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] You just started attending a halfling support group. A gorgeous blonde raises her hand and immediately starts ranting about how hard it is to be half elf half human. As half orc, it's getting hard to keep a straight face. | “Are you done?”
Her words were stern, but she was crying.
I guess when someone twice your height, and four times your weight unloads a lifetime worth of internalized hatred on you, crying is a reasonable stress response.
“I, uh...yeah.”
She gave one curt nod as her pretty little wisps of hair, framing her ethereal features, swam around her with unnatural grace. Everyone’s eyes were fixed, and it even had the moderator pursing their lips shut.
“You’re right. You do have it bad,” she’d wiped her tears with the back of her hand as she’d marched up, “we all do. Society values you based on your looks as much as me, but more so on your otherness, wouldn’t you agree? Even if part of that is your appearance.”
I kept myself from scratching my head in frustration since it was a stereotype for our stupidity to be represented that way in the media. I wasn’t stupid. I’d just completed my master’s in botany, and I wasn’t going to let some slant eared bastard welp...
I breathed deep.
I wasn’t gonna lose it again. Give into that side. She was right, after all, so I agreed.
“My beauty grants me privilege among the humans. Yes. I’m the first to admit it, and if you’d been listening instead of working up your case against me in your head while I spoke you would have heard. But this...this is a place where all our pain is valid, and that’s important.”
I looked at the floor in shame. My pain had meant scathing words for her, and she looked genuinely hurt.
“I *have to* take that garbage from humans, but I’d think you understand better the subtlety of our mutual oppression. I’m not upset at your anger. I feel it too, I feel your pain. I am sad that someone who suffers cannot see me as an ally who cares about them, because of my looks.”
Her voice was a song now, and her hand hovered over my arm, asked permission to touch me.
Again I nodded.
Her hand felt like a cool sheet on a warm night against the perpetual balminess of my skin. She was an empath, like many elves, and touch for them was sharing.
I felt her fear, being dragged away as a child in the dark by a cult of fanatics. For elves were good offerings to sacrifice to the old gods who hungered for their eternity.
I felt her rejection, for none of elvan kind would take a halfling into their boughs. Her father had taken his own life in shame for her very existence.
Lastly I felt a pang of nostalgic memory, and loss. A beautiful, kind, face tending scraped knees, preparing burnt meals that they both pretended to enjoy, and dancing in earthen halls festooned with garlands of glorious flowers. Her mother refusing offers to sell her into shady marriages. A mother whose face withered into an elderly husk. Who smiled one last time, and was gone.
It was the flowers that stood out in my mind, because flowers were my life. These were from the old world. Species of which were now driven to extinction by poor farming practices. Gone for many many centuries, but for the reliefs in clay tablets. They’d been the most beautiful colors, and I’d been the first to see them who was born after they were gone.
I understood.
I cried too.
“We’re in this together, friend,” she smiled calmly, “would you like to talk about ancient flora over tea sometime?”
“Yeah,” my words were a breath, “I think I would.” | They say beauty is skin deep.
I grew up in Rochester, in the boring suburbs with a red brick home and a broken basketball net hanging over the garage. The frame itself was a hand-me-down, found for next to nothing in the thrift shop since the net was missing. Dad and I installed it together one afternoon, and I spent countless hours shooting hoops with a equally shabby ball. Alone.
My family didn't have much. She was an elf, her face wrinkled and hands weakened by arthritis thanks to years of minimum-wage labor as a dishwasher. He didn't fare much better as a landscaper, moving lawns and raking leaves in the baking sun. Orcs were strong and dumb, they'd said. Good for those menial labors that took too much of a toll on anyone else.
Obviously, I shouldn't even have to say that both their lineages didn't have a single iota of magic to begin with, let alone the ability to sense it.
I grew up as a halfling, known to the world as an extremely rare bastardization of Orc and Elf. Pretty and grotesque. Limber and clumsy. Tall and stout. I picked up on the worst of those traits, creating a dainty being with the rugged features of my father. As one of my acquantiances put it, an Orc with the body of an elf. I was shunned left and right, with Orcs showing off their rippling muscles and squeezing my puny limbs. From the elves and humans, who thought of I as a freak of nature. Many of them wouldn't see one like me again outside of the classroom.
You hear their snickering. See the look of pity on the face of the instructor, himself probably using spells to enhance his appearance. Turn away when students group up, knowing not a soul would pick you unless forced. The teasing and taunting that would never end.
Call me stupid, if the IQ tests and questionnaires were to be believed. It's true that those guys could mentally perform calculations I had to do on paper, or learn subjects that I could never wrap my head around. Let them. There's no intelligence in mocking others.
As I watched Charlotte stand and speak behind the one-way curtain that hid me, my face hardened and my fists balled up. She was one of those who tormented me with vile words and social negligence. Letting it out on another to hide her own insecurities, which paled in comparison to mine.
I couldn't care less about how you complain about friendship, when I didn't even have any friends to begin with. About your ears, when bullies blooded my face just to see how more hideous they could make me. About your date who rejected you for a pureblood, when not a single girl ever asked me out. Hell, from what I've seen human-elf halflings got along perfectly with the rest of the world.
Grow up Charlotte, young halfling. Not matter what you say, there's someone worse off than you. | 2019-06-22T20:35:45 | 2019-06-22T16:36:11 | 71 | 28 |
[WP] In the far future, super powers are fairly commonplace. At your birth, everyone was certain you'd be a villain. | Four generations ago, people all over the world started being born with special abilities. Anarchy spanned the globe as people sought to exploit their power for wealth and notoriety. Order was eventually restored. As evil rises, good rises to cull it.
Over time, the powerless died. Now all that remains are equals once again. Though society was set back, things ultimately returned to what they were. If everyone's armed, no one wants to take a chance.
I remember it like it was yesterday. My pre-K assessment.
I was one of the 5% of people whose powers were not apparent at birth. My family joked I would grow up to be the next great super villain with my unique power. They would all laugh. I was powerless from what anyone could tell, and the jokes were endless.
Sometimes they'd take it too far and I'd go off the handle as kinds tend to.
"Yeah, well you'll drop your book on your face again, dummy!"
"Lick a wall!"
"Nobody loves you!"
After my quick vent, I'd storm off.
The assessments were standard for everyone. They'd get a handle on what you could do. They'd classify you and break you into classes for school. Bureaucratic nonsense, but it was a matter of safety that powers were matches with staff who could counter them.
"Jean Kazes", crackled the PA.
I walked in.
The room was round. Shiny. Kind of like a fancy counter top. Everything was a sensor. Everything was monitored. I don't remember all the details, but I was asked questions and given a medical checkup. I was then sent back to my mom to wait to speak with someone about my results.
"He's remarkably unremarkable", the man in the tweed blazer said.
"The only difference between him and the powerless is his voice causes a harmless multi-wave oscillation in the air around him."
"Class K-G1."
My mom was speechless. I had no idea what any of it meant, just that I'd still be the butt of everyone's jokes.
"K-G1", my brother laughed, "What a little loser."
"Drop dead", I shrieked.
*Thud*
"Dennis... Dennis! Stop it!"
I shook my brother. Nothing.
I ran to the kitchen.
"Mom! Dennis is..."
*Tonight six are dead in Lindsborg. Police are investigating the cause of death. No suspects are named as of yet.*
It's funny. I'd never considered people would listen to me.
It wasn't until my first girlfriend that I learned the nature of my power.
Ten years after that, I ordered research done.
Apparently the multi-wave oscillation of my voice speaks directly into the subconscious of people. They do exactly as they're told.
"Forget me."
"You can't see me."
"You can't see 101 Main Street."
It took me a while, but I eventually figured out how to maximize my power. All sound producing devices were fitted with a new type of speaker. A lossless speaker. One capable of transmitting my voice.
"People of Earth. Bend the knee. Worship Me, your new King."
Women, money, power. I have it all. My power is absolute.
But everyone knows. As evil rises, good rises to cull it.
*The first deaf child born in almost 50 years here at Pella Regional Health Center.* | “It is 2064, my name is Garin Lockly, I'm fourteen and I.. am a super-hero!”
Laughing hysterically, Garins friend Colton barely managed through teary eyes, “What? Super-hero? What’s that all about?”
“Shut up, Colton!” he replied, taking his eyes off of the camera that was recording him. “You’re ruining my video! And,” he stammered, “I’ll have powers. You just wait. I mean, I can’t be powerless; I have to save the world.”
Truthfully, Garin was completely normal. In a world where powers were quite common, he unfortunately showed no signs of even being a Forcer. Scowling at Colton, he walked to his camera and turned it off with a loud beep.
“Why were you recording that, anyways?”
“Well someday when I’m famous, people will need to know who I am.”
“Wait, if you’re famous, won’t they already know who you are?” Colton countered, proud of his logic.
Garin sighed. Colton just doesn’t understand. When my power shows up, it’ll impress everybody! That way, I won’t be looked at so weird all the time. “I’ll have a cool power like yours, Colton. And when I get it, I’ll show everyone that I’m not a loser,” he trailed off at the end, looking down.
“You’re not a loser, Garin. People are just afraid of you, even though you didn’t really do anything wrong,” putting emphasis on that last part.
“It’s not my fault! I was a baby, I didn’t kill that doctor. I don’t know what happened.” When Garin was born, he was crying incessantly. The doctor that was performing the birth had apparently dropped on the floor after paling, dead. No one knows what really happened, but the diagnosis said that the doctor suffered a heart attack around the time of the birth, and he had an aneurism, resulting in an immediate death. Ever since then, the news spread pretty rapidly about the incident. Channel 44 News, Doctor Dies After Giving Birth To Baby, Signs Of Bad Omens!; This Just In, Death Baby Kills Doctor After Birth; Breaking News, Evil Baby Murders Doctors Just After Birth, Is He The Villain Of This World?
Many stories have shown up about what happened, and ever since then, not a single person has looked at him without some shred of fear. They all thought; no-knew-he was a villain, someone who would bring death to the world if the top Forcers didn’t stop him first.
----Unfortunately, the special text such as italics and tabs don't transfer over. Sorry if tense seems to change in places. If it seems off, it is most likely internal dialogue.----
| 2017-09-16T23:14:41 | 2017-09-16T23:12:10 | 44 | 10 |
[WP] After time traveling to meet Jesus Christ, you are not satisfied with what you see, and eventually realize you are Judas. | "What, are you kidding me? Feed the poor?"
*"Yes, feed the poor, give away your wealth and follow me. For no one can serve two masters. You will hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money."*
"But the those who are poor are the result of their own fault. Why should we, who work hard and favoured by God, help those who do not help themselves?"
Jesus looks at Chad in shock.
*"You say you're from the future, my follower, but yet you espouse so much hate towards your fellow brothers and sisters. Tell me, are all of my followers like that?"*
"Yeah. What do yer expect? Christians ARE the chosen people. We are chosen by God himself, and that makes us special!"
Jesus shakes his head.
*"Haven't you learned anything, Judas? From what I have shared over the past few days? Love thy neighbor as yourself, and give, for it will be given to you."*
"For the last time, my name is Chad! And what is this bullshit about loving others. Yer mean like the slut the other day? She deserves to be stoned! What's all this bullshit about not casting the first stone?"
The apostles gasp, as Jesus sighs. As much as He knows about the future, he had hoped that he could at least enlighten His supposed follower from the future.
*"Judge not, or you will be judged, Judas. My purpose on earth is not to cause more divisions, but to heal them, to bring people together."*
Chad scoffs at the statement. One that he had heard too many times in his time. The last thing that he expected was for Jesus, his supposed God, to say them.
"Yer just a no good liberal. I've wasted my time coming to see you. Yer can be rich, powerful, but yer don't! And what's with the free healing to all those homeless people? They need to pay!"
*"Judas-"*
"I'm not Judas! And I am leaving! Heck, what a disappointment. Maybe I can find somewhere else where I can make my time worth it."
Chad picks up his backpack and walks of of the front door, making sure to spit on the ground before he steps out. The Father had already warned him earlier, but Jesus thought He could perhaps make Chad see the light.
Still, free will is a funny thing. If Chad refuses to see from another perspective, there is little Jesus can do. As the door slams, Jesus slowly sits down, surrounded by his apostles. He knows what is going to happen next and slowly reaches out to the bread in the middle of the table.
He breaks it, and gives it to the apostles.
*“Take and eat; this is my body.”*
---------------------
*Cue suspenseful music? Be sure to check out more at /r/dori_tales!* | While everyone hates Judas for what he did to Jesus, I instead, was fascinated with his life. If Jesus was foretold to die on the cross then it must have meant that Judas was planned to betray Jesus. How was that his fault? I quit my job and began to make a time machine to prove that Judas was innocent.
Little by little each year my creation gets built until finally it has been completed. It wasn't a complicated invention. A lazy boy with two levers. One to kick back and relax and the other for time travel. I input the dates and off I go.
Once I arrived the land around me already looks like I'm in a barren wasteland. A bit nervous and itching to go back to my time. I get off and walk to the city. As I get hotter and hotter, I begin ripping off my clothes to cover my head. Later on I realize that I have collapsed and can no longer continue walking. My eyes slowly close as death reaches upon me.
I felt a light touch and cold water splash on my body. I awake to see a man with a full beard taking care of me. I ask who the man is and he responds, "Jesus of Nazareth". A few tears start to swell as I have met the holiest person that has ever walked on this earth.
As he takes care of me, he begins to discuss his life. He mentions about gathering disciples as his father has a plan for him. I mention if he has met a man named Judas. If he is this far into his journey, he for sure has to met Judas. " no I haven't" Jesus responded. I frowned. However, before we could continue, Andrew barges in, looking flustered.
Andrew talked about his troubles and how he is overwhelmed of being treasurer of the group, I offer my services as I used to be an accountant before I quit my job. To repay back the kindness Jesus gave me to, I accepted the role of treasurer. Jesus asked my name & and I hesitated to say since it would be foreign to them. "You know" Jesus says. "The name Judas seems like a good fit for you, do you mind if we call you by that name?" He continues. I respond with a simple "No, I don't mind" with glee.
| 2017-06-08T08:03:55 | 2017-06-08T07:33:16 | 109 | 19 |
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth". | "They're fuckin nuts, that's what they are."
The Qwyvvrtt shook his mane, the vines sliding like snakes across his barrel chest. A few small petals fluttered to the floor, the spring pollination season just drawing to an end. His friend perched along the side of the wall, all creeping ivy and a multitude dark eyes with slow blinks that drank up the world. Two wide saucers allowed their roots to splay easily across the enhanced water, passively sating their thirst.
"They implant themselves with metal. They become half machine. It is absurd." The ivy rasped, voice carrying easily over the creaking wood and tight skinned patter of movement of the normally quiet bar.
"Forget metal, someone told me the beings from Dirt will rip chunks of themselves out to save another Dirtwalker."
"And they just live like that? With someone else's limb? That's just-"
"Ugh, I know. Barbaric. How they even lived long enough for space travel, I don't know."
I stretched a lingering ache out of my elbow, listening in with half an ear as my other patrons chatted with the slow , tired rumble I'd learned to associate with the end of spring. The low music only eased their relaxed contentedness.
Except, I guessed, for those two.
"I watched a documentary that said they regularly applied acids and burning chemicals to their extremities. That they still punctured their own flesh for amusement."
They both shuddered.
"Can you imagine scorching your leaves just to look more autumn?."
"Gross, please, I'm trying to drink."
I laughed, sliding over to plant my elbows on the bar, grinning at them. Bright blue hair fell over my shoulders, freshly dyed.
Several piercings lined my ears, and a bright blue bandage at my elbow stuck a little to the polished chrome of the bar.
"Sorry for the delay boys, I'm still a bit woozy from a blood donation this morning. Can I get you anything."
My grin widened as their leaves rippled in horror and shock, and they muttered quiet negatives. Still, I filled up their water bowls (cloudy and cold - just the right amount decay to feed the fungus that lived in their tangled beards. The ivy shank back as I grinned at him.
"Don't be afraid to reach out if you need anything."
They nodded, and I retreated, prosthetic foot clicking against tiles.
"You know what it means when a human smiles, ssthahs?" "Hm?" "Documentary said they're descended from warm blooded animals, so it's either a gesture of comfort, amusement... or a threat."
"We should tip, ye? That's a human custom..."
"Yup." | (this was done on mobile, apologies for any bad formatting)
"People...uhh...no...thats not right, is it? Well anyway, the server is slowing down". The bartender shouted above the general chatter.
"Bullshit!" a mildly intoxicated Staricuon threw his canister to the floor, "I'm paying good money for this!" This type of thing always happened when the processor got overloaded. The bar was one of the first to adopt a fully simulated version of itself in a computer, essentially locked to the richer patrons. The technology had been introduced to the system B54-#G when the planet Earth had joined the Galactic Federation. The bartender looked back at the many customers and reached a decision of what to do about the overloading. "Simulation will restart in 5 Terran minutes, 12 Venarution minutes,2 Standard Time minutes and 8 Staric minutes. Thanks for being a customer here!" After setting the timer, he decided to return to the main, unsimulated bar.
He opened his eyes to find himself back in the chair at the serving table. The familiar clinks of the glasses from the auto-servers around the building were the first thing noticeable that was different between the two bars. In a simulated room, things could be generated immediately meaning that wait times became almost non existent.
There were two Venarutions in the table directly infront of him. Chatter could he heard from the two. "So...ya heard about the new system in the Fed?"
"Yeah. Terrans they call themselves. At least on the Fed register sheet"
Hey how'd you get access tah that?"
"News,friend,news!"
"Ahh. Apparently they refer to their homeworld as Earth though. Big ball o' rock! Hardly comparable to the bodies in the rest of their system. Nice gas planets, now you see *them*, you can use that gas for energy! Ain't nothin' you can do similarly on their proclaimed main planet!"
The bartender just stood and looked at them for a few seconds until they noticed. The aliens ended up getting free detox juice as well.
| 2017-09-06T11:50:21 | 2017-09-06T10:06:01 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] It's July 4th, 2176. In response to tariffs, 13 Lunar colonies have joined together, declaring independence from the Earth. | "Hey Benny, you hear the news?"
"What news?" Grumbled Benny, eyes still focused on the road, as though the car he was in wasn't driving itself.
"Jesus Christ, you been living under a rock? The Moon's declaring independence. Apparently caused a whole political shitstorm, I guess the Moonese got tired of paying taxes or some shit."
"Moonians"
"what?"
"That's what they're fuckin' called, Moonians"
"That's not the point Benny, the point is they're considering themselves exempt from international law, because, well they're technically not on Earth"
"How does that concern me?"
"What do you mean?"
"What do you mean what do I mean? I'm saying how, in any way does, the political climate of a celestial body that I'm not even fuckin' living in, concern me in any way, shape or fuckin' form?"
"Jeez Benny, who pissed in your cheerios, it's just something to talk about"
"That's what I'm tryin' to say, why are we talking about it? There's nothing there, no natural resources to speak of, no industry or agriculture, hell, they don't even have gravity, they gotta make that shit artificially."
"Now that you put it that way-
"Look, If the residents of the moon wanna be independent, I tip my hat to them. Live and let live, am I right?"
| "Could they *be* any more sarcastic?!" Whit complained.
"Come on! I find it witty!" Mark retorted while sipping his favorite poison: Coffee, straight from the Tycho Hydroponics Corp. For some reason, he savored low-gee coffee much more than the terrestrial roasts so in vogue with the Trendies.
"But they've been planning it for years, you know it. Why announce now?!"
"That's just it! Exactly 400 years after the United States declared its independence, and 150 from the dissolution of the same into the City States System. If only if it had stayed that way!"
"What? You mean you disapprove of our not-so-new United Earth overlords?"
"Isn't it obvious?" | 2015-07-04T10:36:49 | 2015-07-04T09:47:13 | 46 | 10 |
[WP] Earth is contacted by an intergalactic federation. Planets are welcomed to the federation if they have something to contribute. The rest of the galaxy is interested in what they see as our greatest talent; they want our music... | The President had gathered the greatest experts of culture in the Oval Office. The Smithsonian was well respresented, as were a number of private institutions and musical schools. Together, they picked the lineup for the greatest orchestra the world had ever seen.
The President invited the alien representatives to the Kennedy Center in Washington DC, where they played a number of beautiful symphonies. The First Lady was moved to tears by their rendition of Schubert's String Quintet in C, 'Adagio.' At the end, the President and his security team clapped as hard as they could, but the aliens were unimpressed. "We told you we wanted to hear your Earth music," they said, "Not these wooden monstrosities!" He lashed out a tentacle, smashing a Stradivarius violin. With a huff, they left the concert hall and reboarded their ship.
The panel reassembled at the White House. They scoured through databases, looking for the greatest vocal talents in the world. In the end, they settled on a boy's choir from China that had recently been awarded a number of prestigious honors. The President sent Air Force One to collect them and bring them immediately back to the United States. Once again, the Alien ambassadors met the president at the Kennedy Center, where the boys sang a number of beautiful ballads. Again, the Aliens stomped out disappointed without elaborating on their demands. The president was stumped.
The experts called in ambassadors from the United Nations. Each country would bring the greatest of their own native cultural artists to the Kennedy Center to put on a performance. Mongolia brought a band of talented throat singers; The Vatican volunteered the Pope's favorite Gregorian Chanters; Australia brought up 12 didgeridoo players. Etc, etc. They all assembled on the stage before the Alien ambassadors and one by one showed off the music that the Earth has to offer. And once again, the Aliens left without a single world of praise: just a threat. "Mr. President, we will give you one last opportunity to show us the greatest, most talented Earth Music. Do not disappoint us." They went back to their ship and ascended into the sky, making sure that the President could see the giant weapon slung underneath their spacecraft.
The president sat alone in the oval office, holding his forehead in his palms. "I'm going to regret this later," he muttered to himself. With a sigh, he reached for the phone and dialed.
"Yes, it's me. The President. I need you to come to Washington, Kanye."
----
If you enjoyed the writing, check out /r/Luna_Lovewell! | Earth is contacted by an intergalactic federation. The rest of the galaxy is interested in what they see as our greatest talent, one song in particular... "We Will Overcome."
You see, most species in the galaxy are like lemmings. The only way that a civilization can survive long enough to evolve into a spacefaring society is if everybody gets along. Uncounted civilizations have nuked themselves into oblivion because they can't get along.
And how do they get along? They do what they are told. They take orders, they do what they are told. And they are very uniform. Everybody all the same.
Take the frabjulians, for example. Their nice watery planet is populated with millions of perfectly identical spires rising from the ocean floor to the cloudy heights of the atmosphere. The Big FrabJa says he wants a new tower, and the liada frabjulians start laying the foundation by emitting carbonates while wiping their asses on the ocean floor. Soon thereafter, the ambia frabjulians start swarming 'round the rising spires, shitting more carbonates in a broadening and rising tower. The airia frabjulians leap into the sky, crapping still more material onto the tower until it rises as far as their fletching fins can fly.
And that's how it's done. All in silence. Silence so golden it shimmers in the frabjulous sun as it shimmers through the simmering seas.
But these Earthlings. With their songs of overcoming. And their songs of "We Shall Not be Moved." And folk songs of ancient native peoples already dead and buried and forgotten but for their music. And their sing-song chants of we wont go.
Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera.
At a certain points, words cannot do justice. At a certain point, you need to let the music speak for itself.
| 2014-12-22T10:39:03 | 2014-12-22T09:57:17 | 538 | 56 |
[WP] There's a machine that shows you all the times in your life you narrowly avoided death. You use it and, to your horror, almost every time it shows is you hanging out with your best friend. | It was that time of year again, the County Fair. A time when all sorts of wacky and crazy people I don't think twice about come together and showcase some weird thing they did. Biggest pig, County's best pie contest, pie eating contest to prove you're the biggest pig. Elementary school dioramas of why our boring place is exciting and high school science projects. As I walked around I saw a ridiculous project:
Revisit the Times You Almost Died
in Virtual Reality
They can't possibly be serious. I make my way over to their display and there is somebody in the chair already so I chat with the kids about how silly the whole thing is.
"So is this some sort of horror VR game you made?"
"Actually our little machine here is based on the newest technology historians are using to look back in history. The 'reverse half-life' as they are calling it is the process of taking a set of atoms and picture data and reversing the half-life process to see where things came from and how they came to be. We are combining this with the latest neuroscience research that shows that the brain subconsciously knows when it is going to be in a catastrophic event and releases a chemical into the system that gives people that tingly feeling on the back of their neck. With these 2 things we are able to go back into a person's chemical history to see what happened every time they were about to die."
It all sounded like gibberish to me. The person in the chair was just finishing up. As she left she was muttering to herself. Well it was my turn now. "Looks like it's my turn. How do I get strapped in?"
"It's very simple sir. Just sit back in the chair as we give you an injection." How in the world are these kids funding all of this again? "It will induce a false REM sleep so you don't start talking or moving around. We'll put the headset on you and the system will do all the work." And eventually the real world faded away.
