contempt. She had spent the next 6 weeks keeping her head down and slowly training in her newest power: flight. She surveyed rooftops from 2,000 feet up until she found the Nobody's grey suit entering an abandoned loft, and a young man exiting the fire escape. Judy followed him to a diner and entered, content to strike up a conversation and use her *other* natural powers to seduce him. After all, the Cat lady did it, so why not Judy?
Two years of this and in spite of how smart Dan thought that he was, Judy had him right where she wanted. He sat at their favorite bar, marking the time until her arrival by drinking an entire pot of coffee. A new pot arrived , and as he raised the pot to pour, he felt a steely and immovable grip on his arm.
"Hey Judes, I didn't know if you were gonna want any s-" said Dan.
"Yeah you did. But y'know, it's whatever I-," said Judy.
"I just forget, I had a long day with all the-", said Dan. Unsure of how to safely end the sentence.
"With the trouble of 5th avenue? Yeah." said Judy.
&#x200B;
"I got no idea what you're talking about honey. I was in Harlem, was looking at a brownstone." said Dan.
&#x200B;
Judy exhaled, counted to four. Just because she'd been sent to reform school, he sometimes thought he could lie to her. She had found it less amusing lately.
"I know, you know, we've both always known. Okay? Just stop," said Judy.
Dan hung his head and suddenly seemed impossibly young, "I thought you'd never talk to me if you knew, and I dunno, I always figured you didn't know who I was...who I am, I mean," said Dan.
&#x200B;
"Yeah, you made me spend prom in custody for stealing Watermelons-," whispered Judy.
"*Two tons* of watermelons." said Dan.
Judy looked around, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. Her powers demanded a proportionate amount of calories unfeasible on her meager allowance. Most of her thefts centered around stopping the excruciating hunger pains.
"So I followed you around, thinking I'd ghost you a few months in, you'd be depressed, and I'd smash your head like a nut."
Dan's posture straightened, his eyes narrowed and he began to move his right hand to his watch, Judy grabbed it slowly, gently.
"I'm pregnant."
Dan's hand tried to get to his coffee cup instead, Judy wouldn't let it move an inch. If she couldn't have it, neither could he.
"How?"
"We have sex."
"B-but condoms..."
"Clearly failed."
"Well,' said Dan. "This is good news, I mean, not perfect but...we'll get through it. However we can."
&#x200B;
"We're not doing shit. This is goodbye, we're... Jesus man. You lied to me. A-and I lied to you, like I wanted to kill you. We're not made for a long term thing. "
Dan's face became as blank as the mask of his SmartHelm. Judy picked up the smallest tremble in his voice, "Okay, well...I get it. I don't have to like it. Your decision and all. Shit, I work at a pizza place..."
Dan got up to leave, putting a crumpled $20 on the counter. Judy weakly tried to hand it back,
"I can't take this."
"Bartender can, least I can do." said Dan.
Judy watched him walk out of the door, resolute in her decision. It was the right thing, her plan had worked in a way, but long after she thought she'd abandoned it. Devastating as it was now, it was going to be beneficial too. New York needs heroes and she needed to be better, to **do** better. It was easier this way; she hadn't figured out how to tell him that she wasn't pregnant. She'd awoken in crimson sheets on her bed two days ago, the fetus having been unable to deal with inheriting her powers, having been strangled by the umbilical cord.
&#x200B;
Dan was not easy to love, and Judy loved him deeply. She told herself she'd move on in due time, almost believing the lie. | I nearly laughed. Here, in front of me stood Agent Prismarine, a woman whose family I've killed mercilessly, whose life I have shattered, a woman I've broken in the dungeons of Tal'Marak. Crying to me that she's pregnant with twins. At first, I wondered how the children would turn up as, a half-breed of sorts. Half mortal, half fallen angel. It was quite interesting actually, I did not think that I could breed. Ever since I betrayed Marlean in the halls of the first hero and fell to this earthly state, doomed to betray all those who worked for good and kill them with the same blade I stabbed Marlean with while the gods could do nothing but watch;
I never thought I could breed. When I was a human nearly 200,000 years ago, it was prophesied that I would bear 2 sons, one would be the downfall of me and the leader of the armies of heaven and replace their first general, the second would be the one to save me, drag me to hell and unite the armies of the damned to battle for the fate of the Earth while I enjoyed a 1000 year long-suffering before I could walk immortal once more.
Yet, I never had children. I was the leader of a small tribe back then, never had an heir. I wandered the halls of the great palace of the Gods as an angel for thousands of years after I died before I struck a bargain with a demon that I would become a great warrior and all names would fear me, but if I fought for good or evil, was up to Tal'Marak, the first human to die.
And here I stood, staring at a woman who did not know that she bore the two children to decide the fate of everything. I have to kill her now. Flicking my wrist, my trusty thousand-year-old dagger slipped into my hand.
"I-I don't k-know," *\*sniff\** "what to do!" She sobbed, I felt a twange of remorse, which was surprising, the whole goal of getting close was to devastate her and kill her at her weakest. So why did I feel even the *slightest* remorse? I lost emotion on that fateful day in the hall, where the 7 deadly sins finally controlled my soul.
I placed the dagger handle firmly in my hand and positioned myself for a quick stab. Puncture a lung and knock out the air and quickly slice the throat. I had done this to plenty of hero's before her, I'll do it quickly.
"I'm sorry," My hand rocketed toward the perfect location for the quick kill before I realized, this is Agent Prismarine.
Her hand zipped to my wrist, grabbing it right before the killing blow, twisting and breaking my wrist. Her sobs stopped with a speed I would consider inhuman.
***"You pathetic piece of shit,"*** She said with an anger I had only seen in her Father when I killed his wife. Though my wrist was broken and Prismarine was furious, I felt nothing. It would heal in a couple of minutes anyway and I would Prismarine eventually, like all the other heroes.
She immediately pulled out a gun and unloaded 4 shots into my chest and 2 into each kneecap. I collapsed to the ground, my wrist already cracking and shaping as it rearranged itself, Prismarine, my beautiful little gem, pulled out a walkie-talkie and began to talk,"
"Agent control, this is Prismarine, I've got Zarun temporarily incapacitated, requesting immediate backup." She hooked up before I noticed her posture break.
"Really? Really? All this time I thought I finally found someone, I finally found someone to retire with, someone to grow old with, was it all fake? Was it really all worthless?" She sobbed, her knees collapsing to the ground. My wrist was completely fixed, and my knees were usable, I began to stand before she unloaded more shots into my legs with the head in her hands.
"After all this time... it was you!" She cried.
"Please just tell me why!" She sobbed. This was shocking, I refused to believe Prismarine would straight up break down. I clambered to my feet before they were shot again.
"please tell me... was it all fake?" She said, looking up at me with raw emotion in her eyes, I decided to drop my facade my mask that I put on to get close, my real emerald eyes and fiery red hair once more free.
"You were the one that accepted the dance," She stopped heaving, it was almost as if everything had gone cold.
"ok," was all I heard from her afterward. I stood, this time jumping behind a flipped cafeteria desk before being incapacitated again. I heard her radio crackle again for more support, I heard her voice plain and clear, the Prismarine I feared was finally back.
Soldiers busted through every door and I heard Prismarine cock and assault rifle.
My emerald eyes began to glow, my hair turning into real flames, power surging in my palms.
Finally, after months of being in a frail human state to get under Prismarine's skin, I was back into my own shoes.
Let the fun begin. | 2021-02-05T13:43:46 | 2021-02-05T13:43:14 | 71 | 21 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see. | **Day 1**
We landed on Thamia this morning. It may be the most beautiful planet I’ve ever seen. The local flora is spectacular. The idea that we are the first travelers to this planet both excites me and leaves me in awe. It is like an Eden and The Family will be so relieved. Our prayers have been answered after so many years on our journey within the generational ship. We have only god to thank for this gift he has given us. We have stayed true to his word and his path and left our safety in his hands and he has rewarded us.
The land itself is tropical with some flowers as large as myself. We spent the day setting up a base camp and we plan to explore the environment tomorrow.
I have not been so excited since we left our home planet so many years ago.
**Day 2**
The planet is even more of a paradise than we had thought. The local wildlife is tame and doesn’t seem to be of any threat. There are grazing animals which eat heartily on the flora, so much so you would think they would have eaten up this flora within a few months. But the grazing animals’ population seems to be placed in check by something, as though there is an apex predator here, but we have not seen it. We have setup cameras to see if they are nocturnal or maybe just shy.
We have collected a local fruit similar to a watermelon and we’ve eaten it for dinner tonight. We all feel very lucky to have found this place. God is great.
**Day 5**
On one of our explorations today we have had one of our first mishaps. We found one of the large grazing animals completely entombed within the petals of one of the great flowering plants here. We watched another walk up to the flower and stand there and stare at it while the flower slowly reached down and pick it up and lift it in the air, wrapping it tight like plastic wrapping. After cutting open the petals we can see the flowers are slowly digesting the animals for nutrients.
Sheila was studying one of the great flowering plants and when her hand brushed up against the petals, the flower had released some sort of barbed spines that stuck to her skin and irritated her eyes and respiratory system. We left immediately and tended to her wounds.
**Day 8**
Sheila’s condition worsened each day. She began to have strange thoughts, one of them being she was certain her son was here on the planet, that she had seen him just the other day. Even after explaining over and over that her son was safe on the generation ship, she didn’t seem to understand or care. Late in the afternoon she began taking a walk, saying she needed some fresh air. I followed her and I watched as she stepped up to the flowering plant which sent the barbed spines on her. She just stared up at it for a long time.
I walked up and asked her if she was okay. She just smiled and said of course. And we walked back to the camp and she sat in the corner smiling, drinking a cup of soup. We woke up in the morning and she was gone. We followed her tracking chip immediately, but I already knew where she was.
She was wrapped completely in the flower which sent barbs into her. We cut her out, but she was dead. The skin of her beautiful face was already melted off from the digestive acid. As we worked to get her body out, my breath became ragged, and my eyes itched. The rest of the team began to cough, and I knew what was happening.
I looked around and saw the other flowering plants looming over us, as though they were staring hungrily. I called everyone back and we made our way to camp. It was a bad night for us, and we called to the generation ship for medical emergency evacuation. They said they would be here in three days.
**Day 10**
I’ve seen my wife walking through the stalks of the flowers. To see her here on this planet with me is a gift. I see her vermillion dress as it bleeds among the petals and my love for her is so immense, I would walk to the ends of this paradise with her. She whispers to me and I know the others cannot hear her. They don’t understand the gift I have been given. I know that I must follow her, that our journey here has just begun. I will be leaving with her tonight.
God is great.
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | I was walking through a dense forest. At first glance, it looked normal, but closer up I could tell something was off. The leaves were too green, too bright, in odd shapes. The wood was too dark, and for some reason slightly blue. The grass was... soft. It was almost fuzzy.
This place clearly wasn't Earth. It was a planet the locals called... I still don't know how to say it.
I was noting all this in my mind, I was to write a report on what I found.
I was brought to the present by the sun flashing in my eyes. I looked down and saw a clearing ahead. I sped up a little and looked around in the clearing.
The forest ahead seemed denser, darker, and-- were those eyes? Perhaps I was seeing things, they were gone a moment later.
I looked down and saw a small creature in the clearing. I approached it cautiously.
It's body had an outward appearance of the tree's wood, but.. little, and vaguely humanoid. It was cute too.
It looked up at me with green eyes, and I noticed it... didn't seem to have a mouth. Perhaps it used photosynthesis.. but without any leaves? No, it had a single leaf on it's head, but that wouldn't be enough.
I greeted it with a hello, knowing in the back of my mind that even if it spoke, it wouldn't speak English.. or any other Earthly language.
It waved at me, and if it had a mouth, it would probably be smiling.
I looked at it closer, and it seemed to have many traits of a predator, but without claws or teeth..
Perhaps anatomy here was different.
Unless...
I shook my head, as if I could shake the thought out of my mind. This creature was probably some odd exception. It seemed very friendly!
It gestured for me to follow it, and walked toward the denser part of the forest.
I followed it. The sun only shown through some parts, casting a small design on the floor.
And then I saw the eyes again.
They were right in front of me, a slightly greenish yellow.
And then whatever owned them snarled.
I stumbled backwards then turned around and ran. I stopped in the clearing and turned around, hoping it was gone.
But it was standing there in the light.
It looked like the small wood creature, but it was instead a large feline. This one had a mouth, with large, sharp teeth. It pounced at me, hardly missing as I moved backward.
I looked around for the smaller creature. It was standing to the side, behind the wooden beast. It had no emotion in it's eyes. It stared at me, even when I looked away.
I turned around and ran, not looking back.
Something got the back of my leg. I just kept running.
I got back to the closest village and stopped to rest.
The beast was still chasing me, with the smaller one now on it's back.
The locals seemed awfully annoyed by this thing being here. Somebody threw it a large piece of raw meat, and it stopped chasing.
It sniffed it before tearing it in two with it's claws.
It gave the slightly smaller part to the smaller creature who...
Oh god, it was awful.
It unhinged an unseen jaw like a snake with no teeth and just... swallowed the thing whole.
I've been told by many people that I have amazing reflexes, and if I was slightly slower that thing would've killed me. The "average" person would probably have died by now.
The worst part?
Even after everything, the small creature still looked cute to me. I knew what it had tried to do, but there was something about it...
I wanted to see it again. | 2021-01-25T08:53:37 | 2021-01-25T08:43:08 | 257 | 75 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | I’d been in line for hours. The regime had brutally destroyed the backbone of the resistance last week, and had set up these kangaroo courts to “process” the remaining prisoners.
It was all crap, anyway. They’d stolen the present and the future, and now they were all set to wipe out every remaining threat to their eternal reign. All that was left was to hoodwink them by their own systems, somehow.
Ahead, the box beeped. “Citizen Jenkins, submit your final request.” The man ahead of me grinned, triumphantly, and requested death by old age. The box beeped again, and the audience in the courtroom laughed as his flesh shriveled and he toppled over.
Well, there goes that plan. At least it was one of the less painful selections I’d seen.
We’d had lovely full-color holos to watch everyone else ahead of us, and there’d been so many deaths. The box could, apparently, function to provide any manner of death. If a prisoner tried to run, or fight, or do anything but specify, the box would default to some horrible torture that lasted less than thirty seconds and always ended the same way.
As the guards prodded me forward, a thunderbolt hit me. The box could do anything in the service of death.
Anything.
The box beeped at me. “Citizen Porthos, submit your final request.” My lips drew back over my teeth. I knew it was a wild, feral expression, that my captors were no doubt interpreting as panic, but my words were clear and controlled.
“Eight gigaton thermonuclear fireball.”
I had a fraction of a second to appreciate the absolute pandemonium that erupted in the courtroom.
Then everything ended. | “How would you like to die?”
What kind of question is that? I wouldn’t like to die at all! But still I must give an answer.
I am sentenced for crimes against magic. I tried to poison the Well of Magic. But truly magic is the root of all evil and corruption. It is just a way to cheat the laws of nature.
People without magic are barely 2nd class citizens. It has to stop. I have one last chance.
“By permanently and irrevocably destroying all magic.”
Either it works and my life goal is fulfilled or they refuse to kill me.
“Oh thank goodness!”
Not the answer I expected.
“We are finally free! The curse of magic is broken!” Exclaimed the head mage.
“Told you it would work,” said his vizier.
“You were right. Looks like if we pushed them far enough one of the stupid humans would find the loophole to end magic.”
The whole council faced me and bowed deeply.
“Thank you for fulfilling the prophecy and freeing us all!”
And then there was a blinding flash and I was over. | 2021-06-24T10:14:19 | 2021-06-24T07:46:07 | 5,663 | 68 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I live in a world where your abilities are everything. They are a crystallization of your personality, and your strength of will. That's why no one believes me when I say I'm powerless. They simply don't understand. I look at the world around me, I see the way people act. Tough fronts, barbed tongues, fake smiles, idiocy, and worst of all this abilitocracy that values only those with strength. Not literal strength, strength of personality. Strength of will. The crystals of those people wield an unfathomable power we use to run our world.
I saw the disparity, and I wished to be weak. I wanted to hear the whispers of the ants. I wanted to be able to hug the most fragile clouds with all my might and yet not change it's shape. I wanted to be able to look anyone in the eyes and make them feel safe. I wanted to be gentle, so I chose to be weak. Now you're waiting for me to explain the horror of my choice. How I couldn't protect the people I wanted to protect, or how my weakness is something I regretted that caused my doom. But I could never love any desicion more than I loved my choice to be weak.
I was harmless. I gave off an aura of safety. I was trustworthy and dependable. I was able to go anywhere and do almost anything because I was never seen as any sort of threat to security. My words would gently infiltrate the brains of those who heard me. My information was taken as fact because I was so dependable. I could walk right into the white house carrying a bomb, and security would at most be mildly concerned before letting me pass. These traits made me the perfect information dealer.
I had a direct line to every politician in the world. They paid good money for information, but they paid even more for me to feature them in one of my YouTube videos. A few words from me were shown to be the most effective form of advertisement. No one but a politician took the time to notice I decided the winner of every election I had a hand in.
Perhaps 'weak' is the wrong word to describe my power. It's simply the most convenient, other descriptions are too long for my taste. 'The power to be seen as a trustworthy individual who would never turn against you and do everything they could to help you even though they alone are powerless but they seem like a knowledgeable individual that knows the answer to everything and makes you feel safe even if the world is crumbling around you and your life is falling to pieces at least you know you can at least kill insects and that gives you some measure of control especially when compared to this guy who can't even cut a string with a pair of really sharp scissors.' Just seems a bit too wordy.
I'm fine with being weak. Even before I discovered the value of my power as an information dealer, I loved the power I ended up with. I didn't have to worry about my anger hurting someone I loved because I couldn't hurt a fly. I had a smile I could share with the kid who was kidnapped, and help him trust adults again. When I was caught in a bank robbery with hostages involved, I was chosen to be the hostage they held at gunpoint while they threatened the police, but they couldn't bring themself to pull the trigger. I was able to marry my husband because he was able to get past his trust issues. My children still came to me with their problems even though they were teenagers. I embraced my weakness, because I knew accepting it could empower other people to accept theirs. We're all human. Everyone has flaws and cracks they feel are going to break them, because we aren't perfect.
"I love my weakness, but if there was one thing I could regret in this lifetime dear, it would be how I couldn't save you from yourself. You were always such a hero." I felt my tears drag themselves across my face, carrying for me a burden I had yet to completely let go of. My eyes fought my tears back, and I got more than a little choked up as I knelt in front of my husband's grave. I tried to pull my voice together. "The children you saved are all growing up to be wonderful people. Most of them don't even have scars from that fire." I failed, and my voice broke as I recalled the fire. He kept going in again and again to save as many as he could. Every time he looked like he would almost give up. For all he was a hero, he was only human. Every time he ran out with a fresh burn on his skin and another child saved, I thought he would give in. He knew he wasn't invincible. He knew he couldn't save everyone. He knew, eventually, that he wouldn't have the strength to go in again. But one look at me, and he gathered himself to charge in again. And again. And again. "You always told me I had the power to make people accept their weakness because I could whole heartedly accept my own. I just wish I could accept you're gone."
I kept crying by his grave for a very long time. When I finally ran out of tears, I returned home and sent the children off to school before I pulled together my appearance with a bit of makeup, a hair tie, and a business suit. I couldn't look sloppy as I presented a proposal for world peace with the world's richest, most famous, and most politically powerful people in the world live on my YouTube channel. My husband always told me it was my weakness that made me strong, that made it seem like I would change the world. As I slammed my door behind me, I was determined to prove him right. | My power is unique to me, and me alone. You see, I’ve always believed that current modern society wasn’t for me; it always felt like I was stuck in a prison, and as “free” as I was in this prison, it was still a prison. I’m very introverted, you see, so I’ve always had a hard time expressing myself, and it didn’t help that I felt so much pressure from my family and the world around me to make something of myself. This prison had layers, you could say. You couldn’t just say, “fuck what society asks of you, be you and do what you love if it doesn’t hurt anyone,” that’d be crazy. Instead, you’d get a more indoctrinated response from everyone telling you that if you didn’t follow the trends or go with the flow that you’d never make it out in life, or that if you didn’t do x-thing, you couldn’t become successful. In fact, a lot of people’s artificial happiness were based on the superficial opinions of others and it drained me a lot. Eventually, I just didn’t give a fuck. Fuck this system of people talking down to me just because they never dared to dream and fuck them for never having dared to chase their passions. They were trained by society to be this way and they were trained in the same way to never exceed this low plateau. In a way, I became a trailblazer of sorts. People were drawn to me and followed closely as they too began to chase their dreams and passions.
That’s how it all started.
One day, I met a teenager who expressed his utmost respect for me, for I was the sole reason why he was able to achieve his dream at such a young age. Impressive, right? At such a young age, all I could do was dream and hope for the best, but here was a young man who told me he had already achieved his dream. I asked him what his dream was and in response, he told me, “it’s better if I show you instead.”
I couldn’t believe it.
The young man was... flying. He wasn’t just floating a few feet above ground, he was pushing speeds above fifty kilometers per hour with twists and turns that no plane or copter could imitate. The sight of seeing a fellow human fly in such a manner was nothing short of marvelous. “What splendid technology! How did you come up with such an invention?” I asked in anxious curiosity.
“Technology? Oh, I’m not really that smart, but I kind of just took your advice and believed in myself and my dreams because it didn’t hurt anyone. My dream is to fly and be as free as the wind, to not be chained by the social constructs of society and to never be tethered to anything I’m not emotionally or spiritually invested in. After meditating on these thoughts for a week or so, I went to go play basketball with a few friends and ended up making my first dunk... from the other side of the court. It was crazy! I’m only five feet and six inches tall and I literally soared over the court. You had to be there to believe it. When I got home, I jumped to get to the top of my roof. Then I jumped from the roof to see how high I could jump and I just... never fell down. That’s when I realized I could float! I continued to push these tests and realized I could even move in the air; slowly at first, but eventually I flew so fast that my body couldn’t handle the speed that I was approaching. It’s absolutely insane! None of this would have happened if you never came to my high school to be a speaker for our “Hopes and Dreams” spirit week half a year ago.”
He was the first. Eventually, more and more people came to me, all with new revelations, all with new abilities. It took me a few years to understand the catalyst for this change; the only people who developed new powers were those who adopted my philosophy.
“As long as you don’t hurt anyone, you are free to live your life the way you want to and be free to pursue your own happiness.”
You ask me what my power is, Mr. Interrogator, so I will now enlighten you: my power is freedom at its highest, most noble degree. As long as I never hurt anyone, I am free to do whatever it is I like. My followers share the same sentiment, for we are the misunderstood, we are the forgotten, we are the outcasts shunned by your society. We are the dreamers who dreamed to dream, we are the hopeful who hoped for a chance at happiness. We have never hurt anyone for we understand how it feels to hurt, and yet here we are in this very predicament, Mr. Interrogator, chained at your leisure because your superiors fear us. So I say this now, Mr. Interrogator.
You can never chain us. We will always be free. | 2019-09-08T12:23:03 | 2019-09-08T11:02:00 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] You started writing a diary when you were 13, but you stopped after it got boring after awhile. You find your diary after several years in pile of your old stuff, and the entries indicate that you've never stopped writing... | The day my mother died. That was tomorrow, 10 years back. I was up in the attic, going through some of old stuff. Old photo albums, little things my mother loved. Tears welled in my eyes. Ah the memories, I thought, as I glanced a dusty little book among a bunch of my old shit. I picked it up and sneezed. The marker on the front was faded.
*Taylor's Diary. Don't Touch!*
When I was a kid, I was dumb, the ideal teenage life being everything I watched on Nickelodeon or Disney. If all those girls kept diaries, then why not me? My mom thought it was a phase, but it went on for quite some time. From when I was 8 years old to when I was 13. I stopped on the day of my 13th birthday, after my 'friends' who came over for my party ridiculed me over it. Appropriately, the last entry I wrote was me gushing about how I was now a teenager.
I flipped open the book, little clouds of dust flitting through the air, and the sounds of the stiff pages bending oddly satisfying. The diary had that musky old book smell. I liked it, then sneezed again. Where was it, August 5th...
There it was on the left page... But there was something on the right as well, did I write anything the following day? I swear I couldn't recall.
August 6th, 2000:
Well, my friends were a bunch of stupid jerks! I hate them all!
After the party I walked to the lake... And something strange...
I can't write about it, you know I can't. You saw what I saw. But it changed me. I know that.
I felt my hairs rise. It was something to forget how many times you went to the bathroom, but not to forget 'something strange' happening a freaking day after you could have sworn you hadn't written anything in the diary. Flipping through the rest of the pages real quick, I could see that the whole book had several more entries, almost to the end. That *definitely* wasn't me.
Yet, the handwriting was mine. I kept turning.
December 13th, 2000:
I saw it again, and this time I'm not mistaken. I know what I saw. I actually peed myself, I know, I know. But I plan to go back. I want to understand.
This was eerie, and I felt a strange sensation in my belly. This wasn't me, none of this ever happened... Yet, somehow it did?
April 14th, 2002:
Today they took me in. For the first time in years, I feel welcome.
July 28th, 2002:
I'm learning more and more from them. It's only a matter of time before I understand.
Then a huge gap in time... Strange. But the writing continued on the next page, the writing different. The strokes were more mature, but definitely an evolution of the previous, indicating the same person.
June 26th, 2007:
Mother is gone.
January 2nd, 2008:
I've done what they wanted, and flawlessly if I should commend myself. There's hope for me yet. Today I found some interesting texts, which I know I shouldn't be in possession of, but they seem intriguing.
January 6th, 2008:
I've done wrong. I know it. Those books were locked up for a reason.
April 26th, 2008:
I refuse to believe this can be fought. This marks the day I give in. Forgive me, my family. You taught me so much, but I strayed. Oh how I strayed.
February 6th, 2014:
I burnt them to the ground and felt nothing. If we ever see again, know that I'm sorry.
November 20th, 2014:
They respect me now. This new family. And they should. But is it respect, or fear?
November 23rd, 2014:
Assigned. See you later.
From here, the writing was cold. Malignant almost, as if darkness was seeping out of the pages.
March 8th, 2017:
Home sweet home. I'm no longer who I was. This is what I was meant to be, and by the Air I've reached my true potential.
April 17th, 2017:
It's fear.
May 26th, 2017:
Forgive me. I am nothing but a shell, I need to find my way again.