I can't believe it. There's me. I remember that shirt, I wore that when I was like 6 or 7. Our family was at the park and we were playing frisbee. I know what happens. This is the time when I first met David. I hated him back then. I was almost gonna catch the frisbee when David out of nowhere knocked me to the ground. I remember hating him for that, but why am I seeing this? Did I almost hit my head on a rock or something? No. That wasn't it. I was so focused on the frisbee that I didn't realize I was about to run into the street right into traffic. David had saved my life. This thing actually works.
The next memory started. Ah, the baseball game. I already know this one, because we always bring this one up. I had dropped my bag of skittles on the floor and as I reached down to pick them up David caught a home run as it was about to hit me in the back of the head.
This next was was the time we were at David's house and we were chasing out a raccoon that had wandered in. I guess yeah, I could have died here.
Here's the time David was too drunk after a party and called me to pick him up. After I had left my apartment complex had a few break-ins.
Here's me walking with David and he stopped to tie his shoe? What? Here's us at a coffee shop and... that's it? This one is just David talking on the phone. I don't understand. I'm not even there. Here's David staying the night and crashed on my sofa. What is going on? Every vision of the past was David. This thing must be broken.
After some time I'm finally free of seeing David. I let the students know, "hey, this thing must be broken. It started with a few times I almost died, but then it just started showing random times on me with my best friend."
"Well, we are just high school kids. Don't expect it to be perfect. We just wanted to test the theory and built a machine to do it."
I guess they had a point, but it sure was a strange way to spend 10 minutes. As I continue around the fairgrounds I see David. He's hanging out with 3 other people. They're all wearing the same jacket. I know I should say hello to him, but the machine has me doubting what I even am to David. I put that aside, "Hey, David. Fancy running into you here. Who are your friends?"
"Oh, hey. These are just some people I work with."
I guess the office decide to make a day of the fair. The machine is still in my mind.
"See anything interesting so far?" I asked.
"Nothing too out of the ordinary. Michelle here won third place in the pie eating contest. What about you?"
I have no idea how tiny people do it, but they always seem to do well in those kinds of things. I decide to buckle up and just talk about the machine.
"There is this high school group at the science fair that have made a machine that supposedly shows you every time you almost died."
David and his friends all stare at me.
"What did you see?" That man with them asked.
"Well it's probably broken because it just showed me a bunch of times I was with David."
David's eyes widened. His eyes darted around until he made contact with the rest of his little group. As if in unison they all nodded. The last words I ever heard from my best friend were "Go home. Now."
Between the machine and David and his friends I figured it was best to not take chances and went home straight away.
I never saw David again. | He changed my life. It did not matter when or where or why, he was always there. If I had known it was only a mask of contempt, what would I have done? Evidently, it does not matter what I would have done. It matters what I will do now. I cannot forgive you, Jaz.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I immediately noticed his blank impression when he stepped out of the room. He refuses to talk to me about it. When he told me about this machine, I was curious. How could it possibly show you the times in which you narrowly avoided death? Needlessly to say, I believe it is some kind of cheap trick to lure our your money. But his expression tells me otherwise. I wonder what he saw. I wonder what he went through. It does not matter, I will be there for him regardless. I have always been there for him, I always will.
But I will never forget his eyes. Why did he show me such an expression of intense hatred? Kayn, what is wrong with you?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As usual, we are walking down the street. But this time, things are completely different. I wonder when his mask will finally slip. When will he direct his knife at me? At which point will he strike?
"Why are you so tense? Something is wrong with you, I just know it. What did you see? What did that machine show you?"
His question seems genuine. He probably should have become an actor instead of a would-be-murderer. Although I no longer care at this point.
"I need you to follow me, we have to talk."
"I will always be there for you, of course."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's so dark in here. I truly wonder why he chose this place. The only logical conclusion would be, that someone is chasing after him. But if that were the case, shouldn't he call the police or something? Anyway, I know I can trust him. If he thinks this is the best option, then it is.
"So, why did you bring me here? What is it you want to say?"
I worry about his expression.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I do not respond. There is nothing I could say. Only silence and the moonlight, just as it should be. Finally, I utter but a single phrase.
"You will die."
"Why will I die? What did you see in that machine? Please, I am worried about you. We barely talked ever since you entered that room. Your expression tells me that you saw horrible things, and I want to help you. You don't have to do this alone, I am here for you."
"You may drop the act. I am aware of your plans."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I get the feeling his hatred is directed at me. But why?
"Please, what do you mean? I don't understand at all. Kayn, what has changed?"
"Nothing."
Ever since we came here, his eyes had been directed at me only. I am starting to worry. Not about his life, but about mine. Why is he acting this way?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was a single quick movement, a single strike. He made it pretty easy, obviously he did not expect me to suddenly attack him. As his blood spread across the floor, tears escaped his eyes. A single "Why?", then silence. Eventually his body collapsed.
Why did he not defend himself? He should have seen it coming. Obviously he knew what the machine does, he was the one who tried to talk me out of it, after all. I simply don't understand why he did not try to kill me after I found out.
Either way, it's finally over. But I wonder...why did he want to kill me?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I heard his knife drop on the floor, that was my cue to step out of the shadows.
"Well done, I did not expect you to see this through."
His eyes widen, how funny. Obviously he has forgotten me.
"Who are you? What do you want? Back off!" He is too startled to raise his weapon again. After all, he just murdered his best friend in cold blood.
"I don't want anything. Actually, I am just going to leave you here. If you want to know the truth, I just wanted to see you one last time. You did well, better than I anticipated, even. This day will haunt you for the rest of your life. And don't worry, I already called the police. It's not like you could escape them at this point. Farewell, Kayn."
I still remember the day when Jaz and I were best friends. Eventually, Kayn came along, which separated me and Jaz. Whenever I saw them together, I just had this incredible desire to kill Kayn. This machine has but a single, fatal flaw. It does not show you how you would have died, or even who would have done it. It just shows you what happens moments before your death. He always saw his best friend moments before his death. I wanted to kill him every time, obviously. But instead of doing that, I chose a better plan.
Even after all those years, I still could not forgive them.
Finally, I am free.
| 2017-07-02T14:34:38 | 2017-07-02T10:21:20 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] You are the last person to die on Earth before the secret of immortality is unlocked. Turns out, there is paradise in the afterlife. After a hundred or so years, you decide to check in on the people still on Earth.. | The world wasn't on fire, but it should have been.
After a century of immortality, madness didn't take over the humans, boredom did.
Sprawled on the tarmac, what were once people lay motionless, their gazes fixed on the gray sky. I floated down to one of them, and placed my hand on his ripped shirt. Insects crawled out where I had touched him, and I flinched away. They couldn't harm me of course, they merely marched through my hand, and found shelter inside his legs. They ripped through his skin, but the flesh fixed itself, creating a cave for crawling creatures. A breeze carried the dust from the fallen buildings through me, carrying the insects who were too slow. To think, that insects would one day be more mortal than us.
I found his chest again. His heart wasn't beating, a side-effect of their immortality. The man barely registered my presence. Here I was, a phantom hovering over the ground, translucent under the peeking sunlight through the clouds, and the man didn't even flinch. Neither did anyone else lying on the street.
This is what immortality had brought them to, a life filled with nothing. They had to do everything in the world, but they never thought of what would happen after. They had each tasted their last morsel of food, their taste for everything blending together into a singular flavour. Why eat when you are immortal? Why eat when everything tastes the same?
They had each drank their last drop of water, breathed their breath of air. They had touched each other for the last time, the spark of a kiss faded away with their heartbeats.
No, these weren't their lasts. They could get up once again, if only they wished. But time had mashed their minds into dust. And it was only dust that moved through the world nowadays.
None of what humanity had built over the years had stood. Only a century was all it took to undo millennia of accomplishments. It only took one discovery to turn humanity into an empty shell of what it used to be.
They believed they needed immortality, but immortality took away their needs. And here they lay, in a world of dust and insects, with nothing to bid them to rise again. Nothing to bring them hope again. Happiness had lost its meaning, and danger had lost its edge. They were alive, whether they liked it or not.
Edit: Rephrased a sentence. | The cancer had spread through out my pancreas and liver, I wanted to live for my children, but a part of me wanted to see what was on the other side of death. My life was fulfilled, I had a few properties to gift to my two sons after my passing, Christopher and Jack were strong lads even though they were only young. My wife had previously died from a failed liver transplant it devastated me, I didn't have time for my boys so because I was working double to keep my boys in private education. So my dear mother looked after them the sweat hearted pensioner, I was afraid she wouldn't have long either.
I soon faded to black and let my body slide into a calming sleep, it had been working so hard to fight but it couldn't take it anymore. In this abysmal darkness was a table made of a dark wood, it was far away in the distance so i attempted to step forward but I ended up somehow hitting the desk with my knee. I had somehow teleported, on the table a blindingly white A3 paper sat undisturbed with two tick boxes marked in ink. Above each box it said are you 'yes' and 'no', at the top of the paper it asked the question "Are you from Earth?". No pen was in sight so I touched the 'yes' box with my finger, it glowed a bright light and everything went white as if I had become one with the paper I once sat in front of.
Confused I looked around and was about to shout where am I, but before I could even speak a voice bellowed "The Aether"
To be continued...
I know this isn't much but it's a start for the rest of you guys :)
| 2016-12-17T12:02:00 | 2016-12-17T11:22:38 | 219 | 18 |
[WP] When you hit puberty, you will get taken to a customise-your character-screen where you can change anything you want. While leaving the program, you accidentally change one parameter. Now you are stuck with it. | My random parameters, assigned at birth, had really served me well throughout my childhood. I was relatively good looking and my agility had made me great at sports so I didn’t complain. My intelligence level had given me decent grades in school.
“Hey David,” my good friend Alex said. I knew he’d be at the Assignment Office since we shared the same Assignment Day, “You excited? Plan on changing much?”
“Yeah, pretty nervous,” I laughed as I said it, “There are a few things I want to change. I’ve always wanted blue eyes and not to be so darned pale! I'm not touching my stats though."
“David Scott,” the nurse said with a smile, motioning me into the office that contained the computer.
“Good luck, blue eyes!” Alex teased as I walked in.
I had my eyes closed. I was so pissed. I hit “Accept?” and even went through a “Are you sure?” prompt followed by, “Hitting Accept at this Point Cannot Be Reversed, Please Check Everything and Make Any Changes, if Satisfied hit ACCEPT” and like an idiot I had.
“Wow,” Alex said looking at me then blushed, “You look good.”
“Shut up, Alex!” I said, entering the bathroom then turning around as the blush crossed my face and the person screamed.
I entered the ladies room for the first time in my life with my bladder about to burst and sat on the toilet embarrassed. I had no idea how this new set of plumbing worked so I let nature guide me. I had been so worried about getting my looks wrong. Well, my mom had always wanted a daughter. | All these years, I truly liked the way I looked, but figured no harm in messing around. I fiddled with the settings, gave my self muscles, changed my hair and eyes. It was rather fun, but I really had no problem with the way I looked before, so I hit default.
The screen showed me the way I always was. Short buzzed brown hair, brown eyes, thin but not overly muscular. I got ready to hit continue, and the screen glitched. Nothing big, but flashed.
The screen the said, "Are you sure you wish to continue?" Not noticing any changes, I clicked yes.
That morning I awoke in my bed. Everything seemed normal. I started my morning routines. I shit, I showered, but it was when I went to shave I noticed something odd.
I had a swastika tattoed on my forehead. I, I had not noticed this on the screen that night.
And that is how I was born anew and became the infamous Charles Manson.
EDIT: Totally felt better in my head.
| 2017-03-09T08:36:45 | 2017-03-09T07:34:58 | 104 | 38 |
[WP] In 1829, a dying woman in a village near Mansfield asked a friend to bury her son’s letters with her. She forgot and had them buried with the local postman who died soon after hoping him to be ‘as diligent a postman in the other world as he had been in this’.
This is a true story! But I thought it would make a fantastic premise for a book or short story: the postman’s posthumous journey to deliver that letter. | The postman never delivered on Sundays.
For the other six days of the week, Mr. Picket was a frequent sight around Mansfield. Not all knew his name, but everybody greeted him warmly, often with a refreshing drink when summer scorched, or a warm drink during winter's chill.
It was perhaps the most fitting that the dutiful Mr. Picket would pass away just as the clock crept past 12 midnight on a Sunday. For even till his last day, he remained steadfast in his occupation.
When he first reopened his eyes, he marvelled at the immense peace he felt.
He had done well. There were no regrets. He had brought several letters to people who needed them, and undoubtedly, the smiles and tears that came along with such prose.
Mr. Picket hand instinctively grasped at his right shoulder, the one that would have carried his satchel all his life. He chuckled a little, when he realized that the familiar strap of cloth no longer dug into him.
But as his hand grasped, his other one clenched, feeling the unmistakable crumple of paper and card. Mr. Picket looked at the letters he held in his hand, and noticed that they were addressed to the lovely, god bless her soul, Mrs. Brown, who had passed years before him.
He sat in a nondescript wooden rocking chair that poofed out of nowhere. Back and forth, back and forth, contemplating on what would be his best course of action.
He knew Mansfield well enough, for he had lived there all his life. Here? He gazed around, unsure what he was looking at.
Where was he, exactly? Heaven or hell? Mr. Picket never thought much about the afterlife. Instead, he thumbed through the letters in front of him, recognizing the handwriting of Mrs. Brown's son, and how it graduated from illegible scrawl into a gentleman's fine words.
He knew what he had to do. But for today, he leaned fully back into the chair, and took his well-deserved rest.
And then it's back to the job, trekking across wherever he was, to find Mrs. Brown and reunite her with the letters of her faraway son.
---
r/dexdrafts | “All I want to know is why the hell I’m being forced to do this! I mean, I *died!* Surely that’s supposed to mean an *end* to my suffering!”
Charon sits silently on the other side of the barge, clearly ignoring the belaboured postman.
“Stupid lass forgets to follow through on her best friend’s dying wish, and now I’m getting the short end of it! It’s not my fault the loony bint couldn’t get her head out of the wineglass long enough to attend the funeral!”
Charon rows twice, “accidentally” splashing molten rock from the river Phelgethon on the shade.
“Oi! Careful with that, nearly burnt my cargo up!”
Charon continues down the river, thoroughly annoyed by his passenger’s consistent and determined complaints.
—
The postman pants as he slays the last foe in the chamber - the effort well beyond what most mortal souls were capable of. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he surveys the potential rewards of the next chambers of Elysium.
“Let’s see... the next chambers have one of Daedalus’ hammers, Gemstones and... ooh, a friendly meeting!”
—
Straightening his uniform, the postman knocks on the stone door in front of him, the makeshift dwelling warm and inviting, despite itself.
“Just a minute!”
The clattering of pans and the sound of a stubbed toe precede the door finally swinging open.
“Yes?”
“Hello ma’am. I have a delivery here for a lady from... Mansfield?” | 2020-10-14T10:27:20 | 2020-10-14T09:36:10 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..." | "You have a *bad*. I smell it in you. The bad is bigger." the electonic voice chirped from a nearby speaker. Zoe looked at Valerie from the table
Valerie blinked, and turned to the vet tech, looking for help. "The pill allows Zoe to speak English, but this doesn't fully explain all concepts to her.", she remarked. she glanced at tablet, the continued: "maybe she's saying... indigestion?"
"*Bad.* *Bad*! the voice trilled. Zoe barked, and tried to stand up on her front paws on the bed. The voice continued in it's synthetic rasp: "There is a bad, packmate! hunt! smell! it is *here*." Zoe crawled forward, nuzzling the valrie's worn purple sweater. "Calm down, zozo. It's alright..."
Val strokes the animal's contour, riddled by bones. *So,* she thought, *it wasn't a just a lump*? She dismissed the sudden falling sensation of her fear, and refocused on the dog's brown eyes.
"Zoe" She spoke. "I didn't expect this but... thank you."
"*you hunt for bad, yes?*"
"Uh, yeah, Zoe. I'll hunt for the bad. I love you doggo. I love you a lot." Her eyes watered, and she rubbed the damp skin of her face where tears had streaked before.
"I'll leave you as long as you need to be here", the vet tech remarked, she said, head down.
"*Tired. Sleep. Hunt... tomorrow.* and the dog rested its head, just like she really was asleep. | "Alright listen very carefully, we don't have much time." Barks Sonny, "follow me."
He races off through to doggy door into the back yard. I fumble with the back door for a second and I try to chase after my beloved dog. I barely reach him as he slips under the hedge of our garden. When I crawl under, I realized I've somehow entered an extensive lab. "Quickly! Here, take this list of names. We are a foundation committed to stoping an evil organization called B.O.R.K. They're breeding and weaponizing dogs all over the globe in the attempt to take control over the earth. That list I gave you has all of our operatives in the field. I hope you stocked up on pills. Find them and track down B.O.R.K. Stop them from taking over the world."
What the fuck just happened!? I think to myself as I look into the eyes of our once again mute dog... | 2017-02-23T06:40:22 | 2017-02-23T06:16:15 | 75 | 17 |
[WP] One night, something grabs your hand as it hangs off the edge of the bed. You give it a firm handshake. "You're hired," it whispers. | It all started when I give a 'hand' a handshake. Next thing I heard was a voice whispering "You're hired".
That is it. Nothing else. For the longest of time I thought it was a really weird dream. A very weird lucid dream. Or so I thought.
Then I live life as normal till the day I die. Or so I thought.
Apparently the talk about afterlife was real. SO real they got most of it correct. Well.., most. I was greet with the smell of lavender & bubble gum when I came to my senses. There's a man in suit waiting in front of some big gate or something. Its so big I can't even see the edge of it. It is open by the look of it.
"Welcome to Pet Safari. You're our new staff here. Sorry for the long wait & we hope you will be happy working with us," greet the man in suit.
"Working?"
"Yes. You'll be working with us here in Pet Safari. You've been hired for a very long time only that you haven't met the 1st requirement: You must be dead to work with us. Don't you remember any of this?" he continues.
"Ummm... No! I most certainly don't remember any of this."
He then proceed to do a touching gesture mid air & to my amaze a floating colorful screen appears out of nowhere. That is some SAO stuff right there. He shows me what look like a trip to a zoo video clip & calls it 'Interview'.
"There. Welcome aboard, Hannah. I'll show you around. Hey, I even gonna introduced you to our star animal here. We have Cerberus, Dragons. You told me back then you like dragons."
"So what am I here?"
"You're our new assistant curator. The previous one have gone to place he deserved: The Realm of Fire, Hell. But don't worry you won't be going there. You're a good girl, I even give you your younger body back," he smile and lead the way inside the Pet Safari.
He is right. I'm not an old woman anymore. But that is so little compared to the sight in front of me. There's a field so big, so wide, so green filled with various type of animals. They even have a Dung Beetle the size of VW Beetle.
There's so many unbelievable creatures inside. Some of it I have seen in story books, some I haven't. I have so many questions about this place but that can wait. That is a story for another day. What I really wanted to do right now is chased that cute 3 headed puppy & snuggle it to death. | and so such was life now. an endless chore for an unknown employer. nothing was ever needed again. nothing was ever needed to be done. existence was the job. each and every day played out just as the monotony of a dayjob. and each day was a shift in a dayjob. each day carried the burden of dread, of uncertainty of purpose. rarely was a day fulfilling, but when it was, the following one was that much heavier a burden.
the days all began at 8:35 am, an alarm sounding. at 8:45 a shower was taken with coffee to be drunk at 8:55 which had begun to brew at 8:40. and every day began so.
the in between, the 9 to 5, was never clearly defined. there were no guidelines for his position. "you're hired," the words haunted him. every day an attempt to fulfill obligation unbeknownst to all except that which he had shaken hands with.
mhis life from the night of january 18, 2016 was to be this: an exhibition observing what a man would do when he had no idea of what to do. every day he would try to appease his employer, which provided him with all the food, clothing, and money deemed necessary. the man never went hungry, never dressed as a person of poor means, and never came short when a bill was due. all he needed was provided. the man was simply to live. and this produced a man who felt unworthy of life.
the man never struggled. comfort was an anxiety. what had he done to deserve this, he thought, what was he doing? the conceivable answer was nothing. simply put, the man had done nothing. and in this he felt not a great shame, but a great sense of duty. he must earn what he was being given. he must, if not for himself, do something for the greater good. this was what the undefined 9-5 was to be: work for the greater good, but, as all wise women and men have said, the road to hell....
| 2017-04-29T01:14:15 | 2017-04-28T23:00:16 | 57 | 12 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | Bryce Morrison thought he had it all: a loving wife, a charming son, and a satisfying job. Yet there was something that nagged at him - a constant feeling that he wasn't good enough.
On The Day of the Mugs, his suspicions appeared to be confirmed. "#598,432 Dad." The jarring bold words remained seared in his memory throughout the day, clouding every action and every word.
After work, Bryce returned to an empty house. Marie was out for dinner with friends and Billy had soccer practice. Perhaps a few hours of SportsCenter would help ease his mind. But alas, there came a sudden knock at the door.
"Hey there, bud!"
Bryce opened the door to discover Tom Gilbert, a fellow father from across the street. He clutched a mug in his hand that read "#49,534 Dad."
"I was just wonderin' if you had any interest in a nice homemade hamburger. We've got some leftovers from the cookout."
Bryce narrowed his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking of cooking a bit myself. Mind if I drop by?"
Tom took a sip of his drink and lifted an eyebrow. "Uhhh...sure. By all means."
Bryce ran back to the kitchen and pulled a fresh ground beef patty out of a refrigerator drawer. He bolted across the street, dropped the patty on Tom's grill, and started to cook it. *This'll be the best damn burger ever made,* he thought. *I'll show that smug bastard.*
It was, by all accounts, a pretty damn good burger. Tom took a bite and gave him the thumbs up.
***
The next morning, Bryce's mug read "#432,726."
Not good enough.
Bryce asked to take his vacation early, left a note for the family, and began searching for every potential dad in the county. He went to small businesses, office buildings, parks and parking lots, challenging anyone that would listen. He fixed motors, went fly fishing, played 30 rounds of golf and showed impeccable taste in microbreweries.
As the week progressed, his rank continued to climb. But at a certain point - roughly 200,000 - it plateaued.
For a moment, Bryce was tempted to smash the mug, right then and there. He tried some more Dad Tasks - refurbishing a porch, buying a new polo wardrobe - but nothing worked. The rank plummeted, and soon it was back in the range of 500,000.
Bryce drove home, dejected. He'd been texting Marie throughout the week, but she didn't seem to understand the nature of his quest. Then again, how could she?
His wife and son embraced him the moment he stepped inside.
"Daddy, I missed you!" Billy cried, dropping his Lego truck to the ground. Marie looked understandably irritated but kissed him on the cheek nonetheless.
Bryce sighed. "I just couldn't stand it. I never thought I was a good dad, and that mug proved it."
Marie chuckled and shook her head. "What's a number got to do with anything?"
Billy hugged his father's leg. "I love you no matter what, Daddy!"
Bryce smiled and patted him on the head.
Over the next few days, the rank on the mug slowly began to climb again, but it sat dormant in a kitchen cabinet. Within a week, Bryce forgot it had ever existed.
*I might not be perfect,* he decided. *But I'm good enough.*
***
Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my stories, check out /r/GigaWrites. | The mug was in the back yard shed with most of my dads things. I had gotten them when he passed away. It stood there with a big number one on it. I decided to bring it inside, since i had known to me he had been my number one dad.
When i touched it the number changed. I hadn't been with a girl in about a year. I hadn't dated in almost 3. I was a dad.
The number was insanely high. But i didn't know i was a father until i touched it, so i guess... that was fine. It bothered me though. I mean it would bother anyone. 698,589. It was a non-scripted kind of number. The kind you would see on a prison inmates shirt. The kind of number I felt like.
I called Cristina. We had dated for 3 years, i almost popped the question, but then her grandparents died and she said she needed time to think her life over. And we just fell out of touch. She was the last girl i was with.
The conversation was pretty normal. I am good how are you, me too, thanks for asking. But like word vomit it came spilling out of my mouth like a a wet shit on a hot day. "DID YOU GIVE BIRTH TO A CHILD OF MINE WITHOUT ME KNOWING?" The receiver was quiet for a long time. Then you could hear her breathing on the other end in a sobbing tone. "I had an abortion without telling you." I wasn't sure if it was yours, John, I cheated on you. Thats why i left. I felt to guilty."
I knew i shouldn't but i felt relief. Not a dad here. I told her it didn't bother me and hung up after saying we should get coffee some time. She seemed stunned but i was on a mission.
The next number i called wasn't as good of a lead. Tristan was her brother. He picked up, her phone, he asked me how i was, what kind of day i was having, and if i had heard from his sister at all. Told me all about his weekend out cracking cold ones with the boys. There it was again, the bile taste, The acid. "DID YOUR SISTER HAVE MY CHILD AND NOT TELL ME?" He laughed as my voice cracked. then when he stopped he said, "Maybe, I havent heard from her since you two dated."
"why do you have her old number?" Oh she gave me this phone the last time we saw each other. It had her number, but i just told all her friends it was mine now, and kept it. You mean you don't know where she is?"