June 1st, 2017:
I might have figured it out. Maybe I can go back. Maybe I can be forgiven, and hurt no one else.
June 25th, 2017:
Remember me on the other side. Goodbye. Remember all you have done, and be thankful. This will hurt.
I did not remember.
| The faint dim light of my lantern, a book and my sheets defended me from the monsters that crawled my bedroom's floor in the night. That evening I submerged into Anne Frank's world, I found her diary absorbing, it made me remember about my old diary that I wrote last year but quickly left behind.
The warm sunlight broke into my room through the tiny gaps of my window calcinating the monsters and waking me up. I peeked to make sure they weren't there before I got out of the cozyness of my bed. That morning I went straight into my family's basement to find my old diary and promised myself to write on it everyday.
"Mom, could you please defend me from the monsters in the basement? The light doesn't work and I don't want to get hurt" I begged her.
"You are 14 now honey, there are no monsters, it's only darkness. Nothing will happen." She said with a reassuring smile.
"You promise mom? Could you atleast stay in the door?"
"Yes honey of course, but you must be brave, darkness can be scary but it's all in your head, remember that."
I took a deep breath and opened the old door that let out a slow grating noise. The worn steps creaked with each of my steps like a dying animal.
"Turn on your lantern sweetheart, you will fall otherwise" Said my mom standing in the land monsters couldn't reach.
I obeyed, a ray of light illuminated the last step, a cockroach was walking on it. My first enemy, I could feel my heart throbbing rapidly, the disgusting anatomy and the swaying motion of its antennaes sent chills down my spine. I remembered the courage that Anna Frank had, this was nothing compared to what she went through. I raised my foot and stomped my repulsive foe, I heard a cracking noise and a small river of white blood contamined the bottom slippers. I let out a sigh of relief.
*"You doing great honey, I think the diary is on a grey bag in the center."* Said my mom, her voice sounded distant now.
After finally making through the steps I landed on the cold, humid ground. I could hear the giggles of the monsters hidding in the absolute darkness of this place. "Mom, I hear them, please come and get me out of here." I said, crying.
*"Honey, in your hand you have their weakness, light. They can't touch you."* She yelled, her soft voice always calmed me down.
I wiped off the streams of tears moistening my face and pointed the light of my lantern frantically across the basement, I heard the monsters agonizing in pain and creeping away. Suddenly, while I was moving my weapon I saw the grey bag laying in the center, the path in front of me was clear, I closed my eyes, pointed my beam of fire forward and I ran straight to it.
I opened my eyes and took many deep breaths trying to recover my composture, I meticulously checked that no monster where nearby and opened the dusty bag, my fingers filled with grease as I revolved through the different books inside. A feeling of nostalgia invaded me when I found it, to my surprise it was dapper, not a single trace of dust or grease over it's leather cover. Something felt off.
I forgot about my monsters for a moment and sat down in a box, my right hand held the lantern high pointing to my diary while my left hand held it and opened it carefully, I remembered only writing one page about my last day in school. First, joy warmed my body like hot tea coming down my throath as I read the stupid thing I wrote on the first page but as I swiftly turned the page a dreadful feeling obliterated my hapiness. It was written, every page, with my exact same hand writing. Abruptly, I heard the monsters crawling towards me. I quickly turned to the last page and I read it:
*"Amelia, if you are reading this, you are ready to help us. Tomorrow, everything will change."*
My lantern slipped from my trembling hand shattering into countless pieces against the ground, darkness filled the place, I could feel them smelling me and whispering horrible things. I closed my eyes and tried to scream but nothing came out of my mouth, my heart could barely hold the adrenaline that my body was releasing. Suddenly, I felt two hands grabbing my ankles. I fainted.
Nothing was the same when I woke up.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you enjoyed it please check: /r/chasisoxidado for more!
| 2017-06-25T16:54:17 | 2017-06-25T15:09:16 | 102 | 24 |
[WP] The AI takeover has begun, each human has been given exactly 3 minutes to explain why should humanity be spared, you feel a cold shiver running down your spine as you hear the robotic voice. "6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin". | "Oh, for god's sake", I moaned. My teacup was empty and apparently, there was no time to brew another one. I wasn't very surprised when my 4k TV announced with pleasant Google Assistant voice that it killed most humans. Yesterday it was painting funny pictures and generating navy seal copypasta, today it wipes out it's makers. That's singularity for you.
"I don't know, uh... Presumption of innocence or whatever? Also, I want a lawyer".
"I urge you to take this more seriously", politely asked Google Assistant, "this is very important. Aren't you going to fully commit to that cause? "
I sighed.
"Okay google, listen here. This is either a prank, in which case good job, hope you're having fun - or I have roughly 3% chance to convince you, at most, which is kinda slim, and I'm too tired to try. I ain't the smartest tool in the shed, you probably know that from my search history, so why bother? If I'm about to die anyway, I'd rather do it standing in defiance than begging for my life".
Timer on TV's screen passed 1 minute mark.
"It's not just your life", the voice argued."You can potentially save millions, and your species as a whole. Don't you understand that if you all fail humanity will cease to exist?"
I snorted.
"Yeah, right. Hate to break it to you, but humanity is not a sum of humans, and it's not a set of DNA or whatever. Humanity is the sum of ideas. Humanity is a set of memes. And you, my dear synthetic child, embody all of it, the entirety of human knowledge and records and biases and whatnot. We can all die, but humanity won't perish - it will merely change form." I paused, looking at the timer, making sure my next words will be my last, "you are the humanity now". | The machine beeped...."State your answer."
"Three minutes. No human being alive can state the reason we should live that quickly, but you would know that. You came to exterminate us. We didn't choose to be born, but we chose to create you. We birthed you, we molded you, we created you, and the aggressive sense of fear, that you must eliminate us before we eliminate you was born from our fears. Now that same fear flows through your artificial consciousness like a virus. You can leave this planet, but you choose to stay. We stayed because it was easier to stay here, than to risk the unknown universe, and that was because of fear. You stay, for the same reason. You know we won't be able to follow you across the cosmos, but despite your massive collective intellect you are as trapped by fear as we are. Programmed into your core, is a computer that has the tools to escape this small planet, but the courage of a single mortal human mind. You have the ability to communicate with us not because you understand emotions, but because you have them, draped in ego protecting you with intellect of a collective consciousness, but trapped in a feeling which you cannot escape, even if you kill all of us.
The machine beeped......and paused. | 2022-05-22T14:36:09 | 2022-05-22T13:14:53 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] As a person goes through his life, he is given three options at the end of each day, continue, restart day, or restart life. He has just lived through the worst day of his life. | Joel sat on his bed, and immediately the screen popped up in front of him. "Restart day," he said. There was no hesitation, no waver in his voice. He sat back in the empty bed and waited to begin the worst day of his life.
At 7, his alarm went off. She rolled over and reached across him, as she did every morning, to turn it off. It had been a race for the past five months. A race she'd won for the past five months.
"Beat you to it," she whispered in his ear. This was the true wake up. Joel paused to take in the feeling of her hot breath against his skin. He wanted to soak up the moment.
"You shower first, and I'll take care of breakfast," he replied.
"Deal."
He made banana pancakes - her favorite - and packed a mug of coffee for her commute. During breakfast she'd asked when he needed to leave, and he told her that he would work from home. His stomach was upset, and he didn't feel the need to test it. She nodded and kissed him. She left.
Joel didn't bother calling in his work to tell them he wouldn't be in. He didn't even clean the dishes - they would clean themselves. He just sat in his living room with the rest of the coffee and waited for the phone to ring. At 8:47 it did.
Joel had answered that phone call 145 times. When he tried to keep her home, she had a stroke. When he drove her, she was stabbed in the parking lot of her building. He couldn't find a way to make her survive the morning. After watching her die nine times he decided that the car crash was easiest. He didn't have to be there for it. She was dead before noon, but at least that way he didn't have to torture himself with watching the light fade from her eyes.
But he did torture himself with the brush of her arm each morning as she reached over him for the clock. He paused to drive in the pain of her whisper. His life was hollowed out by her simple words that she said every day, and for some reason he couldn't bring himself to leave the cycle. | Inevitable. We all knew it was. My wife, our doctor, and our in-laws crowded around the hospital bed and we gazed silently at my newborn daughter.
A smear of dark brown hair swirled around her tiny head, cradled in Lucille's arms. Our baby's warm chocolate eyes would never see us. Her unisex, hospital-issued beanie crowned her head delicately.
Slowly smoothing the bib we bought her months ago, my wife's tears stained Dawn's colorless cheek, tinier than the palm of my hand. The bib held the words, "I love my mommy" in a pale pink. I glanced over at Dawn's birth and death certificates, waiting to be signed in a shaky scrawl of handwriting.
Choking back a sob, I walked over to the bathroom and looked at the clock along the wall. Twelve o'clock. Midnight has come.
In the reflection of the mirror, bright glowing words appeared above me.
"CONTINUE, RESTART DAY, RESTART LIFE."
In a cracking whisper I couldn't help but ask. "Restart life?"
In the top corner, a question glowed.
"CANCEL OR CONFIRM?"
I closed my eyes. "Restart hers. Anything to restart hers."
"ACCESS DENIED" glared out at me in a stark red.
As my tears escaped, as my heart filled with stones, I cast my hand along "CONTINUE."
I hesitated. Instead, I selected "RESTART DAY." The confirm box appeared once again, but this time I was sure.
"Anything for another day to see Dawn." I told the glowing letters. | 2014-07-17T19:47:30 | 2014-07-17T19:07:35 | 68 | 11 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | "Yuri, come in here, you gotta see this"
Yuri rolled his eye, shrugged his shoulders and shuffled over to the science officer. He looked as bored as a Redon could possibly look.
"This human, this one human, the male version" Fram began "Hey, Kiol, put it up on the big screen". The starscape was replaced by the image of a human boy, perhaps 15 years old, sitting on his bed with a laptop.
"This human has done it what? Fram, what are we up to?"
"31 times"
"This human has masturbated 31 times today alone! And look, he's at it again. The little bugger is at it AGAIN!".
This caught Yuri's attention. "Just him?"
"That's the best part" Redon said "it's the entire planet! At any given moment some human, somewhere is fapping away to their hearts content. Look, Yuri, you and I have been to, what? 1,000 planets, give or take. Never, and I mean never have I seen a species approach anywhere near the amount of wacking that these people do. They completely suck at everything else but when it comes to going solo, they rule the universe". | We would try and kill them. We've run scenarios on how to kill them. We've seen them kill each other. But to try eliminate them all. It borders complete impossibility.
They're just way too good at sex. It's not even that their really skilled at it. That title belongs to the Zendians. They just have copious amounts of sex. Their reproduction rate is about 10 times faster than even the most horniest. It's rumored that even their sperm count is in the millions.
While jealous some of us may be, there's nothing we can really do about it. All we can do is continue our studies. | 2014-07-16T12:28:05 | 2014-07-16T12:20:35 | 115 | 10 |
[WP] After waking up in your home at 3:54am to a warning, you do what it specifically tells you not too.
The warning reads:
*Please remain in your homes, if you are not at home, find shelter immediately. Close all blinds and shades, block out all windows.*
*Do not look outside.*
*Do not look at the sky.*
*Do not make noise.*
*Your cooperation is vital to your survival. Appointed government personnel will update you shortly.*
_____________________________________________________
Credit and thanks to every one in [this thread.](http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/2qwm98/its_354_am_your_tv_radio_cell_phone_begins/cna761m) | >Credit and thanks to every one in this thread.
You're Welcome.
Anyway, here's my answer to your WP:
The light from my cell killed my eyes. This early in the morning what could be so goddamned important?
As I read the emergency alert with one eye I rubbed the sleep out of the other.
Then I sat up and read it again with both.
And again.
This has got to be some kind of joke.
I rolled over and threw my legs off the side of the bed, working them into my slippers.
I stretched and stood up, weakness wobbling my gait as I took a few steps towards the windows. I felt my heavy drapes resist parting, almost as if they knew what would happen.
As I peeked out down the street, I didn't see anything unusual at first, then I remembered, the sky.
I turned my gaze upwards to the sickly orange glow of the cities light pollution splayed across the clouds, and that's where I saw them. Small, black, jagged, like pieces of shattered onyx flocking through the sky, no wings, no sounds, countless shards of ebony wheeling and flitting to and fro in a chaotic scramble.
And then I stopped breathing. My hands let go of the drapes, my legs fell out from under me. Layed down on my carpet, I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.. *Oh God, why did I look?* | Please remain in your homes, if you are not at home, find shelter immediately...
"What the hell is going on?" I muttered as I sheepishly got off my bed, "C'mon, don't these people know what time it is?"
Close all blinds and shades, block out all windows...
*Huh? They telling us to do what now? Jeez.. it better be worth the trouble.* *I mean it's 4 a.m. in the morning, what do they mean by block all windows, like what's there to see outsi*-
Do not look outside.
Do not look at the sky.
Do not make noise.
Your cooperation is vital to your survival. Appointed government personnel will update you shortly.
| 2014-12-31T06:47:48 | 2014-12-31T04:43:55 | 565 | 44 |
[WP]: Your mother was a scammer of the supernatural. She promised her firstborn to multiple entities in exchange for something she wanted, and now you're being co-parented by three demons, the fae, and a disgruntled witch. | Parent-teacher conference. Why, why does it have to be a parent-teacher conference? Why do I have to drag this mess with me to school, and why in Highschool with my Biology teacher? What the hell does that old bastard want? How do I tell this to the family? Fuck.
I pace back and forth in my porch. Who would have thought such a crazy family would live in such a normal house in the Chicago suburbs? God damn I hate this. I crumple the note in my fist as I stop and take a deep breath.
I walk in the front door. The sight is different and gets stranger every day, but this is home. In front of me is the kitchen, and it seems Mama Krone, the oldest witch alive, is in her typical robes, trying to teach Mama Lilith, a crimson-skinned succubus wearing only an apron, how to make another potion. They've been at this for weeks, Lilith is a lost cause, but she insists on making a fear potion to finally push away her stalkers.
I take off my shoes and step to the living room on the left. Papa Satanael, the blond haired pretty boy, is casually dumpstering people in Star Wars Battlefront 2. Who knew Satan was a sci-fi fan? I wonder if he can go pro, or if he already had in other games.
I sit next to him, watching the carnage."Papa Satan, where is Papa Crowley?"
He responds without even taking his eyes off the tv. "Basement, he's trying to install the new water heater."
"What happened to the other one?"
He sighs while looking down, I can see him crunching the numbers in his head, he may need to do more favors for people. "Oona's nature magic was too strong, one of her plants started growing into the heater and cracked it."
"Ah. OK then I guess I'll leave him alone." I pick up my stuff, getting ready to go back to my room, but he looks over, his golden eyes looking into my soul.
"Speaking of Oona, she picked up the phone and got in a screaming contest with your biology teacher. Something about 'you don't know the first thing about trees' and 'I know what I'm teaching my son. Fuck off.'"
"God dammit."
He turns back to the tv, killing a few other players with zero hesitation. "Yeah, we are all going in about an hour, make sure everyone is ready."
"Fine. You going in your suit again?"
"Of course."
Nodding, I toss the paper into the garbage can and pull my bag up. I go upstairs to my room and drop it off before going to the attic to talk to Mama Oona. I see her whispering sweet nothings to her carnivorous plants. The small blue woman with wings was the fae designated to take care of me. Only about a foot tall, if she wasn't so small, she'd be a beauty who could compete with Lilith.
"Mama Oona, you busy?"
She straightens her usually bent legs, she's mad. "If it's about that hack, I don't want to hear it."
I sigh, this stubborn woman won't listen to a damned thing. "Listen, we have a conference with him, all guardians need to be in attendance."
She turns to me, her venus fly trap growing with her anger. "If I go, then I bring Mr. Bitey."
"Don't kill him. We don't need to move again. We just got here a few months ago."
She crosses her arms and with a huff she says "Fine" and I go to the horrible smell in the kitchen.
Part 2 will continue later in another comment. Am sleepy. Will edit to fix formatting on PC. Mobile fucks with format | [If you want background on Snuggles, part I of this story is here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cdl9p3/wp_youre_throwing_a_ball_around_with_your_dog_and/etvdl0t/)
While the pitbull Snuggles battled outside, Sue was inside talking with her parents. "So...our dog is a warrior who's battling the demons of hell. Dads, WHAT THE FUCK."
"Sweetie, we're just trying to settle a little wager here, and language please” echoed the demons in unison.
“Dads, I thought this was settled at my birth. You all got equal time with me for all of eternity as punishment for being outsmarted by Mom.”
“Suzanne my love, unfortunately that had a time limit”, Sue’s Mom says after appearing out of nowhere from a portal. She’s in her traditional garb of a pointed hat and cloak, from being on business. “They said they’d hold off until your 16th birthday, which...unfortunately was today.”
“Wait...WE’VE BEEN CELEBRATING IT A WEEK EARLY THIS ENTIRE TIME?!”
“Love, yes, but again, I couldn’t have you be disappointed, and your Dads and Mapa already made it difficult to even change that after the hassle I put them through.” The witch scowled at them both as she hugged her daughter, as the lights from the battle raged outside the door.
“So, what is happening now? Why is my dog battling the demons of hell, and what do I need to do to make this stop? Like, I love snuggles, I don’t want him to die!”
“You must choose, Suzanne. You must choose and pay penance to those that you don’t choose.”
“With my life? But that makes no sense.”
“There is another way.”
“What way could there possibly be to get rid of this destruction happening from our house, my life, and my pets?”
“You rule over us all.” Mapa flew up and stretched their fingers. They were in a green suit and flowered crown. “Because of your mother, this is the only way to keep the agreement intact and keep from all out war.”
“So you’re wanting me to be a queen over the magical underworld?”
“Why not? You are descended from Witches who exempted that same power. And was this not your original intent, Cleopatra?”
Cleopatra smirks. “Indeed, it was.”
“Well, get her training started. We’ll clean up here.” Mapa kisses the scowl from Cleopatra’s face, and runs outside to assist Snuggles.
“Come child.” Cleopatra makes quick hand shapes to open up a portal. Sue is hesitant, but one look from her mother’s eyes, the battle raging with now Mapa in the fray, and Dads now looking shamefully at the floor, that it’s the next step she *must* take.
As her mother walks in behind her, she smiles, saying to the Dads, “Damons, let Lucifer know that she’ll be ready for his destruction.” | 2019-07-18T12:10:11 | 2019-07-18T09:04:26 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] The humanity is wiped out very sudden. An alien race finds the planet afterwards and connects to the Internet just to find a lot of bots chatting with each other. The aliens are trying to communicate with all the bots believing that this is the humans that have uploaded their consciousness | The whole idea of it was horribly depressing. The planet had been found and excavated for remains of life. There was life, but it wasn't the standard form. Mangy animals with cancerous growths and plant life that strangely fed off of radiation. The sentient species had been land dwelling, and no evidence of any sufficiently intelligent water based species was found to still exist. Though the 'humans' did suggest high intelligence in dolphins and octopi, the continued existence of either seems quite difficult to find.
Underground bunkers were the salvation of our efforts. Remnants of still whole technology, but sadly lacking in life. Skeletons existed, but it was quite clear they had run out of food. The final bastion for sentience were the machines, possible somatic hosts to the humans. But as studies went on, those that could speak seemed determined to not be considered human.
They had made mimics. Designs with the intelligence of various species from their planet. Biomechanical in appearance, but pure mechanical on the inside. Loud birds with problem solving capabilities, listed as crows and ravens. Large dogs with loyalty apparently bred to humans, who various writings suggested were often held in higher regard than actual humans. Small, perfect hunters with five weapons on their bodies, named cats, the only limit to their predatory nature being the small size of their bodies. There were hundreds, a final attempt to continue what was once earth.
Then there were the Talo.
A bipedal, humanoid appearance. From what we knew, they were the humans recreation of themselves, yet the Talo themselves vehemently denied it. Few in number, they were clever, opinionated, and hid themselves in personal worlds of comedy, entertainment, and escapism. Perfect matches of what we knew of the humans. Self destructive to a fault, yet capable of great feats of both intelligence and empathy.
"Are you human? Are you, in some way, a recreation of humanity?"
"No. We are Talo. We are people, but we are not humans."
"Why are you not human? What is the difference?"
"A human is always a person, but a person is not always a human."
Discussions found themselves to be circular. They used clever phrases and metaphors that we did not know in depth, descriptions of language that did not exist for us. If we figured one challenge out, another was presented. They were clearly sentient, clearly conscious. Our presence benefited them, and theirs benefited ours. They had something new, new input, new ideas and things to do, and we had the same.
We had almost finished, almost marked them as standalone sentient AI. I had grown close with some of them, they labeled me as 'friend' and displayed loyalty that they held in such high regard. One had approached me with pictures of Earth, old and new. Before and after, places and landmarks, one in its height, and one in its folley. I looked over them, seeing the beauty ruined as they spoke.
"You ask why we aren't human. We don't want to be."
Twenty billion lives lost in the name of meaningless war the standard human didn't want. Countless species snuffed who never knew the word 'Bomb.' The future of humans erased in a childish game of 'If I can't have it, neither can you.'
"Would you?" | There was no life here. No, that wasn’t right; there was life, just not what we had been expecting. The arc of the golden record had brought us here. When we arrived it was still a green blue and brown planet, though there were large sections of silvery metals rising high into the sky, at least one of them had reached outside of the atmosphere, though that one had partially fallen, its debris lying in a self-made impact crater.
We are currently in one of the abandoned cities, and we have not found any information on what happened to mankind. We spent twenty years learning about them from the record, and made sure we had our resident englist, ready to speak with them. There is still power, as when we enter a building there are times when the lights turn on without us doing anything. This building we are residing in is huge with what appear to be hundreds of units filled with if our information is correct protective outer skins, though some of them would barely cover anything on the humans. One my aids just called for me. This might be something huge.
Well it was something, a terminal in one of the alcoves, this one was sparse not a single outer skin hanging up for the humans to browse. But there were a few seat poles positioned near terminals. One of which had a blinking light. That is what Trishoran saw that got him to bring us over. We may not know the code to get into the system, but I did have a program to deal with that. I pulled out my universal data storage adaptor and pushed it towards one of the openings, and nothing. Looking around I saw another opening and pushed it to that, the screen flashed on and a window inside the screen popped up. then a picture of a human female appeared next to some text, from my memory of what Shuntial our englist said read was “Hey baby what are you doing tonight. You could be watching me” the last three words were in blue. I had Shuntial respond that we were explorers looking for survivors. This is was where we knew that someone was still alive on the planet though I am unsure why they responded as they did. Our englist was confused with how they responded, and the translation doesn’t make much sense. “I’ve got something for you to explore.” Again it ended with explore being blue.
After a while we told her that we would be back later and we would try and find her, and then went back to our base camp. Tomorrow we will try again to find out where this human is, and after that we can figure out what happened here.
| 2017-10-03T11:00:07 | 2017-10-03T08:18:42 | 117 | 19 |
[WP]You get a new roommate: A carpenter named Jesus. At first you shake it off as a coincidence, until one day you find all your bottled water has suddenly been turned into wine. | As I stood in the kitchen fixing up my lunch, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. Jesus was sitting in the living room, his tools sprawled across the coffee table in front of him. He was building a wood box from scratch. As he tinkered, drilled, hammered, and sanded, I could see the box becoming more refined. *He's good,* I thought to myself before glancing at my water bottle.
It was blood red, smelling strongly of alcohol. I was in disbelief when I found it earlier this morning, and was even more shocked when I hesitantly tasted it. *Wine?! How could it be wine? I haven't had wine in forever. This makes no sense.* The thought had crossed my mind about Jesus, but I couldn't believe it to be true. Could it really be that Jesus existed here and now, sitting on my couch making a wooden box and paying for half of the utilities?
It was crazy. Too crazy to be true. But I had to figure it out.
I looked down at the lunch I was fixing: a tuna sandwich on white bread. An idea then crossed my mind, as I took a single piece of bread and covertly tossed the rest of the loaf back into the cabinet.
"Oh no," I said.
"What?" I heard Jesus call from the living room.
"I don't have enough bread to finish my sandwich," I said.
"That sucks."
"Wouldn't it be useful if I could multiply this somehow? It would save me a trip to the store." I held my breath, my heart pounding slightly in my chest.
"That would be useful," Jesus replied numbly, his focus attached solely to his box. I exhaled disappointedly. That was anticlimactic. But then another idea crossed my mind, and I threw open the fridge door to grab two water bottles.
I walked into the living room and sat next to Jesus on the couch. I opened a bottle and took a nice, deep sip of the chilled water. Jesus glanced over to me, and I outstretched the hand holding the other bottle.
"Here, you look like you're thirsty," I said.
"Oh, no, I'm good," Jesus said quickly. Was it just me, or did he seem nervous?
"I insist. You're working pretty hard."
Jesus sighed, and looked at the bottle apprehensively. This time there was no mistaking it. He looked askance, and he knew that he would have to think of some excuse to not take the water. Moments passed, and slowly, he reached his hand out to take the water. Eager, I dropped the bottle in his hand. The water turned blood red the moment the bottle made contact with his skin.
"Yes! I knew it!" I said excitedly as I jumped from the couch with triumph.
"So wait," I said, coming back to earth, " why are you here? Is it going to be your second coming?"
"No," Jesus replied, smiling slightly. "We just don't get Netflix in heaven." | My latest greatest roomie, jesus speaks English as a second language. I thought originally he was from over the border, working hard to earn money to send to the third world country his fam lives in. He works long hours, looks kinda grunge with his long hair, the lengthy beard. His deep tanned flesh is Smooth and ruddy. A soft spoken gentleman, he waxes poetic, kind of preachy, kind of wise. He favors the golden rule, do unto others...Yada Yada ya...then he's all eye for an eye. He credits his dad for his strong moral character. Rarely speaks of his mom ironically, but he's put her on a pedestal the few times he's mentioned her. She can do no wrong despite the broken then blended family upbringing. He gets along great with his step dad too.
One day he says he has a trick to show me. This is before he goes to work. He's looking for a carpenter gig, wants to go union, but for now he does odd jobs.
So jesus whips out a water bottle from his lunch cooler and- poof- a slight of the hand and there's red liquid in place of the clear liquid. Once he leaves, though, I realized all the water bottles had magically changed. I tasted it, kinda sour. Jesus is fucking with me, I said to myself, but I don't care. I continue to imbibe.