I couldn't answer right away. Then after a while all i could managed was, "I'm coming over, Be ready for me." and hung up. | 2021-11-17T12:05:14 | 2017-06-11T09:05:00 | 4,068 | 21 |
[WP] You are an immortal that was caught by the mafia after you betrayed them. They deal with you the same way as traitors, chained to a cement bloc and trown in a lac. After 300 years you are finally discovered by divers. | "Hey, *bitch*!"
His booted foot slammed into the side of my face, forcing me into the ground. It hurt like hell. I screamed in pain, despite knowing full well this wouldn't last forever. I cradled my jaw in my hand, struggling to get back up to my knees. I got a glimpse of the man beating me. His name was Cody.
It looked like this was it.
Cody drew a pocket knife, knelt down, and put it up to my wrist. "Why don't you tell me why I shouldn't lay waste to you right this moment? Give me any reason. Beg, grovel, do something, bitch! Don't just take this! Why did you rat on us?! I thought we were tight!"
He wasn't lying. I was best friends with these guys, up until went through an unspeakable deed. Murder and assault, alright. Theft, whatever. I stood by and nursed all their wounds, knowing I wouldn't ever get a normal life until their entire generation died out.
Then they resorted to arson. A family of three were burned at their hands, along with their house and possessions. I couldn't let this happen.
"B-Because...you burned children," I muttered, barely finding the strength in myself to speak. I hit my jaw with the side of my fist, cracking it back into place. It would heal in a matter of moments.
"Seriously!? You were okay with all the other dirty stuff!" Cody raised the knife. This was it. Here it came.
​
"Cody, the fuck you doin'?" A lighter voice came from behind. I recognized him instantly. After all, he's the one that took me from my old job as a nurse to aid their wounded. Jacques Allard was his name.
"Dealing with scum, what'chu talking about?" Cody laughed, pricking my wrist with his knife. I winced.
"She's betrayed us, remember? Just because she was our medic doesn't make her any more special." His footsteps rang through the old bar we called a home. A hand touched my cheek and forced me into his direction. I stared into Allard's eyes. For the first time in twenty years, I felt true *fear.*
My heart pounded in my chest.
"Julia," he uttered, softly. There was anguish in Allard's voice. "Why?"
I was seething inside. My throat choked up, and I could feel my eyes stain with tears. "Y-You burned children."
"Future murderers! What part of that don't you realize?" Allard snapped, striking me square in the nose. My head recoiled back, hitting the table. My vision began to blur. I tried to speak again, but Allard didn't wait. He struck me again.
Then again.
..
Then again.
.
.
Then again.
(PART I) | How tedious. I had become one with my new environment, studying the bottom of the murky lake and it’s inhabitants. The cool depths wrinkled my skin and flooded my respiratory systems; not that it mattered. After 297 years (my count may have been off, the water and the depths make telling time of day more difficult than I was used to) strange humanoid creatures had invaded my abode.
When they first discovered me it seemed quite a shock to them. I remained totally still, as if I had succumb to my death at the bottom of this beautiful lake. After making several trips to see me, point at me, poke and prod me with all manner of tools and sticks made of metal they finally cut the chain that had kept me here. They carried me up quite carefully. I tried my best to stay as limp as possible. “Bring him up here” a commanding and harsh female voice from what I can only assume to be a modern boat. The two who had discovered me hoisted me up onto the side. My body broke the surface the first time in centuries.
It was hell. Agony seared through my body as the sun hungrily devoured my wrinkled and saturated skin. I bellowed in pain, my overgrown dark hair flinging itself around as I pushed the divers into the water. I charged towards the cabin of the boat, slipping on the floor. Darkness.
“Is... is he ok?” A younger voice... I groan and try to sit up from where I’m laying. I can’t. They’ve restrained me. My first instinct is to panic, struggle, fight. It was that attitude that got me into this mess in the first place. So I wait patiently, my eyes slowly opening as they attempt to adapt to the dry air around me. “Easy there George” the woman’s voice again. “He’s violent, and we don’t know what kind of mental condition he’s in” I hear timid steps as the boy backs away from me. “Yes ma’am.” All of a sudden the pain washes over my head and I groan again, my tongue shriveling in the air. I gasp, and then cough as water is poured into my open mouth. “We need you to be able to speak if we’re gonna get any answers” My eyes open finally. | 2018-11-24T11:03:28 | 2018-11-24T10:22:59 | 270 | 79 |
[WP] After a Pyrrhic battle defending their homeworld, the defenders detect another fleet. It's the Humans, and they're sending in the hospital and engineering fleets. | Why they always asked, why do we 'waste' our resources on those who may soon be vanquished. Why do we send our fleets thousands of light years to help without any apparent gain. Why do we risk our troops lives on planets that are infected with foreign plague. Why do we waste ourselves on a lost cause.
Because those people have won and they may win again. Because those fleets deeds spread throughout the recipients empires. Because the people those troops treat will forever remember their acts of kindness. Because not all causes are lost, and few forget who aided them in their darkest hour.
At first we helped because no one else would. We helped because that's what we would hope for in their situations. We helped because we felt empathy for the innocent. We helped because we didn't have the technology to do anything else We helped because that was the righteous thing to do.
Today a distant empire declared war against us. Today we said that we would never surrender our freedoms through surrender. Today we fought like devil's to preserve our lives and families. Today we were outmatched. Today millions of innocents died and all of humanity wept. Today hundred stood up and said they would stand with us.
Tomorrow the enemy shall come again to finish the job. Tomorrow we will fight tooth and nail even if it is for naught. Tomorrow allies shall come to either protect or avenge us. Tomorrow hospital ships shall descend to save who they can. Tomorrow our enemies will feel a fury unfelt before. Tomorrow we shall stand tall with allies and firends | [poem]
We'll rebuild your schools, and neighborhoods. Some medical personnel will stay, for good. We have interpreters, social workers understood...your need for macro-synergy and resources, like wood.
Yes, you've been defeated. But how would we want to be treated? Let us agree to repair collateral damage, when battle's completed. We will let you have wounded, even if you've retreated. Your leaders are beings, we'd like to meet with.
We only want your antidote. You are honorable warriors, and with this gesture, we hope...Perhaps you can read our peace treaty notes.
Our males are infertile, help us replicate a dose...To war, no being should ever be exposed. But if we're faced with dying off, God only knows...where this battle ends, or that bloody path goes. | 2021-01-30T16:45:38 | 2021-01-30T10:37:25 | 52 | 38 |
[WP]- Make me absolutely hate a character, and then make me fall in love with them at the last moment. | I heard glass shattering, by a proceeding knock on my door. I hesitated but unlocked the door, while leaving the upper chain lock on, as I opened the door sunlight a streak of sunlight came through the door opening. The boy looked at me with an embarrassed face, baseball bat in hand. I could tell the fear that he was experiencing. He looked dumbfounded, but finally found the words to talk.
"Ex- excuse me sir, do you mind if I get my baseball back, I'm awfully sorry about the window, I will work every weekend for 2 months make up for the window." he murmured out, "It's, it's just that we're in the middle of a game and we'd love to finish."
The boy couldn't have been more than eight years old.
"Stupid kids they have no damn respect, what lands in my house is my property now get out of here dummy," I yelled.
"Sir, please I'm really sorry my parents will pay for it."
"You heard me kid now you and your dumb friends get lost won't you."
"Just let me get my ball" he told me as he reached for the top lock off the door and unlatched it. I knew I couldn't let him in and before the top chain had even fallen I had slammed the door on the kids arm and he yanked it back. I could hear his screams outside from the hole in my window.
"O god, it's broken my arm, it's broken." he then screamed "Mom! Mom!" over and over which was continuously interrupted by his gasps for air in between his crying.
A tear rolled down my face, the last action I would do in my life was hurt another human being, but it was for a good cause.
"Shame the kid couldn't stay around he sure he would be fun to gut to" I heard whispered into my ear by the killer, he drove his cold knife into my back, I bit my lip hard and began to drift off into the light.
| Time does not exist for me as a force, an entity, or a plane. Time is a combination of letters that form a sound with no meaning to me. I have spilled blood, had my way with the weak, I have made no second thought of my work. All I have is my work, I was not born for it- I was created for it. I have orders but I would surely do the same without them. There is no possibility for any other course, no other train of thought, no other means of purification. When I am called, screams of death follow. I kill your kind. Your kind of all ages and genders. Every morsel of skin has been lacerated by my blade till the very soul exposes itself for punishment- and it is not treated lightly. You plead as I cite, you cower as I come, and you bleed tears from every pore, both red and clear, and i take them as souvenirs to my king. If you have tasted life you will find me one day in your presence as your executioner, or your protector. I am Michelangelo, archangel of heaven, leader of the armies of the Almighty and I carry the burden of delivering the wretched to the fires of hell and protecting the pure from darkness in heaven. After you have been judged, I will be there to properly serve. | 2013-10-21T20:44:57 | 2013-10-21T19:41:10 | 42 | 22 |
[WP] The end of times has come. Heaven, hell, and earth are thrown in a three-way war. It's a little unfair how advanced Earth is, though. | And so it came to pass, at the place where the last war was prophesized to begin--Megiddo, or Armageddon, as it was known in the tongues of the time. In the heart of the desert, a thousand, thousand leagues from life, the sweltering barren plains of cracked rock and swirling dust shook. All at once the tremor spread, churning the thirsty dirt and rock, forming gurgling fountains of earth everywhere, like the waters of a bubbling brook.
Then came a noise--a gutteral cry of primal rage; and then came the heat. Fumes of sulphur erupted amidst the sea of churning dirt, filling the enitre landscape with the sound of legions of wailing, tormented souls as they escaped each crevace. The air itself became death.
After the smoke, brimstone followed. Thick, radiant molten rock issued forth from the cracks and bled into the flat desert earth. Globs of magma gurgled, bubbled, and spat out into the surface, and for the third time, the landscape was again changed. Then the gushing rivers of flame and rock coalesced into great pools of heat and light.
It was then that the Prince of Darkness himself, Lucifer--first of the fallen and tormentor of the damned, the great beast and bringer of destruction, rose up from the lake of fire and surveyed the last battleground. No longer bound by the ancient treaties of subtle influence and deceptive guises, he stood upright in his true from, a great winged biped with a crown of horns and limbs edged with great talons. His face shone and shimmered like fire; in place of his eyes, only two dark holes where the light of his face fell into.
Heeding their master's example, legions of demons crawled out of the lake as well, their mangled and alien bodies wrigling and writhing, ecstatic in their newfound freedom, and rearing to tear the world asunder.
Above an outcropping of rock, a being of light, Gabriel, stood in splendor. Dressed with the raiment of God's divine authority, and blessed with power that even Lucifer himself had come to fear, the angel remained unfazed at what he saw. The gates of Hell were opened before him, yet in the very core of his being there was no apprehension, only the purest joy. Here it was, he thought, his purpose as was foretold even at the very beginning of the universe, about to be fulfilled. In the glory of the Lord he would finally destroy the devil. Not cast down, not subdue, not imprison, like he had done countless times before, but *destroy*.
The angel Gabriel took out his ancient horn and blew it, that the seals of Heaven might be opened. All at once, great shafts of celestial light tore through the clouds and bore down on the fiery landscape below. From on high the great choirs of Heaven sang--first in exaltation of the Lord, then as scores of angels and archangels descended in their heavenly raiment and weapons of light, the chorus became heavy, the theme, warlike.
The Grace of God upon him, Gabriel, shone brightly--brighter than all the other angels. As he raised up his mighty spear, five more wings sprung out near the orginal two; he had three on each side and one in the middle of his back, pointing to the sky. HIs face shone as his eyes melted and disappeared. Seven eyes of different colors suddenly materialized and formed a levitating circle around his face. By His Grace he had Become. It was time.
Just as he was about to give the signal to attack, four out of his seven eyes looked up into the sky, sensing movement. At first it was hard to spot, but the eyes the Lord had given him were the sharpest in existence. Above him there were faint streaks of white vapor--a few at first, then they steadily grew in number. He knew that what ever these curious spirits were, the point of their convergence was here, in Megiddo.
*It was natural after all,* he thought, *that the spirits of this world might be* *drawn to the doom of all things living. These spirits are surely not human, for* *the sky was the realm of the birds and the wisps and the spirits of the air.* *Admirable, nonetheless, that such minor beings would have the courage to* *participate in the end times. The same connot be said for man, apparently; not* *one soul could he feel for miles and miles. Maybe the Lord put too much faith* *in his flawed creations, maybe...*
His train of thought escaped him when he saw the objects hurtling toward them in full view. They were hundreds of great cylinders made of metal. Their faces were pointed, and behind them, great gouts of energetic flame pushed their considerable weights through the sky as a taut bow string pushed an arrow. He marveled at these creatures as they drew closer.
*Living beings made of metal? And flying? Truly, the Lord's designs are a* *wonder to behold! Praise--*
Before he could finish his last thought, the metal cylinders burst in the sky. From them came a blinding light such that no demon or angel had never seen before. In countless eons of service, Gabriel had never seen the face of God. As the great blast wave and the searing heat from the coordinated nuclear airstike reached him and tore at his garb, his flesh, his very being, he wondered--*Art thou God?*
| The war began, and at first things looked bleak. The pope and President Barack Obama united the world under a One World Government during Obama's third term. Then, an uprising happened. Specifically in the religious community. "This was all prophesied" they claimed. "He is the Antichrist!" So they killed him. Crucified him upsidedown and burned the cross until it was nothing but ash.
But you know how that song and dance goes. 3 days later, the Pope pulled his living body out of a swamp somewhere in Ireland. At this, a few hundred began to worship him. For the most part, people stayed with their respective religions. The Christians were pretty pissed. Nobody believed that "The end times are upon us."
Around this time, one man from each of the seven continents became prominent in the media for supposed world records. "Most time without moving" in the US. "Longest excrement at once from dysentery" in India. "Largest mass shooting" in the Philippines. Etc. These people claimed to be horsemen. Yet another thing the Christians had a field day with. At this point, everyone else thought they were crazy.
It wasn't until the ground opened up that we got worried.
The world's first 10.0 earthquake was measured in China. It was probably stronger, but that was where the scale topped out at. It was felt everywhere on earth. The center was somewhere in the Himalayas. Google positioned satellites to get a good view of what people thought was a volcano. All manner of Geologists were excited.
Turns out it wasn't a volcano. The earth had opened up. A massive rift had appeared which exposed the mantle of the earth. This gave the aforementioned Geologists a hardon like none other. They wanted to see why the rift wasn't spilling earth's entrails onto the surface! Everyone was curious, really, but Geologists were the ones who really took the opportunity. They work with rocks for fucks sake. When will they EVER have this much fun again?
They descended on China's iconic mountains in droves. Many went missing. Their bodies were never found. Satellite calls were made left and right. Both to and from the Himalayan teams. Nothing useful was gleamed. Either confused questions about "what do you mean George isn't answering his cell? He's at the front of the line!" Or that annoying lady who tells you 'Your call cannot be completed as dialed
Finally, someone got a call out about what was going on. "I found something... It's like... A lizard... It looks like a geko, but it has scales. Its arms are longer than its legs too. It looks like the arms are wings... Poor thing got pinned to the ground by a beautiful sample of quartz. Poor thing." The call dropped there. After that, no calls came or went from the research teams.
Around a week later, towns closest to the mountains were attacked. Strange bat things were picking people up and flying them to frighteningly high places before tormenting and killing them. The menace spread. It wasn't until it hit the first major city that the military did something. The problem was more or less handled overnight. Claws did nothing to kevlar. The creatures couldn't attack with enough numbers to outright kill one fully armed and trained soldier.
A month after we had this problem under control, a bright light shone from the sky above Israel. It was so bright that people could not look at it directly. After it dimmed, a booming voice was heard: "This war will soon be over. Do not fret, my children." Lights began appearing all over the world, accompanied by the same message in the areas native toung.
Ten foot tall beings stepped out of the lights. They wielded scepters as tall as they were. Head-to-toe, they wore ancient iron armor painted white.
Taking this as a threat, the military began bombing the lights. Nothing seemed to hurt them, however. One was captured and studied. Within a week, the army was cranking out bullets which could pierce the armor of the strange mute giants. Under the armor, they were basically 10 foot tall people wielding iron telephone poles. The armor was structured to take damage incredibly well. It was just iron, however. Stainless steel shells worked just fine.
The "war" ended in a year. Bat things were made into cheap horror movies. "Angels" were captured and interrogated. Nothing new was heard of after that. Religion was purged, however. Christians fought the world, insisting we were doing things wrong. They were joined by other Abrahamic religions as well. Terror attacks and suicide bombings took place at facility's where angels were being held. Eventually, religion was made illegal if it was acted on, punishable by months in prison.
The rift closed up. The lights stopped shining. Soon, bats and angels weren't seen at all. Humanity visited the stars, but never learned where that little hiccup in their history came from. Perhaps it was better that way. | 2015-09-24T09:39:39 | 2015-09-24T08:34:50 | 333 | 95 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once. | HONK HONK
“I heard there was a birthday here. A birthday where? A birthday here! I heard there was a birthday here and I’m Bobo the Clown!”
The man at the front door looked confused and angry, his muscles bulged out of his stupid little tank top and his eyes darted around furiously, scanning the space behind the clown.
“What the fuck is this, do I look like I’m having a birthday party? Who sent you?”
“I’m a special kind of clown for a special kind of boy. Here to say ‘Happy Birthday Billy’ just for you.” The clown reached out to boop him on the nose but the man grabbed his arm and twisted it hard behind his back. The clown gave a hearty chuckle and the man hesitated.
“That’s not very nice, Billy.” The Clown’s arm broke off in his grip and the clown spun around to hold the man in a bear hug.
“Birthday hugs are the best hugs!”
“Who the fuck are you, what do you want?” The man dropped the fake arm.
“I want to say hello to Mr. Dangerous.” The man’s composure slipped. It only lasted a second, but it confirmed everything. The clown’s voice changed suddenly, dropping several registers.
“Oh Mr. Dangerous. You’re my hero.” His lapel flower sprayed into the man’s face and he began to scream. The clown let go and watched him collapse to the ground, the skin of his face melting into a puddle.
“That’s for LaSondra. She didn’t make it out of your cute little fire.” The clown said, circling the man as he slowly melted.
“I did a little money laundering, sure. You burned my wig shop to the ground. You killed my employees. You ruined my life. You call yourself a hero?” His oversized shoe landed hard on the man’s back. A rib cracked like splintering wood.
“I’d better be careful, Mr. Dangerous. I’m acting more like a hero by the minute, wouldn’t you say?”
The man’s left arm was liquifying into a reddish brown mucous. The man was pressing a button on his shirt furiously with his one good hand, though it too was beginning to melt.
“Don’t bother.” The clown said, “the ‘super squad’ won’t be coming. But I’ll pour you into the container I’m keeping them in if you want. Well. Whatever bits of you I can scoop up.”
The man’s screaming stopped. The clown gave another chuckle and skippped his way into the kitchen.
“I heard we have a birthday here! A birthday where? A birthday here! I heard we have a birthday here and I’m Bobo the Clown!” He sang as he scooped what was left of Mr. Dangerous into a Tupperware container. | Look I'm a man who can handle many things...
Being listed by the World Villian League as 'Ridiculously D-Teir' because i don't personally feel the need to do more than rob banks and steal tech from labs was fair.
Having the Wrecking Crew be my assigned "Nemeses" was a hard pill to swallow but i got over it. Hell, i got used to it.
Jungle Kid's cheesey lines and speeches as the "Team Leader" even though all he instructs them to do is just "Wrecking Crew Topple 'Em" was admirable for the children.
Cheese Man's gimmick was a good laugh to my henchmen so he was good to keep him around.
Playing to Atlan's strongside of having random water puddles made the fights fun with his creativity.
And Tim... I still don't know what Tim did.
But they were always the ones who would let me get my things run away and the foil my plans last second.
They weren't Watcher who would place a tracking device, or Millennium who would just hear my plans and escort me to jail. They were simply reactionary, not on pursuit.
So when the ignorant children find out that i had my little coffee shop on the corner of 5th, and didn't do any research to see that my staff were just average people looking for jobs. BARGED IN WHILE I WAS AWAY, DESTROY THE PLACE, PUT MY STAFF IN THE HOSPITAL! Then Doctor Tinker isn't going to play nice.
Doctor Tinker is going to drop the advantages, Drop the crappy junk machines that a can be dismantled by a thrown screwdriver. Goes to their doorstep, and pardon the corny line it's a habit i need to work on, Wreck the Wrecking Crew and have their nearly lifeless bodies flowing down the Hudson River.
There simply isn't a better feeling.
Now hopefully the next time some heroes try to do the whole song and dance they're old enough to know, Don't mess with the people *I* care for. | 2022-11-29T06:39:56 | 2022-11-29T04:37:56 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] YOU CANNOT DIE, no matter what, for the first 65 years of your life. AFTER THAT you're completely mortal. This is the first morning after your 65th birthday... | It's been a long time since I've had contact with anyone, I've been waiting for this day for the past 39 years.
It was 40 years ago that I was placed aboard an ark ship that was sent to colonize other worlds that are tens of light-years away, the other poor souls were placed in cryostasis and won't ever wake up, but maybe it's better for them. About a year into our flight we were struck by a dead space probe while we were traveling at a significant fraction of the speed of light. It gave off more energry than most of the weapons manufactured during the cold war, it tore the ship to pieces scattering the frozen corpses into oblivion, destined to be frozen forever.
I was awake at the time of impact, and I've been drifting across this awful place for the past 39 years, in the vaacum of space, without any air to breathe. I knew I wouldn't die, but I managed to carry this last oxygen tank for the past 39 years for this morning and in approximately 30 seconds I will run out of air and finally end this miserable torment.
Fuck you humanity, you're all horrible people for sending me on this mission. | I woke up in the same hospital bed I'd been occupying for the last 23 years. My numerous scars and gouges greeted me with a sore welcome. I had done such amazing things with my life prior to this. The feds had covered all my medical expense for my service to them for so long. The injuries I sustained during my duty are still painful, sure, but what hurts most is knowing that my fire burned too bright and too soon. | 2014-12-24T13:11:00 | 2014-12-24T11:45:17 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa. | I had always heard her voice. No matter what the dose of medication, experimental treatment -- she was always there. In High School, through college. Shit, when I lost my first tooth. Doctors said I had schizophrenia, it was all in my head. That's where I usually heard her anyway, so it made enough sense. But this time was different. The sound of her voice didn't come from inside. It was external. It scared the shit out of me to be honest, like a tray falling over at a restaurant. Startled, I didn't recognize it at first. I turned around quickly and saw a woman my age.
"Did you say something?"
"Who me?"
"Yeah you. Also how did you get in here, no public entry allowed back here."
She was a few inches shorter than me. Wearing a sundress, white flip-flops, and tapping her phone nervously between her fingers.
"I'm not the public"
"Wait, do I...do I know you?"
I was shitting bricks at this point. I hadn't pinpointed the specific place I knew her from, but I knew it was off. It's like seeing a late night show live at a taping. It's real, but it's all a little unreal. Something that has lived in your mind intangibly suddenly whole, and real, and close enough to touch. It's like Mickey Mouse coming round with the Jehova's Witnesses. Bad explanation but you'd piss yourself if it happened.
"Of course you do, we've been talking for 37 years."
"I'm sorry ma'am, but you're going to have to leave" I say getting progressively more freaked out.
"Oh relax dude, it's me"
I jump a little bit, that voice came from my head. My eyes get real fuckin' wide.
"Sorry, I know this is weird, I just thought it was time we met"
Okay, the real girl said that one.
"What are you talking about? Who are you?"
"Oh yeah, uh, well I'm Kristen" she said with an uncomfortable wave "and uh, well I'm also an ESP"
"A what?"
"An ESP, like, I can communicate telepathically like you."
"You can communicate telepathically? I can communicate telepathically?"
"Uhh, yeah man. We've been talking for 37 years. We share a birthday, and we've been in sync for a long time now. I tried to tell you the doctors were wrong, but you went and told them I said that so they upped the dosage. Haven't you wondered why that didn't work?"
"You're fucking with me."
"I'm not"
"Okay, so I'm going to th"
"You're going to think something and you want me to repeat it back verbatim to you to prove that I can actually hear your thoughts. You were going to think "Applesauce"."
"What the actual fuck."
"Yeah, it's real. So anyway, I wanted to find you in person and see if there was any value in getting to know each other better in a more tangible way, like as physically present human beings rather than voices in each others' heads."
"Are you asking me on a date?"
"No. Just looking to be close friends."
"Oh okay. | As I lay awake in my bed, never once my own thoughts rang through my head, always those of an unfamiliar persons, I toss and turn as the voice rings clear as in my own head, "Turn around.... Did I find you?"
The color in my face drains as I stare at my wardrobe, *Please....dear God say it isn't so....*
"Oh.... It is so, and for thirty seven years..... I've had your sick perverted thoughts ringing through my head, and I am done." She presses a hand into my mattress climbing into the bed. "I really want to meet the man whose thoughts have intruded my mind for as long as we've been alive...." Her other hand lays along my chest and pulls me to face her.
*No no nononono.....* My stark white face turns and what I see is.... Impossible, sans the long hair she looked exactly like me, mousey brown hair, deep green eyes with specks of brown throughout, a sharp pointed nose with enormous caterpillar eyebrows. I blink a few times and have a tough time imagining why we were so familiar.
"You....look just like me!" *What the fuck....* My mind is reeling as I seem to stunned to say or think anything. My mouth opens and only a gasp comes out.
Finally I gather my thoughts, blinking a few times a thought comes to mind.... *I'm glad I'm not vain.....*
A chuckles comes from the look alike girl, "That would make this a whole lot more awkward...." I stare at her in disbelief... forgetting for a moment that one, she broke into my house, and bee, she can hear every single thought of mine.
"Wh....How did you find me?" I state with an abruptness that would put most brakes to shame. "Why are you here? Why is this happening to us? I've been on medication for something nobody understood for literal decades..... It never helped.... Your voice still shone through even at a maximum dosage.... Did you still hear your own thoughts? Too....many questions...." The color returns to my face as I reach up to grab my ears and squeeze away the torrent of questions welling up inside my mind.
Her face flushes red as she screeches, my what a noise... As if there is a microphone with terrible feedback....
-----
I wake up the next morning strapped to my comfortable bed....
"Turn around..... Did *I* find *you*?" A familiar, yet unfamiliar to my ears, voice calls to me from the floor....
=====
Thanks for reading, my first time writing... And posting here! Hope it was a good read! | 2019-09-14T10:49:17 | 2019-09-14T10:23:14 | 65 | 25 |
[WP] You are immortal, but no one knows. You are given a life sentence in prison, and you laugh thinking about the confusion to come at the end of your sentence. | I was sentenced to life in prison. The tribunal laughed when I told him the prison wouldn't outlive me.
This was in 1939 when they took my shop from me. They lined us down filthy, packed streets, and into filthier, more packed trains.
I lost count of the days, I lost count of the years. They took us to 'the showers', which seemed peculiarly located in an odd building with an omious smell.
I survived the flames. The hundreds around me had become ash. Officers approached me with faces of disbelief. I felt invincible. If fire couldnt kill me, surely neither knives nor bullets could do so.
I charged fiercely to meet my captors, snatching a knife and a Walther. I killed 5 of them before I was overpowered. What a sad joke, an invulnerable body with a mortal strength.
They took me to the Führer himself. He ordered my blood, my bones. Every bit of me was to be extracted and examined. But they could not penetrate my skin. They could not even knock my teeth out with a crowbar. I survived tank shells and artillery.
One day the earth trembled furiously, resounding booming as though Hell itself had been unleashed above my prison. "We must hide him" they said. They would not allow such a secret to be discovered. It was then they sentenced me to eternity buried beneath the earth.
I was placed in a box, chained and buried. I have no idea where I am, or how long I have been there. But I will outlast both. They will eventually rot, rust and crumble away. What will await me above the surface when I am finally free? | Life sentence it is. It's been 70 years now. Given the fact that i had been 55 already when they put me in jail one might think it would be strange for me to stay alive for so long, but until today, no one has noticed. They probably didn't open my file in a while.
"Day 24.999" i wrote on top of the page. Keeping track of the time that's been passing by writing my diary was one way for me to keep the bit sanity i had left. I didnt want to have gotten mad by the time they let me outta here.
I finished todays entry on the top half of the last page. I got up from my chair and put the book up to the other 49 i had already standing in the small cabinet that i owned. I closed the blinds and turned off the small light that was sitting on my bedside table. I was exited. Tomorrow would be the day to find out. Tomorrow will be the day when they question my punishment. Maybe it wont be for life after all. But that is to be seen on Day 25.000. | 2017-05-20T18:29:11 | 2017-05-20T14:44:10 | 189 | 110 |
[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. | "Like some sort of viral infection on my once beautiful planet. Do they know that no creature of similar size's population even comes close? Yet they continue to breed and multiply. Their persistence is impressive, I'll give them that. They just don't give up. There are skinny ones who don't have any of the liquid that accounts for *71* percent of the surface. "
"Sir, well, no offense, but you explicitly made that water undrinkable. Also, when was your planet beautiful? When did it stop?"
"The beauty was when it was dark and barren." God stomps out so abruptly that there is a disturbance that echoes throughout space.
"I wonder what's up with him" one of the guardians asks the other.
"I think he doesn't know that these creatures adore him for the most part"
God suddenly appeared back in his seat. He went out to get coffee.
"I don't understand. You think they adore me? Really. Look at all the hatred. Look at all who have turned against me. The ones who do believe in me are constantly angry with me because they misinterpret a promise I made earlier in the day about eternal life or something, and they say I have abandoned them. I forced some set up camps for them to end their time on earth for their true life, but they are shut down and regarded as inhumane. I am God. I know not ' humane '."
" Sir please, they do adore you. The ones who don't don't know how, and the ones who adore you 'wrong' have completly different society."
"Yeah Sir, didn't you make some sort of agreement that all of their faiths are correct so long as they truly believe it in their soul? To some you are one God, to others many, to some you are made of three parts. I'm not sure how that last one works"
"We're here to tell you they try to love you with their humanly best, not to criticize their faith. I quite like that last one, they give little wafers and what they call 'wine' out during the service"
"You two, I know they love me! I'm not mad at them. I'm mad with you two. Why didn't you remind me about all the promises they thought I had made? I may or may not have made them, but to fulfill the role they believe I have would be a nice way to reward them on their love. Because of me, they have hate. They hate eachother becase I cannot hold my promises"
"No sir I'm sure they-"
"Yeah boss, I know that-"
And with a snap of his fingers, God introduced a pall of darkness over all of the Petri dishes he had scattered throughout the cosmos. There would be no more light. All worlds would start anew.
| "Father, you have *got* to stop these new things from invading my house!"
The Divine Nebula twisted around to the Morningstar, and performed its grin logarithm. "Now, Son, you know I only ran these simulations out of morbid curiosity. What seems to be the problem?"
I started, watching the oncoming storm rising through the galaxy. The Morningstar sighed, a distinctly mortal thing. "Father, that simulation you ran all those years ago. The one with the two four-base beings in the Aurora machine? They're still going." The Divine Nebula sparkled, Creation wandering across its starcloud. "More importantly, Father, they are....much more populous than we expected them to get. And they're stealing my things now.
"Apparently, I'm the ruler of their dark afterlife. And you cast me down, Father, in their minds." The Morningstar sneered, his tentacled limbs moving in a horrible parody of a shrug. "Still, Ithink you had best look in, Father. I thought you should know." The Morningstar turned to leave, and the Divine halted him with a gaseous emission.
"Son, bring the Auropra simulation to me, and let us take a look."
/ / / / / / / /
I looked out tot he stars, knowing that they weren't real. It's a hoprrible...**freeing**...thought.
"I know you're out there, God!" I yelled into the storm. "**I DARE YOU, STRIKE ME DOWN IF YOU HAVE THE COURAGE!**"
/ / / / / / / /
"hMMM..." the Divine Nebula hummed. "I like him, he's sparky. Let's grant him his wish."
The Divine struck him down by way of lightning. I watched on. The Divine turned to me.
"Well, there are plenty more where that one came from, so it's okay to grant his wish. And remember - if you do it right, people will wonder if you were ever involved at all." | 2016-03-07T04:31:20 | 2016-03-07T04:27:53 | 49 | 16 |
[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. | “Crap,” I think, “there goes that idea.”
“How do you plead?” The judge asks.
“How can I plead anything beside what you have already decided for me?” I retort. The venom won’t help me here but I can’t help it, I’m angry. Anyone in my situation would be.
I’ve spent a lifetime building my political career. They say that honesty never gets you anywhere in politics but I never believed them. I always stuck to my principles. Apparently *they* were right. In a series of unfortunate events I found myself out of favor with my superiors and falling into the bad graces of my political rivals. I thought their disdain and political efforts would be the farthest they would go to harm my career but it wasn’t my career they were after.
A wielder appeared out of thin air and killed my wife as we both slept. He vanished and was somehow able to make the magic residue of his transference look like it came from me, and not as a transfer spell either but a death chant. How he did it, I’ll never know. I’ve never wielded before in my life. I didn’t even know you could mimic one’s aura’s afterglow.
“Very well then,” the judge says pulling me out of my rumination. “We find you guilty of murder and 9th degree unlicensed use of deadly magic. You are sentenced to death. Considering your claim to innocence and your considerable record before this incident, we grant you the right to pick the death of your choosing.”
“Great comfort there.” I mutter under my breath. I have to think fast. I want justice and this isn’t it.
“I wish to die by…” I have to get out of this somehow. “By…” I’m stalling and the judge knows it. His patience won’t last forever. I need time.
“I wish to be bound as death’s apprentice!” I quickly shout as I see the judge about to bring down the gavel. There’s a sudden burst of murmurings. One person asks, “can he do that?” “This is highly unusual,” another voice calls out.
“Do you know what you’re asking?” The judge asks. To my surprise there is a real look of concern in his face.
“Probably not.” I admit. But it’s my only chance to give he judge my death while also possibly getting justice.
“You are asking for an eternity of living death. It would be a living torment. Are you sure you want this?”
“I want justice.” I seethe. “It has been denied me. The only family I have is gone, my career has been sabotaged, and the real perpetrator has evaded justice somehow.”
There’s a glimmer of uncertainty in the judges eyes. He believes me to be guilty but my request has him second guessing if only for a moment.
“Very well.” The judge finally states after a long pause. “I grant you your request.”
The gavel falls and the change is immediate. The room fades from existence and the world goes dark and hazy. A hooded figure approaches me, reaches out a bony finger and touches me on the forehead.
“Welcome” it says in a hissing long breath. “Thou hast come to be as I have always ordained thee to become.”
There’s a gray flash that sparks on the point of contact between our two bodies and immediately I am dead. My flesh falls away and I’m robed in a shroud.
“I name thee Hades” Death says. “Deliver justice as thou has sworn. Take vengeance upon thine enemies. Bring all that liveth by evil unto Death.” | “HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO DIE?”
Liam considered. More carefully than he ever had in his life, which is probably why he was standing where he was at the moment, waiting for execution. The withered husk that preceded him was dragged off into a narrow steel corridor. The one he would himself be dragged off to in just a few moments.
*The best death would be…the best death…something was there*. A hint, a way, a hope. A tiny thought wriggled on the long end of a line cast back in memory. Days of boredom, doodling tiny pictures of stick figures fighting magnificent, heroic, insignificant battles while the teachers droned on. Days where the only thing that could capture his attention was the gnarled and bent history teacher. *What was his name?*
Mr. Philips, yes that was it. He was a storyteller more than a teacher, and history came alive in that classroom. Mr Philips would leave his seat and perch upon his solid oak desk and weave tales that captivated and delighted. Tales of heroes and glory and sacrifice. And Mr Philips favorite story (and Liam’s as well) had been...
And suddenly Liam smiled, for the first time in months. The executioner raised a quizzical eyebrow and slowly stroked the ridiculous beard that insecure wizards favored. He opened his mouth to ask the question once more, but before he could start Liam suddenly spoke.
“And how can man die better, than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his Gods?” Liam smiled ferociously, baring his teeth in a rictus warrior's grin. The executioner studied him for a second, and returned the smile along with a nod, and a simple wave of his pale black wand.
The world faded to white, then black. And then red.
——————————
“What a mess” said Jurl as he carefully picked his way over the pile of bodies. He hated cleanup duty. At least 80 or 90 of the apparitions were strewn in a rough semi-circle at the far side of a narrow bridge. And on the bridge itself lay a single, real body. Jurl counted at least a dozen serious wounds on the body. The sword lay shattered at his side, chipped and marred, and bloodied. The shield was almost unrecognizable, and the sigil on the front impossible to make out from the battering it had taken. On the far side of the bridge stood a temple, dazzling marble white, untouched. Smoke from a burning sacrifice of calf drifted lazily in the afternoon air, and Jurl could hear voices inside, chanting a name in perpetual gratitude for their survival: “LIAM, LIAM, LIAM!”.
Jurl pursed his lips, and set to work, dispersing the generic slaughtered enemies one by one back into the aether they had sprung from. Heroic last stands were always the hardest to clean up. | 2021-06-24T10:25:27 | 2021-06-24T06:47:00 | 432 | 172 |
[WP] Humanity has been eradicated. As the alien race that killed us begins to settle they're shocked to discover that old Earth myths of spirits and demons are far from fiction. The Devil, pissed off at the aliens, has decided to open the gates of Hell and let humanity get its revenge. | "Those damn bastards are giving me a lot of work!" Lucifer said as he looked at the paperwork due to the sudden influx of dead souls.
Knock knock.
He slammed his hands on the table. "WHAT NOW?!"
The door opened as a voice said, "Sheesh, I could do without the yelling, brother..!"
"What the hell are you doing here Gabriel?“ Lucifer said as he addressed the appearance of the angel in hell.
"You know what this is about," the angel moved his gaze to the billions of souls waiting in a line. "Something must be done about this."
"Easier said than done," the Devil shrugged. "You're not the one doing the paperwork."
"What if I tell you that there's a solution to your current problem?"
The Devil snickered. "What, like open the gates of hell and let these souls out to take revenge on the greenskins? Last time I tried something like that, I got cast out of Heaven."
"Actually, Father gave his approval to open the gate," Gabriel replied.
That caused the Devil's eyes to widen, before his mouth formed an evil grin.
"Ooooh...So *this* is what Father has been up to the whole time, huh?“ He said as he stepped out of the room and spread his raven-colored wings and took to the sky.
"OPEN THE GATES OF HELL! LET THE SOULS RAVAGE ON EARTH!" | When they arrived they made their intentions VERY CLEAR "we are the Vex and we will add your world to our empire" we fought with all our might but they just kept coming all of us. We discovered massive computers that were seemingly simulating our attacks, but we were destroyed regardless. They took tech they deemed useful knowledge they deemed useful. I was killed by some weird pulse it just makes me flop dead. Next thing I knew I woke up in hell" a place i didnt beleive in" with the devil himself infront of me he told me of the plan he and god made open the gates and unleash the both holy and unholy. forces they could not simulate... paracausality. when he finished he gave me 2 questions "what are you good at?" and "wanna join this fight?" | 2020-09-18T09:30:06 | 2020-09-18T08:43:26 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You jokingly pick up a banana and talk into it as if it's a phone, but as you laugh at your stupidity, you hear a voice answer back. | It has been 42 days, 11 hours and countless minutes. She left this world without a whisper, and sometimes he wonders if she even existed at all. It is only by the photos, the home movies and the constant aching in his heart that this absurd idea is quelled.
People are telling him endlessly that 'this will get better'; that the pain will ease and life will go on with normalcy. Of course, he can't see it. All he can do is miss her. The light that sprung him from darkness. The laughter that filled his world with joy. Oh how he missed her little laugh. Her small mind always filled with curiosity and adventure and imagination.
Today... today is no different from the rest. He sits at the kitchen table, staring into nothingness; attempting to prepare himself for another monotonous day. As he pulls himself back from his thoughts, his eyes rest upon the fruit bowl sitting in front of him with its single apple, pear and banana. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as a memory floods back. He can see her dancing around, pretending the banana was phone - speaking to whomever her mind conjured up.
As if guided by an unseen force, he unthinkingly picked the banana up and said "hello". He laughed incredulously. He was surely losing his mind. But as he began to pull it away from his ear, he heard faint laughter. He paused. Surely - it couldn't be.
Then a musical voice.
"Hello Daddy!" | "Watch this," Jim snickered to his buddy, Zac. Picking up a nearby banana, he put it to his ear, mimicking a cell phone.
"H-h-hey, Amy..." he stuttered. "I-I-I'm Billy, and I'd like t-to go out with you."
Zac guffawed in rapturous glee. "Lemme have a go!" Jim handed him the faux-phone, and Zac held it up to his ear as Jim had done. But as he did, he heard something. Something speaking.
"Hi, Billy! Nice to meet you! I'm Xander; I'm a Who! I'm a tiny, teeny person who lives on the Giant Yellow Curvature! How a-"
Zac and Jim shared a banana milkshake for lunch. | 2017-05-06T15:50:02 | 2017-05-06T13:15:50 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] No one in the galaxy ever assumed that Earth would amount to anything because of its extreme gravity for a life-bearing world - anything trying to escape the planet's gravity well would need to BE 97% fuel weight, and the idea that they would try was a ludicrous concept.
Repost, no one responded before.
EDIT: Thank you guys so much! I never expected something so small to turn great and take reddit by storm! But keep in mind, this wasn't me. I simply reposted. The real hero is a reddit user named AnCapGamer, the original creator of this prompt. | "Good for them," Zolforat commented as they observed humans farming the cradle of civilization. "Tools and agriculture? Why, they're looking positively sentient."
"Real moxy," Mefro, Zolforat's companion, agreed. "I can hardly understand how they manage to stand up like that!" It stamped its twelve hooves in emphasis. "And in *that* gravity? They're lucky to be more than a foot tall!"
Zolforat put the ship back into gear. "Real shame about them. If they ever had a chance to develop beyond simple tools, they might be quite interesting to meet." They zipped off toward their final destination and forgot about the rapidly-spinning blue planet in almost no time.
----------
"I say, *those* are the humans?" Zolforat gasped on the way toward refueling in the atmosphere of one of Jupiter's moons. Down on the surface, they observed a city of over a million right in the center of an oddly shaped peninsula. Boats of wood sailed the seas, and stone roads criss-crossed the continent. "Well I'll be damned! They developed this much in just a few thousand orbits?? Why, look at all that!"
"Stone buildings!" Mefro whispered, awestruck. "In *that* gravity? Can you imagine?"
Zolforat was astounded. "I know! But cheers to them for making it this far! Glad we got to see them at their peak!"
----------
"What in the... Mefro, you've got to see what they've done now!" The two had made quite the hobby of watching the poor backwards humans. It was inspiring, watching them try their hardest. But also depressing, knowing that they were trapped on that little rock for the rest of time. "They're using *steam* for power!"
Mefro seemed impressed. "Clever little devils! I kind of almost want to see them try to make it to orbit."
"Oh, don't say that," Zolforat chided his companion. "There isn't enough water on the planet to produce enough steam to make it into orbit. They wouldn't even hit the second atmosphere layer before plummeting back down. Poor little guys."
"I know," Mefro said. "You're right; I shouldn't have said that. I'm just proud of them for making it this far." The two had developed almost *paternal* feelings for the poor little human buggers.
"Farewell, humans!" Zolforat told them as the two went off on their way again. "What do you think, Mefro: will they have discovered electricity by the time we return?"
-------
Their ship hovered over the burnt remains of a city on an island in the little blue planet's largest ocean. Scanners confirmed what the two already feared: radioactive fallout. This had been a *nuclear* detonation. Surveillance video from the drone they'd left in orbit showed another chilling discovery: long-range rockets traveling a distance of over 200 miles, packed with explosives. It should have been impossible with that level of gravity, but the damned humans had done it. With just a little more power, one of those could break orbit! On the surface, *millions* upon *millions* of humans teemed on every continent, in unimaginable numbers. And it was getting more and more crowded by the second.
"Uh...." Zolforat finally managed to take four of his eyes off of the screen to look back at Mefro. "We... uh... we should probably tell someone about this."
----
If you liked this story, you should also subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell! | "Exemplar, they have landed a droid on Mars."
She froze over her fourth lunch, taking two blinks to register the news. "You're kidding me," Exemplar Boria said slowly.
The messenger fidgeted under the weight of her stare. "Never! But... you asked me to report any developments, so I have---"
"Done so diligently, yes yes." After a few moments of indecision, she took a stab at the local delicacy, but threw the eating utensil in a wet spray out the window. "It took us *sixteen* cycles to get a droid on another planet!"
Still standing behind the Exemplar, he attempted a cough before speaking that meant to come out as polite. Instead, it only drew her ire towards the hapless messenger. "The thing is," he rushed, "their time goes by at a different rate than ours, so perhaps Earth accomplished this feat in a comparatively longer time than our home planet!"
Exemplar Boria took four deliberate steps towards the messenger and set a hand on his shoulder. "Their cycles are more frequent than on Xelon IV. The majority of their fluid supply is undrinkable. Their *gravity* is three times heavier than our home planet." Nails began digging through the messenger's tunic. "We've made the calculations. And they're *eclipsing* our history at an uncomfortable rate."
"But---" the messenger stuttered, "how could they? At their current technological stage, any vehicle would have to be at *least* 97% fuel to escape the planet's gravity well!"
"And that is why you are only a messenger," Exemplar Boria replied unkindly. "You do not understand the sheer enormity of handicaps Earth has inflicted on it's dominant species." She released him, plucking bits of the messenger's scales and cloth from her nails. "Our ancestors laughed when the primitive species discovered heat energy. The Stick Joke, remember?"
The messenger nodded grimly, fighting every instinct to cover the small, burning holes in his shoulder while the Exemplar was watching. "The one where nature took pity for their poor luck and struck a tree to give them a small head start?"
"That's the one." Boria did not laugh. "Now look at them, three cycles later... Terum?"
The messenger was silent, then found his voice. "Yes Exemplar." Once she turned towards the window she launched her food at earlier, he clutched his shoulder, wincing as he did so.
She spoke more to their home planet of Xelon IV than to the messenger, but the words carried to him in a tone of warning. "Who would have thought these humans would compensate for their misfortune, and become 97% willpower?"
He blinked, then dared to reply. "Willpower isn't quantifiable Exemplar."
Boria turned to him and gave the messenger a grave look. "So we thought."
-----
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | 2016-03-31T13:57:30 | 2016-03-31T13:49:23 | 1,816 | 340 |
[WP] Humans have developed faster then light travel and made contact with alien races. Turns out our civilization still has the most primitive classification because we somehow managed to skip one of the simplest inventions imaginable. | "You're still *completely* organic? You haven't hybridized with Artificial Intelligence at all?" The stranger asked me.
We were standing on designated neutral ground for humanity's first touch with an alien race- and so far, they were only one thing; confused.
"Look, the fact that you've managed to get here means your species is advanced enough to join the Community- but what gives? I'm not picking up any electronic signals from you, and only basic systems on your ship."
"W-well, yeah. There are *some* people who've been trying to get humanity onboard with the notion of A.I, but mostly humans are fearful of their power- and religious groups say its an affront to their gods."
"Who do they think their gods *are?!*" The alien shouted, exasperatedly. "Rogue A.I *love* to prank primitive planets with their seemingly paranormal displays."
"O-oh..." I said, thinking of the Buddha tattoo on my shoulder. "Well, without A.I we still got this far, no?"
"Yes, and that's...look, imagine if your son, at a prepubescent stage, created an elaborate system to cook his breakfast- your race probably has this, almost all of us do- where they wake up and trigger some kind of chain reaction, where the marble rolls downhill and hits the domino, which causes the bread to fall into the toaster, and the popping of the toast leads to the cracking of an egg, that kind of thing."
"Yeah, sure, we have videos of that nature, for entertainment."
"Right, so the amount of effort involved in making that and re-setting it every evening would be much more laborious than just making their meal. Yet they use that system every day. In a way, it's kind of impressive- yet it is also frustrating and leaves you very confused. That is the collective feeling of the Community about humanity."
"So you're saying that our abilities in space travel and communications- our very nature as well- are kind of like the mostly futile efforts of a child?"
"Yeah, kind of."
I roared with laughter. "That's the first time I've heard our entire race roasted like that, but it's damn accurate. Nothing's more frustrating to humans than humans. I think we'll endure the growing pains necessary to make great members of the intergalactic community." I extended my hand.
The stranger extended his, and we shook.
So began Humanity's ascent- to the top of the *Intergalactic* food chain.
---------------------
r/nystorm_writes | "What do you mean they don't know about it? It so abundant on their little dirtball that you will stumble over it with every damn step."
The Researcher was perplexed. "How the bloody hell did they even manage to get our attention then?"
"As you might have already guessed, not by the usually means", his protegee answered with a smirk.
"They seem to have managed to encode some information in low wave-length radiation, barely standing out from the usual background noise, our sensor barely even managed to capture it."
"And yes before you ask, the sensor techs already decoded it, it's the usual Type 0 bullshit, nothing particular interesting"
"So you're telling me they advanced this far without even knowing the existence of Element-X? Whats their biological profile anyway?"
"Run off the mill, slow Evolution Carbon, once again, nominal in most ways. However preliminary scans show that they are well on the way to map their local system."
"Yeas sure, their propulsion runs on fairy dust and spite? Seriously. Tholaram. Stop. Today is really not the day for you boys to fuck with me."
"Surprisingly, even to myself, I'm dead serious for a change."
"Very well then please go on. And I do admit that you peaked my curiosity."
"Funny you mention the engines, when I asked the engineers for their opinion they laughed me out of the room, also not believing I'm actually any serious whatsoever. Based on trace-element analysis of probabel transfer orbits my best guess is a very crude and frankly amateurish mass ejection system.