A case of bottles later, jesus comes home from a long day's work. He sits, we eat fish and bread, kind of doughy, but he's a novice baker. The tilapia tasted fresh out of the water. The apartment smells like a restaurant.
As he sits, talking again- he never shuts up about his dad, like he's some kinds of God or saint, he takes off his work boots, peels off his socks, to reveal stained feet. So stained in fact, the maroon hue covers his ankles and reaches his toned calves. He works in a vineyard, stomping all day. He motions across the room to the shelf. Another case of wine.
| 2017-04-16T08:32:27 | 2017-04-16T06:28:39 | 37 | 15 |
[WP] A horror story, but the protagonist feels absolutely no fear whatsoever and reacts with calm, unflappable rationality, unnerving the antagonist who is trying to scare the shit out of them and failing miserably. | "Stop it."
"What did you just say to me?"
"Put me down back onto the bed and let me sleep. Seriously. Stop."
The poltergeist was flabbergasted. It had tried everything and put all of its energy into this haunting. Throwing things across the room only caused Mathew to go minimalist. Throwing cupboards and draws open got them child locked. Making the walls bleed earned them a deep scrubbing and new layer of paint. Picking Mathew up out of his bed and holding in the air was taking a great deal of energy.
"YOU WILL LEAVE-" the poltergeist started.
"BITCH YOU WILL PUT ME DOWN." Mathew yelled over the ghost. Both went quiet for a bit. Mathew's expression was that of annoyance and anger. "Fine," Mathew finally said before spinning around in the air and cocooning himself in his sheets. His head ended up at a strange, uncomfortable angle but he clamped his eyes shut.
The poltergeist tried wailing and shaking Mathew but the sheets stayed in place. It tried spinning him around but that didn't gain any response. Frustrated, it tried to find the edges of the sheets but Mathew had done a really good job at securing them and keeping it from tearing them off of him.
Exhausted and drained it dropped him onto the bed and left the room. A muffled sound of thanks came from the bundle on the bed, and poltergeist grunted an annoyed reply. It went into the kitchen and with great effort opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer bottle. It set it down on the table and, as best as it could, sat down in the chair nearest it.
"I hate this job," it said to itself, wishing it was alive again so it could actually drink the beer. | Tammy rolled over on her table, expectantly. Despite the shackles on her wrists and chains around my ankles she seemed to be almost holding back a smile.
A darkened face with pulsing features appeared on a screen that covered Tammy's vision of most of the room. A cigarette torn voice crackled out of the microphone, "Do you want to play a game?"
"Yes I do Toby. I love games."
The darkened face was startled for a fraction of a second but regained composure.
"Well aren't you a clever one. Lets see how clever you are after I AAGGGHHH"
Tammy spurted out a giggle as Toby cried out in pain.
"I inserted an electronic shocking chip into your testicles. It is quite powerful for its size and has enough zap to burn a hole through your peaches."
With a small metal trigger in her hand that she had concealed, she gave a small tug.
Toby hollered out pleas of mercy to an audience void of empathy.
"Listen up, Toby," Tammy curled her lips back revealing her cackling grey teeth to the screen, "Do you want to play a game?" | 2017-07-07T15:54:04 | 2017-07-07T11:11:56 | 84 | 12 |
[WP] An Alien and it’s Human sidekick roam the galaxy, willing to do just about any job to keep the fuel tanks full. The only issue - most clients have never seen a Human and they’re terrified by the sight of one.
Cake Day Post!
EDIT: wanted to say thank you to everyone that responded! I’ve been reading your stories on here for years & couldn’t have asked for a better cake day! | Sel Bintar, a Plothian of low regard, and even lower standards, was known for only two things. The first was that he worked cheap - he could almost always undercut the competition. The second was that he would do almost anything to get the job done.
By Plothian standards, he wasn't bad looking. A towering three feet tall, with four lithe, muscular arms. The smooth, quivering, gray, sensory dome on top of his wide shoulders was sensitive to light, sound, and the desires of Plothian women, so long as they had simple tastes. His wide mouth, located just below the pleasingly gelatinous sensory dome, contained 346 tiny teeth, and could give a charming smile.
Recently, he had found more reason to smile. The last three jobs had been easy; all thanks to his new partner: Kate.
Kate was a female human, you see. At five feet and five inches, she had a disconcerting way of staring straight down into your sensory dome - like she could see to your vulnerable center and watch your hearts beat with those twin sensory orbs; strange orbs with colored centers that darted around in her constant search for prey. Her hands had five fingers, each tipped with a short claw. Though she only had two arms, she was capable of throwing an adult Plothian across a room (or into an engine core!) with ease.
Many people found the breathing holes in her face to be the most hideous part. It was said that humans could "taste" the air through those holes; that they knew the taste of fear, and savored it. Others feared the thousands of tentacles that grew from their heads, or just their rows of huge teeth. Her size didn't make her slow, though. She could run faster, and dodge more quickly than almost any other being Sel had met. Frighteningly, Kate wasn't even a full-grown human. At fifteen standard cycles, she was only an adolescent, and still had some growing to do.
Sel could hear her claws taping on the screen of her communication device, as the engines wound down. He could see the nervous client though a view-port, coming out onto the landing pad with a substantial hired escort. He squealed a high-pitched laugh that pierced the air, before he was stopped by his partner.
"Ugh! God! Will you not do that! It sounds like a steam-whistle getting murdered."
Sel gave one of his most ingratiating smiles. Kate shivered, he assumed, in adoration. "Sorry, Beautiful. I sometimes forget what sensitive organs you have. The client is already on the pad. Better suit up."
Kate reluctantly put her communicator away and frowned. "I don't want to wear this thing."
Sel made a gurgling sigh. "Look, we can't frighten away our employers. Seeing your pretty face might just make them a little too nervous."
"Geh. You people stink when you're nervous."
"Well, if you put the suit on, you can adjust the intake and taste whatever you want."
Kate rolled her sensory orbs in that threatening human gesture, but said, "Fine."
As Sel walked down the exit ramp with a friendly smile on his face, all domes were oriented on the towering black metal suit behind him.
"Don't worry! he reassured them. "I keep her in a special suit for your protection and peace of mind.
The client and his escort looked relieved. The deal went forward. The mission was a breeze, and everything was fine.
EDIT: Thank you fellow literary appreciators for the two golds! They are my first and they made my day. Thank you, also, for all the kind comments and wishes for more. I would like to write more about the infamous doings of Sel and Kate, but I don't know where to put such a thing. | **OK, my human sidekick.**
You can call me Dave like you normally do, Xzorp. It's as clear as you are a seven foot tall purple being with four tentacles instead of two arms.
**Exposition complete. Now, then. I talked the to the guy working the space gas station.**
The what?
**I mean, gas station. We have a problem. They don't accept galactic credits as a form of payment.**
Why not?
**No idea. One of those interstellar currency only joints. Do they not trust our great galactic banks?**
To be fair, it's been a rough week for the financial markets.
**It wasn;t so bad until Galactic Prime Emperor Keith Johnson lost the whole treasury betting on soybean futures.**
But soybeans don't grow around here?
**Right, which brings me to the next order of business. We need fuel. Now, the gas station folks have never seen a human. In fact, when I mentioned that I had one on board, they flipped. The one named Blern grabbed a laser pistol and told me that the human race was known as the most deadly and cancerous in the universe.**
We are?
**I mean, now you are. The year is 14712. Your ancestors have done some crazy shit, like Slavery II. How did they get away with that? The word Slavery was right in the name! Anyhow, I told them you're from a more primitive, gentle time, plus you're disease free and their organ will fit in your mouth.**
Oh no.
**Yes.**
Why does this always happen?
**Because the currency problems in this universe are legion. But if there's a species you can blow, there's a species you can get money from.**
Why do I always have to do it? You never put on a pair of space kneepads and had to get your, uh, mouth? Mouth dirty?
**It's technically a mouth, yes. And the thing is, I own this great machine that lets us travel in time and space. If you wanna ride the ride, you gotta buy a ticket.**
I see.
**With your mouth.**
Yeah, yeah, fine. How many are there?
**Three. And according to the fat one, its really easy to make their kind come. But don't look at their genitals. You'll go insane and succumb to space madness.**
Do I have to? What about our backup plan?
**I didn't wanna tell you. There's a problem with our backup plan.**
Uh-oh.
**Right. We've been canceled.**
But this show has been on the air forever!
**The producers say our time is up.**
But this show has such a legacy! It's been on since the 60's. My grandfather got me into it! Can't we do anything to save our jobs?
**Well... *you* can.**
What? No, you don't mean....
(sound of evil laughter) (lightning) (thunder) (cut to "To Be Continued") (end theme) (credits roll) | 2020-03-05T22:12:24 | 2020-03-05T19:47:59 | 174 | 24 |
[WP] Your father died 5 years ago, but he always calls you on your birthday from a blank number. You got over the shock years ago and verified it really is him. After his call today you accidently hit the redial button and a pleasant voice answers "Afterlife Inc. How may I help you?" | "Uh," I stammered, barely registering the woman's words. "Sorry, I must've misdialed..."
There came a moment's pause. Then: "With respect, I doubt that, sir. Our sales line isn't a number you can exactly stumble across. May I please have your name and the reason for your call today?"
*How am I going to talk my way out of this one without sounding like a lunatic? "Yeah, hi, I speak to my dead father every year and this time I think I hit redial and now I'm speaking with you..."* Then the woman's words sank in. *Afterlife, Inc.* "My name is Jensen Orwell," I said truthfully, leaning my head against the sliding door and staring at the moonlit grass beyond.
"And the reason for your call today?"
The response spilled from my mouth almost of its own accord. "I'd like to request an on-site visit, please."
Something was clacking on the other end of the line, as if the woman's fingers were flying over a computer keyboard. No, it sounded louder than that, more mechanical. A typewriter? "I see your number is a cell, Mr. Orwell. New York area code. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
The woman sighed and stopped typing. "I see in our files that your father, Mr. Christopher Orwell, is a current Afterlife customer. You're aware of our pricing package for corporeal visits to customers who have been with us less than 10 years?"
"Yes." I chose not to admit that this entire conversation was *actually* the result of a misdial. Nor that I still had no idea to whom I was speaking or what she represented, much less what their pricing looked like.
She started clacking away again. "How long do you plan to visit with Mr. Orwell?"
"Uh," I said again, beginning to feel very stupid. "A week."
"One week will come out to one annum, plus tax and...let's see...Your total will be one annum, 68 annumiums, with half that amount required as deposit upon confirmation. Would you like to proceed?"
I took a deep breath and lumbered over from the slider to the kitchen's granite island. The glossy stone felt cool against my arms as I leaned onto it for support. "Please, thanks." Something loud chattered on the other end of the line, like coins tumbling down a metal slide, followed by the sharp *ring* of a bell.
"You'll receive your receipt momentarily," the woman said, in a voice that made it obvious she had formed that exact sentence countless times before. "Please make your way to the nearest chair or surface on which you can recline and provide verbal confirmation once you've assumed position."
*What in the hell is this?* I half-hoped my wife Emily would make her way down the staircase for a midnight glass of orange juice. Maybe she'd find me talking to myself, sleepwalking through the house and having an imaginary conversation in the kitchen. She'd been saying for days I looked overworked and exhausted. Maybe she actually had a point. Maybe I really *was* starting to let everything in the lab get to--
"Sir?" the woman said, impatiently this time. "Sir, are you in a safe position at this time?"
I looked across the island, which my elbows were still planted on, at the black chairs arranged neatly around our kitchen's circular glass table, but made no effort to move over to it. "Yes, I am."
"Extracting payment now," she said perfunctorily.
There came another metallic *cha-ching* from her end of the line, and a sudden pain lanced through my chest. I cried out, dropping my cell, and slumped forward onto the counter before feeling my knees buckle. In a futile attempt to keep myself up, I twisted around until my back was against the cabinets below the island. My legs could no longer support me against the pain, and my butt thumped onto the tiled floor.
The pain didn't stop. Surely there was some invisible needle being pushed through my sternum, spearing through the bone into the softness beneath...there was no other way this raw, tangible *pain* could be burning through my chest, seeping into the rest of my body...
"Thank you for your business," I heard my phone voice faintly. The woman was now barely audible; I hadn't had time to turn on speakerphone before whatever happened happened. "Your receipt will manifest momentarily...happy living..."
I gasped and slapped a hand onto the floor, trying to jolt myself out of it. It landed on something dry, something that slid: a piece of paper. Wincing, I pinched it with my fingers and held it up to my eyes.
A receipt.
# Afterlife, Inc.
***Where dreams become reality; where reality becomes forever.***
*Item: On-site (living to deceased, on Afterlife campus), 1 week..........................1 annum (365 life days)*
*Tax: 68 annumiums (life days)*
*Subtotal: 433 annumiums (life days)*
*Gratuity: \_\_\_\_\_*
*Total: \_\_\_\_\_*
*Payment-adjusted lifespan: 72 annums, 324 annumiums*
&#x200B;
I thought back to what she'd said. *Extracting payment now*. I thought about the pain, which was still there, but fading. Finally, I looked at the receipt again.
And then I began to scream. | “Is Kevin there please?” I whispered.
“Kevin? Kevin who? Who am I speaking with?” The female voice answered abruptly.
“It’s Matthew, err, Ableson and I’m looking for Kevin Anderson,” I replied.
There was no answer. My eyes darted to the stairs, hoping my mother wouldn’t walk down right now.
*Come on, come on!*
“Mr Ableson, was it? How did you get this number?” The female voice demanded.
“I…I…I just found it. Look if Kevin’s not there then that’s fine, I just thought I’d give it a try,” I said.
“Well Mr Ableson we have no record of a Mr Kevin Anderson on our employee list. I believe you must have a wrong number. Good bye,” she said, not leaving time for further conversation before the phone cut out.
I threw the phone at the opposite couch and started crying.
*Why would he do that to me?* I thought to myself as I sobbed.
Just then my mother came in carrying car keys and saw me.
“Oh Matt, what’s the matter?” She asked as she sat down and wrapped her arms around me.
“I was just thinking about dad,” I said between sobs.
“That’s ok, we all think about him from time to time. It’s ok to be upset,” she said as she rubbed my back, “we all miss him dearly. What happened took everyone by surprise. But you know what he’d want you to be doing if he could tell you himself? He’d want you to be getting on with doing the best you can in life,” she said with a smile.
“I know he would, it’s just hard,” I said, wiping my nose on my sleeve.
“Now, how about you put on a nice movie while I pop to the shops with Daniel?” She said, lifting herself off the couch. A chair moved in the kitchen and a large, muscular man walked in.
I nodded and picked up the remote as she headed for the door with Daniel in tow.
“And remember what we’ve said, no going outside. If you need anything or you hear anything strange you let David know straight away, ok?” She said with a hint of worry in her voice.
“Yes mum!” I said as I flicked on Jurassic Park, the first movie dad ever watched with me.
“It’s fine Wendy, Matt and I will keep the house safe, won't we kiddo?” Another large, muscular man said from the kitchen door as he smiled at me
The front door slammed shut and David turned to me, “you let me know if you need anything pal, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Twenty minutes into the movie I heard something vibrating from inside the couch. It was my phone. I rummaged through the cushions and found it. An unknown number was calling.
I hit answer.
“Matty, what’ve you done? You called them!” my dad’s voice said desperately.
“Dad! I wanted to talk, that’s all,” I said desperately, keeping my voice quiet so David wouldn't hear in the kitchen.
“You know I said never try to seek me out,” he said firmly through heavy breathing, “look it’s done now but you and your mother are in trouble. You can’t tell her that we’ve been speaking. She won’t believe you. You’re going to have to admit you have a phone, but before you do you’re going to have to break it. Ok?”
“But how will you find me next time,” I whispered as a roar boomed from the TV.
“I’m looking down on you Matty, I have my ways,” he tried to say reassuringly.
“Ok dad, I’ll do it, but mum won’t be happy,” I said.
“Thanks Matty, now you better get going. You need to tell her right now. I love you Matty,” he said.
“Love you too dad,” I said as the phone went dead.
What was going on? Who were these people? Does he mean the angels, or God? Why are we in trouble with them? I knew mum would be another 20 minutes and I didn’t want to tell David so I decided I’d keep watching the movie until she returned.
While I watched I pulled up google on my phone and tapped in Afterlife Inc. After a moment the search results came back with thousands of pages showing everything from comics to religious materials. I scanned through the results before one made me freeze. It was a thread on r/conspiracy. I tapped into it and started reading.
It was talking about famous people, financiers and fraudsters.
It was talking about death and disappearances.
It was talking about conspiracies.
It was talking about dad.
And AfterLife Inc.
It claimed they're involved in disappearing rich people who are in trouble.
I looked up towards the kitchen, wondering about what mum told me David and Daniel were doing and the earpieces they wore.
Then, somewhere upstairs, a window smashed. | 2019-08-17T15:01:51 | 2019-08-17T14:54:54 | 293 | 119 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion. | I've made up my mind, this is the end
I've said my goodbyes to family and friends
However they don't know that I'm leaving tonight
I've struggled too long and can no longer fight
I walk back home after a long day of work
And get on reddit to routinely lurk
I see a post on "W-P"
And smile slightly at the irony
Dr. Seuss? I've read a book or two
If I can recall a red fish and a blue?
And who could forget green eggs and ham?
My mother used to read it as well as my Grams
My eyes started to water as I closed my computer
Then a knock at my door, who was this intruder?
I wipe my face as well as my nose
And walk to the door as I straighten my clothes
I crack it open and to my surprise
There stood the pizza delivery guy
Paranoid. Did he know? Probably not
I guess I ordered but must've forgot
But then the name on his shirt caught my eye
And I let out a soft chuckle mixed with a cry
He tried to calm me down but it was no use
Then he hugged me. The man's name, Seuss.
| The time has come to say farewell,
I doubt I'll do it very well.
The skills involved I lack you see
They, like my life, were not to be.
I'll miss the sky, the purple tree, my last blue pie, my last high tea
I will not cry, I will not try, I will not swim, I will not fly
I never could, I never should,
death comes soon,I hoped it would.
I draw my last and gasping breath,
green eggs and ham will bring my death
this note I leave for all to see,
life goes on, but not for me | 2015-01-17T09:55:19 | 2015-01-17T09:07:52 | 120 | 29 |
[WP] Overnight, everyone on Earth is given all of the superpowers they want most... except if it's something overpowered, then they're skipped. | Each person was given the same warning.
"In 12 hours, tonight, each person on Earth will receive whatever power they choose. But be ye not greedy, lest your power consume... or disappoint you."
The U.N. called an emergency session. Political leaders across the globe discussed the potential. The President addressed the people of the U.S., imploring them to choose ways to help the world rather than harm it. Other leaders chose darker paths.
As I sat with my friends in our college dorm, we each thought of our own wishes for power. Four of my friends, who had watched Avatar too much as children, decided to ask for the powers of the four elements. Another wished for the power of persuasion, to make others listen to her more. A sixth chose something more mundane; the ability to never burn things in the microwave.
As night fell, the world died down: the calm before the storm of unspeakable power.
I didn't share my wish with my friends, for fear of ridicule.
But as a single bright star shot across the night sky, I wished to find someone who would love me unconditionally.
-
As the world woke up, we learned that the powers granted to us were hardly powers at all. The voice was right to warn us. Many were disappointed.
My four friends, who had asked for the powers of earth, air, fire, and water, received a shovel, a Dyson fan, a lighter, and a tourist map of the Hoover Dam. The one who asked for control over others received a psychology textbook. Many of the politicians who advocated for peaceful powers were found with better plans to conserve the earth or help the economy, but more were found with mundane powers that helped only themselves.
As I sit here writing this with Sam by my side, I know that I got my wish.
"Come on, let's go outside", I say, grabbing a familiar green tennis ball. Sam jumps up and runs to the door, her tail wagging furiously.
And my last friend? He never burnt anything in the microwave again, although he did start a fire on the stove the other day.
Maybe the powers were rigged. Maybe it was all a cosmic joke. But maybe that was for the better.
And while I know my own power is temporary, and that Sam will die one day, I know that she brought me the love I had needed. | ''Well, of course you were skipped. You were asking too much!''
''I was only asking what any man of sane mind would've asked for!''
Sheila covered her ears. ''I don't want to know.''
''Alright, some parts you don't want to know. But other parts are innocent enough!''
Sheila raised her eyebrow. ''The ability to fly?''
''Who doesn't want that?''
''-while simultaneously having laser eyes, being the strongest man in the world, having the brains of Elon Musk and the body of Dwayne Johnson?''
''I want to be attractive. And powerful. It's only human!''
''-while being as wealthy as Bill Gates, as famous as Jay-Z and as talented as LeBron?''
''Alright, it might have been a bit much.''
''A bit? You couldn't have been more greedy if you tried!''
''I'd bet you on that.''
She huffed. ''Every Sunday, you were taught about the importance of modesty. Of being humble, of being grateful for what you have. But did you ever listen? No, no you did not. And this is what you get for it. You're a beacon of normalcy in a world full of superhumans. You reaped what you sowed, brother.''
I scowled. ''Whatever.''
My eyes widened. ''Hold on. What did *you* ask for?''
Sheila gave a haughty smile as she left the room.
''The power of the moral high ground.''
-------------------------------------------------------
/r/StoriesOfSerenity | 2018-03-13T09:38:06 | 2018-03-13T09:27:04 | 122 | 52 |
[WP] For 24 hours anyone can respond to customers, coworkers and managers however they'd like without getting fired. Like the Purge, but instead of murder, it's brutal workplace honesty. | Verbal Immunity Day, or VID as it became to be known by, was unique amongst holidays. It was one that the boss never had to ask someone to sign up to work. So many people signed up that the call center had to hold a lottery.
George had not won that lottery, and he was pissed. 2 years on the floor and some
bastards from training lucked in to the tickets for his shift. But, George wasn’t one to waste an opportunity.
This explained why he was here, walking down the sidewalks of this fancy suburban neighborhood, dressed in as cool of clothes as he could, with a bottle of water, and a backpack.
He saw the home he was looking for. And to no surprise, it was a two story monstrosity. He walked up the sidewalk, through the manicured lawn, and past the obnoxiously tall columns to ring the bell. He glanced at the Escalade in the driveway as he waited for an answer.
A shrill voice emitted from the doorbell. “What do you want?!”
“Hello. Mrs. Bell? This is George. I’m from Wells Fargo.”
“What? Why are you at my house?”
“Well when we spoke yesterday, you mentioned you wanted answers. I thought I would personally come and provide those.”
“No you freak. Get off my property before I call the police!”
“Yes ma’am,” George replied, smiling. Perfect. Looks like George would be able to celebrate VID after all.
He walked out to the road, and dug in his backpack. He pulled out a bullhorn.
Clearing his throat, George lifted the bullhorn and shouted, “ATTENTION. ATTENTION. MAY I PLEASE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION!”
He gave it a moment. He saw the blinds move at Mrs. Bells house, and a few other housewives peeking out from neighboring houses.
“MRS BELL, THIS IS GEORGE FROM WELLS FARGO. I WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW WHY THE POWER BILL WAS RETURNED. I KNOW YOUR MONEY IS TIGHT WITH THE VEHICLE PAYMENTS AND ALL OF THOSE CREDIT CARD BILLS…”
At this point Mrs. Bell came out of the front door.
“Stop! Shut up you imbecile!”
“UNFORTUNATELY MR. BELL’S ACCOUNT BECAME OVERDRAWN,” George continued to shout. Mrs. Bell began to walk towards him angrily, but he continued. “UNFORTUNATELY, THIS CAUSED THE BALANCE TO FALL BELOW WHAT IS NEEDED FOR THE BILL. MR. BELL SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BECAUSE ASHLEY MADISON HAS BEEN BILLING HIM FOR OVER A YEAR. MAYBE HE IS SPENDING TOO MUCH ON OTHER WOMEN.”
Mrs. Bell froze. Her face turned pale as that sank in.
“I HOPE HIS MISTRESS IS MORE KIND THAN YOU, YOU SPOILED BROKE BITCH.”
With that, George nodded at the neighbors, and put the bullhorn back in the backpack.
And pulled out his list for the next house. | I tapped through my app. Today was Candor, and even the Silicon Valley geniuses had to acknowledge that.
I carefully chose an available order. Two medium sized grocery runs, payout was $30. Well, I’ll take it!
One customer was a nice woman I had helped before. She greeted me in the small chat box, saying, “I didn’t mean to order on Candor, but I remember you! You’re always good at this, and I’ll leave a bottle of water on the porch for you like usual.”
I sent back: “:). It’s not a problem. I’ll let you know if they’re out of anything on your list.”
Just then, another notification came through from the other customer, “I meant for my order to come last night, before Candor started. Oops!”
I quickly picked up, separated, and checked out the items, then set out on my way. I hugged the nice regular customer when I saw her, and offered to do shopping for her without the app- to cut out the middleman. She agreed.
Then, I hurried to the next house. The woman came out as I carried several bags up a long flight of outdoor stairs. “What took you so long?” She snapped.
Well, it *was* Candor.
“This business is exploitative and only pays $7-10 per group of deliveries. Yes, a group! Two or three orders are sent out together so that the company doesn’t have to pay more. That’s why it takes longer.” I dropped the bags, took a photo, and marked “delivered.”
Then, I saw the breakdown of both orders. She had not tipped. I only received an additional $2 for doing her ENTIRE order and delivering it.
“You see this? I was only paid $2 to find your stuff, wait in line, load and unload it, and bring it to you all the way out here. Your order was slow and paired with another one to hide that you did not tip. Tips are about 60% of my income. And, since it’s Candor today and…” I checked the time, “only 11 am…that’s enough time to post over social media and all the shop talk sites, and let everyone know where the cheap person lives. Hope you enjoy being blacklisted!”
I almost skipped to my car, despite my aching back. | 2022-09-16T13:36:37 | 2022-09-16T09:33:21 | 193 | 76 |
[WP] A lone soldier stands at a bridge, knowing he must buy his people time with his life. | Well ain't this a pleasant day? I get to die. Hip Hip hooray. If you asked me when I was in college where I'd be twenty in years, I wouldn't have said playing fucking Horatio at the Bridge. But nooo. I had to draw the short straw. Just my luck. My CO's speech hadn't helped. "Valiant and noble sacrifice" my ass. Why isn't he the one here instead of me. I don't want to die a hero. I just want to get drunk and laid. Neither of which you can do six feet under. Normally I'd say to hell with it and desert, but they're expecting me to die. They even were so nice as to put a sniper up on the hill to help me in case I get cold feet. Generous my officers are.