​
"Very peculiar, but I don't think we have time to look into further. Instruct the engineers to leave a modified beacon, usual broadcast. By the time they can even defect the signal they should be fine to be introduced to the federation. Now go ahead and find me a worthwhile civilization in this forsaken corner of the universe. | 2021-02-04T08:44:09 | 2021-02-04T08:37:53 | 265 | 43 |
[WP] Every person has two deaths. One when their heart stops beating and another when their name is spoken for the last time. To enter Heaven you must experience both deaths. | "I just don't understand it," John said.
His eyes stung with the threat of tears as his last living relative passed through the pearly gates into heaven. As Saint Peter welcomed the elderly man into the golden sunlight of heaven, the years fell from his shoulders and he bounded spryly off towards the horizon, vanishing from John's sight into unseen rapture. Saint Peter turned back through the gates and met John's gaze with a look of commiseration.
"I had my hopes up for you, John," Saint Peter said in his ephemeral voice.
"How could it be that I'm still spoken of?" John asked, lifting his gaze from the now all too familiar clouds underfoot.
"I'm afraid I just don't know," said Saint Peter, and he laid a companionable hand on John's shoulder before moving away to greet the next entrant to heaven.
"I mean, it's not like I have a common name or anything!" John exclaimed to himself for what felt like the ten millionth time.
"How many Jacob-Jingleheimer-Schmidts could there be!?" | "Come on!!! Just let me in already. I followed you. I walked on water with you. You left me charge when you came up here! Now you're even gonna let me in".
"Sorry Peter they're still talking about you".
"Yeah and whose fault is that!? I should have just kept fishing". | 2016-01-05T17:40:05 | 2016-01-05T14:25:47 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Legend says there are 77777 secret paths to immortality, but each path will only work once. In 2014, the first person accidentally achieved immortality by sticking a French fry into her nostril and pulling it out the other intact. Human behaviour has since become more... interesting. | Almost immediately, entire industries of behavior experimentation sprang up from nothing in an effort to find the remaining 77,776 paths to immortality. Because methods can’t be reproduced, this very quickly devolved away from authentic scientific experimentation. Ultra billionaires used their immense power and influence not for the intention of consolidating more power and more influence, but instead acquiring materials and methods that the standard layperson couldn’t hope to obtain. Can immortality be gotten by bathing in 500 gallons of heavy water? How about going into orbit and reentering the atmosphere while spinning in a suit made of zinc? If it was bizarre and expensive, it was worth a shot. The 1% of the world hired the most creative thinkers of our time: writers, artists, scientists, and gave to them all of the resources they needed towards making up the oddest behaviors imaginable hoping one of them granted immortality.
Years went by, and oddly enough, even though no new methods of immortality were discovered, all of the billionaires’ discovery operations were eventually shut down. As it turns out, in their lust for unending life, their immense fortunes had been completely spent. None of them had become immortal, but all of them, through their own free will, had given up their entire savings - trillions and trillions of dollars - and got nothing in return. However, the other 99% of the world -while not immoral, found much more prosperous lives. With the 1% redistributing their wealth, the rest of the world used that wealth to build the world in a way they saw fit.
It was most impactful and least bloody revolution of our time. | "New Customer! Alberto"
" Now Available! Blueberries"
"Day 69"
I chuckled at the screen. Ever since I was 8 years old, my main source of entertainment was the Papa's games. Think the pizzeria, pancakeria, and pasteria, or in my case, bakeria.
Suddenly I felt powerful. Not physically, but mentally, I felt the strongest I have ever been.
A booming voice from above said, "Immortality achieved."
My cousin Eudora achieved immortality at a McDonald's with her friends a few years ago. She saw her crush and wanted to impress him. She stuck a french fry up her nose and pulled it out the other nostril. Now they're getting married in a month.
"Immortality achieved"? Did I do the same thing as Eudora. Maybe reaching day 69 in Papa 's Bakeria is apparently one of the 77,777 secret paths to immortality.
I cannot die or, possibly, age. What an interesting life. | 2019-07-23T11:05:38 | 2019-07-23T10:39:10 | 43 | 13 |
[WP] You have an ATM that gives you the exact amount of money you need to survive for the day, how you spend it is your choice. Today you are given $70,000,000. | It started a month ago, when my student's loan was due to be paid and I have literally zero ways to pay it. I jokingly checked my bank account, hoping that a miracle happened and some money would appear.
And you would not believe how hard my jaw dropped when I found out it actually happened. Someone sent me the money enough to cover my loan in full, and some spare money for food.
I tried tracking the money down. *Who sent this? Could it be a wrong transfer?* I asked the bank attendant to send back them money to whoever it is from, since it might be a wrong account. But the only thing I was told is it was a private account and there is no way to contact the owner.
Since then, the money keep coming.
I was glad, of course, but I also felt guilty of enjoying someone else taking care of my needs. So after a whole week of living in leisure and luxury, I started to invest the money and get myself a steady job. I worked hard because I am afraid that one day, the person will start taking away instead of giving.
The money stopped coming around two weeks ago, and I can't tell you how happy I was. I was satisfied with my life. I can finally take care of myself and I promise myself I will pay back the person with more money that he gave me.
I have forgotten about all the "mysterious supporter" until yesterday, when the money suddenly arrived again.
Confusion. That is what I felt when I see my bank account exploded into 70 million dollars. I don't know what to say, I just slowly put the bank book down amd ask if they made no mistake. Another five minute of printing and the same result comes out.
*$ 70,000,000*
I answers the phone, somehow the ominous feeling grew as I heard sobs from the other end. "Jacob speaking."
"Sweetheart..." My mom's voice is heard between her sobs. "It's about daddy..."
"He got cancer..."
I froze. The phone fell off my hand and I tumbled backward into the apartment's floor. My head flashes with the memories of dad. The days we spent running on the fields, playing baseball and it kept going until it went back to a few weeks ago. When I visited my parents and my dad collapsed on the front porch.
*Dad! You okay?* I shouted as I carried him back into the living room.
*I'm fine, champ. Just a tad bit tired. Ain't young like you anymore* And he laughed, just like he always do.
Depression. That is what I felt when I finally understood what the money is for. | It was just the normal routine, but with this much I'm paranoid. Every morning, I wake up and get coffee and check how much I'll need. There's some bumps. Car trouble, taking a girl out to dinner, the list can go on. But seventy million seems a little.. ridiculous. Right? There's only one way to find out, I guess.
I walk out and shrug, thinking to myself that I could blow it all on luxury. The perfect car. The perfect house. Maybe buying the happiness of the perfect woman. In a world run by money, the original idea of getting all of what I would need was a godsend but what could I possibly need that much for? I get in my car, something decent and affordable of course. I didn't bother to think how much different it could be. How much my 'needs' can be used to sate my wants..
I ponder this as I take a ride out, convincing myself it'll be fine whatever it's for. Or at least the thought flashed through my head as I went in for the kill on this beautiful new car I'd seen in the window on the way home from work. Just scraping the top off! I can't possibly need it all, right? And there's no down payments, no worries for it but the insurance. I feel much better behind the wheel of it. I have fun, driving to the high end of town. Blowing this money on anything I might enjoy. I buy a bit of real estate on the nicer side.
A couple mil down the drain, already slowly heading down with every passing second. My head swirls with joy, my heart races before it suddenly catches. I react at first as if maybe it's only skipped a beat, but it certainly seems to have stopped. I stop paying attention to it until shortly thereafter I collapse, crumbling down in my bathroom and pressing every button on every new high tech bullshit I've just bought, praying for it to save me before I suddenly...
| 2018-03-15T02:04:41 | 2018-03-15T01:59:01 | 307 | 51 |
[WP] You are a contestant in a million dollar challenge, 1 year in a room with no human contact. After a year you watch as the timer mounted to the wall flips from 000:00:00:00 to -000:00:00:01 and keep counting down but no one shows up to let you out and receive your prize. | The rules were simple you see. That’s why I took the challenge. I’d been used to being on my own for long periods of time, figured I’d get paid for it.
There were just a few ways to pass my time in here. If I really wanted to there was a Nintendo, a stack of books, and a laptop with just enough broadband to use the occasional short story website. The books were okay, oldies mainly like Animal Farm, Lord of the Flies, or the Great Gatsby. As for the Nintendo, I made spare use of it as they didn’t supply a single electric outlet that I could see in my room. The same applies to the laptop, it seemed to have a slightly beefier battery than it was sent with originally, but that hadn’t meant I used it.
I applied to the challenge due to an economic crisis. I’d gotten married the summer prior, and my wife and I were struggling to put food on the table after bills. Times were tough, but knowing we had each other after work made it bearable. I knew for her sake more than my own that I could do better for her. And when I saw the flier on the bus ride to work I knew I wouldn’t cave.
Or so I thought. The first month went without a hitch. The only bother I had was the one way mirror on the wall, beside the door. I tried not to get caught looking at it, as my reflection began to discomfort me. By the second month, the consistent meals that would be left as I slept began to grow tiresome. It was becoming less of taste and more of sustenance. The lack of human contact meant they had to monitor when I wouldn’t see them. There was no way to see or hear them, but they knew my every move, action, luckily not thought though. And this is what plagued me my third month. The first time I logged on to the computer they made sure to block all forms of social media. They were serious about keeping humans out of this room, whether digitally or physically. Knowing that they could keep tabs on me began to make me mildly paranoid. I was acting less for myself and more for the challenge. For them.
Many months after, I’d read the stack of books. The Nintendo had died, and the computer became a bore. The stories began to become so repetitive, too similar. As if every story had been hardwired to my brain where the only difference was whether it was Brad or Steve. By the sixth month, I’d had enough. But at this point I’d missed so much work, I couldn’t stop. The money at the year mark was too good to give up. They really knew how to get you vulnerable... strip you away of people and you begin to rationalize the worst, no one is able to tell you you’re crazy.
I think it was about month 3 where I’d began the hunch that it was an experiment, an exam maybe even. But that began to show by month 8. My sanity began to question my reasoning. Would anyone remember me when I came out? Would my wife had been loyal the whole time? Has she gotten a better life? Would I ever be able to read a classic again? Would the money keep us afloat? And after these constant conversations with myself, eventually I stopped eating. The lack of communication took away my mentality of looking and feeling my best. Why did I care what I looked like for my observers? Sleep became my everything. I could skip entire days, and feel safer about the voices I argued with if I couldn’t hear or feel them. And finally, one day, after the year had gone by, it was time to get out. It was time to prove the suffering was for something worth my time. The buzzer went off, the sound more blessed than anything I told myself in the arguments, more glorious of endings than the authors wrote in their books I read, and more electrifying than the outlets they didn’t give me for my laptop. I would see my wife again. We would get out of our rut left over from her student loans.
But then a haunting realization came. I must have passed out due to the hunger pangs. I knew my year was up, I couldn’t have dreamt up the sound I’d never heard before. It felt too real to be a dream. This moment is when I snapped. I took the copy of the Great Gatsby in my hand, I tossed it at the one way mirror. I screamed. “LET ME OUT OF HERE! PAY ME, I’VE ALREADY WON!” But to no avail. I could only imagine laughter and tears on the other side of my mirror. I picked up the laptop, took its hefty battery out, the sudden force leaving a little electricity which flowed through and gave me a pulse. With it so dense, I tried to break the mirror. It cracked. Realizing I had no other options, I told myself, I took a jump through and broke to the other side.
What I was told as I awoke in my hospital bed was something like this: it hadn’t been a whole year. It was only about the third month in. The buzzer sound was in fact just a Dream. My sudden jump through the window was triggered by the feeling of no one present in the dream either. My brain had been hardwired to see and interact with no one, and people were now foreign to me. It’s been a few years since I participated, and I still haven’t fully recovered. I find myself still arguing with myself from time to time. Mirrors make me nervous, and things like Airhorns or Foghorns make me tense up. They stopped doing the challenge after a psychology journal claimed it was negative conditioning, and the participants would need many years of counseling if they got in too deep. Humans are too social to be isolated, whether or not we are paid for the effort. | A gap year in life. Some would look at that as a waste, for me, it was more than just an opportunity.
The first few months were tough, but they took care of themselves. Even if time moves slow, it does move. Within a couple of weeks, I felt like Bart Simpson, endlessly writing "Time still moves forward" thousands of times on the blackboard of my mind.
As an introvert, I thought that spending a year on my own would be a dream come true.
Instead, two months in I was caught up on shows. I brought a ton of books with me. But all I found myself doing was walking around endlessly, or simply stopping and staring at the wall.
Five months in and the routine set in. I added bodyweight training, dancing, and Yoga to my routine. I started writing a short story every day. I even started to meditate.
I wish I was one of them organized people who would set a schedule, with a task list for the day. I'm not even talking about checking these tasks off of a list. Making the list would have been enough. Unfortunately, I'm not one of those people.
Eight months in, and my routine was what kept me going. Everything had to go perfectly or my mental state for weeks to come would be hinged. Routine was my savior.
Eleven months in, and I found my zen. Routine, stare at the wall, scream at a book. It was all the same to me. I found a feeling of contentedness I never knew was possible.
People speak of finding happiness. Happiness to me was a fleeting moment in time. Being content was a state of being.
Today, in 30 seconds, I am going to be let out. I am not excited, at all.
Don't get me wrong, I do feel butterflies in my stomach, and I do look forward to seeing my family, and even the sky. But I'm calm. I'm content. I don't even look at the clock to count the second.
15 seconds before, I stand up. I align my body in a solid posture, and I smile.
"Ten."
Yep, I'm counting!
"Nine."
Almost there.
"Eight."
Excitement suddenly spreads all over my body, starting in my stomach and spreading through my body to my limbs, all the way to my toes.
"Seven. Six. Five. Four."
I smile.
"Three. Two."
I hold my breath. I feel my face smiling. I don't feel happy, and yet I'm smiling. I must be happy. Why else would I smile?
"One."
"ZERO!" I jump up releasing energy I didn't even know I had.
"YEAH!" I shout.
I ready my hand for a high five for whoever walks through the door.
I hold it up.
Ten seconds pass.
"Leaving me out to dry here guys.
I read the clock. '1 year, 15 seconds.'
What's going on guys?
I start to feel stressed out. I'm unsure what's going on. I look around. I walk to the door and back. I knock.
No response.
A million and one thoughts run through my head. From a practical joke to the zombie apocalypse. Someone though, was sending me food and drink through the shute every day. People are still out there.
"GUYS. THIS IS NOT.. Okay, it can be funny." I smirk. "Now open the door."
"I suppose this could be an scifi alien abduction flic, and I'll get beamed up any second. Maybe..."
Panic hits me. I turn around myself aimlessly. I knock hard at the door with my fists.
I breathe in. I am calm.
I sit on the floor cross-legged, and wait.
Precisely ten minutes and 34 seconds later, trust me, I checked, the door cracks open slightly.
I imagine a Chinese guy walking in and telling me of the fall of the US of A, and how he drew the short straw to be the one to tell me.
The door opens, and Mike, the producer who recruited me for this reality show walks in.
"Phew! I'm happy to see you Mike. Can I go home now?"
"Yes."
I look Mike in the eye. "Yes?"
"Yes."
"I kind of expected more."
"You should have done something to raise the ratings then. Feel free to sue us, but we ain't paying you crap."
He turned around, and started walking.
"Not even the zombie apocalypse?"
"The what?"
"You're just not going to pay?
"You should have read your contract better. I'm sure you'll be able to make money from a book. Try that."
A prompt appears in my sight. I move my head around trying to shake it, but it moves with me.
"You have failed at life. Would you like to start a new game?"
I don't hesitate even for a second.
I answer no, run after Mike, and stab his toe with my right heel.
I look around. I smile.
"Now this has potential."
​
Edit: If you like, join my new subreddit [/r/posthocethics](https://www.reddit.com/r/posthocethics/)/ where you can read my writing. Sometimes I'll go crazy and even post a meme or two. | 2019-07-03T00:54:49 | 2019-07-02T23:40:43 | 180 | 45 |
[WP] Pranksters from various subreddits hack into President Obama's teleprompter during the State of the Union Address. This, being Obama's last year in office, just decides to go with it. | My fellow Americans,
As I leave office, times are dire. I have had a conversation with Kim Jong Un in which he informed me that upon my retiring from the role of president, he will launch no fewer than 102 nuclear missiles at the United States.
I begged him, pleaded with him. "Un," I says, "Un, what can I do to stop this tragedy?"
"Wew," he said, as his breathing intensified, "You must bwing me Jennifaw Wawence. And aww da cats in Amewica."
"But Un," I told him, this violates the freedom America stands for!" I said.
"I wiw accept the Emma Watson," he replied, "she Bwitish." I could see him in my mind's eye, tipping his fedora and greeting her with a "mi'wady."
"You know I can't do that, Un," I told him, "Do we have to go to war over this?"
He hesitated for a moment, then he said "I tew you wat. To pwevent aw out waw, I going to need about twee fiddy."
Thus we prevented World War Three. Sorry, America, you should have used a Serious tag.
On a more serious note, today we recognize one of America's Greatest heroes. Few men have done more for the great of this nation than him, America's shining knight. Truly, he is an example to be upheld by all American Citizens. Paul Blart Mall Cop. Nope, Chuck Testa.
I hope our next presidency will be OC and not a repost, because OP did not deliver. Came here to say this. If my Secretary of State should run, please do not upvote because girl. As we all know, our culture lacks a positive identity for men due to the constant misandry reinforced by our cultural norms that have castrated our men. Thanks, Obama.
When choosing your next Commander in Chief, ask yourself, Where Did The Soda Go? If You Don't Surf, you may be coaxedintoasnafu. When new candidates come to your town, asking to bear the weight of the U.S. on his or her shoulders, ask them "Do you Even Lift?"
So as my presidency comes to a close, I tip my fedora to you, console peasants and members of the PC Master Race alike. Praise Gaben. | I am trying to write based on subreddits that I follow.
Mr. Speaker, Mr. Vice President, Members of Congress, my fellow Americans:
We are 15 years into this new century. Fifteen years that dawned with terror touching our shores; that unfolded with a new generation fighting two long and costly wars; that saw a vicious recession spread across our nation and the world. It has been, and still is, a hard time for many.
But tonight, we turn the page. Tonight, after a breakthrough year for America, I have bought N3dsXL. the battery life is better than ever and i have bpught the new Fire Emblem faceplates. Speaking of which. I am excited for the new Fire Emblem if, but slightly miffed that I have to buy two to play each campaigns. But the designer said that it was totally worth it and there will be amiibo support.
Tonight, for the first time since 9/11, our combat mission is not over. Winter is coming. The rumours abot duck is not true. Sansa storyline is getting darker. Fuck Ramsay Snow.
America, for all that we have endured; for all the grit and hard work but there will be no donuts for bad cop. Freddie Gray did not break his own neck. Hands up; don't shoot. Black lives matter.
At this moment -- with a growing economy, shrinking deficits but not at Manchester City, hey hey, Arsenal is the best team in the Premier League. Bayern Munich just signed a new deal with adidas worth milions of pounds. Bayern just used a new formation, their third in three matches due to the increasing injuries to star players.
This is getting ridiculous, but One Piece is out there!!! Gear Fourth looks ridiculous---ly awesome.
I am just going to stop here
| 2015-04-30T08:08:51 | 2015-04-30T08:07:05 | 41 | 13 |
[WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best.
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | Maximillian Ludwig Zeiner.
He detested his full German name. Being born in New York he could not fathom why his parents wanted to keep so much of their heritage. But that heritage meant the world to him today.
The klaxon sounds above him and an alien voice rang through the loud speaker. Even though he did not understand it, he knew what it meant.
He was Earth's chosen savior, or its reckoning, doomed to compete with 24 other chosen from other species. Each and every species had claws, fangs, wings, unwieldy mass or the ability to breath underwater, acid spit, and some even had mild shape-shifting abilities.
Max was a normal human. Average Sat's. No physical prowess. Liberal arts degree. Barista by day and bartender by night. He had no chance.
As the doors opened and his usher's urged him forward he walked to a big octagon where he saw 24 podiums.
The announcers voice rang out in his strange dialect, but his usher translated for him " You must drink the contents of the glass on your podium" He then noticed the amber glass a mere 5 meters away. "After you are finished it will replenish itself, then you must drink again. Repeat this until only one man stands."
With those final word uttered his usher nudge's him in the back to the podium.
With sweat running from is brow he looks over all the competitors.
Another klaxon sounds and in unison all 25 competitors grab up their glass and down the amber liquid.
A large creature to the right yells in agony and falls to the floor.
A bug like creature unleashes a guttural wail and keels over.
The rest on the competitors seem unfazed but upon closer inspection some are wobbling in place. One human-cat creature started rambling in it's native then stumbled backwards.
Then in the midst of it all Max stare's at the glass in his hands, bewildered by the realization he says "This is light beer."
Edit: I am new to this. Please excuse my ignorance with Reddit formatting. | And we're back with live coverage of the two thousand and fifty third interplanetary Olympics, direct from Gliese 6c! And what a spectacle it's been so far, Rob.
You can say that again, Claire. I haven't seen competition this fierce since the nuclear blast survivability round. In fact I haven't seen anything since!
As we head into the final round of competition, the current standings are as follows:
Orion Nebula in 1st place,
Gliese 6c in 2nd place,
. . .
and finally, Earth finishing last in 45,341st place.
Those earthlings definitely need to step up their game if they want to be home for dinner, Claire.
That's right, Rob, since the colony that places last will be eliminated with the LifeStar 4G "planet buster", the latest innovation in high-energy confinement fusion.
And it looks like we're ready to start the final round of competition. The invigilators have gathered around the podium to reveal the final task that awaits the contestants.
. . .
Could it be? Oxygen breathing. I thought that sport was banned back in '83!
Well, it was discontinued for a time due to the detrimental effect the toxic, corrosive gas had on the contestants. However, the league of oxygen athletics was able to re-instate the sport after demonstrating an improved oxygen breathing technique that prevents the most harmful, irreversible damage to most organisms. | 2014-05-06T07:54:57 | 2014-05-06T06:42:13 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] "Never get into a fight with an Earther. They are conditioned in 1G from birth. You will never build that kind of strength out here. But if you have no choice, wrestle. It's better to be ragdolled than to have your orbital shattered by the first punch." | "They *grew up* in 19 keplons of gravity??? How?"
"Class, calm down. Yes, it's rare and unusual, but the Universe has it's ways."
"But miss, you told us that nobody can escape a planet with 20 keplons. So how can life exist in such high gravity?"
"Open your mind, little one. You are thinking only of life on *this* planet. But each exo-planet has it's own form of life, uniquely suited to their own unique environment. Remember how we discussed how the cromps are different to the grettils, and how they evolved based on where they lived? Well this is the same thing. Humans evolved in really high gravity."
"But..."
"No buts. We need to continue with the lesson! Now, thanks to their high gravity, Earthen life forms have developed strong thick bones and large musculature. I'm going to scroll your pads to page 572 so we can look at the anatomy of some of their larger animals.
"Here are the humans, the dominant sentient species on the planet. You'll notice that they only have 4 limbs, and that the upper limbs are different to the lower -- humans are 'bipedal', so they only walk on two legs"
"TWO?! But how?"
"Like I said, due to their unique gravity, the bones and musculature have evolved to be really thick and *really* strong. The average male human has a mass of 42.7 reptics, and can carry that mass under 19 keplons of gravity as if the gravity doesn't even exist. They don't even tire when walking around. Their unique musculature allows them to talk upright, so this strength extends up into their thoracic region, and even into their upper limbs. Yes, they walk around *fully upright* on 2 limbs, and are able to balance like this!
"So this means that, should you ever meet a human on your space travels, you need to be really careful of them. They are a friendly species, but even the weakest most out of shape humans are incredible strong. If you were to anger one and they were to strike you with their weaker upper limbs they could easily break your fresnar. If they were to strike you with one of their much stronger lower limbs then they would kill you instantly."
"What do you mean by weakest and out of shape?"
"Well, some humans further enhance their strength and abilities. They make themselves stronger and faster and more agile. And they do this for fun! They don't have to, unlike the Gontars of Xycelifa 4 -- humans play games and compete for fun and trinkets. They even use their 19 keplons of gravity to traverse down mountain sides on flat sticks and at great speed. Again, they do this for fun. Humans are a strange race."
The bell sounds.
"Ok, class, please read up on chapter 243, just the section on the anatomy of humans, and we'll pick this up again tomorrow when we'll talk about elephants!". | "Fight smart. Use your advantages. If we ever had to go planetside, we'd be fucked. But we don't have to, do we? This is our home turf, and we know how to use it. Sure, Earthers are strong, and they can fight harder and longer than us. But they live under a blanket of atmosphere kilometres thick. Space scares 'em. Some of them never even get used to zero, no matter what drugs they take. Think you could put up a decent fight when you're constantly wanting to chuck your last meal? Yeah, neither can they."