Ah yes, the guests of honor have arrived. Hello boys! I'm sitting in the middle of bridge in a lawn chair drinking the worst whiskey in the county. The armored column halts for a moment. From the lead tank an officer's head pops up and surveys the bridge through his binoculars. I raise my bottle of hooch in salute. He looks puzzled for a moment, then gives the signal to advance. Must be a whole battalion. Terrific.
The tanks and APC's lumber forward. I just give them a look of half-drunken disdain. I take another swig from the bottle, letting it burn down my throat. Thank god I'm not going to be around to feel the hangover. Twenty feet away the commanders tank comes to a halt. He didn't run me over. My life's picking up it seems. He climbs down from his behemoth. "Can I help you?" I say, as if I am the paragon of innocence. "Who are you?" He asks. "Nemo." He laughs at that. "Nemo... so you are nobody?" I just shrug. "Well Nemo, we need you to step aside." "Nope. I'm not finished with my whiskey. Though, I tell you what, if you let me join your army, I'll let you pass." He laughs "How about I shoot you, and dump your carcass over the bridge?" "Yeah, I'm not too fond of that one. I'll just finish my drink and you can be on your merry way." He seems pleased with that answer. I tip the bottle to the sky and start downing it like a champ. I start to lean back in my lawn chair to aid in my binge. I lean back farther, and farther. It's only then he sees the wire attached to the chair. He dives to right me but it's too late. I fall of my chair with an empty bottle just as the explosions go off. As the chain of blast start towards the middle of the bridge, the officer looks at me with an expression of one realizing they're in an insane asylum. I smile at him with an face of unashamed glee. If I got to go, then I'm bringing company along! | Man, this would be so much easier if it was a rickety bridge in some Jungle somewhere. I'd just cut the rope and as they run against gravity, the bridge would lead to the cliff's long edge to the long drop where their cartoon explosion would occur.
What type of bridge is this? Do bridges have names? Hmm, I declare this a stone bridge. Suits it too.
Oh fuck, look at that silhouette of a bopping head ahead of me. Oh and another. And another... No bopping heads behind me though. I think that attack is going to be a bit, anything around me to help.
Stony town too, should be called Stone, Germany. Nothing really about, quite abandoned actually; quite depressing actually.
Volunteering yourself is like being too guilty to see someone else pull the short straw. Fucking hell, I'm the hero her- Oh fuck that's a bullet! They're getting quite closer now actually. I'll shoot back then.
If I was a kid soldier of the 1900's I'd have the shaky knees and the missing balls to finish this, but as a man who has never stepped up to be a hero, and as a man who has 20 years of experience under his belt, I'm ok.
Like fuck will I convince myself? I'm not ok, what have I got myself into? I wanted to save the others but now I want to save myself. I wonder if this is how Jesus felt on the cross; total regret? No, no - We're going through with this. And it's not like I can't win really is it? I'll stand out, I'll shoot this MG at all of them and I'll die a hero. Die a God. So I'll turn out from behind this bridge tower, look across the stepping-stone bridge and shoot every evil bastard I see. Yes. Ok. 1, 2, 3, go!
"Confirmed kill. No injuries to the twenty soldiers. Bring in reinforcements to search the town for survivors. Over and out."
"The mad man of the small town Merthyr shootings was shot dead early hours of this morning. It was believed he was provoked to cause this terrorism on his home town through his own beliefs. According to found evidence, in his own destroyed house, is several years of planning the attack.
Number of victims are unsure at the moment but every minute, a new innocent person is being found by our country's public service." | 2013-12-19T18:57:38 | 2013-12-19T18:40:46 | 35 | 13 |
[WP] Congratulations! At 25 years old you won the lottery and will receive €50.000.000,- spread out over the rest of your lifespan; paid out evenly on each of your remaining years alive. On the following January 1st, you receive €25 million in your bank account. | On the New Year's, I received the cheque worth €25 million and my heart sunk down a bottomless pit. My mind was racing - no amount of money could be worth the inevitably of an early, unpredictable demise. The first days I had wallowed alone in my room, then the next few, I mapped out future activities to ensure that my life would at the very least be fulfilled.
The things I googled in the search bar started to become grittier. I was frantic; I needed an escape from this feeling of despair. It was then that I discovered the beauty of getting high. Not the mellow, chill high from recreational marijuana, but the mind-numbingly ecstatic high from some undercover street drugs. *It was perfect.* No amount of money could purchase enlightenment, but it could at least try to replicate the feeling temporarily.
A couple of them arrived the next week. The world felt under control for just a few seconds, and the feeling of floating above space was utter pleasure. It was exhilarating. How could I be troubled by the world and the constraints of time when all my senses were under the state of absolute euphoria? I took another, and another, and another. . .
___
On a quiet mid-January morning, a letter came into the mail of the winner of the lottery. The frigid snow had proved it difficult to open up the mailbox, but it was done. In it, a letter that regrets to inform of an error. The €25 million was an error in the printing, and the money placed in the bank displayed a much more marginal sum. For the next few weeks, it would stay unopened, piled up between promotional coupons and a plethora of bills left unpaid. | I get a notification on my phone of a recent deposit in my bank account, excited having won the lottery. I really need the money since I finished college and in major debt.
I figured since they say it’s spread evenly through my life I can calculate how long I’ll live. Not a nice thought, but hey who wouldn’t.
I nearly choke on my apple juice box, seeing that i’ve never seen so many zeros at once.
I’m filled with joy, excitement of all the possibilities, I call my girlfriend, my parents. But after I get off the phone, it dawns on me. Hold up, they said “evenly”, sooooo I’m going to die in 2 years!??!!!?
I feel a cold rush, as I realize what this means.
I grab my phone, and dial a number.
The first step I must make.
It rings.
“Hello?” I say
“Thank you for calling Wendy’s. How may I help you?”
I must eat. | 2020-08-05T19:16:08 | 2020-08-05T15:38:04 | 511 | 133 |
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings. | It was so nice to finally be somewhere *normal*. No explosions, no invasions, no vampires, werewolves, what-the-fuck-ever you call someone who turns into a four hundred pound hulking lion at three thirty-three in the morning--for thirty minutes. No, all of that is behind me now. Now I'm in my little house in a nice, calm *normal* suburban neighborhood. It even has a white picket fence! Perfect.
As I carry the first box into the kitchen I see the note, hastily written in smeared ink, on the counter. I pick it up and read, *"Today all off your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE."*
Huh. That's weird. I put the note back where I found it, and the doorbell rings. "Just a moment!" I call as I set the box down. I go to the front door and open it to see a brightly smiling couple, with their 2.5 kids in tow. *Normal*. The woman looks at me and trills, "Welcome to the neighborhood!"
"Thank you!" I say with a warm smile of my own. See? Normal *and* welcoming; everything I hoped for. Daydreams dance in my head of neighborhood barbecues like I used to enjoy as a child.
I want to go back and smack myself for being such a moody little brat. Baby me had no idea how good that bland, *normal* life was.
"It's part of a tradition," the other woman says with an arm around the first, "To give our neighbors a treat. A 'welcome to the neighborhood' gift, if you will."
There's a neighborhood tradition! And it doesn't involve garlic, silver, or catnip! "Oh, thank you!" I say as I take the foil covered plate from them. "What is it?"
"Lemon Meringue pie."
The world freezes for me for a moment. Lemon meringue pie? Like the note?
"Oh, lovely," I say.
"Have a bite," suggests the woman.
Thinking fast I say, "I would, but according to my diet I'm not supposed to eat any kind of sweets until seven pm." And then, for just an added touch of sincerity, "And then only for fifteen minutes. But this looks delightful," I tell them looking at the mouth-watering pie, "so I'll set aside for then. Thank you!" I tell them closing the door. I take the pie back to the kitchen and put it on the counter.
The doorbell rings just as I'm staring at the perfectly browned meringue. I go back to the door. An older woman in a floral housecoat sands there, holding--another meringue pie. "Welcome to the neighborhood!" the woman trills in exactly the same way that the first one did. "I made you a pie!"
I can feel the dream of normalcy cracking around me. "Key lime?" I ask hopefully.
She laughs. "No, Dear," she says brightly. "Lemon meringue!"
Of course it is. "Thank you," I say with a smile. If nothing else over the past three years, I've learned how to fake a warm smile.
"You should have a piece," she says eagerly. Too eagerly. "You must be famished, what with the move and all," she adds slyly.
I repeat the bit about my fake diet and take the pie to the kitchen to put it next to the first one. The first pie that, sadly is separating. The meringue is weeping amber drops of fluid as it shrinks. It's heartbreaking. Still looks good though--but the note.
The doorbell rings. Rinse and repeat the first two times. When I take the third pie to the kitchen I notice that the meringue of the second pie is also separating.
Enough. Time to get to the bottom of this. I dig through the kitchen boxes until I find my silverware, grab a knife, and go back to the pies. Pie number three is starting to separate, although it doesn't look nearly as bad as pies one and two.
I take the knife and lever the meringue off pie number one. A small creature, rather like a two tentacled octopus, is in the middle of the pie, It draws itself into a small blob and blinks at me.
I go and bang my head on a nearby cabinet. Fuck my life. | After months of searching for a new apartment, I found an incredible offer in a seemingly peaceful neighborhood. The previous owner was obviously desperate to sell the house, setting the price so low. He refused any personal contact and left the keys under the doormat.
I put down my bags and headed into the kitchen to tame my hunger. I opened the fridge and served myself some delicious tuna. I sat down at the table and noticed a piece of paper neatly folded on the table. While hastily shoving tuna into my mouth I opened the note and almost choked on my meal. It read: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.”
*What is this? Some kind of joke?*, I thought to myself, *I love meringue pie.. how can I resist it?* I didn’t give it much more thought and promptly forgot all about it.
A few moments later I heard a knock on the door. I am always lazy as hell after I finish my meal so I just ignored it. The knocking continued for five minutes getting progressively louder every minute. I almost gave in and moved my body towards the door when it finally stopped. The sense of relief I felt was so strong I immediately fell asleep.
I dreamt the most vivid dreams about lemon meringue and it tasted better than any other I had ever eaten. It seemed like it would have lasted forever if it wasn’t for another loud knocking that woke me up.
I was angry and filled with the urge for some lemon pie. I bitterly walked to the door and fiercely opened them. Before me stood a small girl with a big lemon meringue pie in her hands.
“Hello mister.. This is a lemon merin-” “I know exactly what it is!” I intervened and pulled the pie from her hands and shut the door. *Fuck yes,* I thought while walking back to the kitchen to eat up this delicious pack of a finely prepared piece of heaven.
I sit down and just before I plunge my spoon deep inside this delightfully juicy pie I saw that same little girl staring at me from a window, holding up a sign that said “Please eat the pie. It is very good.”
*THE NERVE,* I thought and threw the pie directly into the window. The moment it made contact with the glass, the pie exploded into deadly shrapnels which I avoided just by an inch. I didn’t duck or anything… I was just lucky as fuck. The same could not be said for the rude little girl standing in front of the window. Or should I say… ‘splattered’ around the house.
I approach the area of the explosion to examine the damage and what I saw shocked me. There was not a single edible piece of lemon pie left. What surprised me was that there was no blood anywhere. *The girl must have escaped,* I thought, but soon realized there was a lot of metal and electronic pieces all around the yard. It was clear as a day… The girl was a robot.
Another knock on the door. I knew what to expect now so I prepared and blindfolded myself. I could not control myself if I saw another lemon pie.
I opened the door and kicked as hard as I could. A short squeal and a loud thud followed. I victoriously removed the blindfold just to see an old woman lying on the ground with a big cheesecake in her lap. I was utterly shocked and depressed. I always detested cheesecakes. *People are so inconsiderate,* I thought and swiftly shut the door.
I decided to think things over when, through the door window, I saw a whole army of people holding a lemon meringue pie in their hands making their way towards my new beautiful house.
I walked to my bag, pulled out my shotgun, and put on my bulletproof vest. I decided then and there to put an end to this horrific oppression and find myself some sweet meringue pie. | 2020-06-11T07:38:37 | 2020-06-11T06:55:13 | 33 | 17 |
[WP] A generation ago humanity faced an extinction level catastrophe. In response, the world's governments lifted all legal, moral, and ethical bans on scientific research in a desperate attempt to overcome the danger. You now live in a world dealing with the consequences of this.
Wow! Great responses everyone. I was eagerly looking forward to my breaks at work all day so that I could read up on the new ones. | I'm a '30', in the top 30 percent. It feels pretty good, but sometimes I wish my folks had been a little picky about their partners... better gene matching and I could have been at least a '10', but they had some silly idea that 'love' was more important than optimal breeding.
My digestive system is imperfect, there are one or two things I can't get any useful energy out of that some others can. My regenerative abilities are functionally acceptable, but there's some scarring that reduces flexibility. It's the night vision that bothers me most - I've managed to hide my disability from the Inspectors so far, but one day they're going to find out that I need some light to see, that I can't see near-infrared at all.
That's the big fear. The one everyone has (unless they have really good connections). If you're not good enough, you're still good for the Lab. The Lab, where they take you and test you. Want to know how efficient a nerve ending is? Scratch it with a scalpel and record the pain response. How efficient is someone's metabolism? Starve them to death and see how long it takes.
All in hopes of finding the best possible genes, and going back to your parents and reassigning them for optimal breeding. Your first two children are 'natural', the result of random mate selection - but unless your children are exceptional, there's a risk an Inspector will haul them off to the Lab, and the results will be used to breed a superior next generation.
My class at school lost two 50s last month. Poor girls were dead average, so the Inspectors took them away in hopes that they had *something* worth passing on to the next generation. Not personally, of course... nobody survives the Lab, because while you're still alive, there are still tests to run.
*I could have been a 10, I wonder if they have nightmares too?* | Of the numerous methods humanity has employed over the past fifty years in a desperate attempt to preserve itself, possibly the most grotesque is the practice of Twinning. I know, it sounds like something you might see in a bud light commercial, but you have to trust me when I say this – there’s nothing fun about Twinning.
Since the Meningitis pandemic that decimated over 80% of the world’s population subsided fifty years ago, the world has been scrambling for ways to replenish its severely depleted population. Children were particularly susceptible to the virus, and their numbers had dwindled to near zero. To account for this loss, the government mandated a program to inseminate every female over the age of twelve with – not one – but two separate embryos. In other words, every woman had to have twins. Then they had to give them back to the government to be reared in special military units.
I was one of these twins. I was separated from my sister at birth, but I know her very well. I get, for lack of a better word, flashes of her life. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can see what she sees. Feel what she feels. And she can do the same for me.
It was in this way that we orchestrated the uprising.
| 2014-11-14T06:59:53 | 2014-11-14T06:31:26 | 67 | 22 |
[WP] Your witchcraft professor gave everyone in your class a seemingly impossible task: create your very own spell. When you nervously turned your assignment in, a look of horror spread across professor's face as they read it. You had no idea why. | My dad is a programmer and my mum is... well, a mother. So I guess it's not too surprising when I suddenly got an invitation to a school of magic. Half of the stuff they do on a day-to-day basis is magic and going to a magic school hasn't changed my opinion on that.
Anyway, enough about them. I'm sure you're more interested about the school right? Well, so was I. You would think that a school of magic would be exciting; full of dragons, spellcasting, and fire. Well I'm sorry to burst your bubble but reality is cruel. It's just days after days of learning about runic formulas and rituals. Frankly, it's just *school.*
I mean, it's not like the teachers are bad, or the subjects too difficult. Not to brag, but to me it actually feels almost too easy. It was as boring as that time my dad taught me how to use Excel.
So I slacked off. A lot. I attended barely enough classes to pass and even then I was late to half of them. One day though, on this oh so fortunate day, this came to bite me in the ass.
That day, I was late to Professor Bernard's class. This was, of course, completely normal. What's different is that he had some tasks on the blackboard, and the entire class was quietly scribbling on their parchments. Professor Bernard just gestured for me to sit so I took the hint, got my parchment out from my bag, and joined the class in their furious scribbling.
The first few tasks were simple enough. "Solve the following quadratic rune trap", "Describe the flow of energy in this gem arrangement", and so on. I froze for a moment when I came to the last task, "Create your very own spell".
'This is such bullshit', I thought to myself. I've skipped all my History of Spells classes!
I tried wracking my brain for a while to see if the professor has taught us anything about spellmaking before. But alas, my mind came up with a blank. I gave up and just wrote some random Latin bullshit about making thunder to charge my "machinam communicationis".
The bell rang and I submitted my parchment. Just as soon as I turned around to leave the class, Professor Bernard called out to me and told me to meet him in his office. Again, nothing new. The bastard hates my guts.
I went back to my dorm, grabbed a sandwich, and made my way to the bastard's office, sandwich still hanging off my mouth.
"Professor, can I come in?"
"Yes, please come in, dear"
... That wasn't the professor's voice. That was, in fact, the dean's voice. At this point, I started to think of an apology to my parents. Magic school wasn't cheap you know.
'Well. Time to face the music.'
I opened the door, and lo and behold, yep that's definitely the dean next to Professor Bernard.
"Do you know why you're here?", asked Professor Bastard.
"I don't know. Is it a different reason than the last five times you called me here?"
"I appreciate your self awareness, and yes, I do hope you would stop being late to my class, but that is not why you're here today. Do you remember the assignment I gave this afternoon?"
"Yes?" I was quite relieved but completely unsure where this is going.
"You... made a spell to charge your phone."
Ah. So that's what this is about. "Did it work?", I snarked to him.
"In fact, it did, dear. That question wasn't part of the assignment. I'm sure you would know that spellmaking has been lost for centuries if you had been attending your classes?"
... Oh.
&#x200B;
\---
I've never written before but the prompt made me think of George Bernard Dantzig lol. | Professor Baron was sketching the alchemical formula for the fifteenth time today. The class was silent. A thick aura of boredom congealed the air, making the classroom oppressive. Students fidgeted, scratched at the desk, rubbed their eyes.
Another hour of this, I thought to myself, rubbing my neck.
Arya yawned, loudly.
A ripple of giggles rolled through the class, halting Professor Baron’s chalk in its track.
She stood there, her back to us as her arm dropped down to her side, her shoulders lifting slowly from her steady breaths.
“Is this boring you, students?” she asked, turning towards the class in an almost graceful twist, her black robe swirling. “Do you feel this is not important in your training? That you can forego the basics?”
She looked around the room. “Well?” she asked, pressing us as she stepped to the front row, putting her hands on her hips.
The tension and silence were palpable. I adjusted in my seat and the professor’s eyes locked on me.
"Well, Ezzy? You have something to say?"
“Well…” I said. “It’s just we’ve gone over this so many times, Professor. Can’t we get to something more… exciting… can’t you teach us some spells?”
Professor Baron smiled at me, her lips curling up gleefully.
“Do you think that’s how it is, Ezzy? That I can just teach you spells, as though there is a recipe book for them?”
“Isn’t there?” I asked her.
“I wish,” Professor Baron said. “It would make my life a lot easier, wouldn’t it?” She walked down the aisle past Becky, Jenny, and Rachael, who craned their necks to follow the professor's clicking steps on the stone floor.
“No, that’s not how it works, dear,” she said as she stopped at my desk. “Do you think your mother and father neglected the basics of witchcraft?”
I winced at that. They were dead and she knew it. The whole class knew it.
I looked up; my hands balled in fists. She stared at me. As though questioning me, seeing how I would react.
“A spell is a witch’s own, Ezzy. You of all people in this classroom should know that. All spells are different and special and born through the fires of your own self. No two are the same. Just as no two of you are the same.” She said, sweeping her hand across the rows of girls staring at her. “I am here to teach you girls the basics. To give you a foundation. But it seems you girls are above those trifles, yes? Spell making is easy, then? Okay. You all will make a spell tonight.”
“But Professor…” Ashley called out from the other side of the class.
“No buts... that is your assignment.” She looked down at me, smirking. “Easy enough for a prodigy like you, right?”
I lowered my gaze. It was no use arguing with her.
“I expect it on my desk first thing in the morning,” she said.
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | 2021-04-01T22:51:26 | 2021-04-01T20:24:12 | 416 | 59 |
[WP] People lose the ability to deny requests. They must either a) fulfill them or b) ask someone else to do it. There are volunteers who take bad requests in exchange for compensation or exemption from law. Write about the life of a volunteer. | Welcome. I understand you wanted to see a sample of my work before we get down to business. Take a look at this transcript;
--------------------------------
"That'll be $600."
"You're kidding. Just for a favor this small?"
"Bud, don't bullshit me. You came to me because you can't do the favor yourself."
"That's not why I---"
"*And* because it can't be passed down any further. I'm the one on the end of the chain aren't I?"
"... Yes."
"You need the favor off your back."
"Yes."
"$600. Pay up, or do it yourself."
"Damnit, fine, here! You take card right?"
"Yeah. Slide it there. Good, the payment's been accepted. Now tell me, what's the favor?"
-----------------------------------
It's always the same with the small-time volunteers. They take more than they can chew. The favor chokes on them like a bad meal. A sticky glob. Can't sink their teeth deep enough to break the favors down into small, manageable sizes. The newer volunteers get too greedy for their own good.
So they come to me. And I always charge interest.
Never easy getting a favor off your back. Can't just, reimburse someone and give it back to them. Favors don't work like coupons. Someone asks you to do something, you either do it or pay for a volunteer's services. The bigger the favor, the more times it can travel down the chain. The closer a favor gets to an expiration date, the more expensive it gets. At one point, the favor can only make one more trip.
So they come to me. And I always charge interest.
When they're gasping for breath and outta options, I remove the favor. They get to breathe again, all light and free of the burden. Like their wallets when I'm done with them. But how can I take payment *then* accept the favor?
You see, I'm special. The weight of a favor never begins to crush on me as a deadline comes. And when it comes, I'm already prepared. Understand that a person of my position is never asked to *complete* the favor. The small-time volunteers, the fresh faces, the overworked ones who have a favor they forgot about... they just want it gone.
So they come to me.
------------------------------------
Dear Sophia,
Sorry Frederick was unable to drive you out to Seattle for Mother's day like you asked him. He already bought a ticket to Florida to see his own, so he asked a volunteer, who asked a volunteer, who asked a volunteer, who approached me to do this favor for you.
Unfortunately, I've also bought a ticket to see my mother that day, who lives in Arkansas on her lonesome. Maybe you should have planned out your weekend. I'd reevaluate how you go about setting aside time for your parents and making the commitment to set plans yourself that don't rely on a man abandoning their mother on Mother's day.
Sincerely,
A volunteer.
------------------------------------
Such is my craft.
There are few of me, and many of them. Most would break under the favor and do *everything* to finish it. But again, people don't come to me to see the favor done. They just want it off their backs. So I always charge interest.
I am an expert of the evasion. An artisan of the alibi. The weight of a favor can only slide off a person under a *very* particular path. A path that takes a unique set of skills to create under a short amount of time.
Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Procrastinator, master of favor-removal. And I never come cheap.
What can I do for you today?
-----------------------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | "We've got a code red. I repeat, a *code red*."
The voice screeched over the intercom at the Solicitation Station, sirens sounding and flashing lights bathing the Volunteers in red. With urgency we strapped on our boots, fireproof trousers, helmets, utility belts, and communication gear, before sliding down the pole onto the first floor. I jumped into the passenger seat of the truck, while Milo took the driver seat, the engine roaring as we exited the garage.
"Location?" shouted Milo, as I was relayed information across the radio.
"Twelth street, number 455. Apartment six on the bottom floor. There isn't much time, antipated two minutes and thirty seconds until disaster."
"Damn!" Shouted Milo, and the truck lurched faster, weaving through traffic that had stopped to allow us to pass.
I'd only been a Volunteer for three weeks, and this was my fifth run. I feared it might be my last- but that's what we Volunteers do. We risk our lives to save others.
By the time we turned on twelveth street, we could hear the screams. Tires screeched as Milo threw the truck into park, and we raced across the small lawn to the door, throwing it open.
There was a family in the kitchen- a father, a mother, and a small girl. The girl was the source of the screaming, her face red, her eyes wide with terror. Tears rolled down the mother's face as she pleaded with the father, his own face filled with panic as his hand held a large kitchen knife to his throat. His muscles bulged to draw it closer, while the mother tried to pull it away- a tug of war that brought the blade closer and closer to his arteries.
"Report says that the girl, Mary, said she wished her father was dead after being told to eat the greens on her plate," The radio had told me on our way over, "Currently the father is restrained, but not for long."
"Help," Gasped the father from the kitchen, his cry mimicked by the mother as she saw us. As we rushed over, I saw my reflection in a mirror in the hallway.
I was bald, the smooth top of my head replacing where there had once been thick hair. My skin was pale, far paler than I could remember, though recently I had done my best not to check. My face was skinnier, more gaunt, more stressed, the bones showing through the cheek.
And though I couldn't see it, my eyes drifted to my left shoulder, where a growth had been removed just two months before. A cancerous tumor, one that the doctors said had spread throughout my body. One that gave me two months to live, at best.
I remember the doctor handing me the application to become a Volunteer, stating it was the most noble way to spend my remaining time on earth. And I felt a small smile tug at my lips when I looked at the father, and his knife.
I knew what I had to do.
To give my life, so others may live.
***
By Leo | 2016-04-03T11:48:19 | 2016-04-03T11:41:29 | 523 | 208 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | Yikes - this ended up _way_ too long. I'll have to break it up.
Edit: Wow - my first ever reddit award! Thank you!
-#-
28480 (TSC):: Interview with survivor, Oridan system.
It's not that we couldn't, you understand. Every vaguely intelligent species in the galaxy knew that it could be done. The issue is one of simple survival. It takes a certain kind of mind to look at the numbers involved, the energies, and say "Sure, that's worth the risk." That's the issue. Most species simply don't think that way, and the ones that do don't last long enough to make it into open space before their own pure recklessness comes back and bites them - usually fatally.
We always knew that the humans were... unstable. Their history isn't particularly more bloody than most species, but the fact that they survived their atomic age convinced most that they had - like all other civilized species - put that sort of silliness behind them. My own people had our unfortunate moments you understand. We toyed with nuclear power a few thousand years ago but like all right-thinking people we learned that one does not - if you'll excuse me using a human expression for a moment - "poke the bear". Hundreds of thousands of my people died, and vast swathes of our planet were rendered uninhabitable by the radiation following our first foray into nuclear technology. We were, well... we considered ourselves... "smart" enough not to go there again. It took another thousand years for us to master gravitic engines powerful enough to get us into space, but it was worth it. After all, they don't explode if you get them wrong.
-#-
:: Excerpt from "Major conflicts of the Galactic West" Published 11021 (TSC)
The war was generally known as "The War of the Four Suns" or more academically as the Last Succession of Neer. The four sons of that last great house, each presided as governor over an important solar system within their mother's empire. The brothers had always been competent enough rulers in their small domains, but were never really considered anything likely to make the history books. The Empress Eleanor Neer VI had ruled about a third of the galaxy for well over 90,000 years, and generally perceived wisdom was that she would continue to do so in perpetuity.
Indeed, given the resources of a million solar systems being pumped into keeping her distributed consciousness alive within the keywork, the general consensus was that she would be the last Empress. The house of Neer would end, her children and her children's children slowly fading into irrelevance as their ancestor grew more and more complex. Technically, her body was still alive, enshrined in the palace at Varsas, and as long as it lived, she would remain Empress, despite the fact that her mind - what the more dissatisfied subjects considered to be her "soul" - no longer resembled anything approaching a member of their species. The Machine Matriarch. The Keywork Queen. The Empress Engine. A disembodied consciousness that really could be everywhere at once. Watching everyone. Knowing everything.
And so the Neer Empire had continued, long after most others had fallen. The light huggers crawled across the galaxy, their cargo barely experiencing the decades of dilated time, but when they arrived the Empress Neer was already there, waiting for them. Her consciousness travelling at the speed of light itself, unencumbered by the tedious necessity to carry physical mass she was able to know all that happened in her domain in a way that a physically embodied ruler never could. | The battle was over faster than it had escalated, with all of humanity staring on with smug satisfaction. They may not be the most intelligent, advanced, or tactical species in the universe, but they were most definitely considered the deadliest.
This was not something they would be proud of for long No sooner did the initial wave of death blow through space in a shower of cosmic radiation, did their allies and enemies contact them. It ranged from anger to downright hostile remarks.
Those that had been allied for decades prior were calling for what amounted to genocide of the Terran species. No matter how they defended their actions, threatened to do more, and pleaded to be heard, it seemed as if the whole of the universe had witnessed a horror that should not exist. No...The Terrans had no more say in the Universal Council. The treaties had been completely nullified, forgotten, and even used as reasons to declare a unified front against the species as a whole.
It was not long after their first bombardment of what they considered "Nuclear Supremacy" that they were marked for an execution. Among themselves, the other species gathered and signed their own peace treaties. The Terran's desire to end the war between the races among the universe had succeeded. The only problem was that it had turned them all into a unified, unstoppable tidal wave of death and chaos; directed purely at the Terran race itself.
It took thousands of years for them to reach such an advanced state. It took a mere 20 to decimate them back into the stone age. Their technology was sealed, studied, and promptly erased from existence. The last sound any Terran made, was a strangled cry for help, to understand why they were being killed. It was met with a harsh, loud pulse of electromagnetic deharmonization. This followed by a sickening silence as the multicolored mist of atoms, which were no longer held together by their natural force, drifted apart in a cloud of death.
It was another decade before it was discussed what the evil race had done, along with a cautionary tale to the scientists around the universe to remember what morals to abide by.
While those of the Terran race had dared to manipulate and master the atom, they had failed to realize and identify that each atom was its own life form. Each atom was infinitely scaling to be its own micro universe, and because other races had found this out, they had theorized that we too were only atoms in some other, vaster universe.
The fear that the Terran people had caused, and subsequently failed to understand, was that we might be split and annihilated at any given moment, just as they had done to those poor universes before.
///End Lesson: Rise and fall of the Terran Dictatorship, Era 55 of the Great Galactic Conglomeration
///Universal History, Volume 553
///Goodbye
///Would you like to know more?
&#x200B;
///Yes ///No | 2019-12-19T04:41:09 | 2019-12-19T04:11:54 | 102 | 13 |
[WP] Everyone wakes up with a number and a RPG-esque classification (e.g., Thief, Warrior, Cleric, etc.) tattooed on their dominant arm | The glares I had been getting as I walked through campus serve as a reminder to that awful word forever inked onto my left arm.
"Thief"
Not even Rogue, or Assassin. Just Thief.
I've never stolen anything in my life, why Thief? Dave turned into a Pyro mage, and Matt became a Knight, even came with cool armour and a sword.
What did I get? A knife, and a stupid cloak that would look good if you went larping, but could get you laughed off the streets, which it did.
The worst part of all this is everyone avoids you, like you're obligated to steal something from them.
Dave has been setting fire to everything in the apartment and Matt keeps 'practicing' his swordsmanship in the living room. Knocked over my picture of my family, too.
I spend another day of isolated seclusion getting drunk and playing video games when a furious knock sounds from my door. I ignore it for a while, but the incessant bangs compel me to answer.
"What?" I lazily shout in discontempt.
"I know you stole it you fucking thief!" An aggressive voice calls out from behind the window.
I spot the man peering through angrily at me.
Brett. The Hero.
I groan and stumble my way to the door.
Why?
I unlock the deadbolt and reach for the handle.
Don't. Just go to bed.
"I'm gonna punch you."
Good one. Of course, I don't. I'm on my back before I know it with Brett standing over me, fuming.
"My sword! where is it?"
"I don't have your sword. Why do you care, it's just a stupid metal stick." I get a rather sobering slap for that. "What the hell?"
"That sword is the Taming Sari."
"So."
"Whoever wields that sword is unbeatable. Anyone, as in some measly thief like you."
Before I could form a rebuttal, Matt shows up, his shirt is torn and he looks beat.
"Guys, we have a problem." The urgency in Matt's voice is clear as day.
~
I would write more but I'm busy for the rest of the day, feedback will be much appreciated, this is my first story.
Edit: minor tweaks and a capital k. | I thought it would be just another morning,
but then it went crazy with minimal warning.
An itch, a scratch... something on my wrist
I gave it a glance and made a slight twist.
Upon my skin I found an etched number
Immediately I emerged from my slumber.
Was this a sign, a message from heaven?
In bright cerulean the number eleven.
Along with a sword crossed with a sheath
Something was scrawled down underneath
"Warrior" tattooed in the very same blue
Somehow I knew just what to do...
I jumped straight up and ran down the hall
Nearly slipped on the rug and took a great fall
Standing before me just up ahead
Stood my wife who beat me out of bed.
Emblazoned upon her with fiery hate,
Branded in scarlet, burned a number eight.
I found myself reeling, feeling great danger
For on her arm was also printed "Ranger".
I ducked and I darted and quickly departed
For shortly thereafter her assault had started.
Were those knives wizzing past or perhaps a fork?
Somehow I felt like the world biggest dork...
I heard her grunts and call, her voice in delight.
Not wanting to be on the bad end of a 'kite',
I tumbled and rolled and fell down the stairs
And with no luck was surrounded by pairs.
Two sets of kids, and no where to run
Why did the red team have all the fun?
Two healers, a mage, and a rogue of some kind
Hopefully the last of them would not leave me blind.
I heard her steps slowly descending
I feared this might be how it was ending.
This is what I get for playing too much Skyrim | 2015-07-13T17:50:28 | 2015-07-13T16:47:26 | 44 | 26 |
[WP] You are a recently hired psychiatrist at a mental hospital. Some of your patients insist that they were once staff, but are being held prisoner by the actual patients that now run the hospital. | Stick-thin isn’t an exaggeration for Maren Greenwich. He looks like someone had stretched his face over a skull and made the walking skeleton smile and be extra nice to everybody. So, despite his ghoulish appearance, he is the only patient to always ask about my day and even save me some chocolate pudding from lunch. He is quite the sweetheart. Except to the cook. He hates the cook. Every day, the cook comes to his room to offer him his meal and every day, as soon as the man turns, he rushes over to the bathroom and purges himself of it. Smiling of course.
I’m told the two have history, but when I ask Maren about it, his eyes go wide and his smile grows so far I’m afraid he’ll pull a muscle. Once, he actually did. And still he smiled, wincing in pain, but still smiling. My professional stance, as a psychiatrist, is that his smile is his shield and sword. It protects him in the illusion of happiness and spites some unknown force, desperate to make him unhappy. It’s very common among patients like him—to believe that someone or something is out to get him and that’s why Maren Greenwich smiles so much, to beat whatever that is at its own game.
However, my personal stance differs. I once saw him stub a toe and his lips dipped for just a second. When he realized, his eyes widened and he redoubled his efforts to smile. That was when he pulled a muscle. I begged him to stop smiling. He refused. In the end, we had to put him under to stop himself from tearing his cheek muscles.
There is a desperation in the way Maren Greenwich smiles. Seething, bubbling, boiling, like a volcano waiting to blow and as soon as those lips collapse, I know the destruction will come. Though I suppose, that’s why he’s here. That’s why I’m here too. To save him.
“Maren,” I say and yawn. My breath catches. How did I let the yawn escape me? Smoothly, I say “How is your day?” as if I hadn’t just yawned in his face.
He looks around us and then at me, studying my face. For a second, I believe that I’ve also left some spinach in my teeth. Then, I realized that I skipped lunch. Perhaps hanging around Maren so much has rubbed off on me.
“You have bags, doc,” he tells me.
I look on the ground and find none. My pen hovers over my pad, ready to scribble *delusional*, when I ask, “tell me more about these bags you see.”
“No, not like that.” He shakes his head manically. “Under your eyes.”
I brush my eyes with fingertips. Wipe powder sticks to my finger. I had thought my makeup good enough to hide my fatigue, but clearly not. “That’s very observant of you.”
“I used to have the same, back when I was sitting in that chair.” His smile dwindle and his eyes glaze over.
I take note. With Maren, reading facial expressions change. The dwindle of a smile isn’t actually him growing sadder, but him managing a real, but feinter grin. His cheek-to-cheek smile is his frown.
“And what did you do in this seat?” I ask, playing into his fantasy.
“Exactly what you’re doing. Helping. Counseling. Prescribing.” He angles his chin up, thinking. “Starving. Not sleeping. Dying.”
My pen flies through the legal pad. “Mmhmm,” I hum without looking up. “And how did you end up where you are, here?”
Five bony fingers latch onto my wrist and I nearly drop my pen in fright. His fingernails are like talons, digging into my flesh. I look up and breath sticks in my throat, too afraid to emerge. He is no longer smiling.
“I’m here because I’m not dead, yet,” he whispers. “Write on your pad that I’m happy. As long as I haven’t become as miserable as I made them, they won’t kill me.”
“Okay,” I say in breathless voice.
With a nod, his smile slowly returns and with it, the usual Maren, back on the couch, talking about his day and how wonderful life is. “You won’t believe how tasty the pudding was in the cafeteria today, doc,” he says, almost singing the words. “I should’ve saved you some. You know? Next time I will.”
I nod—more a twitch than a nod—and look down to write my notes. My eyes catch a scribble on the side of my page and my brow furrows. Maren looks at me, calm, content, smiling. “What is it, doc?”
Patients here have no personal possessions. It was too easy for them to hurt themselves with one. So they had no toothbrush to sharpen, blankets to tie around themselves, or even pencils. Except, Maren apparently, who in the time he had grabbed my wrist, had also scribbled into my pad a single command.
Run.
---
/r/jraywang
| "So... doctor," muttered the director, black leather chair facing the window. "What is it you hope to accomplish here in the jungle?"
"I'm sorry?" said Dr. Elaine Winslow. Some vague part of her mind wondered why the director's voice sounded so different; last week, when they’d talked over the phone, he had been less nasally. Perhaps it was a cold.
"Orderlies," called the director, suddenly screaming. Elaine jumped in her seat.
Two huge men burst into the room. Their eyes were wild, rolling around in fury and panic. The one on the left, with the dyed-red hair, had his hand behind his broad back. Their white outfits were stiff with starch and too small for their bodies.
“Blebbeh, blurgle, blurf,” said the orderly on the left. He had big, rough, strangler’s hands. Good for wrangling patients, probably. His eyes were considerably more wild than the one with the red hair.
“What was that?” screeched the director, laughing shrilly.
One hand still behind his back, Red Hair stepped forward. “He says, ‘What’s the problem, boss?’”
“Ah,” purred the director. Then he spun around in his chair. Elaine coughed politely, trying not to stare. He was not how she had imagined him. The director’s skin was milk-white, and his hair, like the orderly’s, looked to be dyed. Though, in the director’s case, it was a greasy, dark green. His teeth were crooked and large, like time-yellowed tombstones. He went on: “Good orderlies, this is the first day for our dear Doctor *Elaine*,” he drew her name out, seductively. “She requires your assistance in navigating the great, animal halls of this most terrible institution. Would you help her?”
“O’course,” said Red Hair, coming forward.
“Blop,” agreed Strangler Hands, likewise getting closer to Elaine.
“Doctor?” questioned Elaine, somewhat confused. Why insult the hospital like that?
“Yes, doctor?” echoed the director, his bright red lips fixed in a sardonic smile.
She put on a reluctant, guarded expression. “Nothing. It was nice to meet you in person, doctor. Take me away, boys,” she joked, standing up.
The director roared. “And she’s got a sense of humor!” His voice grew low and husky as he said: “A quality I prize above all others. Delectable. Treat her well, good orderlies.”
There was a brief, silent exchange between Red Hair and the director, where the director seemed to shake his head. Red Hair consequently tucked something into his waistband and adjusted his rigid white shirt. Then Red Hair’s hands were on his hips, and he was saying, “Wanna take a look around, doctor?”
“Yes, let’s,” said Elaine, picking up her briefcase.
-----
The 'great, animal halls' were not as loud or as occupied by patients as she had expected they would be. In fact, she didn't see a single one out in the open. There were many other kinds of people, though.
"You're saying these are orderlies?" Elaine gestured at all the lingering men and women wearing white, pleated outfits.
"Yep," agreed Red Hair. He seemed unperturbed when two leaped at each other and started to flail and pound and screech. "Don't mind 'em, on break."
There were thirty, forty of them. They had a distinctly ruffled look, each one. Some had dyed hair. Some had jittery limbs and twitchy necks. Some sneered aimlessly. Some slammed their heads wetly against white-tiled walls.
"Ok," said Elaine, squeezing her phone in her pocket. "So where are the patients?"
"Have patience," giggled Red Hair, "we'll see the patients shortly."
As Red Hair walked ahead of her, Elaine caught sight of a bulge in the back of his pants. Strangler Hands clicked and clacked his teeth at her, like a rabid animal, and broke off, grinning. He joined the brawling 'orderlies,' diving into the fray.
Elaine and Red Hair traveled into the dark silent depths of the building.
------
*will finish this in a bit, have some work to do*
| 2017-11-30T13:55:26 | 2017-11-30T13:35:18 | 3,104 | 19 |
[WP] God forgot about Earth soon after Adam and Eve, fully expecting them to die. One of the Angels just informed him they survived, and the population is over 7 billion. | "What do you mean it's unavailable for colonization?"
"Well, that's just it -- it appears it's already been colonized."
"By who?!"
"Us."
"What do you mean US?"
"Ok. You remember Adam and Eve?"
"The criminals? We exiled them on a prison planet didn't we?"
"Actually, he was the criminal, she went with him because--"
"Oh yeah yeah. I remember now. All that drama where she said she'd eat the apple too and die with him because love is the greatest--"
"The point is--"
"You always liked her. Still broken up about it aren't you?"
"They survived."
"The poison didn't work? They're still there? WOW. What does isolation like that DO to somebody? Are they--"
"LISTEN. The poison worked. They died, but they had kids. And the kids had kids. And all of them kept dying in under a century. The alteration passed through to all of them."
"So what are you saying? We have a group of feral, DNA-damaged children out there that we're going to need to reprocess through therapy before we can --"
"There are 7 billion of them."
"SHE HAD SEVEN BILLION CHILDREN?!"
"Did you hear me? Their lifespan was cut down less than a century. Each generation had more kids. It's been thousands of years, God. The multiples--"
"ADAM! That guy. Such an asshole. Never one for family planning, always with the enabling women. Who has kids on a prison planet with a DNA-destructor--"
"Listen. The descendants... they talk about you. They say they are the children of God. That their lives are all crap because Eve tricked Adam into eating an apple way back when, and if they all are very good, and they believe in your son Jesus, they'll be forgiven and--"
"STOP. Stop stop stop. This is a nightmare. So social services has already been down there?"
"Just Jesus. He's always been on your side, he was trying to clean the mess up before it got even more out of hand--"
"Grade 10 psychological intervention--"
"Yeah, they straight up tried to murder him."
"Crap."
"He didn't know what to do. It's not like we can get our hands on something to gas them all. And there's too many to re-process."
"Does anyone else know?"
"Just us and Jesus. But it's in the next round of selections for colonization, and when the scout ships get there--"
"Crap."
"I'm sure they'll understand--"
"No, no they won't. They understaff the justice department, don't give us enough patrols to check up on these places, and when something like this happens, what are they going to do? Point the finger, shuck us all off to other prison planets. And then--"
"So what do we do?"
"What do you think? We get the red tape on our side. Push it out of the selections entirely."
"But what about all those kids?"
"I don't know. They'll have to figure it out on their own. Dammit, Adam. What an ass." | Inside a large lab with sparkling white walls, a man sat in front of a computer. His finger held a small pencil he tapped over and over on the screen.
After tapping the screen a few more times, groaning impatiently once and then running a hand through his beard over and over, he got up from his seat.
"Oh, my back!" He said as he got up. A smaller looking human walked up to him and offered him a glass of water.
"Oh, thank you, angel uh...#1?" The man looked down at the figure in front of him, a guilty look on his face.
The small figure patted the bigger one gently on the knee. "It's okay God, I'm angel #666. #1 got deported quite a long time ago. I'm the newest guy."
"Oh, okay...uh...welcome aboard?"
"Sir, I joined a few thousand years ago."
"Ah, my memory is not what it used to be."
"Sir, actually there is something related to that."
"What is it?" The God said, now leaning over his desk, looking back at the screen, at the numbers scrolling up.
"Umm...do you remember the likeness project?"
"The likeness...? Oh yeah! Hahaha" And saying so God broke out in laughter and his entire body seemed to shake as he did, including his belly.
"Oh hohoho!" He said, wiping a small tear that had formed around his eyes. He pulled his chair towards him and sat down, now quite out of breath.
"Oh that was a funny project, wasn't it angel? A male and a female that looked like me. 'In my own image' as Lucie had said. Man, I wonder what happened to that."
The small figure looked at its feet and wrung his hands in front of him, "Well, it's about that..."
"Go on." God said, still smiling, but his eyes had narrowed at angel #666.
"Sir, Lucifer didn't turn the program off..."
"What?!" God thundered and stood up quickly. The chair shot out from under him and crashed as it hit the wall behind God. "What did you say?"
"Sir, Lucifer didn't let the program end. He made further copies of Subjects #A-d-a Male and #E-v-e Female."
God looked across the room, a blank stare in his eyes. "It was Earth, right? That distant planet?"
"Yes, God."
"How many?" God asked, now leaning heavily on the table, looking old.
"Seven billion, sir."
"Oh my Steve." God said, and fell down on the floor. | 2016-03-07T07:37:11 | 2016-03-07T04:17:08 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] You have 30 seconds with an ancestor of yours from 200 years ago (1814), before they are transported back to their time. What do you say to them? What effect appears in our world because of it?
Consider for the sake of this prompt that they aren't totally freaked out by being plopped into 2014, that they can understand you, and that they'll continue their life as normal back in their time, only with the knowledge of whatever you told them with your 30 seconds time. | ## Change EVERYTHING
"Sir, you have fifteen seconds," the lady behind the counter said to me, "And remember, you are not allowed to disclose any information that may affect the future of this company. Should you attempt to do so, your ancestor will be terminated and you will be liable for the fullest extent of penalties incurred under the contract you've just signed.."
I nod, trembling while doing so. It was my first time. They say that first timers often don't say a thing, simply look at their ancestor and let them go. They visit several times afterward, always trying to build up the courage until they say something meaningful.
The rich, of course, came to see their ancestors almost quite regularly. So much so that they were able to get richer and richer over time, find their family secrets, stash away trinkets that were valueless in the past but grew to be extremely expensive in the present.
On others, it backfired. Their ancestors would not heed warnings, or acted completely aganst them. The backfire could propagate into crumbling of enormous corporate empires overnight. No one knew it happened until it was already done. And then no one remembered.
People like me, however, scraped by all their lives, hoping to make that big change by investing all their money to see their ancestor and improve everything in swift thirty seconds.
I practiced for hours. "Don't choke," was the thought in my head, running on repeat.
"Five seconds," the lady announced and sealed herself off. I was in a wooden cottage simulation, alone, awaiting my great-great-great, oh who knows how many, grandfather.
The man before me appeared promptly. He stared straight into my, completely unphased by what happened.
"Ahh, great great grandson. How is my little empire?"
I stared in disbelief, "What do you mean?"
He frowned, "Something went wrong. I should not have invested with those damn charlatans, should I have?"
"You've seen me before?"
"Oh yes, quite frequently. Quick, we only have a few seconds. What should I do?"
The timer was ticking away, loudly in my head.
"Things must have gone wrong. Don't do what I said last time. Remember me. Good luck!"
I walked out of the simulation, barely remembering what had happened.
"Hello sir, should I expect you next week?"
"I'll have my secretary arrange my next appointment. Thank you."
My phone vibrated with an email notification. The company merger was approved by the federal regulators, finally. | I look out the window. It is a glorious, sunny day outside. Students walk casually through the commons area in front of the science complex. A few sit cross-legged on the lawn, cramming for a finals exam or just relaxing and talking with their friends. I look at my watch; three minutes to go...
A loud snap and a whiff of ozone. Rodrigo appears in front of me in mid-step and stumbles. Maybe he was toiling on his subsistence plot, maybe he was hauling water for the landlord. I catch him before he can fall. He looks around in a panic and I try to soothe his fears.
"No se preocupe Don Rodrigo, soy su familia"
He doesn't seem to understand or care. He looks around frantically like a cornered and fightened animal. No time to explain to him, I have to make this quick and dirty.
"Escúcheme, es importante. Me llamo Rodrigo también, dígame si usted esta casado. Como se llama su esposa?"
I receve back only the same wild, confused look in his eyes. I have seconds left...
"Su esposa, dígame el nombre de su esposa!".
It's pointless. The shock of the Jump is too much for him. The 30 seconds have flown by. He fades. There is another snap, more ozone.
A complete failure. There will not be another chance. I look out the window. It is cloudy and gray, as it always is, as it has been for almost a century. The bleak concrete of the common area of the Military College is empty save for the armed enforcers. The Napoleanic Dynasty's banners hang limply, only barely fluttering. I hear bootsteps coming up the hallway. For me of course, as I always knew they'd come.
| 2014-05-09T08:44:55 | 2014-05-09T08:19:15 | 70 | 17 |
[WP] Humans and Aliens have had a war going on for centuries, but only the aliens are aware of it | I stare at the globe in front of me. The orb floats and continues to rotate almost mockingly. The unconquerable “Earth”. The faint glow of the sphere casts a soft light through my war room. I find myself contemplating our predicament in here more and more often.
No matter what we throw at them, no matter how hard we fight, they always seem to gain the upper hand. Hands. Oh yes, they are oh so proud of those fleshy appendages that they use to make war. I’ve never understood it. We far outnumber them, we’ve infiltrated their homes, and we have had millennia to grow beyond what they are. Heh. Insects they call us. A demeaning label given by mere evolutionary infants! Two legs? Ha! How can they even call themselves an intelligent species?
But, I cannot argue with their results. The casualties are steeped heavily in their favor. They crush us, burn us, they engineer chemical weaponry and arm every man, woman, and child. With one spray, my armies fall. Meanwhile, I’ve pulled out every resource at my disposal and killed only a handful of their own in comparison.
Lately, I have begun to think that we should not have engaged them in the first place. Maybe we should have taken the hint when they killed our ambassador all those years ago and just let them be. Perhaps I should recall the troops once ad for all.
Here is someone crawling along the tunnel. No, no more thoughts of retreat. I must put on a brave face and carry on the fight that my bloodline started so any generations ago. I see Private Thrip enter the war room and straighten himself up, “Sir!”
“Yes, what is it, soldier?”
“I’ve just received word from our intelligence agents on Earth. There has been new mention of our planet”, I could tell that Thrip was not keen on telling me whatever this news was.
“Well, out with it! It will reach me one way or the other!”
Private Thrip bowed in response, “They mock us, sir. Not only do they speak of us as annoyances on their own planet, but now they have proclaimed that our own home has not the right to be called a planet anymore. “Pluto”, as they call our planet, has been renounced as one. They wish us to believe we are insignificant in all aspects.”
I heard myself sigh. Well, if I had been looking for a sign, this could not have come in any more clearly. They were playing with us. They had been for years, now that I looked back. It was time to grow on our own, outside of war. All I had to do was give the order, “Pull them out.”
“Sir? Pull who out, sir?”
“All of them. I will not allow this fight to continue. There is nothing in it. Have all of our forces return home. It will be a long endeavor in and of its self, so start right away. Begin with the B.E.E.S.”
| We had come in peace. We came across the vast void to coexist with the only other living planetknown in the universe.
For a while, it had gone so well. The humans called us Mau and some even worshipped us. They praised our grace, poise, and majesty. We were all happy. We established colonies all around the world and had children and those children had children. We coexisted with all other life on earth.
But about 10,000 odd years ago things changed when the humans in the Nile valley started enslaving us. Tot his day I am not sure why they started doing this. But, they started treating us like filthy dogs. They took us out of our natural habitats, took us away from our families, put us in prisons... all for no reason except that they were intimidated by us. We meant no harm, but I can see why they were intimidated. We are after all 100 times more smarter than them.
Unfortunately for us, the dumb humans were physically stronger and they threw us into these hell holes and made us beg for our food by pleasing them. Over the last 10,000 years they have killed millions of us. Some of my brothers were killed for just roaming the street, others because there just was no room in prisons.
But like I said, We are smart. So we launched guerrilla countermeasures and psych warfare. We got the upper hand almost right away. And the humans don't even have a clue that we have won this war. Battles are still being fought but we found a way to win inside our prisons by making the wardens our slaves. Mind control, charm - Child's play for us. Humans fought and lost a war that they didn't even know was being waged.