"They're flatlanders. They think in 2D, for the most part. They don't understand that there's no such thing as a 'floor' or a 'ceiling' up here. And they really don't understand momentum. Not instinctively, the way we do. Hands up, who here broke a wrist or an ankle as a kid when they went flying down an access shaft too fast? Yeah, that's most of us. We didn't do that a second time, did we? Taught us how fast we can go. And it taught us how fast we CAN go. Launch off somewhere solid, hit an Earther with enough Newtons behind you, and they won't even have time to block."
"Ranged is best, of course. Keep shifting your position, don't let them get a bead on you. Half the time they'll be scared to fire in case they poke a hole out into vacuum. You won't have any such concerns. Your great grandmothers didn't get all those heritable genehacks for nothing, did they? Earthers don't like messing with their genome. Think they're 'pure humans', and better than us because of it. Well, purity won't help much when the void's sucking blood out of your lungs and your eyeballs are freezing over. Bottom line, unless they're special forces, low pressure will kill them much faster than it'll kill you. And once it's done its work, you can just patch up the holes, re-pressurise and continue on your merry way."
"That's all. Remember, space is our home, and it's far vaster and more wonderful than any dirtball ever could be. If they want to come up here and join us, they're welcome. But when they want us to be their slaves, to hack away at asteroids, throw cobalt and gold down the gravity well until the day we die, and give us a pittance in return? Then they're going to find out just how cold it can be up here." | 2021-02-08T18:58:27 | 2021-02-08T18:27:35 | 219 | 143 |
[WP] Vampires cannot enter a house uninvited. Turns out, they invented Welcome mats to bypass this rule decades ago. | My parents were the sort of people who bought me a welcome mat as a house warming gift when I finally struck it out on my own. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against welcome mats, they're fine. They're the sort of thing that you don't buy when you first move into a new place. So, it's not like I had one already. But, it wasn't really something I particularly wanted, or even cared about having. My parents had no idea, or didn't really care, what I might actually want. They just wanted to give off the impression that they're nice people who do nice things, just as long as it didn't require any work. So buying me a house-warming gift was part of standard protocol, even if it was something I didn't particularly care for.
I looked at it after I unwrapped it, it was so generic. It didn't even reflect anything about my style or interests. Just a gray mat with the word "Welcome" on it. I tried my best to smile and thank my parents, "Oh, thank you. I didn't have one of these already."
My mom smiled back at me, "Now we can come and visit you any time we want."
I looked back at her, puzzled. My dad answered my puzzled expression, "... because it says 'Welcome'." *Yes, very funny, dad.*
I thanked them again as their visit grew towards an end, and ushered them out. As we walked out the door together, I set the mat outside the door. I was glad I wouldn't be seeing them again for a while, but on the off-chance they would come to visit me, I wanted them to see I was using their gift.
But, I didn't get the once-in-a-while visits I was hoping for. They kept finding excuses to come and visit me. They wanted to make sure my fire alarms were in working order, or that my sink wasn't leaking, or that my shower floor wasn't too slippery. They wanted to come over to tell me about the latest crazy gossip they heard. They would complain about drama-filled lives, or complain that I wasn't calling them often enough. It just got more and more frequent the longer I lived away from home. They even started coming around at odd hours of the night.
Finally, one time I came home, and my mom was there adjusting the furniture. I stared at her in disbelief, in front of the still-open door, as she nattered something about how I should really not have the TV across from the window. "... you would get a much better picture without all that glare..."
"Mom," I said as I continued staring. I honestly didn't even know how she got in. "What are you doing here?"
She stared back at me, with hurt eyes. "What? Is your own mother not allowed to visit? I didn't realize I wasn't welcome here." Then she started to cry.
I immediately reacted by consoling her, "No, you're fine mom. Of course you're allowed to visit."
Her tears instantly vanished, and she went back to rearranging my furniture. I walked back out the door enraged. As I walked out fuming, I thought about what vampires my parents were. Then, I saw that stupid welcome mat still sitting there. I kicked it in frustration. But, after I kicked it, I saw something gold sticking out from underneath it.
Under my welcome mat, there was a key. | My shift is about to end, only one more minute. My boss flies above the mat manufacturing line and rings a bell. Everybody exhales nicely and we go home. The line bustles to an end and the materials are put away. Fur. Rubber. Shit like that. Shit to make mats.
My boss makes a killing off these mats because the best, most experienced and skilled vampires make a killing off of the blood they get using the mats compared to vampires who need to ask to come in, befriend, and then betray their new friends when everybody goes to sleep. These other guys only have to come during the day as a mat salesman and come back later after he's taken a shit or gotten lunch. Then he drains his patrons, resells the blood for profit, gets a real human meal with the 20 bucks they score off the mat, and buys *another* mat. Fuckin geniuses.
The only reason the rest of us factory workers don't do what they do is because we aren't exactly "good at selling," or "people persons," or "human-like," or "can afford a suit, tie, and hat." Plus the mats are too fucking expensive for vampire money. Shit's like .001 on the dollar. We're basically slaves. Yet vampires. Somehow it works, stop asking questions.
This week I'm planning a heist because this week's paycheck won't be enough to pay rent. I know I should lay off the take-out food but I fuckin love me some panda express. What I'll do is wait up in a tree above old man jenkin's home, the only home in town without a welcome mat. Jesse Dentine is the best vampire salesman ever and has dibs on that house. But that doesn't mean he's good at defending himself. Before he reaches the door, I'll jump his cold-blooded ass and steal the mat.
Here I am up in the tree looming over the walkway up to the front door... I'm waiting and feeling a little guilty, but it's for the best because men who steal are desperate: at least that's my excuse. Here he comes. I gotta time this right. Oh fuck, if I fail i'll be found out and late on rent. oh fuck oh fuck just JUMP ALREADY.
I land on top of him, crushing him into the ground. He's fuckin *dead*. Oh shit, I'm a murderer. How am I gonna cover this up? I can't leave the dead body because then human's will find out about us and kill our economy. Can you bury a vampire? What if you don't bury it 6 feet under? Will he become a zombie? Nevermind that I gotta hop Jesse and I outta here before old man jerkins finds us.. because then we'll *all* be fucked.
| 2017-12-13T11:32:40 | 2017-12-13T11:24:16 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You die and appear before the Devil and seven other individuals. They applaud you and the Devil exclaims, “finally, an eighth deadly sin!” | A hooded figure enters the cathedral. Not confidently, yet not with weakness either. With a complete disregard for his surroundings, he continues through. The crimson pathway opens up to an abyssal black altar, with seven seats worthy of the title of thrones by themselves, until compared to the momentous monstrosity that was the eighth.
“He doesn’t seem like much.”
A comment from the right of the throne. A young boy grinning, teeth ground nigh to dust from a clenched jaw, and stark white knuckles from fists rarely released. A rage stirred within, rarely if ever quelled.
The hooded figure payed him no mind. He could never see or hear what the boy truly was, only what he appeared to be. He did not know where he was, or what was happening. It did not matter to him. Not truly, in fact he remained only due to an ethereal sense of duty which he could not explain.
“Such an old soul, so much supposed wisdom huh? I wish I could have had a taste of that.” Spoke a woman of skeletal stature and darker complexion. Appearing weak, the only thing that betrayed her true nature were those sparkling green eyes.
A puff of air escaped the figure. Of disdain or acknowledgement, one may never truly know. It gave the impression that he did not care what this woman had to say, and may never.
Suddenly the throne itself expanded into an even more unfathomable size. The lack of light was all consuming, impersonating a single soul adrift in the kosmos.
“Reveal yourself.”
A simple command, yet one the newcomer could refuse with willpower alone. He pulled the hood down, and revealed his face.
He was nothing more than an older man. A man with a general disdain for all things that he perceived would ruin the life he had created for himself. The poor decrepit fool had created his own path...to hell.
The cathedral rang silent and all seven remaining members rose after their master.
The darkness spoke to the stranger,
“Cast away your mortal vessel and become an instrument of my torment. Cast away the eyes you so easily averted to the tragedy around you. Cast away the ears you misused when those near you cried for help. Cast away what pathetic existence you had before and accept your seat...
As Ignorance.”
| They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die, but it didnt happen for me. In fact I didnt get anything. Just black out and fade into a dimly lit room.
"Candles? The fuck is this? A fucking Bath and body works?"
The large room contained eight beings of which I paid no mind.
I wandered up to the table in the centre an sat down at the head chair.
"That's my seat! How dare you take the seat of the prince of hell!" A pretty looking fellow with fucking angel wings was shouting at me.
"Listen skippy, I'm not sure what you expect?" I waved my hand at him dismissively.
"The fucking balls on this one? Mmmm I like him." I turned to take in the sultry voice of a female in tight leather pants. She was stunning yet, like my daughter, you know, looked like the type who gobbled dick, more dick than a coked out Daniel Tosh.
"I'd grab you by the pussy" I winked at her.
"Remove yourself from my seat!" The pretty angel guy was not letting this go anytime soon.
I removed my left shoe and tossed it at his perfect face. It struck him square in the nose and he fell backwards in shock.
The others surrounded him and helped him to his feet.
"Alright my little muppets." I said standing from the chair. My left foot landing something squishy that I paid no mind too.
"Allow me to introduce myself, I'm goddamned Donald mother fucking Trump!" | 2019-01-12T18:24:29 | 2019-01-12T15:27:37 | 195 | 18 |
[WP] Due to the increasing ammount of souls that need reaping, Death has decided to upgrade from a scythe to a farming combine. | “Betsy, looks like we got one of them crazies,” Billy said to his wife as he got up from behind the counter of his desk. “You call the cops now if he gets fresh, okay?”
Betsy looked up from her magazine and waved it in front of her face as she leaned forward and looked out the dirty front glass of Billy's New and Used Tractor lot.
"Billy… don’t go out there, he’ll leave in a minute," she said.
Billy didn’t say anything but checked the ammo in his pistol. He already knew there was ammo in it. It was more of a gesture to show and comfort Betsy. It did the opposite. And she pleaded with him even more to stay inside.
Billy pushed his tweed hat low on his face. "Back in a minute," he said, and walked out into the hot Nebraskan summer sun.
“May I help you?” Billy asked to the man standing in front of an X6 John Deere combine. The man turned and Billy felt a rush of fear flow through him. He stared at the man suspiciously. He was in a heavy black robe that covered him from head to toe, the shadow of it even covering his face and he held an ancient looking scythe.
“I’m looking…,” the man in black said, then stopped, as though he was searching for the words. “I’m looking for something that can cut—” and he swept his scythe down at a flashing angle. Billy got a slight glance at the man’s hand before it was enveloped in the robe again and he could have swore it was the strangest looking hand he’d ever seen, white as… bone.
“Well,” Billy said, never a man to lose out on a sale. He’d had jokers here before, and he’d entertain ‘em just as much as he’d entertain his loyal customers who’d come every so often for repairs or new equipment. All said, Billy was a lonely man and he’d talk to just about anyone. This man, standing in front of him looking like a god damn Halloween prop, was pushing that limit though.
“What kind of crop ya’ gonna be cuttin’ with this?” Billy said softly, almost afraid to ask.
The man in black stood there for a moment then said, “umm, it’s thick and maybe a little, ummm, meaty, and about…" He walked up to Billy and Billy stepped back reaching for his holster. The man in black stopped momentarily, then reached his hand out. Billy could see now it was just a skeleton, the white of the bone shining hideously bright in the sun. The man in black stuck his bony fingers towards Billy and Billy was too afraid to move.
“It’s about this high,” the man in black said and reached his hand up to the top of Billy’s tweed hat and touched the tip. “About that high,” the man said again.
Billy wiped the sweat that was pouring down his face and he stared at the man in black for a long time, then finally said: “Well then, you’re lookin’ at the wrong one, buddy. Now come over here. Let me show you the X9. Just got 'er in a week ago. This bad girl can harvest 7,200 bushels of...corn. We’ll say corn, sound good?”
The man in black nodded.
“Right. This thing can harvest 7,200 bushels of corn an hour. That’s enough to fill ten semi-trailer trucks full every hour.”
They stepped up to the John Deere X9. It sat in the sun like a bright green metallic monster.
“She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” Billy said.
The man in black brought his bony arm up into the shadowed cavern of his hood as though he was scratching his chin.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, this will do nicely.”
"She's $999,000 out the door." Billy said, he was feeling more comfortable now with the profit he was picturing in his mind.
The man in black lifted his scythe up and shook it a little.
"You take trade-ins?" the man in black asked.
\---------
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | Alex was at peace. Well, as much as a dying man could be, anyway, trying to remain uncowed by existential dread and the realization that your future consists of the laying down in a hopefully comfortable box, and eternal darkness.
So yea. Alex's doing well. Fine, even.
He didn't quite exactly know what he was dying of. But then, who really did? Your sister's annoying antics could be the death of you. Or your friend's. Or your significant other! Annoying antics.
But Alex put them all to the back of his mind and shut his eyes, breathing deeply. Precious few left. There was plenty of time to think about the shenanigans of the various members in his social circle. Forever, really. For now, Death comes, and Alex waits.
He heard the beginning of something mechanical, still far away. But it came gradually closer, turning from a whisper into a rumble into the roaring of an outsized engine and exhaust.
"What the hell?" Alex mumbled. He couldn't even hear himself. But, just slightly above the noise, he heard somebody calling his name.
"Are you Alex Wright?"
Alex opened his eyes, and was greeted with the sight of a farming combine and Death himself. He had come. Not alone, apparently.
The mortal pointed to his ears and demonstrated the universal signal for 'I can't fecking hear you because you are making a terrible din.' Death threw his bony hands up, and fiddled with something where he was seated in the obtusely large machine.
The combine whirred for a moment, before dying. Very appropriate.
"You must be Death?" Alex asked, just to confirm, if the flowing black robes and the fact that the man seemed to be fully functional despite the conspicuous lack of skin and muscle wasn't clear enough.
"Yes," Death said. Now that it wasn't being fully drowned out, Alex could hear that it sounded terribly death-like, all gloomy and ominous. "I am Death."
"Ah," Alex said. He wasn't quite sure what else to ask. He pointed to the combine, however, and figured that it wouldn't hurt to be polite.
"Nice combine," the mortal said.
"Thank you," Death replied. He did a little half-bow while being confined to the cockpit.
"Very loud though," Alex noted, somewhat obviously. "I thought you were all about the scythe swinging. I was really expecting that."
"Stereotypical, but generally correct," Death said. "I had to upgrade though. Too many people dying recently. Tough times recently for humanity, eh?"
"Seems to be so," Alex said. "So... how do you reap souls, now? Without the swinging thing."
Alex helpfully swung an imaginary scythe around. He couldn't tell if Death was amused.
"You just have to lie back down, Alex Wright," Death said. "I'll do the rest of the work."
Alex eyed the harvesting blades of the combine suspiciously.
"I think I get the idea," Alex said. "What about the pained screams of agony?"
"Oh, don't worry," Death said. "That happens with the scythe, as well. But with this--"
And with that, Death turned the key once more, and the engine sputtered to life once again, crescendoing into an ear-shattering roar.
Alex wanted to scream. But somehow, only an unhearable sigh came out, as he watched the farming blades spin.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-01-17T11:46:15 | 2021-01-17T11:44:05 | 224 | 26 |
[WP] On your birthday every year, everybody you have ever known attempts to kill you. On all the other 364 days everyone treats you normally. No one has ever bothered to explain why. | I stood on top of the mountain top looking at the mystic sitting cross legged in the snow.
"Uh...hi"
"I've been expecting you"
"You...you have?"
"Well yeah. I'm a mystic on a mountain top, I obviously expect people to come visit me"
"Oh...so do I get to ask a question?"
"You get three"
"Like three on top of that last one?"
"And now you have one"
"Right shit, so, why does everyone try to kill me on my birthday"
The mystic turned to face me.
"People try to kill you on your birthday? Shit that's heavy"
"Yeah but why do they do that...or...does that count as a fourth question"
"No no...it's ok"
"So..."
"Yeah look I'm not actually a mystic. I just was sitting up here cross legged and people started paying me to say shit so I ran with it"
"Oh"
"Yeah. It's usually not this dire"
"Oh...so you can't help me"
"No unless...you're not Bert who's changed your appearance are you?"
"No"
"Cause I fucking hate Bert"
"We all do"
"If it's not that though I have no idea"
"Well thanks anyway" I said, turning to go
"Wait..."
I turned back around.
"Is it your Birthday today?"
"Yes"
"I get it now"
"What?"
And then he pushed me off the mountain side.
| Rachel grabbed Valerie and shook her by the shoulder. "Why do you people try to kill me on my birthday, then act like everything's all hunky-dory the next day?!"
Valerie shrugged and replied, "Well, Rachel, we kind of thought it seemed obvious. You keep turning into a rabid werebunny and ripping the kidneys out of alcoholics who don't order Bud Light on your birthday."
Rachel paused and rubbed her chin. "Oh. I guess that kind of makes sense... wait, Bud Light? Why?"
"You have a sponsorship deal with them."
Rachel's jaw dropped, horrified. "I... I'm a sellout?!"
"Yes. Yes, you are."
"Just put me out of my misery now!"
Valerie obliged and beat Rachel over the head with a bag of rocks. | 2016-02-08T16:34:49 | 2016-02-08T15:56:40 | 228 | 45 |
[WP] SETI receives a transmission from intelligent life. After some deciphering, the message reads, "Keep quiet or they'll find you!"
The message was clearly sent from elsewhere in our universe, from outside of our solar system. | "Keep quiet or they'll find you"
Six words. Six words and suddenly we have military cruisers in space in three years. Nasa was now receiving the same funding as the rest of the US military combined.
Didn't take long for someone to verify that guns worked in space. It also didn't take long for the first barrel to melt. Seriously, it was four bullets before melting. So now the guns are watercooled. Which meant a larger pack. Which meant a bigger jetpack. Which in turn allowed for more oxygen and longer flights. You kept going through these cycles until you had these one man fighter ships being launched from the equilivant of aircraft carriers.
We now had space elevators after the US Gov't claimed some land in Brazil taking 100 tons of fuel and equipment up at twenty times the speed of sound each trip.
Lasers were becoming a real weapon now, and so was rail guns. Hell, we were even starting nuclear testing on the moon.
Which by the way, we had a serious ten million strong colony set-up, by the chinese and russians. Somehow despite it being strictly a military base, there was a lot of brothels, booze, and porn up there. All because it's much easier to get into orbit around the moon.
Quite a beautiful site, seeing the colony on a new moon. With a decent telescope, you could see super-freighters docking in the moon's station and off=loading cargo to be taken to the surface.
Every so often they'll start some nuclear tests or digging operation and you can see the nukes clearly, even during the day.
The towering elevators were awe inspiring, you simply couldn't see the top. It just keep going and your mind just blanked at the sheer size of them.
Of course due to the fact camo is not a factor in space, the pilots and crew are allowed to paint their ships however they want. A Japanese Cruiser famously had a 200 meter tall anime girl on the side.
The Chinese Hyper-Ship was painted to look like a dragon. An American Super-Cruiser was painted with the flag, mcdonalds, walmart, guns, and general american stuff.
Hell, a controversial Southerner Pilot had his fighter painted like the General Lee.
Somehow in all the war and fear mongering, something beautiful happened. Art flourished in it's most primitive form. | Of course, it was too late. Far too late. For all he knew, that repeating message had been there for them all the way back on that dizzying first day of February, 1985 - when he had joined the SETI team as a fresh-faced intern right out of grad school. As the cab raced from Dulles International toward Capitol Hill, his imagination feverishly shot back more than 30 years to conjure the disturbing contrast:
Discovery 3 had just returned to earth as the 15th successful shuttle mission, the Japanese had sent a probe off to investigate Haley's comet, Springsteen's "Born in the USA" was playing on damn near every radio station, and somewhere out in the Stygian black depths of interstellar space, someone - something - was all but pleading for an entire planet to shut the fuck up. To lay low. To be still and to be quiet.
But then, the launch of SETI fit right in with the exciting things that were happening around the world at the time. Nobody considered that their first effort at turning a listening ear toward space was really no more effective than trying to capture a fiber-optic hosted data packet with a telegraph. Not until today that is. Something was coming. Something so terrible in its incomprehensibly large scale that even 30 years of advance warning likely would not have been enough.
And so it was that as he dashed up the marble stairs toward his Congressional hearing, he missed the voicemail from the New Mexico office. The one that told of the signal suddenly going dark. The one in which his longtime colleague and good friend reported, with hysteria creeping into his otherwise renowned deadpan drawl, that everything was going dark. Radio silence, across the board. | 2014-10-03T12:00:46 | 2014-10-03T11:48:12 | 101 | 21 |
[WP] The enemy's champion can't believe how well you're doing in the duel against him. He doesn't know you can return to a selected save point each time you die. You've actually fought him hundreds of times. | It's true, as they say, the head does retain some function after being cut loose. I discovered that just now as my head, well more like as I, rolled through the briars of a dusty field. I tried to speak but very quickly realized I needed air to do so and my lungs were over there in that bush, stuck in my corpse. If I could speak I'd hoped to say to my attacker something to the effect of: "Stop killing me you gargantuan fuck.", but no such words came out. Instead I just faded away with a bit of dried stick pushing into my mouth. Ah well.
Rebirth is an odd thing. Rather painful, as most don't guess. Sort of like a man is bashing your skull in with a hammer, trying to cold forge steel using your fleshy bits. Similar to the way I died the time before last. Or maybe that was three times ago.
With a series of dull, pulsing pains in my head and a flash of light I once again stood before Hyrathgourd's champion, *Brutus the Eternal*. Back in the same dusty field filmed in unending death. Back before a man who had killed me hundreds of times before.
Looking around I envisioned my many pathetic corpses falling to his blade again and again. Behind me I need not take the effort to envision the death of my companion, Able, for his body still lay motionless and bloody in the dirt. If only I had picked a sooner point to return.
Brutus glared up to me with the same wild eyes I'd seen before, peeking through a horned helm. His bare chest sported a series of gnarly scars that served as the only proof he'd ever need of his skill. With a three finger hand he pointed, a motion and following speech I had mapped out in my brain by now. To think how scared I'd been when he'd first killed me.
"I am Brutus the Eternal, slayer of man and defiler of gods! No man has defeated me in combat, including your companion, and though I feel your loss I cannot allow you to pass this point!" With the tip of his long etched blade he made a line in the sand, the towers of his kingdom stretched up behind.
"You would think a man who defiles the gods would be able to best me then, no? We shall see. It will be a pleasure to prove your mortality." With that I dew a symbol in the dirt with my hands then set it with a word: *regressus*, to which the etching glowed faintly.
Though I could not see it, the smirk he drew under his helm was clear. Behind him up high on a tower a king stood in watch. Behind me an army of corpses and limp war machines. A chant for my opponents success, originating at the walls of his kingdom, flew overhead. And in that moment, I charged.
Yelling at the top of my lungs, hands bare and breath short, I bridged the gap between us with great strides. Every step brought me closer to Brutus, to death again. Halfway to him I grabbed a broken sword from the field, still gripped by the body of a friend, and threw it true. The hunk of metal glided straight for a moment before Brutus cast it aside with an armored hand.
"Clever, that was better than I'd-" but his words were cut short as I was upon him now with my own blade drawn. The first time our fight had a swift victor. I was timid, on the defense in fear, and then dead. The second time dead once more, caught off guard by his overwhelming power. This time, after hundreds of deaths, my mistakes were almost none.
A swing here that killed me once before, now missing its mark. A slash here that had cut me in two, now only finding the wind in its arc. With each miss both his frustration and strength grew anew. Every strike he made was lethal and left no room for entry for me. If I went too soon I would die again, I needed only to wait. Finally, he swung his sword in a wide circle that had cut my head clean off just before, but now it missed entirely.
From below I brought the tip of my sword up through his chest, then pushed till it slid out of his back. He let out a soft gasp from behind the helmet.
"I..*eck*...but how?"
"Brutus the Eternal. You never knew my true name. You may hear it now. I am Ether. Ether the Undying."
I pulled my sword free of his chest and his body fell to the sand with a heavy thud. Now he would know how I felt.
But my work wasn't finished. In the distance the gates of the kingdom Hyrathgourd opened letting loose a sea of armored faces. It may not take a day, not a month, maybe not even a year, but in time I, Ether the Undying, would show them all what true power looked like. My hands etched a symbol in the dirt, one I had made hundreds of times before and would hundreds of times again. | His breath stinks. Somehow that is comforting, familiar. It lifts me, briefly, from the boredom, the depression of realizing this is the third time I have stepped left instead pivoting right, so obviously broadcasting the strike with my blade, my wrist caught—again—in his grip. The effortless sink of metal between my ribs is pro forma, though he visibly relishes it. That is understandable. This is the killing blow of which he had been so cocksure. And then we had danced together, smoothly, almost sensuously, for the better part of an hour, and his frustration shown in the furrow of his brow. I am nothing. I am a peon. A foot soldier fighting a god. And yet we danced, a mortal with a god, a teasing defiance, now ended in the consummation for which he has longed, my flesh finally yielding. Who can blame him for enjoying it?