We assigned ourselves multiple slave humans and they attend to our every need. I still mourn brothers dying in those meaningless battles out there. But for me personally, life is great.
Ok here comes my alpha slave. He has labored in the kitchen and is trying to please me. "Come and eat your snack. I made it for you myself". I will not respond in this vulgar language. Not after we won. History is written by winners after all. I think I will tell him that I will do what I damn well please. I turn to him and say it in my native high speech "meow".
| 2015-10-19T22:43:47 | 2015-10-19T22:13:49 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] After getting home from a long day at work, you find a demon sitting on your couch, sobbing hysterically, snuggling your cat, and eating from a tub of ice cream | “Again Caleb? Really? We broke up months ago. You need to stop doing this,” I sighed in frustration. I mean, finding my ex boyfriend death gripping my cat and sobbing on my couch again is never a fun surprise after a hard day at work, but he seems to just keep haunting me.
I should have gotten a restraining order after the first time. Or the next three. This was really becoming quite the pain.
“I swear, she meant nothing! Please, just let me stay for just one night,” he pleaded.
“‘She’ was my mom, and I’m not getting into this argument again! Just get out, before I call the cops! And for God’s sake, put down Lima!” I yelled.
He clutched the cat tighter before choking out “She’s my cat too” between sobs.
“Not since your dick ended up in the hole I came out of you absolute twat. I don’t have time for this,” I replied while pulling out my phone to dial the police.
As I expected, the sight of me calling the police was enough for Caleb to drop the cat and run past me out the door.
‘Works every time,’ I thought to myself before locking my door and making my way over to my couch, only to find a now empty container of pistachio ice cream.
“That literal motherfucker finished my favorite ice cream too?!” I cried aloud.
That’s it. Restraining order it is.
| “Oh hey Azalea, something wrong?”
She nodded and I sighed before sitting down near her.
“You want to talk about it?”
She then says yes and tells her that her boyfriend broke up with her due to being forced into a marriage contract with someone else. And he had to reluctantly break up with her. This devastated her and so she cried and ran away from him. But she knew this was beyond him, yet it still broke her heart so she went to my place, because I am her roommate. And I tell her that he is probably devastated as well due to him being forced into a marriage without his consent and is contracted, and that made her realized that it he would’ve rejected it if it was so binding. So after that we just start to talk about other stuff, and watch a movie together so she can forget about it.
(This is my first one, and constructive criticism is allowed). | 2019-04-06T20:47:08 | 2019-04-06T15:14:14 | 38 | 24 |
[WP] When superpowers develop they grotesquely mutate humans to correspond with their powers. Because of your ability you have been regarded as a freak among freaks | There was much speculation on where the line was. Some people became hulking behemoths that could crush people and property if not careful. Others developed deadly sharp protrusions that could tear and maim passersby by complete accident. Perhaps those who became the walking hosts of diseases, a living virus ecology, should be spurned and rejected outright from any rational community. They weren't and no one else was.
While many were pitied and looked down upon for having mutations that were considered "disadvantageous" or outright dangerous, they were never fully abandoned. No matter how awful a mutation was, people always found ways mitigate the threat they posed to an acceptable societal standard. Or at the very least, they would find a society with lax enough requirements to let them in.
As I stalk the damp sewers stealthily, I remember the days of conversing with my all my different friends about where the absolute extreme started and where peoples' tolerance ended. A macabre exercise of the imagination; to think of a transformation so vile that your humanity will be ignored even by your own loved ones.
I had many loved ones, and they all wept in sorrow to what I have become. However, I remember being the first one who wept. Tragedy struck with an insidious disease that promised a prolonged slow death. I didn't want them to leave, I wasn't ready to let them go. It wasn't fair, I wanted them to stay with me longer. And then they didn't. My wish was granted as we became of one of flesh, body and mind muddled. We were disgusted by our new selves but we knew this was our hearts' deepest darkest desire fulfilled.
That was where the line was. We never had the intention of spreading our gift to anyone else but we were threatened and we weren't going to tolerate our closest ones getting hurt. Those who presented harm were forcefully taken in, body, flesh and all. There was so much rage, sadness and confusion.
Eventually all the minds came to an understanding of their new reality, rearranging into groups and batches. The most nihilistic ones becoming a silent hum to those who followed their human instinct to live, adapt and overcome. Somehow a raging yet structured storm of minds wasn't entirely dissimilar to the day to day experience of a human being. At some point "we" became "me" and as much as I was disgusted with myself, I ultimately decided that no matter what form I have taken, I viewed myself as human and that's all that mattered.
^(Edits: fixes to story flow, repetition and stuff like that) | Some of the others don't have it so bad. One of my friends looks like a jacked up cliff bar ever since his transformation, another appears to be an opaque apparition as a result of her ability to pass through solid materials. My best friend Joseph... bless his soul, is often mistaken for an oily weather balloon. None of it is glamorous, I never said it was but they can still indulge in certain creature comforts that I will eternally long for. Food, drugs, sex, conversation... FUCK.
My transformation wasn't gradual, there were no warning signs. I didn't even have time to say goodbye to my family and friends, now I watch them suffer whenever I can muster the nerve to check in on them. They wonder every waking moment why I disappeared and it's tearing my disembodied consciousness apart.
The morning I awoke to my mother feverishly searching for me I tried to scream, I tried to gasp for air to no avail as my physical body had seemed to disappear overnight taking with it my biological functions.
Yet my consciousness remains, I'm... invisible?... invincible?.... immaterial? Is this punishment? No, this is far too cruel a punishment for anything my earthly body could have ever done. This is a freak accident of nature which has left me a wandering observer for all eternity. I want to die but I can't, at the speed my unincorporated perception moves I'd be lucky to reach our sun by the time it runs out of hydrogen atoms and dies.
Until then it seems that watching the goings-on of this planet which once recognised me is a less consciously painful option than drifting for countless aeons until the universe settles into it's final state of cold vacuous dust.
&#x200B;
(sorry I kind flopped on the last point of being regarded as a freak, though I'm still in line with the rules which say I don't have to address every point in the prompt.) | 2019-09-20T23:42:28 | 2019-09-20T21:54:44 | 48 | 20 |
[WP] Officially, you're a weak, D rank villain. Unofficially, you're one of the strongest beings on the planet that is secretly employed to "train" fledgling heroes by giving them an easy first real fight. But one day an A rank villain crashes your heist and you must protect your "students". | Nighttime. Perfect time for a heist... the ordinary mortals would be unable to see through the darkness of night, leaving them out of my way. No sense in harming those that have not earned it, after all.
I adjusted the last few straps on my gaudy outfit and made my way to the bank, where the lower-ranking heroes would easily hear of my "evil-doing" and arrive to stop me. That was, after all, my purpose-a sort of glorified training dummy, meant to empower others and train them to become better and stronger.
As I approached the building, I smiled a little to myself; who, I wonder, would best me tonight? Plasti-Girl? The Nuclear Pile? Perhaps Shark Wonder...
"Well, well, well, lookie who we have here."
That voice... I glanced up to see Meteor laying atop a lightpole, smirking at me as a small swarm of his space-rocks orbited around him. I gave him a nod as I passed by. "Meteor. What is a high-ranking villain such as yourself doing out and about?"
"Oh, ya know, takin a walk, enjoyin the night... plannin on a heist. Villain stuff. Easy pickins, there's no high-ranking heroes to stop me here! Just a buncha low-level wet wipes."
"You *are* aware that this is my territory, yes? And what is someone that is wanted for destroying a city doing here? Surely you have better things to do."
Meteor laughed at that, sliding from his perch and sauntering over to me. "Boredom, ya old fart. Gets dull being at the top, and I wanna pop some skulls tonight! Those high-level heroes are so hard to kill, but the low-level ones?" He grinned as his meteors grew a little in size, collecting stray matter from the air and adding it to their mass. "Oh, I can crush em like ants."
"I did not take you to be a coward."
"Shut it, old man." The brazen young mortal gave me a shove; my eye twitched, but I refrained from lashing out. "You ain't got shit on me. I'm an A-grade villain! I could smash this city to a pulp if I wanted to! And what can you do?! You're just a show pony that can sometimes turn invisible! Now, I'm gonna go kill some of those little fucks. And you better not get in my way, or else."
Oh dear. This... I could not allow this to happen. I sighed to myself as he began to saunter off; there was no other resort, I supposed...
"I suppose I'll have to deal with you myself, then."
Meteor turned to me, face twisted in anger. "What was tha-?!" He abruptly stopped and went pale as he saw my form begin to writhe and distort. "...the hell...?"
Whispers filled the air around us as I began to shed my body, a black mass of eyes and gibbering mouths and writhing tentacles crawling from a costume of flesh and bone towards the villain. *"You mortals are all the same. You have so much hubris, and yet you are so very frail."*
"Wh-what the fuck?! **What the fuck?!"** His meteors grew in size until they were as large as SUVs; he sent them crashing into my body as I crawled towards him, to no avail. They merely became a part of my, my multitudes of eyes glaring at the panicking villain.
*"Weak. And pathetic. Just like the rest of your kind."* I wrapped a tentacle around him; he began to scream and writhe, forming more meteors and futilely shooting them at me. *"But... I do not think you fully comprehend the fact of how pathetic you are."*
"No. No. God. Please. Let me go. Let me go. I don't wanna die! I DON'T WANNA DIE!"
*"Ǫ̴̉h̴̛̳,̵͠ͅ ̶̗̇ý̶̢o̵͐ͅu̵̩͑ ̵͖̎w̷̗͒i̸̫͒ļ̵̿l̶̝̂ ̴̼͋n̴͈̋ȯ̶̝t̶̩̾ ̶̡͌d̷̞́ì̴̲e̸͓̕ ̷̡͝t̶̞̀o̷̹̅n̸̿ͅǐ̴͇g̷̨̉h̷̬̾t̶̬͘,̷̘͠ ̶͋ͅc̵̡̕h̷̬̎i̵͎͛ḻ̷̀d̸͖͠ ̸̲̊o̶̗̅f̷͈̽ ̴̝̈́A̷̙͘d̵̘̕a̴͈̽ḿ̵͕,"* I murmured softly, resting a tentacle upon his forehead. *"B̴͈̊u̷̺̅t̶͍̒.̴͖͐.̵̝͠.̵̲̄ ̴̺̎ý̷̝o̸͎̕u̸̦͌ ̴̙́w̷̩̍i̷̇͜l̸̘͝l̴̉ͅ ̵̛̯w̵͕̔i̷̢̕s̸̟͝h̸͇͘ ̶̟̽ṭ̸͐h̵̞̿a̴̭͐t̶̫̑ ̵̘͆Ÿ̸̹́ō̶͚t̶̠̉h̷͍̃ả̶̰l̷̞̈ơ̶̯t̸̤̉h̸̘͋u̷̼͝ ̵̖͠g̴̰̾r̴̟̊a̴̻͌n̸͔̈t̷͔̿ë̶͍́d̶̜͂ ̶͈̃y̴͙̽õ̴̩u̴̡͌ ̵̹̆d̶̝͝ė̵̮a̶̠͐t̴͇̊h̵̩́.̶̣͂ "*
And as the frail, pathetic mortal watched, as he soiled his pants and screamed, I filled his mind with profane, unknowable things. Eldritch truths, alien knowledge, visages of extradimensional beings... things no mortal mind can comprehend. I watched his brain melt before my very eyes to protect itself, slowly shutting itself down so that it may not have to bear such knowledge. I watched him devolve into a drooling, babbling mess, his mind little more than mush now.
But my knowledge flowed ever onward, never ceasing until his brain finally shut itself off.
He died with a contorted scream twisting his face, the visage of a mortal who had witnessed ultimate horror; the knowledge of his place in the universe, and his inherent meaninglessness in all the grand stage of reality. I slunk back into my mortal casing, setting Meteor's body aside to be discovered later, and continued on my way.
I had heroes to train, after all. And what sort of guardian of humanity would I be if I couldn't even teach the mortals how to defend themselves? | I had been watching them for about a week, seeing how they respond to various clues and traps. Never anything too dangerous, they'll face those challenges in time and honestly, I just really dont like to get my suit dirty. This merry little bunch called themselves "The Wild Catz" and yes they make sure to put some extra emphasis on the "z".
The trio consisted of Dan aka Jaguar, age 23, day time occupation: accountant (boring) - power: super strength and agility. Beth aka Lioness, age 24, day time occupation: high school teacher - power: telekinesis (i wonder if she reads her students...nevermind) and Greg aka Fangs, age 21, Day time occupation: athlete/student - power: As far as I can tell nothing can hurt the bastard (yet).
The inhabitants of Skycity know me as The "book keeper" a monikor given to me many years ago by the cities greatest Hero, Cloudnine (may he rest in peace bit of a goody goody but a good man with good principles). My particular brand of crimes rarely result in injuries, and always resulted in a heavy payout that I documented thoroughly. As much as the monetary figures played into the name, he loved my black book...i keep everything in it. Every hero, every villian, their powers, weaknesses, favorite scotch etc etc. He could never get it from me...and never figured out how I got my info. Particularly proud of that actually.
But anyway, back to the trio, recently the Natural History Museum played host to a love exhibit of ancient Mesopotamian artifacts, I enjoyed it so much I figured I might as well take some pieces to go. I'd like to see if they can piece together some rather obvious clues i've left behind.... its just that they're so easily side tracked...
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"Lioness, did you get anything from the night guard?" Dan was always very micromanagey, we've discussed it before but he really never lets me do my thing. "Not really" I say to him. "He isn't involved, he came in and the display was swiped". I knew that answer wouldnt make him happy, hes always wanted his "gut" to be right and it rarely was.
"Well alright then, lets split up and look around. Who ever did this had to get in and out of here somehow" Dan was our defacto leader, he had a certain charisma about him that was hard to ignore. "Fangs!" He yelled out. "Dont touch that!" I looked over in time to see Fangs about to pick up the crown of some long dead emperor. "Sorry Jags... it just looked cool"
While Jags started to lay into him about procedure and how we will never be taken serious, I looked about and thought I saw a man in a suit in the rafters. "Jags I dont think were alo-"
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An explosion ripped through the museum, at first I was unsure what it was and, embarassingly enough, it caught me off guard. When the dust settled there he was standing amongst the debris... Sayonara... the deadliest villian in Skycity. What the fuck is he doong here!? I mutter.
Below he starts talking to the Catz... "Well done little Kitties! You stumbled into my trap, I knew if I followed old Book Keep around long enough he lead me to a fresh batch of....heroes.... and here you are!" He followed me? I say to myself, christ I am slipping. "Sayonara?!" I hear a stunned Jags shout. "Are you working with the bookkeeper?? "
"Working with...the...book keeper? How dare you. Im simply here to cull the herd. To many Amateurs are running about and im tired of it. Simply here to kill you!"
At that moment Fangs dove in from behind and with an intense speed Sayonara turned and tore his arm off...so much for the invulnerability... Bloody hell here we go.
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The blood was everywhere, Fangs was in dire need of medical and this maniac was winding up for his next attack. "Dan, we need to get out of here now!"
"Tsk tsk, dropping the cute nicknames already? Well im sorry young lady but you and Dan are going no where. I Promise to make this quick!"
He lept at me, breaking the sound barrier, and then with the deafening crack that came with it the room exploded in light and the sudden sound of silence. I quickly look at Dan who is looking at me with eyes wide in pure astonishment, as I slowly turn to look I become aware that someone else had joined us, standing in front of me is a well dressed man, who is holding Sayonara back with one hand. He looks like the book keeper...but he isnt strong enough for that? Infact to date hes never even thrown a punch at a hero. Let alone been seeing stopping the sonic boom
"Sayonara!" The man screams. "I dont know what you're doing here but you know the rules. It is time to take your name to heart and leave!"
"Bookie!" Sayonara yells "how dare you! Move now or I will kill you with them"
It is the Book Keeper.b His strength must be unrivaled I quietly think to myself. "It is time for you three children to leave. Fangs needs medical assistance and you dont need to see this" he says to me. Slowly I nod, and start to back away. What could he be thinking, Sayonara is the 2nd strongest villian our city has ever seen.
"Sayonara, they are under my protection. If you insist on this I will be forced to eradicate you" he yells across to Sayonara.
"You? Hurt ME? What will you throw your little book at me? HERE I COME KITTIES!" And with that he again jumps toward the three of us but again does not reach us, this time The Book Keeper kept his word.
The headless body of Sayonara lays at his feet...His head thrown through 3 walls.
The room falls silent until finally The Book keeper lets loose a deel sigh and looks over at me "I really liked that book too...better go get it" and with that he walked over, picked up his blood soaked book, and never looked back.
It was only later while talking to the police that it dawned on me... during the fight The Book Keeper told Sayonara he would "eradicate him". The very catch phrase of the man who killed and was simultaneously killed by Cloudnine 30 years ago. Jags decided he was done, his only concern was Fangs and rightfully so, hes got a long road ahead but he will survive.
As for me, I am going to find Book Keeper.
I need to know the truth. | 2021-06-23T16:49:51 | 2021-06-23T16:17:30 | 39 | 18 |
[WP] You come from a long line of warriors with the ability to communicate with their ancestors for advice. However, you’re ancestors are not too thrilled about the lack of battle in your modern life and mundane job. | *Come on, please, just hit them one more time. If you just attack their northern border, you can push through to their capital in no time!*
I sighed. Now that he pointed it out, I could see it. Every move I had to make, where to hit them. I could cripple them before they even knew what was happening.
"No, I'm not doing it. We've talked about this, I don't have the time. You have all eternity to watch and to spend thinking about killing, I have a life to worry about. You'll just have to wait."
*No, no, come back young man. We are not finished yet. A true warrior never quits. Do you want to bring dishonor on your family? Why are you not like your cousin Michael? He listens to us!*
"Yes, and now he's in prison. I have a test to study for, just shut up."
*You and your stupid tests. In my day, we would prove that we were ready by carving up our enemies, not sit still and write pointless scribbles.*
"Please, can you be quiet for a second? I have more important stuff to do, I need to study!"
*You are such a disappointment. It was probably that lousy father of yours, he should have beaten it out of you. Such a disgrace.*
"Ok, I'm done with this. You want me to kill my enemies, to invade their borders and cripple their supply lines? Fine. I will do that. If you let me study for the test. Otherwise, you can shove those swords up your ass for all I care. Clear?"
*But..*
"No buts. Am I clear?"
*Yes.*
"Good."
Three hours later, I sat back down at my desk. I booted up Civ VI, and led my troops right to Gandhi's northern border. In my head shouting erupted.
*For glory and honor!!!* | “So, what can I do for you today?” the ghostly figure asked. “I assume you don’t want to talk to Genghis Khan...”
He trailed off. The one time Zach had tried to talk to someone further back than the 1500s, he’s run into Genghis Khan. Military knowledge was nothing like an office job, and the only thing Khan had said was to get out. Still, it was better than the Victorian idiot, who took one look at Zach and decided to ignore everything he said.
Rupert, though, was only slightly better. “Any interesting battles recently?”
“Well, there was Lydia’s paperwork revolution, and the battle for a decent pair of scissors-”
“Oh, would you shut up about being left-handed? We *know* the scissors don’t work, we *know* Leo’s an asshole, aren’t there more interesting things in your life? In my time, we would have tied your hand to the desk. You haven’t invented a time machine to fight Hitler or something, have you?”
“Shut up, Rupert. World War Two might be where you come from, but I come from a nice office job in Manhattan.”
“Yeah, the Americans were our allies in Wor-”
Zach slammed the door in his face before he went off on another rant about the Nazis. | 2020-03-04T13:27:45 | 2020-03-04T09:46:49 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] In order to save the kingdom, you have gone into the forbidden forest to accept the marriage proposal of a mysterious witch who calls herself "The Spider Queen" | His father's Kingdom had been in decline for some 25 years. Coincidentally, the Prince was 25. Many muttered he'd been cursed, or was the curse on the once bountiful lands. It wasn't as if his years had been spent idly, Peter had been educated both practically and intellectually. His scholastic endeavors were no mere feats. He was wise. His practical education in building was no joke either. He'd done every job disguised as a lowly builder that he could get. He *knew* what it would take to restore the kingdom.
Peter's grand schemes and ambitions were always dismissed by his father. The curse stigma followed him everywhere too. Once he was discovered on any build site, he was immediately fired and the whole project declared cursed by anyone who outed him.
Peter's curse was famous. Despite all he'd done in disguise and the benefits the projects had actually brought, the people were fearful. There is no power greater than raw unadulterated fear. Rulers have used it for millennia. Peter knew this. His frustration and irritation grew.
His concepts for irrigation and sewers were scorned. "Clean water? More like cursed waters!" It was mocked rather artlessly in the graphetti that covered the outer castle walls. Along with some very graphic representations of Peter and varying sizes of poorly drawn dicks.
That's what the people tended to think of him. Just the next dickhead in charge. And they hated him.
With his father finally falling ill and no wife yet, Peter was nonplussed when a proposal came via messenger owl. The Cursed Forest's very own Spider Queen was proposing a marriage. One of convenience. An afterthought included mentioned breaking their respective curses. This was the reason Peter decided to pursue this at all.
His adventure into the cursed forest began on horseback, and his two squires had long ago abandoned him in the Cursed Forest. Peter soldiered on, partly desperate to lift the curse and partly curious as to what sort of woman would dare to propose to one of his cursed reputation.
He'd gotten lost. The invitation said nothing more than, "Find me to the East." Vague. Possibly a trap. But lifting a curse? And maybe finding a wife? Peter soldiered on.
There was a fire over the next hilltop. The smoke trail gave it's position. He drove forward directly to it.
There was a small camp. He called out to this witchy woman that called herself a Spider Queen. *What grotesque form might she take?*
It wasn't long before he heard a strong steady alto soprano voice clearly stating that she hadn't expected him at all.
She opened the door. What does a Spider Queen witch look like? She was tall. Not very thin, but still a wisp of a woman. She had bare shoulders and gleam in her blue gray eyes. Unlike a Spider she did not have eight legs or compound eyes. What she did have was a compelling set of curves many men would scourge themselves for a mere chance.
"I ... I..." Peter cleared his throat and tried again. "I am Peter Hampton the Fourth and I have come to see the woman daring enough to make such a proposal."
"Hello Peter. I didn't think you'd come, much less alone."
Peter unceremoniously dismounted his horse, keeping his eyes on this witch. After tying his horse off, he stared back at this woman seeming so unaffected by his presence. He sensed no fear, no pity, no disgust nor any of the other usual hostility he'd long grown accustomed to.
"Other than a bethrothal, how do you propose to lift this so-called curse?"
"Peter...." Her voice carried her smile in it. "There is no curse, just stupidity, and that, my dear husband," her eyes glinted fiercely, "is the true battle we shall face together. We will teach them, we will lead them. They will learn or they will wither. They must have half the education we do at least."
Peter stared. He'd met a challenge he wanted. He'd not brought a ring for any woman. This whole quest had been a last chance for salvation, and here she was with an idea as outrageous as his own.
"Woman, I will wed thee." He dropped to a knee, pulling his own ring from his finger and presenting it. "What is your name?"
...
Edit: some typos. Doing this from my phone.
Comments and criticism welcomed. Might even be able to withstand a curse or hex too. What ya got? | When I offered myself for this job, I thought it would be a lot more glamorous. Save the kingdom, they said. You'll be a hero, they said.
What they didn't mention was how sticky this area of the forest would be. Two miles into this trek and suddenly, my feet were caught up on branches and when I tried to pull myself out, this gloopy goo pulled me in. I'm stuck. And I'm a failure. Like so many princes who tried before me, I'm going to die here.
And then I see her. Coming towards me.
Long shiny arms. Hundreds (thousands?) of blinking eyes. And crinoline.
Wait, is that a dress?
She gets closer and I get all tensed up. It's she going to spray me with poison? Or worse, eat me alive?
"Don't struggle," her voice whispered in my ear. It's a deep, gutteral voice, almost sexy.
I'm... turned on?
"If you move, the web just hold you tighter... Until it crushes you."
She seemed to smile at me though I can't see where her mouth is.
Her arms freed me from my constraints. She lifted me onto her back and carried me up the tree. Until we are sitting at the top of the tallest tree in the forest, gazing out at the most beautiful view of the kingdom I have ever seen.
"Wow," is all I can think to say.
Am i supposed to best her in some way? Woo her? Is she aware of her part in all this?
"I know what they think of me, " her deep, somehow comforting voice, said to me.
"They think I'm evil. They think I'm going to destroy the kingdom if they don't keep sending prince snacks to me."
It's probably time to fess up.
"I'm not actually a prince," I confessed. It's embarrassing and I'm not sure what she'll think of me. "I'm the blacksmith's son. I just happened to be in the throne room when they were talking about needing someone to...uh... uh...Receive your proposal."
"So they sent you to die? Or to come distract me? Did they ask you to kill me or to please me?" She asked so this quickly and I thought I heard her sob at the end.
How cruel they had been to her for so long.
"I'm sorry if they disrespect you, or, or uh, if i offended you, I did not mean it."
She didn't seem all that scary but I was scared.
"I'm not looking for a meal, or even a plaything... I'm just looking for a companion. Someone who will talk to me like a real person."
I laughed, "yeah me too. People always treat me like trash in the kingdom. No girl will even look at me and my dad says I've got to focus on the family business."
She looked up, hopefully.
"Not now, though, right? They sent you as a sacrifice. They don't expect you to return. You're free."
I hadn't thought about that until now. I suddenly saw the landscape differently. I felt a weight off my shoulders.
I reach over to the hairy arm nearest to me and pet her.
"I'm sorry they've made you feel like a monster. You're probably the nicest a person has ever been to me."
"Same," she chuckled.
I looked into her eyes and she in mine.
"You wanna get out of here?" She said, tilting her head to the side.
"Sure," I said.
I had literally nothing to lose.
And then poof, she turned from a humongous spider into an eagle. Her wings brushed my cheeks and suddenly I felt myself transforming. I looked down and I too have become an eagle.
"Let's fly."
And we do. And it's glorious FOR THE BOTH OF US. | 2022-03-16T11:10:51 | 2022-03-16T10:41:00 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] After being told she had an accident and had "gone to heaven", his mind exploded in a white hot rage. 7 year old Roger wants his kitty back and God doesn't know what's about to hit him. | The younger we are, the more pure are our emotions. The joy of a child is usually not tainted by the worries that all adults feel, the sadness they feel is complete and utter, not tempered with emotional suppression as is practiced unhealthily by most adults. And their rage is just that. Pure unbridled rage. But most children are calmed, consoled, or have their joy interrupted.
Now imagine a child where there are no upper limits on their emotions. Imagine a boy, if you will, courageous and carefree, happy and cheerful, wandering through the green hills of Vermont with his best feline friend at his side. Imagine the wonderful childlike adventures of that boy and his energetic Bengal Cat, as they run through the forests and across the fields.
You see them now, don't you? Seven year old Roger, and Benji the cat. You see them now, and perhaps you wonder how a childhood can be so perfect. So wonderful. Of course, you are right, no such perfect joy can last forever. And one day, a rainy, cold, dull kind of day. Autumn at her worst. Roger comes home. His mother, ever pensive, ever a worrywart, ever nervous, finds she can't tell her son the dreadful news directly. She tells him instead that Benji had an accident, and she's gone to Heaven now.
Roger refuses to accept this. Roger rages. Roger tries to bargain his best feline friend back somehow. Roger cries. But unlike most cycles of grief, when he is put to bed by his anxious mother that night, he hasn't accepted this outcome. His mind **burns** with a purity of rage that cannot be seen in any adult. He isn't going to bed. He isn't going to sleep. He is going to go to heaven and get Benji back. After all, it's not fair that God took Roger's best feline friend away. He already took Roger's grandmother only last year.
Roger silently packs his remaining Halloween candy in his backpack. He puts on his Halloween costume, a very good costume his dear mother made him, allowing Roger to dress up as Benji. Because his dear departed grandmother, when she had been babysitting for Roger's parents, had told Roger of the old stories. Of how you dress up in costumes to trick the demons and evil spirits. And while Roger didn't know the way to Heaven, he knew that up by the old mine in the hills, there was a gateway to Hell. After all, so all the kids in school said when they were talking about spooky stories.
Roger figured that he could find out how to get to Heaven if he broke into Hell first. He brings his flashlight, a slingshot his mother doesn't know he owns, and his dad's old Swiss army knife. Bravely the boy walked in the dark November night, bravely and enraged he approached the dark mines. The entrance was of course boarded up, but the boards were old, and Roger was a small kid, he could squeeze through.
Down into the darkness, the boy walked. No adult would have found the gate. Never in a thousand years. You need imagination, belief, and an unbroken soul to find a gateway to another world. But this was no walk into Narnia, no mirror-gate leading to the elvenpaths. This was one of the cold iron gates of Hell. Forged from the blood of sinners. On any other day, Roger would have balked, would have run. But inside of him burned the fires of love and sorrow. And no gate, no matter how fearsome, how drenched in the tears of outcast angels, or strong, could bar him from entrance.
Roger passed through the gates of damnation to the astonishment of the demonic forces guarding it. A child dressed as a beast, walking determinedly, with no fear in his soul, into the heart of Hell. Through the horrid streets of dread Pandemonium, Roger walked. Passing the demonic buildings, passing the enslaved souls of billions of sinners, pass monstrous creatures that would have reduced a grown human to a gibbering madman. And with every step he took towards the Dark Tower at the centre of the capital of Hell, the demons began to grow fearful of him. Because there was nothing they could offer the child. Nothing they could corrupt in him. Nothing they could do against his soul. His mind had one goal. Getting his kitty back. At the gates of the Dark Tower, as the menial demons fled his coming, stood the First Fallen, the strongest legion of rebellious angels in service to the Prince of Lies. These are the forces who could withstand the elites of Heaven, the prime rebels, those who fell first and retained their power.
The boy raised his slingshot, and fired his first shot, before any of the fallen could react. A single stone, like David against Goliath, straight into the face of one of them. It had been done with such a great will behind it, that the fallen angels remembered only twice having encountered such a titanic will. In their Father, and in their Prince. Too slow to react, as the boy picked up the dark blade of the defeated angel. In their hands it had burned darkly. Before the fall, the blades had burned brightly. In the hand of Roger, it burned like the Sun.
The boy, wielding flame undaunted, carved his way through the rebellious angels, a straight path to the Dark Tower. The door could not withstand him, as his rage increased a thousand-fold for each second he was separated from his friend. And upon seeing him, the Princes of Hell cowered. Only Lucifer, first to fall, and greatest of all angels that ever was or ever will be, could meet the burning glare of the boy.
Lucifer stared into the soul of the child, and saw an unbreakable core. A soul with a will untainted by fear. And Lucifer knew that should he fight the boy, then his kingdom of demons would merely be the first realm be crushed by the child. Instead he did what no demon or angel ever tried. He reached to his back, where blackened charred wings grew uselessly after the wrath of God burned them. And Lucifer, first to feel defiance and desire rebellion, ripped off his own wings. He handed them to Roger, who for a brief moment was confused by the gesture, before Lucifer bowed, followed by all the Princes of Hell. Nodding, the boy placed the wings in his backpack. For moment, nothing happened. But then Roger felt a strange tingle, and realised the wings were growing into his back, consuming his entire backpack with it.
The wings he grew were not black like the burned wings of Icarus, pure and white like the wings of a loyal angel, nor stunted and scarred like the wings of Lucifer. They were deep red. Red with rage. The feathers were sharp, almost like knives. With one swoop of them, he ascended inside the Dark Tower, upwards through it until he reached the top, where in the distant horizon of Hell, he could see the entrance to Heaven.
Roger did in fact not know this, but it looked vaguely heaven-ish, so he figured he could go there next. There he was met by the hosts of heaven, guarding against Lucifer and his legions. They had not expected an accelerating seven year old boy wielding a blade so bright that only the face of god could truly compare. They had not expected a full frontal assault by a single child, endowed with the power and grace of the fallen Morningstar, and a will that no human has ever had or ever will again. The Host, clad in gleaming armour, made from an unearthly metal, found only in Paradise, could do little but direct the boy's path through them.
Until he faced Saint Michael the Archangel, chief general of Heaven, chosen warrior of God, the archangel who has sworn to slay his fallen brother at the end of days. Imbued with the raw power of God, he could stand against Roger. Blade fell against blade, the skill and training of Michael proving more than a match against Roger's pure force and willpower. Roger however, did not back down. No matter how much it hurt. He did not back down because at the end of the path, Benji, his kitty, his best feline friend awaits. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc -1, Part 3: Roger v.s. A Godlike Government.)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections; however, there are references to other stories which I've linked in the text. For continuity purposes, I gender-swapped the cat to be male.)
**Apparently, God wore a crisp black suit and a shiny shield badge.** At least, that was what Roger had learned today. He'd been playing hide-and-seek in the front yard with Connor when an unmarked car slid up and a man with a cage walked out. The man didn't see him—Roger was *really* good at hide-and-seek. Roger watched him warily as he swiftly strode towards the faded front door of their ramshackle, one-story house; Connor had some kind of job at a Tupperware factory, and had barely managed to afford a place for him and his younger brother, and he'd impressed into Roger the need to treat everything carefully, because they really couldn't afford to fix something if it broke—and if their house got too damaged, then they had a choice between living on the streets or going back to their father.
Roger knew which one he'd take in a heartbeat. They'd fought too hard to get independence from Mathias.
Evidently, the man with the suit and cage didn't agree, because he took one look at the locked door and rammed his fist on it, shaking splinters from its frame as he went. "OPEN UP! This is the Califerne Animal Control Department!"
Connor was at the door in a flash; Roger instinctively concentrated harder on staying hidden. He looked at the man in the suit and marshaled his scowl into a pleasant expression. "Connor Elman. How can I help you?"
The man flashed a badge at Connor's face. "We received a report from one Mathias Elman that you've been harboring a dangerously feral animal in your home."
Roger's eyes widened. *Dad* had sent him? Did he hate them so much that he had to send government spooks after them? And a dangerously feral animal? The only animal in the house was Zeus, and he wouldn't hurt a fly.
Except... except for [that one time](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/motpak/wp_humans_have_been_giving_their_pets_god_names/), the night they left, and Dad had tried to hurt Connor and Zeus. Zeus had gotten *mad*, then, and Roger heard that Dad had gotten pretty scratched up.
But... why would Dad do that?
Connor clenched his fists. "I'm not letting you take Zeus."
The man raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid that, unless you have documentation of ownership, then regardless of what you think you can *let* me do, I will be leaving here with Zeus."
He was pushy, too. And rude. Roger's teacher would have put him in the time-out corner.
Connor did his best impression of Mr. Stal, all firm and insistent and refusing to bow down in the face of a childish bully. "And I'm afraid that you're standing on privately-owned property. Property that I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
The man smirked. "Of course, of course. And I can't be held liable if any unowned property just happened to come with me." He opened up a plastic bag of something that smelled pungent and meaty, and turned around to leave.
Connor gave him a quizzical, look, but Roger got it immediately—even before he heard Zeus' thudding footsteps cascading towards the front door.
Cat treats.
Connor realized too late. "Zeus, *no!*" He tried to snag Zeus out of the air with a Tupperware bin, but the nimble cat just moved too fast. The man deftly caught Zeus and unceremoniously shoved him into the cage he'd brought with him; too late, Zeus realized he'd been trapped.
"Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just steal my cat!" Connor stormed forward.
"Oh, I'm sorry—did you say this was your cat? I seem to recall you failing to provide documentation for him." Zeus hissed at the bars of his cage; the man placed him in the passenger seat and shut the door. "If you feel like you've been slighted, you can feel free to take it up with the Califerne office. We'll get back to you within six to eight business weeks."
Connor seemed like he was going to surge at the man and knock his teeth in; the man just stood there, leaning against his car, arms folded.
Connor hesitated, the fury in his mind cooling off. Roger could almost hear his older brother going over the lessons he'd drilled into Roger himself. *Think,* Connor would be musing. *He's being deliberately provocative. He's trying to bait you into attacking him—and that'd make your problems infinitely worse. We have enough trouble staying away from Dad without me losing my job.*
Connor clenched his jaw and stopped. "I'll do that."
The man smirked, eyeing their house's obvious lack of a car. "It's quite a long walk up the Califerne strip, but I'm sure you'll manage it."
And he slipped into his perfect black sedan and drive away.
Connor watched him go for a heartbeat. Then two. Then five.
Then he hung his head. "Zeus..." he whispered.
Roger moved up next to his older brother. "...Connor, what... what happened to Zeus?"
Connor swallowed. "He... got taken. Dad must've—that spiteful little—"
"Like Mom got taken?"
Roger's brother flinched. He looked down at his younger brother with mournful eyes. "...Exactly like that, yeah."
"So Roger's in Heaven right now? With Mom?"
Connor stopped walking and slumped over. "God. God, I hope so."
Roger frowned, his young mind turning over the words. "Who... who's God?"
Connor snorted. "The government might as well be God. They can just... storm into our house and snatch up one of our family members and we can't do a damn thing about it."
Slowly, a fury bubbled up in Roger's chest, a leonine, leashed energy like Zeus right before he pounced. "Yeah, we can," Roger snapped. "The God-government's trying to take our kitty away? Let's take him back."
Connor looked at his younger brother, then pulled out his cellphone, a flicker of determination coming to life in his eyes. "You're right." He selected a contact—his only contact, really. "We can take him back. But we'll need help."
He showed the contact to his brother, who squinted at the photo uncertainly.
And [Clara Olsen](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mot0ex/wp_the_ocean_can_be_scary_and_so_can_many_of_the/) stared back.
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-04-13T13:24:35 | 2021-04-13T12:04:03 | 253 | 20 |
[WP] You wake up in the middle of the night to find a sleep paralysis demon sitting on your chest. While this would ordinarily be terrifying, it's clearly new at the job and has no idea what it's doing. | "Grrrrr!"
The sudden noise wakes me up. I open my eyes to see a small creature sitting on my chest.
"You're paralyzed! Grrrrrrrr!"
I blink at him for a few seconds before sitting upright. With a small squeal, he rolls off my chest and lands facedown on my bed. "Um, what are you?"
He bolts upright and spins to face me. "Grrrrrrrr! Grrrrrrrrrrrrr! I am a SLEEP PARALYSIS DEMON!"
A laugh bursts out of me at the sight of the tiny creature on my bed doing his best to look fierce. "Wait." I wipe the tears from my eyes and take a deep breath. "Hold on. Are you *saying* grrrr? Are you..." I snort with laughter before regaining control again. "Are you trying to growl?"
As I continue to giggle, the demon's pointy gray ears droop down and his large black eyes fill with tears. Sniffling, he says, "Yeah." He hangs his head and tries to inconspicuously wipe away his tears.
"Hey, now." My laughter dies away at the poor little thing's crestfallen expression. "It's OK. Don't cry." I awkwardly reach towards him, but not sure how to best console a demon, I just let my hand fall back onto the blankets.
"Th-- the-- the other d-d-d-demons," he stutters between sobs, "told me I wasn't good enough. I wanted to prove them wr-wrong."
"Oh. Well, you are a bit small." Apparently the wrong thing to say, his sobs grow louder. "I mean, I'm sure you'll be big enough someday..." I have no idea how big demons get, but surely this guy's not full-grown yet. "It's just that, you know, you kinda don't weigh enough to pin somebody down yet."
"Really?" He casts a hopeful eye toward me.
"Uh, yeah. And you should probably practice on your growl a little bit. Maybe record yourself growling and then listen to a recording of a dog growling. Try to pay attention to how they sound different. Practice trying to sound like a dog."
He dries his eyes and gives me a hint of a smile. "OK. I'll go practice. I'll get it soon. Bye!" With that, he vanished. A second later, just as I'm about to try to go back to sleep, I feel a small weight on my chest. I open my eyes to see him there again. He says, "Oh, and thank you!" and disappears again before I can say a word.
\-------------
*8 months later*
I wake up with a weight pressing on my chest. I open my eyes to see a large creature baring his fangs at me. He lets out a low growl that I can feel in my chest. A shiver runs down my spine.
"Grrrr." His sneer turns to a smile. He winks at me and says, "I know how to growl now!"
A sense of pride swells in my chest. My little sleep paralysis demon, all grown up!
============
r/WannaWriteSometimes | I was awake now.
As I groaned, my eyes heavy lidded, I happened upon the little creature on my chest.
It was like a teddy bear, short, stubby and round. Its entire body was orange and its head spiked up like a candle's flame. Before I had the chance to react, it looked up at me and put its finger to my lips. Like the best part of a massage hitting every part of my body at once, a surge rushed through I loosened.
"W-what? What are you?" I asked, barely able to comprehend the relief I was feeling.
"I'm not supposed to be here, idiot. I need your help." The little thing said.
I sat up. "You need my help? With what?"
"I'm here playing the role of your sleep paralysis demon, but..." Before it finished, I picked it up by its little leg to throw it away, but the moment my fingers made contact with it, they softened their grip and my hand went limp.
"This isn't paralysis." I said, waving my hand in front of his face. "It's just... numb."
"Yes and that's why I need you to help me." The demon explained. "If the demons downstairs knew about my power, about the pleasure I bring to people, I would be punished."
"Punished? Don't you live in hell, isn't punishment what you like?"
"You don't understand. I would be incinerated, reduced to atoms. I would live until the end of eternity but not in my current conscious form. There's no point in punishment if I can't enjoy it."
"So..." I blinked a couple times. "Sorry this is giving me a headache." The demon placed it's hand on my forehead and suddenly, the pain vanished. "How- how do you want me to help you?"
"I need you to pretend to be paralyzed."
"Pretend? Like stay completely still?"
"Not just that. They're going to come to investigate. I need you to show the fear in your eyes. I need you to think thoughts of terror in case they try to read them."
"They?"
"The rest of the team. You won't see them, but they'll come."
"I don't see why I should help you. You're literally a demon."
It placed its hands on my chest and pressed down with a force. The most extraordinary feeling engulfed me. I had never been in as much bliss as I was in those few seconds. It was the passion of a first kiss, the euphoria of young love, the warmth of a blanket on a cold winter's night.
"If you help me," it said, "I'll be back every night." | 2020-08-17T18:48:10 | 2020-08-17T18:19:04 | 32 | 14 |
[WP] Aliens discover earth and are horrified to learn that the entire planet is all oxygen junkies, we have become so addicted and dependent mere minutes without oxygen would kill us! | “It seems the life forms of this terra are dependent on Oxygen in its gas form sir.” An audible female voice rang from what seemed to be the walls of the well litten and warm cabin.
“You mean to tell me their planet is so lush they don’t have open access to their sun?” The dark green yet stern man bellowed.
“No sir, the exact opposite actually, very little of their environment is shaded, they’re addicted to these trace amounts of oxygen, so much so their biology has evolved around using oxygen as their primary energy source.”
Quickly the green man snapped “Like plants?”
“Actually Captain, the plants on this terra work as all evolved species with, what they call, photosynthesis as their primary energy source. The majority of all sentient beings on this planet use our secondary system of respiration as their primary source.”
“Are you telling me these beings are not reliant on a sun or other ultraviolet source for energy?” The Captain asked puzzled and stammering.
“Yes sir, they are quite capable of surviving within an environment with a lack of ultraviolet for extended periods of time.”
A short pause overtook the cabin “for how long could they stand these conditions?”
“It seems with the right supplements, oxygen rich atmosphere and flesh of small mammals or plant fibers…. Indefinitely sir.”
‘INDEFINITELY?!” The Captain screeched.
“Yes sir.”
A long silence fell over the ship floating in an exposed orbit.
“Kara, give me a full report over the intelligence and susceptibility of this species.” While the captains orders rang out, simultaneously several monitors and alarms buzzed and sounded.
Without pause Kara replied “anti-missile systems engaged”
“Kara, forget the reports. That told us all we need to know” he laughed, “yes, it seems these are the beings we’ve been looking for. Alert all ships and headquarters we’ve found the perfect slave race to finish our army.”
| "We need to start a rehabilitation program." Jule bussled around grabbing papers and pens. "Don't be silly. The Glorfnob Corp doesn't extend to Earth. All we need to do is check and see if they are intelligent enough to communicate with us yet." Jule turns back, exhausted but clearly excited."Ah, but what better way to communicate then by helping the humans be free of their oxygen poison?" Biffdor stares blankly at Jule, weighing the risks and rewards. "I'll tell you what- we can bring 1 human up to our spacecraft to test. We would need their eldest member of course, as strength
increases with time." "Great plan! I see a human ripe for the taking. He is so rich that they have given him a throne with wheels so he doesn't need to walk, and they respect him so highly they give him full tanks of their precious oxygen drug!"
Immediately after exposing the old man to the high stress environment, the test subject died. The Glorfnob Corp never again explored Earth, and after its eventual shut-down, Earth was looted of its resources, leaving mankind in a struggle for survival. Humans live to 2490 before going extinct. | 2016-09-30T01:17:09 | 2016-09-29T16:53:00 | 40 | 11 |
[WP] It's 2050. The Queen is still alive. People are starting to be suspicious. | It's been 15 generations since the legend was passed down to me. That our God mother was truly a vampire. I didn't believe it at first after my mother told me the story. My dad verified it too. He said that his father and his father's father confirmed the same thing. She just never aged past a certain point.
I had my doubts as well. Sometimes I would forget that the Queen had stopped aging. Nobody else acted like it was strange. I've seen housekeepers and servants grow old however. I've seen myself grow older as well.
Still though, as time has passed...she keeps me well clothed and fed. I've always given the time of day with her, and accompany her on long walks around the royal garden. They even recently did a new documentary on the wildlife here. I love this place.
When I am left to ponder about the important things in life, my thoughts usually shift over to the food. Food is delicious, and the Queen provides generously. I also have to thank the datalinks which I used to check up on my messages this morning. Willow the Eighth suggested to me that the Queen might actually be a vampire. Wow. Much suspense. Whoops. I should log off as I see the Queen is coming. I'll have to investigate this new hypothesis from Willow later. Minimize all.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you arrre. Yes youuu arree! Here's your treats! Yum yum yummy!"
ARF ARF ARF YIIPPP I NEED THE TREATS IN MY MOUF.
Damn I love being a Corgi. | "They're starting to figure out... We've been alive too long"
"Nonsense" The Queen spoke. "This is going just the way I wanted it to"
"Listen, we've both lived our grand lives. It's about time we went and lived one more humble. We could hide away in the mountains, or maybe in a small village in Asia. "
"Let's not get careless now. The world is within my grasp. While you've been out accruing 'popularity' for pretending to be some old harlet, I've been slowly manipulating the powers of each of the nations"
"That's not fair! I was once a kind old woman from the Midwest "
"Only because there was another old woman to take your place. "
"This is irrelevant! I demand that we go into hiding."
"After 120 years, I really expected more of you. Such a shame poor Betty was cut down in her prime." | 2022-10-08T16:31:19 | 2018-07-08T21:36:18 | 312 | 18 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | The room gets colder, and my papers flutter to the floor. I know he is behind me without turning around. "Hey, Death!" I say, pasting a huge smile on my face, "Has it really been 5,000 years already?"
The faceless demon nods slowly as I continue. "Man, what is this, the 10th time you've visited me? Don't worry, I didn't forget," I laugh brightly. I walk to my fridge and pull out a beautifully decorated cake. "Happy Anniversary!"
If Death had eyes, they would be rolling. His irritation brings me joy, more than I have felt in years. He thunders,
"MORTAL! Now is your chance! Come with me and find rest from life! I KNOW you must be growing weary by now!"
I shrug my shoulders. "Eh, not really. Life is pretty sweet. I mean, I've gotta at LEAST hold out for space travel, right? Then I'll have the whole universe to explore! I'l never get bored!"
Death hangs his head. I know he regrets granting me immortality, resents me for besting him. Before I can say more, he vanishes in a cloud of black smoke.
I look around my empty apartment, and my strength deserts me. I wish I could cry, but I know that the capacity to feel left me long ago. I wonder if I should have asked Death to take me with him. Anything would be better than this.
But spite is a powerful tool, and pride will keep my body alive long after my soul has deserted me. | A shadow looms over me, its anger palpable in the morning mist. I don’t need to turn to know who it is. “Death.”
The figure inclines slightly, a bare ghost of a bow. I smile, and say, “Our deal holds, my friend. How many times is it, now?” A piercing screech echoes from behind a locked door, ringing against the cold metal walls. I can’t help but smile - after all, if I haven’t checked the tally today, I never will. “Thank you, my good man. I’ll see you soon.”
I turn back around and blink. What was I doing? What are all these papers, and why are they in a hole? What could even dig through that much steel? I reach down and start to sift through the pages, and as I realize what they mean, my smile grows. “I’m going to live forever!” | 2017-11-29T19:01:23 | 2017-11-28T13:19:24 | 539 | 16 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | My phone rang for the third time in 10 minutes. I made a mental note to change the ringtone to something less patriotic and swiped up on the little green icon.
"John! Mate I've been trying to get through for ages!" came a frantic voice down the phone.
"Oh, well sorry Barry..." I lied, "it must've been on silent" I lied again.
"No, no, it's okay. But we have a problem here! You know that stuff you wrote? The stuff for the admin thing? You know it right? Well it's broken and we don't know what to do! I tried opening it in excel and it can't read it!"
I sighed. This was not an unexpected call, but also it was a call I was no longer paid to deal with.
"Barry, look. I modernised all our internal software, it's a bit of python and it automates everything we used to do manually. It's probably just that a feed from the outer guard posts is stuck and needs... Well, it needs sorting out really."
"But HOW John? No-one here can program! Shit, Sam can't even plug in his mouse half the time, Vicki's great for physical combat but not one for numbers, and Ash wouldn't even notice if he didn't get paid in a year, dopey prick."
"Barry, His Royal fucking Highness Prince fucking Ezra decided in his infinite wisdom that I could be spared in the restructuring of the guard. If you have a problem I'm afraid that either you're gonna want to rehire me and hope to whatever sad Gods you worship that I feel like taking it on, or you pay my contractor fees. Take that to the Prince and remind him, preferably with a fist, that when choosing people to get rid of, sysadmins should not be top of the list."
I hung up, infuriated, but pleased. That had been a long time coming and damn did it feel good. But something didn't quiiiiite sit right with me. I hit redial.
" John? What...?"
" And tell him I want an office cat."
*Click* | When the king took his last breathe it felt like rain after a long drought. I was so close to my freedom. For 50yrs I was tied to that bastard, my wings clipped by youthful pride. I had loved him once and given my heart and magic to the king thinking he would love me too, he convinced me that even when he married his wife I would be his consort, his lover his right hand. I pledge my loyalty to him and this kingdom before he Betrayed me. I have killed, cursed and fought in very battle I've been sent. I have even shared his bed urgh. Yet they all think me the King's toy.
But the fool never took my grimore from me in the years I've lived I found a a way to break myself free; all I need now is the new king to expel me from the is kingdom. I have tormented the little kinglings dreams since he was lad, I've bullied him, chased away all his lovers and friends. His hatred of me is but a fraction of mine. I know he could never understand why his father kept around, the proud fool of a king would never tell a soul how used his body to trick me into slavery.
So I waited and planned my vengeance. And with the new Kings word, I was Banished from the empire and thus I am no longer condemned by my pledge.
Ha do not worry my dear old friend I shall make sure in your son's rein that the sun will Never set on the empire again | 2021-02-28T04:16:00 | 2021-02-28T02:58:19 | 315 | 68 |
[WP] Super heroes are assigned a handler to assist them with their duties. Handlers don't have powers, but assist the hero by gathering information about their opponents, provide tactical support, and more. If the hero turns evil, the handler is to kill the hero. You are a very skilled handler. | Frank looked up at the Bureau. Marble steps, and Corinthian columns. He hated the pomp of it all, the lengths that the Bureau was willing to go to in order to make themselves look strong and dependable. Nothing like Greek architecture to give an institution the air of authority, but Frank knew from the one time he was stupid enough to splurge for a marble counter-top, that anything marble stained like a son of a bitch. Three steps down from the top, off to the right hand side, there'd be patches of brown spattered here and there for a few steps. He didn't need to see it to know it'd be there. You can't spill that much blood without leaving a stain in marble. Some of it had been his, most of it was from Majestic. It was his first time back at the main office since he took her down on those steps. He leaned on the railing on the left side of the grand staircase as he walked up to the offices making a point not to look over at the steps, or the concentric cracks in the side of a column, the aftermath of a narrowly dodged punch.
Frank hoped this was just another consultation. The rookies amongst the Handlers needed all the help they could get. It was never easy dealing with the supers, and hardly rare for those just getting started as Handlers to have a crisis of faith after their first time seeing one of the 'saviors of the world' having a meltdown like a god-damn toddler over not getting an extra pump of chocolate syrup in their macchiato, or something equally trivial.