He leans in, embracing me, looking straight down his nose into my eyes, glowering with a grin I am sure he has practiced, one he knows is intimidating, the effect heightened by his panting, the stink of his breath hissing from between his teeth. And suddenly he is disarmed by a look in my eyes. The corners of his mouth slacken, his taught lips fall to cover his grizzly jaws. My eyes reveal nothing to which he is accustomed, neither fear nor pain, none of the terror of his many victims. There is merely sadness—a deep sadness, constitutive, like finally giving into grief for a loss long known but never truly accepted. The boredom of this, this fight, this duel that has become my eternal life, my curse—is familiar to me. It is new to him, yes; all of it is new to him, but it is also familiar, akin to the resignation of so many of his victims. The sad acceptance on my face though? That is something unfamiliar to us both.
It is hardly the nightmare that it once was, the terrible fear, the excruciating agony, the lessons—so many lessons!—on the senses and mobility I took for granted: my body’s inescapable mechanics, the muscles that become useless with sliced tendons, the futility of swinging dizzily at darkness after a crack to the skull, the fainting panic when the blood pours out and the vision blurs. Then there was the taunting, the drawn out, humiliating insults to dignity, the literal and figurative emasculations, a thousand of them followed by thousands more. Finally there was the frustration, the bewilderment that I, a mortal, might be given the task of conquering a god. This was impossible, unreasonable. Surely someone had made a mistake. It wasn't fair. For all the dancing I could do, I could not dance enough; he would lead me always to our dance’s end.
But all that has passed. I have danced long enough to know it is merely a matter of practice. There is no movement unlearnable by rote, no maneuver unconquerable by dull repetition. So boredom has reigned. I know not for how long. But now boredom has given way to something else. I have hated him for eons, as he has hated me, ostensibly since an hour ago, when he first heard my name. Like all else between us, the asymmetry is stark; I have known him *far* longer than I have hated him. He has been my closest companion, my teacher, my brother, even my lover. We have been in countless moments of extraordinary intimacy. I have smelled his breath as he has penetrated me, again and again. I have felt his body slacken against me in the denouement of his conquest. All his horrid lines, whispered furtively in my dying ear, are no longer menacing but revealingly over-rehearsed. Underneath, the god is just a boy like me—one who has practiced, again and again, to become a hardened façade. I know suddenly that I have loved him for eons, and I pity him now. Among the hordes surrounding us, I am the only man who sees him for who he is, sees his fear and his longing.
You poor soul! I see you and you know me not! All your prowess, all your skill, products of your want to be wanted—but who will want you when the blades are sheathed? Only your killer will ever know you unadorned by armor. I see suddenly all I will take from you, that you will never be loved as I love you when I inevitably strike you down. | 2022-07-16T15:36:16 | 2022-07-16T14:59:57 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends. | "Your species is now affected by the Anti-Natalism modifier:
Every 10 points above the average IQ makes it 10% more likely for an individual to refuse to have children and 50% more likely to have children past their primetime (makes it more likely to develop negative status modifiers)."
God closed the pop-up and sighed heavily. "Great, now it will take at least another hundred years, before I can even think about having my first psionic mutants emerge. I probably should have just gone the genetic engineering route, instead of speccing for passives and hope for some random mutations to occur."
God thought back in time. He didn't have much luck with random events. He started with good starting conditions. He had a planet perfectly calibrated for life forms, rich of all kinds of ressources and his custom-created species:
The neanderthals.
He made sure to give them lots of survivability, pain & fear resistance, endurance and strenght. They also had a bit of psionic potential and he hoped that coupled with a high sex-drive, his species would quickly develop psyonic powers, giving it a strong rush potential. He scarificed some points in intelligence for that unusual strategy, but if it worked out Megatron and Loatheb's typical and boring high intelligence build would have nothing against his psionic warriors.
It worked out well, until another stupid random event fucked it all over. A sibling species emerged and instead of eradicating them completly like they were bloody hell supposed to, his neanderthals just enslaved them and kept them as sex slaves.
God almost cried when he saw all the starting advantages slowly disappear over the years of interbreeding. Gone was the fear and pain immunity. Gone was the natural high strenght, which now only can be achieved by years of training coupled with artifical hormones his warrior race were supposed to have naturally.
Psionic potential was extremely limited with a proc chance of only 0.00001% per year to develop a mutation which unlocks it in his species. It was just enough left that people continued the shaman tradition of the neanderthals, but instead of actually having psionic power they only pretend to have them or get insane enough to believe they have them.
But God wasn't one to give up. Megatron and Loatheb left his species mostly in peace, except for the occasional griefing like dropping a few pyramids down here and there and use the stunted psionic receptors to make people hear voices and start cults or become politicans. God just has to play the waiting game, it won't be too long before his species will discover genetic engineering by themselves and he can start showing Megatron and Loatheb's weak, skinny, little green nerds what a real warrior species looks like. After all the potential of their ancestors is still there. | They had been playing for nearly 14 billion years now and God had barely advanced his Humans enough to begin exploring their solar system. The other gods had already started transmitting their culture across the cosmos. So much so that the god Marlinius and his race of gorlarmi had completely dominated Roman culture on Earth, just one of many human cultures to unwittingly succumb to their enemy's influence.
God was more than a little upset to see that none of the other races wanted to adopt his Human's predisposition for mutilating their genitals. Tullicthu and its cultistians on the other hand had been attempting to be diplomatic with the lowly Humans. God hadn't been very happy with Tullicthu since that last time he wiped out his bad-ass race of lizard people with a giant space rock.
After this, God did not want anything to do with the other races. He was a bit of a sore loser. He even had the Humans put up nuclear power plants all around the planet, as well as detonating several nuclear bombs, just to keep Nexu and her thetian's away. Everyone knows thetians are allergic to radiation.
And it was just plain common sense to keep as far away as possible from Marlinius since his idea of a good time involved a cup plague and two teaspoons of mass extinction. Yes, indeed, God thought his fool-proof plan of creating a hardy, adaptable, and curious species would have been a no-brainer for this game but things had panned out about as well as the multiple times he had sent down great prophets to try to get the humans to stay on track.
God had been thinking long and hard and decided that he'd been attempting a scientific victory for far too long, and even if he had to go down the victory list, he was going to win this, so he decided to turn all of his, and subsequently humanity's, efforts towards a domination victory.
.
If you disliked this story, you can be sure to avoid more of my literature [here.](https://np.reddit.com/r/KyronWight/) | 2016-04-09T07:26:51 | 2016-04-09T07:01:46 | 158 | 63 |
[WP] A necromancer doesn't know that he can bring back the dead using magic, he just thinks he's a really good doctor. | "Well... shit." Dr. B said as soon as she was back in the surgical workroom, away from the patient's frantic family. She slipped into the chair as the rest of the trauma team filed in behind her, crowding around the single computer as Dr. B pulled up the CT.
"Can't believe he was still talking, let alone awake with a fucking pole through his gut." Jake said as he slid into the room, which was more closet sized than anything. The temperature started to rise as the rest of the trauma team pushed their ways in, shoulder to shoulder.
"And that the ER was even able to get a CT." Tom, the chief surg resident, remarked from the doorway. He wasn't even on the case but still wanted to see what the hell was going on. Dr. B couldn't blame him - this was something she'd only read about in journals and hadn't actually seen before. She glanced over at the M3, who for once looked wide awake at 4:47 am. They were undoubtedly aware this could easily be turned into a case study.
"We're dealing with the gut, not a stroke." Dr. B sighed as she scrolled through the CT. "I've only read about this, but I suppose it was only a matter of time before we saw it."
The room was quiet as Dr. B stopped at a certain part of the CT. The senior residents started crowding around behind her, pushing the med students to the back corners of the tiny, closet sized room.
"Is that... the celiac trunk?" Jake's voice was, for once, uncertain.
"That *was* the celiac." Tom confirmed gravely.
"His SMA and IMA are about as bad, too. Frankly, I don't know how he's alive at this point." Dr. B said quietly before rubbing her temples. This was going to be an all-day and nighter at the least, and even if they could get vasc surg into the OR with them, it probably wouldn't be enough for the poor guy. He'd been hit by a drunk driver on his way home from a double shift. She'd just met his wife, too, who had brought their kids to the hospital still in their pajamas.
It was going to be hard to make his miraculous recovery look plausible.
(Not impossible, though - just hard.)
Dr. B stood up and the residents immediately backed up and started backpedalling toward the door. It was a weird habit that she'd noticed them start to do in the past year or so, when the department had decided to take interest her eight year 0-mortality streak. She'd only seen them do it with the old guns, the 80 year olds who remembered when residents actually l*ived* in the hospital. It was a weird kind of respect and awe she wasn't fully comfortable with yet. It was strange to go from being "the female surgeon" to *that* surgeon.
"Alright. Jake, you take our med student and get scrubbed in. It's OR 5, I'll meet you there. The rest of you know what to do." Dr. B said, still rubbing her temples. She needed some ibuprofen and a nap.
"Yes ma'am!" Jake and the med student immediately ran off, pushing through the rest of the team to get out first. Dr. B sighed and stepped out of the pseudo computer closet once everyone else was gone. She made her way through the pre-op bay to the bed where her patient had been set up. Tom trailed behind.
"You want some help on this one?" Tom asked once they got there, before she went through the dividing curtain.
Dr. B shook her head. "We'll take care of it." She said as she passed through the veil.
"Absolutely. He's in good hands." Tom nodded, pretending he didn't hear the EKG's rapid beeping shift to a slower, more normal pace behind the curtain. He waited until he heard the EKG stay at a normal pace for another few moments. He smiled, and then quietly walked away. | Doctor Jonathan prepared his tools; various vials of fluids with varying viscosity - from those with that of water to those with the viscosity of tar, but sickeningly green, syringes of bronze, tin and silver of the needlessly large kind and of course plenty of belts and ropes to restrain the subject as the procedures are performed without rendering the patient unconscious with ether.
The doctor tightened the belts on the patient's limbs - this time a boy with frostbitten hands and leg. A dreadful sight to those of the faint of heart, but Jonathan was not of such cut for his father was a butcher and he did study the books his mother left him - they contained the teachings on the human body and soul; from the inner workings of the human subject to how to save a recently deceased subject back to the Surface Realm. For him, his mother was the greatest doctor to ever exist in the Surface Realm.
While humming the song his mother taught him to steady the scalpel hand, Jonathan precisely cut intricate patterns on the frostbitten limbs of the boy. The boy writhed in pain as the steel blade danced on his flesh but Jonathan did not falter at the cries for his parents the boy gave out.
"Child, please remain quiet or my methods will not succeed in treating the ailment" Jonathan scolded the child
"B-Bu-But it HUUURTS!" Cried the boy
The blade has finished the first shape - a circle of various medicinal sigils with various herbs applied. The scalpel is dipped into the herbal tincture as per book's teachings.
The smells of a lavender field and the metallic smell of blood flowed throughout the room.
The humming resumes and the scalpel emerges once again from the herbal tincture to dance on the limbs anew. A wicked symphony of wailing and cries can be heard outside the apothecary.
"The left arm's frostbite is lesser than that of the right, thus a lesser pattern is necessary" The doctor mumbled to himself.
The metallic smell of blood begins to overtake the lavender within the airs of the room.
The scalpel is once again submerged into the herbal tincture. Jonathan began working on the largest of the boy's frostbites. The pattern had to be much more intricate than before, as it required three converging circles within an octagonal frame with the diameters of the three circles creating a triangle in the very center of the pattern. This pattern would begin the healing process once finished.
As Jonathan finished cutting the intricate shape into the dead flesh of the limb the boy's breathing became smoother: the pattern started working already.
Jonathan ignited the candles around the room and left the boy in it for the night.
/The light dances around the carcass/
/The flesh will awaken anew/
/The flesh will gnaw its way back to its soul/
/And drag it back onto the Surface World/
Once Jonathan came back to see the boy, the frostbite was gone and the boy's cheeks were a healthy pink. He has released the boy and led him to the mother awaiting outside.
"As it is for everyone else, make sure that the boy is not in contact with blessed waters for a week, for the surgery renders the subject vulnerable to it" Jonathan informed the mother.
"Blessings of the Great on your name Doctor!" The mother replied.
Maybe one day, Jonathan will learn of his mother's past... | 2020-06-21T14:42:50 | 2020-06-21T13:24:54 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | "My brothers, I hope this message reaches you. We never should have come to this place. This...jewel of a planet, with simple creatures living simple lives. None of them followed the Ardok's Logic, 'the strong take through combat, and by taking they get stronger.' Our empire's founding principle, that has guided us through millennia of conflict and victory. These, 'humans,' practice the weakness of peace. Their end should have been swifter than most.
At first, it was. Death came for them, and they eagerly accepted it. Begging to put down the weapons and come to the table. Bah, weakness. The only negotiation is through combat, through war. But we stirred something, something dark...and something evil.
At first, they gathered weapons, though primitive, it was at least going to be a fight. The scale of their weapons was surprising but we adapted, instead of being bunched in large ships, easy targets for their large explosives, we began a ground invasion. Surgical, precise yet overwhelming. We engaged them on the open fields and began to have glorious battles, for a time. They...continually made a concentrated effort to always capture some of us alive. At first we thought it was a pitiful attempt at trading our brethren for peace. But the channels were silent, and the humans crept in the shadows, away from the glorious battlefields. It was then we began to see the true horrors of this infernal plane. For it was not their weapons, not their explosives. We have seen larger explosives than this hurled at our fleets.
Fifteen earth cycles of searching we found our brethren. They were all...disgraced, eviscerated, and clearly held down and mutilated. Tortured for information? What a primitive and cowardly act. They did not gain information from their lips, but they must have learned secrets I cannot begin to tell you.
From that day forward, we began to die. Not in glorious combat, but sickly and weak. Our organs ruptured, but not a single weapon was found. No shots, no stabbings...yet we kept falling. First by the dozens, soon by the thousands. We tried quarantining, and then as soon as we tried the humans would strike our sick, would engage not in the open fields but from remote distances. We would attempt to strike back, but those who went came back with no trophies and soon would show the same symptoms.
We have never encountered a race like this one. We have faced dishonor, but not sacrilege. Life to them is clearly not sacred. We thought them weak for such short lifespans, but perhaps it simply is because of how close to the void their hearts and minds are.
I have bore witness to the atramentous maw...and only eternal blackness stared back.
This is not a lush world of life, this is a horrific world of death. And no one can wield it better than they can. My time is short, despite my best efforts the humans have found new and worse poisons to fill the air with each passing day, far too quickly for us to adapt. I hope this message reaches you in time, to prepare, to run. They were able to steal one of our ships and were able to dissect it as they had us. The ship returning to you is not housed with our trophies. It is full of their trophies, trophies of rot and death. We shared our gospel of battle and killed billions. They would like to share their own of death, and return the favor tenfold." | Part 1
​
Torin started at the flimsy placed in front of him. As he scanned the almost transparent document he didn’t see anything surprising jump out at him but had noticed that 3 of the probe teams hadn’t updated in close to 12 units.
Calling up their locations on his terminal he nodded as he started to remember their mission profiles and details. The first team was dealing with a probably data facility location on the outermost dwarf planet. Machine probes had found a likely reactor source and large sealed data vault. Considering the lack of tectonics and the stability on the frozen ice planet it made sense.
The second team was likely lost to a collision in the asteroid belt as they had suddenly been lost tracking. One moment they were pinging the system and the next the small facility had gone silent. As of this morning no response had been received from the evac team sent out to retrieve the remains. The team had been on what they though was a stable asteroid in the belt but considering the amount of debris and traffic they had observed it was just a matter of odds Torin suspected. They still had 9 other units on the belt running silent observation still and the data was looking promising.
Comm team three had checked in every tenth cycle since landing on a moon on the 6th planet but with the distributed communication relays still in silent mode after a local craft fly by it could be a few more units before they could transmit.
If this was the worst delay Torin had before the fleet gate activated he would be more than satisfied with the abilities of the recon team. This was the fourth subjugation the Assembly had authorized in the last 3 centuries and the first Torin had been able to have secured any leadership role. He didn’t count the punitive expeditions or system shock incidents as major.
Records showed that the second, third, and fourth planets had life further along than animal or bacterial. The asteroid belt between the third and fourth planets had power signs indicating the possibility of metal mining and smelting. Comm traffic was minimal between the planets and while they currently hadn’t broken the decryption on the burst transmissions they had intercepted Torin didn’t doubt his team’s ability to make headway in that area. He tried to push the nagging doubt away for his mind about why nobody had brought this up before the outlying gate had been pushed into this system but it wasn’t in his mission data and his level 8 security clearance didn’t allow him to see the planning data yet.
It was curious when he thought about it. The system hadn’t even come to the notice of the Reof Assembly except when a science teams array was hit with bursts of Negalia class energy. They had dispatched 3 fly through probes and one remote deep space unit to report back. Initial data had been negative due to the amount of radiation swirling about the atmosphere of the third and fourth planet and the debris of what the science community assumed where 12 difference space stations. | 2019-02-26T13:01:01 | 2019-02-26T10:26:44 | 75 | 14 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a test has been created to eliminate 90% of the worlds population. You are the first to take this test. | I entered the facility, shaking of course. I'd volunteered to go first, mostly to get it over with, but I was definitely having misgivings. The proctors had assured us that studying was not required, but now that I thought about it they had also said that about the ACT.
It was far too late now though. I continued walking through a narrow hallway until a pair of guards moved to pick me up. Vaguely, I wondered how the guards worked. Were they exempt from testing? Or just very devoted?
After a brief, quick time frogmarch I was deposited in a dark room with a single man before me. Surprisingly, I was calm now. I even smiled slightly. Whatever happened, I was ready to face my fate.
The proctor glanced at me. "Congratulations!" he shouted, smiling broadly. "You pass!"
"What?"
"I said you passed! Congratulations!"
I was slightly nonplussed. "But what about the test?" I spluttered. "How do you know I'll pass?"
He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh you already passed. We're just gonna let the first ten percent through and kill the rest."
"But why?"
"Well we figure that the first guys through will really have their shit together. Plus late people are annoying. It just made sense."
"Well okay then." I walked out whistling. Late people *are* annoying. | The newest form of virtual reality is beyond even our wildest imaginations. Not only can we interact with one another, but we can actually feel one another. Well, at least feel as though we can. The population has grown exponentially over the last several decades and we're told over and over again how a test is coming, but we've yet to see it. The free tech is just a bonus. For every hour I spend living my life in VR, I can earn credits for all sorts of mods. They've got all the kinks worked out; food source, intake and out-take. The service is free - first thing the government ever got right. Anyway, I love it here, nice meeting you - enjoy! | 2016-06-11T10:22:36 | 2016-06-11T09:34:45 | 588 | 18 |
[WP] 30 years ago, you decided that humanity was a lost cause. After packing some supplies, you walked deep into the woods and haven't seen another person since. Now, after all these years, you are filled with nothing but regret for your choice and have decided to go back. | Walking towards the edge of the forest, I saw the sun obstructed for the first time in 30 years, no dust curtains breaking through the trees, no rustling branches in my way. The sun breathed life into my face again as I watched it cresting over the horizon once again.
I can't even remember what drove me to this. The violence? The prejudice? The injustice of it all? Well... I guess I do remember after all. It was all of those things. I had no hope left. I saw the world for what it was, as I'm sure so many before me have. But I felt too weak to carry on. As the trees thinned further, I saw a young chap some 17 years old, stood in the middle of a ring of mushrooms, by the side of the last tree before the open field rolled onwards.
I had no idea if I should greet the lad... I... I hadn't heard my own voice in some 30-odd years either, there was only myself to talk to, and I got boring after a while... I wonder what I sound like now.
"aHH!" My voice cracked as I tried to hail the lad. "Well, no difference there." I whispered to myself, cursing my new first words. "AHEM. Aye boyo! Hows the day?" He slowly turned his head and looked at me. Perplexed. I... must look a bit ragged. I hope he doesn't scare easy.
"Aye mister." He stood arms crossed, drumming his elbows with his fingers. "Are you alright there? You look a bit scragged, what happened to you?"
"Oh nothing much lad! Just went for a bit of a camping holiday is all, didn't feel like wearing me Sunday best for the trees." he smiled at that. My sense of humour never dulled, at least thats something to look forward to. Hopefully I can make a fella or two laugh down the pub. Make some new friends. "What about yourself there?" I continued.
"Oh, nothing much mister. Just wanted to get away from it all for a bit." He looked towards the sun reddening on the horizon.
"Aye I think I can understand that." The last 30 years shuddered in the back of my mind. So much lost time. I'd do anything to have it back.
"Aye, you do look sad mister." He uncrossed his arms and leaned against the tree.
"Do I?" He saw through it. Think I need to get my poker-face back.
"Y'do. Do you wanna get anything off your chest?"
Maybe I do. I leaned on the tree next to the lad. His face creased a bit. I might need a proper bath. "How's the world been recently?"
"The world mister?"
"Aye. What's been going on the last few years?"
"Well uhh" He rubs his chin. "Same old same old really. I'm trying not to think about the world right now, we're not seeing eye to eye. So I thought I'd come out here and take a long walk"
"I can't blame you there. I did the same thing, just ended up staying a bit longer."
"Can't blame you. How long have you been on holiday?"
"Long enough now I reckon, think its time to get back home, someone must be missing me, and I've had enough of talking to myself." I sighed a breath of fresh dry air, and lurched my back off the tree.
"Oh aye you wouldn't catch me doing that. First sign of madness they say." He joked next to me.
"Right then. Best be off." I steadied myself ready to set off. I walked a few dozen steps away, turned back to wave, and the lad was gone.
"o-OY" my voice broke again as I tried to shout out for him, "Lord save me" I cursed. "Don't run off without waving goodbye" I tried to scold him. Ugh. I must be old now.
I looked back at the tree we both leaned on, nothing. I scratched my chin, and felt bare skin for the first time in years. I looked at my hands. And saw clean fingernails for the first time in decades. I looked at my clothes, and saw logo's I remembered from my youth.
I looked back to the tree. And saw an middle aged man staring back at me from the middle of the mushroom ring. He smirked at me. Gave me a short thumbs up. Before he walked around the base of the tree, and disappeared.
I... need to get home. Someone's waiting for me. | Seeing the cities erupt into chaos and the people from inside destroy themselves, I knew I had to get out. I watched Alone, Survivor, Building Off The Grid, and even some of Doomsday Preppers to get an idea of what I was planning all those years ago. All I'd known was city life, with the exception of spending time with my grandparents in the Appalachians. I just simply packed up my Subaru and left arriving in the silent and remote mountains of the Wind River Range. That was thirty years ago and the years have been tough.
The solitude was nice, I did not have to worry about the news or social media's lies that fed us back then. Just enjoying God's high country and surviving. The solitude and peace came at a price, however: I eventually became lonely. No one knew where I went, the only thing I had was a old satellite phone in case of emergencies but that was dead within a few months with no way to charge it as I was completely off the grid. I did not have a friend aside from Jim, a Eagle who frequently stopped by. However I'd not talked to anyone and hadn't laid beside a woman in years since I left.
With what little that I valued, I decided to venture back to society. Fearful of what awaited me, but excited to see people. I would have hoof it, risking wolves and bears, since the Subaru was nothing but a rusting pile of scrap. With the ZZ top beard cut back down and my hair cut just above my ears, I began the long trek back with a lot of weight on my back and a lever action and revolver to defend myself with.
After many days on my feet and nights in a tent, I eventually found myself in a ghost town. Cars abandoned. Glass windows busted, and not a soul around. What the hell has happened? Don't tell me I was right all along and society has completely disintegrated. Then I saw someone sitting on a newer car. It was a younger girl, who looked distressed and upset with a trail left behind from tears that had been shed. She looked up at me as I held up my hand as to say it is okay.
"Don't come any closer," she said, hopping to her feet.
"It's, it's okay," I said. "I don't mean no harm. Are you alright?"
"It's just girl stuff," she stated.
"What all happened here?" I asked. "Where is everyone?"
"Where have you been?" she said. "No one has been here for close to forty years or so. At least that's what my dad says."
"Oh, I've been living up on a mountain for some time," I explained. She glared at me as if I was being a sarcastic ass, but was legitimately being honest. "Seriously."
"Yeah well hillbilly," she said, "you don't belong here." I straightened myself, no longer concerned about her problems, but more so by what she meant. I then watched as she brought out something that I guess was a cellphone and smiled as she began filming. "Hey guys, it's Molly out here in hillbilly hell, and I actually just met one. Look at him in his raggedy ass outfit, probably killed some poor animals for it didn't you?" She began to get up close with the cellphone in my face. Now I remember why I left society; kids were rude had no respect for others or different opinions. The moment she got close enough, I snatched it and tossed it. "Hey! I was streaming! You owe me a new phone!"
"Be quiet," I ordered. "You have the audacity to judge me despite me being kind. You're nothing more than a spoiled child who has no respect for others. Get your ass home princess, I'm going back to my mountain."
"Oh yeah?" she said. "We'll find you then and bury your ass!"