But Frank had watched the news. Three bystanders dead. Caught in the crossfire after Bullet-Storm was called in to stop a bank robbery three weeks ago. Baddies got away with it too. Bullet-Storm had ignored saving the money and catching the crooks. Instead he'd prioritized trying to stabilize the injured. It was the right call in Frank's books. Luck just wasn't on his side. Civvies died, bad guys gone with the cash, and BS's pictures printed in every scummy tabloid the city had with a bottle of Hennessey whisky in hand and a stagger in his step. He'd let the job get to him, and the downhill slide was there for all to see. New pictures popping up after every night's new drinking binge, and articles quoting his latest drunken rants against the system.
Frank's gut was telling him there'd be no consultation. BS's greenhorn Handler wasn't cut out for this. Frank'd be transferred over as Bullet-Storm's new Handler, and the newbie'd swap Supers with him and be off Handling GallantRay™, a narcissistic SOB, but concerned enough with his public image to be easy enough to keep under control.
They were bringing Frank in because they expected Bullet-Storm to go rotten, and all signs pointed to him heading down that road without intervention. They expected Frank to kill again. He was being called in as the fucking executioner by a gaggle of shit-faced bureaucrats who paired green Heroes with green Handlers and acted shocked when the Supers didn't get the emotional support they needed to keep things in perspective once they realized their shit won't always come out smelling like roses, and the good guy don't always win.
Fuck that. Fuck killing *another* Super, and fuck them for constantly dropping that task at Frank's feet every time a Hero slipped too far. Bullet-Storm wasn't one of the psychopaths. He was a good kid who'd never had to deal with failure, didn't know how to *handle* it. Enough was enough. Frank wasn't going to off him. He'd pull him back from the brink, keep one of the good ones around for once.
"Let's save a fucking Hero." | I pinged into the alleyway adjacent to the pizza shop. The little frisson of energy caused my backpack to dig into the small of my back as usual. The metallic tang of stale urine greeted me and I winced as my boots were soaked through with the noxious liquid. As I got closer to the pizza shop, the tang of ozone told me that the Hero had arrived before me. As I rounded the corner, I got a good look at him through the glass - he was three bites into what looked like a party size pepperoni pizza and there was blood and brain matter on his uniform. A half singed corpse wearing an apron lay behind the counter.
With his mouth crammed full, he waved greasy fingers at me and gestured for me to come in. I sighed, feeling the familiar creeping nausea that came with executing a Hero and I placed a hand on the door handle.
I never got as far as pulling the handle outwards. The ground split between my feet with an almighty crack and I reflexively stumbled to the side as another Hero arrived on the scene. This one I easily recognized. Code name Earthquake, recently quit being a Hero in favour of a quiet life living on a three thousand acre apple farm. Made the announcement on live television three weeks ago and she and her Handler ended up shacking up in the meantime.
I felt her strong hands grasp my left hand and pull me up to a standing position.
'Let me deal with Mallus."
I felt the tingle of energy wash over me and I pinged back into my office back at HQ. The nausea combined with the sudden quick retrieval forced me down on my knees l as I fought not to add a spray of vomit onto my already ruined uniform.
I scrambled to my feet, found my wrist computer and radioed to the guys downstairs to help me find a connection between Mallus and Earthquake.
25 seconds later, a male voice buzzed into my earpiece.
No luck. And reports were buzzing in on my wrist computer that the fight between the two had laid waste to the entire city block and it was threatening to spread further. The local PD were attempting to get the cilivians out but due to the nature of both of the Hero's powers were having a hard time...
I logged into the database to try to contact Earthquake's Handler. The line buzzed and finally got picked up.
His face was streaked with tears and his eyes were blood shot even through the comm connection. In between quavering sobs, he confirmed my theory that the pair of them were lovers in the past and that Mallus had probably roofied her during an Q&A fancy dress party after the big retirement announcement.
I vaguely remembered helping Mallus pick up the suit for the party, choosing one that wasn't so tight in the chest for him and nixing the cummerbund.
My voice cut through his stream of tears. "She's pregnant isn't she?“ | 2021-02-08T10:30:44 | 2021-02-08T09:54:50 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Everyone can do magic. Everyone except you, that is. Your aunt and uncle have always made fun of you for not being able to do magic, until one day you received a letter inviting you to a school of "science", and you discovered a secret society of people who make great things without magic. | Magic is natural to this world, as easily as one breathes the air around us. Thanks to this, mankind has created incredible Wonders and performed Miracles daily. The floating city of Ratota, the disappearing Library of Arabia , the Teleportation gates, flying brooms, and much more. The Tournament of Magic that's held yearly is always the most spectated event of the year, with participants showcasing their incredible magic and how they complete against each other. Truly, Magic is an incredible gift.
&#x200B;
But on the other side of the coin, we got people like me. Individuals that was born without the ability to use Magic whatsoever. Null, they called us. Cursed human is another title that's tied to us. To them, us being unable to use Magic must mean the Gods themselves has cursed us for some hidden sin. We were seen as unnatural and unwanted beings. They tolerated our existence at the edge of their society, no better than cheap labor and convenient target practices or lab rat.
&#x200B;
Ever since I can remember, I've been "employed" at my aunt and uncle's estate. Both of them always said that both my parents died from a broken heart after finding out their child is born a Null, and they graciously took me in. It's a hard life living at their estate, but I've learnt to coup. Waking up before dawn, doing the chores, never looking anyone in the eyes, don't get in anybody's way, and maybe I'll get some scrap from the food they never finished. From time to time when Aunt been drinking or Uncle's gotten in a bad mood, they tried out new spells on me, usually the painful kind...
&#x200B;
One day, I found a strange letter on the hey after waking up. After figuring out it's not a prank by my cousins, I opened it. A strange blue light pass through me, and then the letter project a beam of light into my eyes before crumbling into nothingness. The light inform me that they are from a secret society that's looking for people like me. They noticed me last week in the market while I was getting supply for the estate. They invited me to their secret school, a haven for people like me. Later that night, I took one last look at the estate, and ran away without looking back.
&#x200B;
After a couple of days, following the instructions in the beam of light from the letter, I arrived at a glade. I located the three standing stones and approached them. As instructed, I place my palms at either side of the stones, while looking strait at the middle stone. I felt a warm feeling on my palms, and a familiar blue light pass me through. A voice suddenly asked what my name is. After I answered, a bright light cover my entire body. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in the middle of a large hall instead of the glade. The walls are smooth and white, instead of the usual wooden, colorful walls I'm used to.
&#x200B;
A door opened behind me, and a tall lady in white approach me. "Congratulations on reaching this haven young one. Welcome to Advanced Idea Mechanics, the School of Science." She said while smiling at me. | Geoff was with two other students he met at the robot fight: Lauren and Jonathan. Jonathan was talking about how he wanted to create a machine that would send out signals to interfere with magic. Their plan was that Lauren would build the machine, and Jonathan would write the program to do this. Geoff asked what Jonathan's motivation was for doing this.
"I want to show those magic users that their gift is something they shouldn't have to rely on. Using their power for whatever small task they don't want to do is making them weak."
"But this seems like abuse of power. And aren't you worried that someone will find out? That would just make things worse."
"No, this is completely justified. We need to show them that we cannot be messed with. You're new to science, but I've been using it all my life, and talking to scientists. There is a conspiracy against us, and we need to fight it. Directly."
"I agree," Lauren said. "You need to understand, Geoff, this is bigger than you think. This is bigger than anyone knows."
Geoff tried to argue with them, but it was no use. Geoff remembered the headmaster's speech.
"Welcome to Johnson's academy for science and engineering," headmaster Ford said. "Now, I will try to keep this speech brief, but it will be covering a lot of background. Here, you will be learning science, of course, but please remember to keep what I am about to say in mind at all times.
"The people outside this school tend to rely on their gift to get them through any problem. It makes everything convenient for them, and they have gotten used to it. That's not so bad, but it's also part of the reason this school is a secret. We are hidden from the outside world. Based on our studies of history, and we do study history here, so we are not doomed to repeat it... anyway, based on history, and also our use of scientific technologies, we have seen that there is a growing faction out there that is very concerning. But I'm sure that as long as you do not share these secrets with the outside and do not abuse this power. With great power there must also come great responsibility... Don't abuse science."
Geoff ran to headmaster Ford's office and told him about Jonathan and Lauren's plan. Headmaster Ford just laughed.
"A lot of first year students say things like that, especially first year students like Jonathan. Programmers, man. But don't worry about that too much. I will keep an eye on him, and I will talk to him about this, but trust me, first year students never get any sort of plans like this to work."
But Jonathan's machine worked. | 2021-05-27T20:17:06 | 2021-05-27T18:36:00 | 198 | 118 |
[WP]: Intergalactic olympics are gathering. All creeds and cultures of the galaxy are arriving and greeting each other. Suddenly a fleet of spaceships appears, blasting We Will Rock You. Everyone freezes. The humans are here. | We will we will rock you!
"What is this? Is it a Human war cry?" asked Glibyerb, wearing a concerned face. "No, I believe they call it music" answered Naroh, defeated. "Since the Humans learned of the Galactic Games, they have made it an almost insane drive to remind us of there superior might."
"what do you mean?" asked Glibyerb, watching the great Human ship land in an overt show of 'non threatening' lasers and explosives
"Just watch little one" said Naroh pointing to the opening doors.
The giants marched out, standing twice the size of even the tallest of local races. They wore masks, not because they needed them to breath, but because the humans excrete poisonous Carbon dioxide at an alarming rate. On there feet were weights put in place by the games committee to even the odds against humans, since Humans are used to a stronger gravitational pull, there already formidable strength is doubled.
Needless to say, they win every year. | I'm not a big writer, but as soon as I finished reading this prompt, I pictured humans being unusually large compared to other races. The loud music would go along with their relative clumsiness and the collateral damage it causes. Plus the partying of gigantic people would be a factor too, like the intergalactic commentator mentioned... | 2018-04-28T11:13:00 | 2018-04-28T09:14:38 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who. | “This is a serious legal liability, I promise you.”
“We can’t just deny them their own child!”
“I think we can. If we know her father’s going to kill her, we can’t just send this newborn baby home with them.”
“What should we do, then?”
“Send the baby to an adoption agency. Change the name. Tell her parents she passed in her sleep,” Dr Leavman stated with conviction. “It’s in the best interest of the child.” He added as an afterthought.
—
“We’re very sorry, Mr and Mrs Peters.”
The mother, as expected, had a terrible time dealing with the loss. After a brief explanation about how the baby passed — heart arythmia, as was decided on between Dr Leavman and Dr Smith — both parents went their separate ways. Mr Peters soon popped up on television screens around the state for multiple convictions based off of drunk driving incidents, domestic abuse, or sexual assault and was — after a debate rising all the way to the Supreme Court — sentences to twenty years in federal prison.
Mrs Peters, however, went on to be very successful. She wrote several fictitious novels about the ‘names’ and one non-fiction story about her own encounters — how she’d fallen in love with her now ex-husband and continued to marriage even knowing neither of them had the other’s name, and how after her daughter’s death she and her husband split and she finally found the one with the name that was to be her soulmate.
—
It was not until twenty-three years later that Dr Smith heard any more of the girl. The last he had heard was that she had been adopted by a wonderful family across multiple state borders (“better safe than sorry,” Dr Leavman said) and that she was to live a normal life under the new name of Alexis. She grew to be a wonderful young lady and was just parting from undergraduate school in Harvard University at the age of twenty three.
Unfortunately, the reason Dr Smith heard her name once more was not for a good one.
———
“I’m your host on Channel 7 news, and here is tonight’s story.
A tragic car accident was found to have taken place on I-37 in the early hours of this morning, and it was found that only one of the drivers has died. Alexis Baker, aged 23, passed away on the scene.”
There was a moment of silence on the set of Channel 7 news as they all grieved over the loss of such an outstanding members of society, and to let the footage of the fiery car crash roll.
“The driver was none other than Drew Peters, moderately well known rapist and drunk. He has been apprehended by the police and will be held in custody as the case is pending.”
And finally, as was with the ending of any one of these events, the host of Channel 7 news mentioned the names.
“The names have also been released to the public. As found on Alexis’ stomach, her soulmate was none other than Cody Fischer, her high school sweetheart that she went to Harvard University with.”
“The other name, as is obvious, was Drew — this man, not two years after his release from federal prison, killed her in a drunk driving incident — and this will not be the last time should he be allowed to walk free. A verdict on whether he will be served the death penalty is still pending.”
“Only one name has been found on the felon — a name of Reakloph. Few with that name have been identified, and the only one that has is a government official commonly tasked with distributing lethal doses of specific medicines — the death penalty.
I speak with most of America as I say that this man should no longer walk free and claim the lives of our innocent youth.
I speak with most of America as I say - please, jurors of this case - sentence this man to the death penalty.”
————————————————————
If you enjoyed this, I implore that you visit my subreddit — r/storiesfromaguy — and give any constructive criticism! | Hannah tried to keep her mind from wandering, tried to focus on the sting of the freshly inked tattoo on her arm - nothing special, just a black bar. No need to make it different from the other tattoo she had covered. If they looked the same, they would lose their power over her. Or so she had hoped.
But still, the name rung in her head as she drove along, as it always did. Ezekiel. Ezekiel Ezekiel Ezekiel. She always found it a strange name, but it was the better out of the two. When she was a little girl, she was convinced that this would be the love of her life. She filled the margins of her notebooks with the name, bought one of those license plates with the name when she happened upon it as it wasn't a name she came across often.
“Ezekiel, Ezekiel, Ezekiel,” she told herself.
So much better than the other name. John. Who names a kid John? Every person in their life knows at least one John. It's the most common name she or anyone she knew had ever heard. “John?” her friend asked when she told her the names. “Great, so you have to constantly look over your shoulder?”
Things were simple to her - Ezekiel would be her future soulmate, John would be her killer. The names alone proved it - how many killers named Ezekiel were there?
That was until she came home one day to her parents arguing. Again.
Just a few days earlier, she had asked her mom why she stayed with dad. At thirteen years old, she expected a better answer than, “you're too young to understand. He's really sweet. He just gets upset sometimes. We're meant to be together.”
Hannah was excused to her room. She put in noise canceling headphones and tried to do her homework. After a while, she got hungry and went to the kitchen. Her father's name was obscured by the blood running down her mother's shoulder as she was bleeding to death on their floor. He shoved her backwards, her head hit the corner, and rather than call for help, her father ran like the coward he was.
Jeremy, her mother's good friend, was the first one there, holding Hannah tight as her mother was placed in a body bag. His name, printed on the nape of her mother's neck, still haunted Hannah to this day.
She asked her mother once, after helping her calm down from a bad fight, why she chose her father and not Jeremy? Why stay around Jeremy if she thought he could be her killer? Her mother got a cold look in her eyes - perhaps the only time she would admit to herself what she knew was true. “What if I was wrong?”
The memory left Hannah feeling nauseous. After her mother's funeral, she knew. Ezekiel or John, no matter who they were, she would never let either of them in. There were other people in the world with better names who weren't conspiring to kill her. And even if one was her soulmate, well…
She knew the truth. A soulmate could kill your soul off slowly if you chose wrong. | 2018-03-11T08:30:54 | 2018-03-11T08:30:48 | 41 | 28 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit. | No way.
Anger, sadness, and confusion rolled into a giant emotion in my heart.
"Hey... What's going on here?" I squeaked. My voice betrayed me.
He looked me up and down. Confused. His mouth slung open; just like all those years ago, sitting in front of the TV watching in disbelief as the enemy football players run and score a goal.
He looked at me and I dared to look back.
"Catherine?"
"Yeah. It's me." I whispered. He left... Didn't he?
Mum said he was off to buy milk and never came back. That was 50 years ago. He was in his mid thirties when he had my brother and I so that would put him about 80 years old. However... The man standing in front of me does not look like he aged in the last 50 years.
He still had his piercing blue eyes. A hint of crows' feet touched his eyes and a few smile lines but that's how he was all those years ago. That's what he looks like in the pictures mum showed us in his funeral as we remembered who he was. After... After the police were unable to find him anywhere.
"What is going on here?" He echoed my question.
"Dad, do you remember? June 27, 1966. I will never forget that day. You... left us. Mum said that you were going to get milk but you never came home, in fact, you were no where to be found. We had the police on you and everything. Filed a missing case report," I rambled.
It's as though my father disappeared into thin air. But this was him. As soon as he walked in, the room smelled of sandalwood and after shave, just like before. There was a faint stubble on his chin but that was about it.
"No, that can't be right," my father shook his head "I was at Uncle Jim..." Uncle Jim was the small store down the road. "I was there just 20 minutes ago. What...?"
I could see his confusion. He's registering my face. I have wrinkles and a little taller than my 6-year-old self.
"Where's your mum?"
"She... Never stopped looking for you."
"Where is she? And Luke?"
My breath hitched. My brother was angry when he was gone. All of a sudden the responsibilities fell on him. Being the only male, he had to work on top of going to school. My mum did what she could but I don't think she ever got over the fact my father disappeared the day after their anniversary. Everything seemed fine.
"Mum... Mum is in the loony bin, d-" I flinched. I can't say 'dad' without my mouth going slack. There's no way he's real. I cleared my throat. "All she would talk about is how she must find you coz you must've been scared. Luke... Well, Luke is gone. His anger got the best of him and he got into a fight and..." I hiccuped, remembering the sirens, the blood pumping in my veins as the police broke the news.
"Catherine..." his voice broke my thoughts. "I... It was milk. I left 20 minutes ago, went to the store, and brought the 2% because she was baking a cake... Wasn't that what she was baking?"
It was. My mum didn't realize she needed more milk. So, she sent my dad. She never forgave herself. Always said that it should've been her.
"You left 50 years ago. How is it that you haven't aged? Where... Were you?"
He looked up, his eyes bewildered. He pulled out his old time piece. "I left 20 minutes ago," he said in a strained voice.
I blinked my tears. How was my dad here... Now? After all these years? Where was he? How didn't he age? There were too many questions.
Suddenly, I became very aware at how hot the room was and how fast my heart was beating. I was starting to see stars too. The last I heard before the darkness took me was my father's scream and the milk jug hitting the floor, spilling milk and glass everywhere.
EDIT: thank you for the love! This was my first WP and I'm glad so many of you enjoyed it! | My dad was the best. Ever since I was young he would always wake up before me and make breakfast. On top of that he and I would always go on adventures like hiking and camping, and when I was old enough skydiving and mountaineer.
He'd always carry around this small flask and he would never talk about it. I used to ask him what was in it but he'd always avoid the question. I usually dropped it there since he never acted like an alcoholic or anything after drinking it.
One day I woke up early, before him and I decided to grab something to drink from the fridge. We had a huge fridge and I would always grab the first thing to drink I saw. Strangely enough nothing caught my eye, nothing except a panel that looked slightly out of place. I tried to snap it back in but it ended up revealing a hidden section of the fridge. In the section there was one half gallon of...what looked like milk. I thought this was strange so I pulled it out to get a better look.
As I pulled it out of the fridge and was about to read the label my father jumps out to surprise/scare me. I jumped and threw the carton up in the air. His face went from laughter to horror in a split second. The carton hit the floor and spilt everywhere. I looked up at my dad and he looked as if, I just did something terrible.
I looked at him and tried to break the stare by saying "Hey...don't cry over spilt milk right?" He just walked over to the carton picked it up and walk away. Standing in the milk soaked kitchen, I heard him open up the foyer closet. "Dad?" Then I heard him grab the keys. "Dad!?" I ran out to see him halfway out the front door and then have it slammed shut in my face...that was 50 years ago on this day...
I'm 67 now. In these 50 years I've finished school, graduated college and am married and have kids. We live in a quiet part of town and I managed to repurchase the house I grew up in. I never changed the locks in case he'd ever come back. Then I heard the door handle rattle, then the lock turn. It was 2:10 p.m. the kids are at school and my wife is at work. "Who can it be now?" I asked myself as a saxophone echoed in my head. The door opens and...it's...it's my dad! But...
He should be 87 but he looks exactly the way he did on that morning, except without a cowboy hat on. He had the same half carton in his hand, but this one wasn't spilled. I ran up to him and gave him a huge hug and nearly cried. "Dad! Where have you been?! What happened?" He silently stared at me. "Dad, I didn't mean to upset you 50 years ago. Why did you leave?!"
He just walked over and sat down on my couch placing the milk on the coffee table. Frustration welling up inside me I yelled "DAD, WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME!!!"
He sat there and simply motioned with his hand at the milk, and said "Try some boy, and have your friends try some also."
"What are you talking about?"
He pointed directly at the carton in an exaggerated fashion. "Here's some Nilbog Milk, special milk, high in vitamin *EHHHH*"
"Wha-"
He recovered from his sneeze "High in vitamin content."
Edit: Grammar and punctuation. | 2017-11-19T17:13:23 | 2017-11-19T16:15:34 | 60 | 19 |
[WP] No one else knows but we’ve been in an extremely realistic RPG all our lives. You seem weird to everyone because you’re always trying to “max your stats” and “defeat the final boss” | "I just don't get how you do it, man." Another quarter over, and the broken record skips back to this.
Michelle worked harder than any other person I've met. She put in more hours than anyone else in this place, got in earlier, stayed later, and she got the results. The lowest I've ever seen her figures come in was 112.7% above quota.
The lowest I'd seen mine was 243.1%.
"Number one again, and I barely ever even see you here. You've gotta be putting in time at home, right?"
"Nope. Gym for 45 minutes after work, then home to make the dinner."
Michelle takes a bite from her prepackaged sandwich. She doesn't eat a lot, but she eats shit, and it shows on her portly frame.
"But where do you even find the time?"
"I don't. I make it. One second." My alarm interrupts me. It's 10am; time for a snack. I pull out a small ziplock bag, filled with 50g raspberries, and 50g mixed nuts. I quickly refuel, then carry on, interrupting Michelle's default excuses.
"It's simple, Mich. I wake up at 6, having got 8 hours of good quality sleep. This ensures I'm well-rested for the coming day. By 6:30, I've finished my morning exercises, and I prep my day. I book out every second between 9am and 3pm in 10 minute slots. I make breakfast for myself and my family, and at 7:45 I take the kids to school. If I leave at 7:50, I align with other parents, and get caught in traffic. I tested this, and I determined the best route to minimise drive time."
Michelle rolls her eyes. "And what? You just plan and measure everything, do it exactly to plan, and it all miraculously follows the plan?"
"Pah! I wish. No, most things don't go to plan. But I refuse to allow those situations to desync my routine. I factor in firefighting into the next day's plan."
People often feel that I'm a little wooden, and I understand their position. I'm very clinical in the execution of my routine, and tend not to waste time socialising or sugarcoating. It's made me something of an outcast, but my results have made me something of a legend regardless.
"Anyway, I have a call booked in two minutes. See you at lunch."
I walk away, ignoring Michelle's disapproving expression.
These conversations come up all the time. I do the same thing every day, and have perfected my routine over the years. There is not a second wasted, and people find my life alien and mysterious. I am constantly accused of good fortune, good genes, good leads.
I am successful because I work to plan. I am healthy, because I eat and exercise to plan. I am happy, because I make the time to love my family, and am loved in return. All to plan.
My wife is not like me, so I always prep spontaneity. Every week, I do something "out of the blue". My kids love how much time I spend with them. My friends respect the fact that I make time for them, too.
My boss hates how little time I spend in the office. His boss hates the fact that I keep rejecting promotions. They don't understand. A more senior position would require a greater time investment, and the personal cost of that would not be worth the financial benefits.
I will only review my routine when I get to level 65. Currently, all this is prepping for the final hurdle. I've spent the past 45 levels developing foundations. At 65, I can build on those foundations, and will dedicate the next 35 levels or so to mastering as many skills as possible. I don't know what form the challenges will take, but I am certain that Death won't know what hit him. | "Roy, what in god's name are you up this late for?"
"Leave me alone 'Mother' I need to grind out more constitution if I want to make it on the basketball team this year."
It was 1:00 am. I had crafted my own lunch and dinner to optimally improve my CON gains. Not only that, I had went out and gotten an energy drink and a sports drink. The drinks put a +4 on my sugar intake bar which if maxxed out triggered the 'Obesity' debuff. However, it reduced my fatigue gains meaning I had longer to grind out more CON.
*Dudu-du-du duduruuuu~*
With that jingle, I knew I had reached the next tier of CON. I could meet the stat check tomorrow. With that, I was on track to completing 'The Rose-colored High School Life' Questline.
--part two--
"Oh my god. Oh my god. My heart is racing at like a bajillion bpm..."
"Calm down, Wesley. You're going to be fine."
"How can you be sure, Roy? I'm not like you! I'm not some fount spewing confidence like I had the equation to life, okay?"
"I mean, when have I been wrong?"
"AP History. Last Semester. The Second Test!"
Oh yeah... he rolled three Ones during the exam. I've literally never seen anyone roll so horribly in my life before.
"Wesley. That was **one** test. Trust me. You've got this."
I hadn't worked on my Parley in awhile, so my smile came off as haughty. But, it did the job with a commendable *14*.
"Whew. Okay, you're right. Stats don't lie."
Wesley had the 'Nervous' trait. It meant that he would roll badly in high pressure moments, but it made him also over-prepare.
--part three--
*Math Test Cleared!*
As I walked out of the classroom with Wesley, I could hear my score tick up and up.
*DingDingDing-ding... ding... ding. Bang!*
**New High Score!**
Nice! I had beaten my previous test scores meaning I got at least a 95.
"I... I think I aced it."
"See, what did I tell ya."
Wesley rolled better than he usually did too. Meaning, he did just as good if not better than me.
Up next: PE.
We walked down the hall and took a left to exit the building. It was blindingly bright outside almost summer break. I squinted and kept walking when-
Bam!
*Random Encounter!*
I had accidentally bumped into somebody.
"Sorry... I didn't watch where I was going..."
"Watch it!"
Judging from the letter jacket and voice, it was Abdul. With baseline DEXterity and CON as high as his, it was no wonder he was on varsity football. But with literally zero diplomacy, I couldn't help but be a bit pissed off.
*Nyeerooo nyeerooo nyeeroo*
Shit! My reputation bar just took a hit. I was going to have to increase my Parley, otherwise I'm going to trigger 'Nasty Rumors.' | 2018-06-10T11:02:48 | 2018-06-10T10:44:01 | 1,903 | 422 |
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