"Just come try then Princess," I stated. "I'll be waiting." She stood shocked, no one had ever stood up to her I think as I turned back and started walking. They'd probably catch up with me, whoever she was speaking of, but I am sure they did not know the land or how to survive out here. | 2021-06-08T19:23:44 | 2021-06-08T18:05:35 | 42 | 12 |
[WP] At 18, everyone gets tested to determine how morally good they are. You have never hurt a fly and have always gone out of your way to help people. You score a 0. Nobody in history has scored that low. | I sat in the testing chair in a state of disbelief. My tester looked over the results again, shaking his head and clicking his tongue in disapproval.
"In all my years as a tester, I've never seen anyone score this low. What kind of terrible things have you done, son?"
I was in such shock I could barely open my mouth to speak. I couldn't believe it. All my life, I'd never done anything wrong at all. I'd never so much as hurt a fly. Every time there was a spider in our house, I was the one who put it in a jar and carried it to safety outside. Every time someone needed help with homework or getting over a breakup, I was there to do whatever I could.
So then why did I score a zero on the Morality Test?
"I think we'd better not take any chances with you," the tester said. "We should lock you up right away before you cause any more harm."
Finally I found the strength to speak. "Wait! No. Please. There has to be some sort of misunderstanding. Or a mistake or something!"
The tester glared at me and shook his head. "The Morality Machine makes no mistakes. You know this."
"But… but how does it even work?" I turned my head to the massive metallic box that had been next to me during the testing period. I'd happily just put on the helmet when the tester had told me to, the machine's colored lights flashing in the side of my vision, and didn't even think twice about it.
But that was back when I thought I was going to pass with flying colors. Now that I'd failed, I needed to know what was going on in that thing with all its whirrs and grumbles.
"It's far too complicated to explain to the likes of you," the tester said. "Maybe if you'd gotten a better score, then you would have had a rich future researching Morality Science. But now… it's time for you to go."
Two heavy hands gripped my shoulders. I looked back with horror. Two Morality Police officers were standing there, silently staring at me with the black visors down on their helmets.
"Come with us," one of them ordered.
I kicked and screamed and protested, but it was useless against the masses of muscle dragging me away. A door on the other side of the room – one that I didn't walk through – opened and blackness welcomed me, eventually drowning out my voice as it sealed back up behind me.
**
Inside of the Morality Machine, two scientists were tinkering away at a board of buttons, peering out through a one-way glass window into the testing room.
"Why'd you give that kid a zero?" one of them asked the other. "Seems a little excessive, don't you think? He looked like a good kid to me."
The other scientist shrugged and took a sip of coffee from a mug. "Enh. I didn't like his haircut."
"Whatever. The next one is here. It's almost five, let's get this over with."
*****
This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.reddit.com/r/ScottWritesStuff/) Twitch stream. | ######***Project Heaven X***
A fun little fact
You probably didn't know:
You are scored and tracked.
From birth until death,
Through the thick, thin, and the best,
Even your worst mess;
Everything you do,
All that you have ever said,
It is all scored. Yep.
We have such high tech,
But it hands them sole control
Of our very souls!
I'm sure you have heard
From conspiracy nutheads:
"Project Heaven X".
It's true, dude. All true!
Not just Heaven, but Hell too.
Dante's dream. Who knew? ^^^besides ^^^the ^^^conspiracy ^^^nutheads
These leaders play God—
Satan and Santa as well—
They check it all twice.
The list is checked. Next:
If your score is nice, Heaven.
No? Out of luck. Guess.
Hell.
Oh well!
But you only played the hand you were dealt!
Man-made Inferno
To torture souls eternal.
Inevitable.
Inevitable
That people want to control
Ol' Nature herself.
When souls were found real
And, in theory, could be caught,
We knew they would steal.
Anyway. My score?
Zero. Really. Zilch, nada.
Good or bad, huh? Well...
Ghandi: four thousand.
Pol Pot: just twenty-seven.
Zedong: eleven!
Be good? Score goes up.
Bad? Score goes down. Obvious.
A simple system.
So I live among
The worst of the scum. Yup. Shunned.
Test can't be redone.
Suffer with sinners,
Chucked in the bin and burned up.
Situation is—
Not fun.
Yes, that's what I was gonna say.
My situation is sucky. Come join me and see for yourself!
But I won't back down.
No no, I stand by my claims!
NOT. GUILTY. WRONG SCORE!
Given a "Zero"
After I've done nothing wrong
My entire life?
Innocent, but doomed.
Why was my fate sealed?
Will I ever know? Maybe.
Too late to save me
'Cause I died as a baby.
Thanks for listening.
-----
[CC]/feedback always welcome. I have more poems, songs, and stories on [my personal subreddit.](/r/ScottBeckman) | 2018-07-31T19:46:29 | 2018-07-31T19:39:37 | 302 | 26 |
[WP] The galaxy was amused when they learned that Humans have Rules of War. They were less amused when they figured out what Humans do in war when there are no rules. | In the far reaches of space a lone human cargo hauler came under attack by an alien race that they had yet to meet. An emergency drone dropped out of the hauler with a dump of the ships computers highlighting the attacker. In a flash, the drone was off to the nearest human star system.
That lone incident introduced humans to the wider galaxy, one teeming with alien species, all decades to centuries more advanced than they themselves. It took months before Sol found out who their attackers were, a race of beings half the size and thrice as mean as an onery grizzly bear. In fact, the race appeared as if bears from earth evolved to have thumbs and walk upright.
Offers for peace were ignored, the response being every envoy killed or destroyed. A few minor skirmishes broke out along the borders of the Grizzlies, as the humans had taken to calling them, but not all out war. Contact with the wider galactic populace was rapid and Sol learned that the Grizzlies were conquerors, they only understood war and conquest. The Great Hunt, they called it with almost religious fervor.
Not wanting to possibly place themselves poorly within the greater galactic community, the Sol ambassadors asked what rules of warfare the various species abided by, both spoken and written. The response they received was, "Rules in war? There are no rules!". The humans were shocked. "What about treatment of prisoners of war?" None. "Rules of medical transport and aid?" None. Anything about use of appropriate force? None.
The ambassadors shared a look amongst themselves before responding, "Great peoples of the galactic populace, are you sure there are no rules to warfare between one another? We are free to defend and carry on warfare as we see fit?" Laughter was their response.
The humans tried to reach an agreement on how to conduct the war - don't attack medical facilities or transports, no radiological or biological warfare, just conventional weapons. Only attack military necessary targets, not civilian populaces.
The Phulark, or the Grizzlies, only responded by dropping nuclear weapons on a heavily populated planet. The humans reaction was swift, three Phulark planets laid in ruin within weeks. Fleets decimated, reduced to frozen tombs in space. The humans sent a message, "Failure to abide by our rules of war will result in a phage unlike you have ever seen or experienced in the past."
You see, the humans wanted for us to understand their message - rules in war are necessary. If you fail to abide by them, the consequences are dire. And dire they were. The Phulark dropped chemicals on another human planet, causing untolds pain and suffering on the population until they died a painful death. This time, there was no response from the humans. The Phulark thought that they had won, as did many other races. We were wrong, oh how we were wrong.
The humans subscribed to a philosophy of warfare that the galaxy left behind eons ago - psychological warfare. War is hell, and the humans wielded it like a musical conductor. First, Phulark colonies went silent. Upon investigation it was as if the population was abducted. Then, the humans released an insidious virus that caused the Phulark to revert to their more animalistic nature. Entire planets succumbed to rabidity. The humans offered one last chance, relent and we will stop here, and now. Fail to relent, and the galaxy will know true horror.
I wish we would have listened, I wish we would have known the hell that was about to be unleashed upon us. The humans swept aside our fleets as if they were dust. How the humans advanced their tech so quickly we never could understand. But that wasn't what scared us, it was the turned that they dropped by the millions on our core worlds.
The turned were the colonists that were abducted and turned into cybernetic monsters equipped with all manners of horrid weaponry. Acid, flamethrowers, blister agents, nerve agents, microwave and x-ray weapons. The Phulark fell, we are no more.
I come to you, great council, to heed my warning - If you go to war with the humans, abide by their rules. If I were you, do everything in your power to avoid war and avoid my peoples fate.
Edit: thank you kind stranger for the gold! | The "Xeno" mocked humans at their interplanetary council. After learning humans had such silly rules for war, they teased and mocked humans.
"Are they so coddled that they need restrictions on the art and beauty of warfare?" High General Okrendai of the Antaki aliens laughed. The alien's interplanetary community decided that the Antaki were to skirmish with human forces in the Milky Way system. It was a sign of ridicule. The Antaki took great pride in dealing with the humans.
On July 12, 4098, the Empire of Humankind waged war on the Antaki people and all alien races. "If you want war so bad, we'll give you what you so want." High War chief Odysseus Vern declared.
That was 2 years ago. On August 4, 4098, the Antaki had set a base of operations on a planet called "Ragnarok" that bordered the entrance and exit of the Milky Way. And they waited for ships and planetary boarding craft. They got nothing but artillery shells and orbital bombardment. Seemingly from out of nowhere, large carpets of fire and steel were draped across Ragnarok's surface. The loud whistling and booming noise of explosive shells hitting the dirt and rock of the planet could be heard all hours of the day. The planet's surface was seemingly no longer a proper planet but a husk of craters. The Antaki's pride did not let them retreat. That was their mistake.
Today is january 23, 4100. The humans have been shelling Ragnarok for 2 years. Every hour, of every day, of every month, of every year, we gave the Antaki a taste of bitter tasting nectar, but the toxin was yet to be administered. Soon, we landed. Giant and ornate ships of gold and steel rushed towards Ragnarok. The Antaki spirit was near broken but they still manned their defences. Almost no human ships were shot down. All Antaki ships were destroyed.
Before the first landing craft hit the planet, toxic gas was dispersed on top of Antaki defensive fortresses. The Antaki suffocated and their organs burned within metal coffins that were meant to protect them. Their bodies piled up within quarters. But even after all this, the Antaki stood strong. Then the first boarding craft came. It was a massacre.
Humans brought weapons of not just death, but complete annihilation. Foot soldiers came by the waves, carrying weapons that would pierce through Antaki membrane skin with ease. Sticky bombs were shot at Antaki armoured vehicles. Flamethrowers made quick work of Antaki machine gun nests and artillery batteries. There was nothing left but charred, bloated, and dismembered bodies. Gigantic robots also crushed Antaki under their feet and tall armoured soldier sliced Antaki in half like butter. General Dankop of the Antaki forces on Ragnarok was pushed out of an air lock on the ship of High War chief Odysseus.
The carnage was recorded and sent to the alien's interplanetary council. All aliens felt sick to their stomachs. The Antaki and the rest of the council offered to surrender out of horror. War chief Odysseus and the Empire of Humankind denied the surrender offer.
"You wanted war. We'll give you the gift you wanted." Odysseus was quoted saying.
​
The aliens were helpless to stop the advance of humanity. They regretted everything. They had awakened a side of humanity never before seen on such a scale. They had gone past the point of understanding and progress.
For the aliens, there is no peace in the darkness of the far future. There is only war. | 2022-01-23T13:12:28 | 2022-01-23T11:20:41 | 2,090 | 881 |
[WP] "Please explain to me HOW our human test subjects escaped a maximum security lab in deep space?" | "Well sir, he asked to leave. Politely. He claimed it was a need to excrete, and that he knew where the lavatorium was."
"So your guards just let him go alone, with a 'pinky promise' to come back?"
"In human culture, pinky promises are unbreakable!"
"Garbolath. You are an intelligent person. Tell me, at what *age* do humans find those promises unbreakable?"
"Between two and eight rotations, commander, with a standard deviation of up to a full rotation either way."
"And how old was this human, Garbolath?"
"Fourteen rotatio-- oh. I see. Would you like the guards at fault executed, sir?"
"That won't be needed Garbolath. For my second round of questioning, I'll be asking you how the human knew where the escape pods were."
"Ah... You see, admiral, that's a very funny story. The guards were speaking freely near the human, safe in the assumption that the language barrier was safe."
"And how long did that last?"
"About one third of a rotation, admiral. The human was fluent by half of one."
"And nobody thought to stop their free speech near it?"
"No admiral."
"Garbolath, your guards will be reeducated."
"And, ah, what about me admiral?"
"You are the one getting an execution."
"For the escape of a single test subject? Sir, I must implore you to reconsider."
"No Garbolath. For letting the subject escape with our only good starmap." | "Commander. The guard assigned to the human subjects is in the infirmary. You should talk to him immediately."
"Ugh. Fine. You know I hate blood though, right?"
"Well sir...you won't have to worry about that."
The two security personnel make it to the infirmary. The door slides open. Inside, two medical drones are carefully removing a thick, brown fluid congealed onto the guard's armor. The guard is cradling his head between his hands and slowly rocking back and forth.
"What the hell happened?"
"Th-they...o...oiled."
*Sigh* "Come again?"
"They got a hold of m-mechanic's oil."
"And how does *oil* help escape a maximum security station? In deep space, I might add."
"They s-slipped through the bars. They were covered. Just...*covered* in oil. I...I couldn't grab them."
"Oh." | 2019-12-20T20:24:23 | 2019-12-20T19:39:38 | 106 | 73 |
[WP] When they turn 14, every human gets an obscure super power with a lengthy description of it so they know what it is. But when yours arrives, it only says four words. “Don’t… | It was my turn.
I had seen others go in through these heavy metal doors to the machine.
No one really knew how it worked, but they did know that once you go into the room, you don’t come out the same way again.
My friend Oliver came out a few months ago, proudly showing off a piece of paper. His power was the ability to fly. It specified everything- the gravitational conditions for which his power worked, how many eggs to eat to make it more effective, a graph for how much energy he would use at different speeds, and so on. Oliver was taken into an advanced math class so he could understand some of the functions written on the paper, but I still managed to see him floating to school every day.
Tyler got the ability to heat up objects made of metal. It was a cool power, and he started lining his clothes with tin foil on cold winter days.
Trisha could easily find hidden objects. She never really explained how her power worked (she had burnt the paper explaining her power) but if something was missing she’d be able to figure out it’s location within a day, no matter where it was.
I could hope for a power like that.
Hopefully, I wouldn’t get something bad.
Melissa gained the ability to read minds. The moment she left the room with the machine, she complained of things being too loud, but that was just the start. She became way more shy, especially around older people at school. She became downright hostile to certain guys, not letting them within five feet of her. From what I heard, she discovered something about her dad that lead to him going to prison. I hadn’t heard from Melissa in weeks, she had switched to fully online school a little after getting her powers.
And then there was Mark. Needless to say, I didn’t want to end up where Mark did, so I really hoped I didn’t get his powers.
I stepped through the double doors to the machine.
It was enormous, a metal arc that filled the whole room. At the very front was a helmet like device, suspended through multiple metal rings and wires. Beneath this was a chair, similar to one you might see at the dentist.
I took a deep breath and sat in the chair. The helmet descended from the ceiling, a mechanical buzz as the machine powered up.
The lights on the machine blinked and flashed in a seemingly random sequence. The machine bleeped and chirped. Mechanical arms pushed buttons. I could hear the humm of the machine grow faster and louder…
Until it all stoped.
The machine let out a short piece of paper, printed like a grocery store receipt.
“Don’t you know, bruh?”
I read those four words again and again. Was it some sort of joke?
I gazed at my reflection in the shiny metal machine. Nothing noticeable had changed about me. I didn’t feel any different. I was supposed to have some sort of power.
I flipped the paper over, folded it, rubbed my eyes. Only the same four words:
“Don’t you know, bruh?”
Perhaps the machine had malfunctioned. I held the slip of paper in my hand and left the room with the machine.
“So how does it feel to finally have your power, my dude?” A blue vested advisor spoke to me the moment I got my power. It was this way for a reason: some people had powers that could be dangerous to others, and arrangements would need to be made immediately.
“I think something’s wrong with the machine.”
“The machine never makes a mistake, bro”
“I just don’t understand what my power is?” I handed the vested man the note from the machine.
“Wha-? Don’t you know, bruh? Its super obvious”
He read the note over quickly. “Ah, I get it little dude. It says here that -“
A sharp ringing noise suddenly filled my ears.
“Can you repeat that for me?”
“Sure thing, but it probably won’t help you much, bruh. It says ——-“
The ringing noise came back into my ears. I winced in pain as he spoke. I didn’t hear a word, and couldn’t even make out the movements of his lips.
“Well… thank you very much.”
I left, the slip of paper in my hand. The words practically taunted me.
“Don’t you know, bruh?”
No, I don’t know.
I don’t know, bruh. | “Don’t use your power.”
Those four words punched me harder in the gut than Carl did at the playground yesterday. This was the one thing I’ve been looking forward to. The sole solution to all my problems, turning me from nobody into someone worthy of a little attention and a lot more respect.
Instead, there were those four mocking words.
“Don’t use your power.”
No lengthy explanations. I’ve seen the ones my parents showed me. Dad’s explained in detail about how hair loss will increase his strength, including mathematical equations that explained in detail the extent of his potential power. He still has a surprisingly full head of hair, however, which might explain why no hero agency ever came knocking.
Mom gained brief bursts of superspeed only on Tuesdays, right after hearing a clock striking twelve times, for twelve seconds. She said it made the decision to go grocery shopping or run errands far easier on Tuesdays.
Me? Nada. Zilch. Just… don’t use my powers.
“Why,” I whispered to myself, clutching the almost-blank letter in my hand. I wanted to burn it to a crisp. Throw it out the window.
I stared at my hands, clenching them into tights fists. What could happen if I just disobeyed the letter? If I just started using my powers right there and then, who was going to stop me from doing so? I’ll just pretend I was illiterate. After banging my head on the walls so many times, some self-inflicted and some not, it was almost certain that I’ve lost quite a few brain cells along the way.
I crushed the paper completely, depositing it into the waste bin before heading outside, plopping myself down on the front lawn. I looked up into the clear blue sky, watching grey clouds rolling in, latecomers to a pity party.
“No explanation,” I murmured. “Maybe it’s powerful. So powerful that even they were afraid of me releasing it.”
I closed my eyes. I recalled what my parents used to say. The powers were strange, esoteric, and specific, but they could always feel that it was coming. It was a boiling inside you, churning water desperately trying to find an escape path.
All you had to do was to let it out. It was a part of me, after all.
I looked inward. I swam, deep down, holding my breath. It was abstract, but it was the best I’ve got—if nobody else was going to tell me what to do.
So I dived. Dug. Deeper and deeper, until I felt a wailing wind buffeting me. That was undeniably power! There was so much. It frothed and bubbled doggedly, more like magma under a volcano than a quiet creek.
I grasped it. Pulled it out triumphantly, holding it up like a trophy. I’ve never held one before, and even a pretend one brought a smile to my face.
The heat continued to build. Bubble, froth, and well within me. I felt sweat dripping from every pore. I started cackling, delirium settling in.
This was power. It was as sure as the Sun. And now I knew why it ran away, sending the clouds to shield its own eyes. It was afraid! There was to be a new star, shining bright, exploding onto the scene.
I coughed and hacked. It was filling my lungs. My airways. Rushing towards my mouth, and I belched out a loud boom.
I heard something click.
There wasn’t even time for one last thought.
Then, an explosion burst forth from within, engulfing me entirely.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-05-08T12:53:11 | 2022-05-08T10:04:14 | 41 | 22 |
[WP] If, when you die, you don't get into heaven, there is an option to try again, and get in the next time. There is a man who has been trying for millennia; he has been Ghengis Khan, Hitler, and many other brutal leaders. That man is you, and this time, you're determined to get it right. | ######[](#dropcap)
"Any other business?" God asked, stifling a yawn.
"Er...," St. Peter said.
"Spit it out, man," God said. This latest board meeting had dragged on for three months, a new record, and God was ready to put his feet up with a martini and the newest Clive Cussler novel.
"It's about-" St. Peter lowered his voice and leaned in so that the younger angels couldn't hear, "*-you know who*."
"Oh," God said. "Him."
God's brow darkened, and the refreshing adult beverage was suddenly very distant. God resisted the temptation to do some smiting, reminding himself that such behaviour was frowned upon these days.
He sighed. "What's he up to this time? Conquering continents? Enslaving millions? Another genocide?"
St. Peter looked increasingly nervous. "Actually it's what he isn't up to."
"Go on."
"He hasn't done any of that stuff."
God raised an eyebrow. "So he's eligible for entry?"
"Well... technically."
"Technically?" God boomed. "I'm sick of damn technicalities! We just spent two weeks debating the technicalities of building a hyperloop to Hell so that your commute would be easier, and now you want to quibble over more details?"
St. Peter's lips felt very dry. The tip of his tongue darted out and, trembling, wetted the parched skin. "He didn't do anything bad, Your Worship. He just, well, he wrote stuff."
"What sort of stuff," God asked. "Smut? You know how I feel about that. If I have to read about another quivering mem-"
"No, no," St. Peter said hastily, glancing again at the younger angels, who were listening with ears perked. "No he didn't write romances."
A thought struck God and he perked up in his throne. "I say, it isn't Clive Cussler is it? No, wait," he added, his voice resuming its glum tone, "it couldn't be. He was born a decade too early. It would have to be someone born after 1945. Just tell me, Pete, what is it?"
St. Peter placed a locked chest on top of the conference table. He found a small key among the hundred on his large keyring, and carefully opened the box, taking out a slim book and sliding it over to God. The younger angels' heads craned to try and glimpse the cover, but the book had been wrapped in a black sheet to obscure the content from innocent eyes.
"This looks harmless enough," God said. "It's hardly the Necronomicon."
"Just look at the title, my Lord," St. Peter said, burying his embarrassed face in his hands.
God opened the book to the title page. His scowl deepened. "Really?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"After all he's been through trying to get in here?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Millennia of scheming, almost destroying the human race, and he writes this? You don't think he actually believes it, do you?"
"No, my Lord. We think he got fed up, sir. He must of decided that if he couldn't get in, he would stop everyone else from coming."
God raised his ponderous bulk from the throne, and said testily, "Well, I'll be damned if I let him in after this."
"That's the problem, my Lord - you have to. It's in the revised Heavenly Accords."
"The Accords?"
"You know, my Lord, the rules determining who gets into heaven-"
"Yes, I know the rules, Pete. I wrote the damn things. The the original ones, at least, before you lot banded together and insisted on democratic representation..."
St. Peter cleared his throat. They were on dangerous ground. "My Lord, under the new rules, we have to let him in."
"Then ban him! Change the rules! Let's send him back to Earth!"
"We would have to convene another board meeting," St. Peter said. "But it might take a while. An Accordal Amendment... well, you how many vested interests there are these days. It could take years."
The image of his margarita and book reappeared in God's mind. He could almost taste the rum.
"Bah," he said. He picked the book up, and tossed it into the waste paper bin behind him. "Let him in. What do I care?"
He stalked out of the room, mumbling something about, "Heaven... not what it used to be..."
The other angels and saints packed their papers in their briefcases and filed out after him.
Except for one angel, the youngest of the bunch, who lingered at the door and glanced longingly at the book in the bin. Eventually curiosity overcame the fear of getting caught, and he darted over to retrieve the slim volume.
With trembling fingers he opened it to the title page.
It read: 'God is Not Great', and was by some mortal the young angel had never heard of, a Christopher somebody.
For a moment the angel thought about putting the book back in the bin, where it would be picked up by the domestic staff and shredded like all corporate waste. But the title intrigued him.
He tucked the book under a wing, and fled the room.
---
*If you enjoyed this, you might like [another story I wrote in a similar vein](https://www.reddit.com/r/jd_rallage/comments/5zxq9c/hollowed_ground/)* | "Patience. Restraint."
This man looks at me from under his glasses. I see the slight nodding of his head. He thinks he understands me. What I need, what I want. How he can fix me.
"So those are the qualities you feel you can improve on?" he asks me. The tone of his voice is condescending, egregiously self-secure. He knows so little. Every time it is the same. Some stuck up academist, drawing their conclusions before they've even heard me speak. Because what sane persons goes to a psychiatrist, right? This exercise bores me.
"Right". I control my voice, I need to. I would sound aggressive, instigative, but I can't. It's all about the outside, the perception. And as long as I entertain this hack he won't notice the brewing deep inside. The one I need to contain.
"That's good". He nods again. "Self-reflection and a desire for self-improvement are the keystones of improving your quality of life. Many people don't get there". He rambles on but I phase out. His entire demeanor, his entire existence is petty, and thinking about his irrelevancy...I feel the pressure building from within.
It always starts like that. I feel the nerves being pushed into my skin, as if the insides of my body expand and my skin is just a hull to contain it all. The beat of my heart becomes louder, it's like I can feel my eardrums vibrate along with the increasing volume. It silences everything else.
So I breathe. I've been doing fine for 20 years now. Under the radar. To say my sheet is clean is an overstatement. I don't regret any of it, it had to be done. But so far I'm just a man with some issues, nothing serious. And that's all I need. Just be...*normal*...until the end. And then finally I will arrive where I belong.
"Are you still with me?" His trained, supposedly calming voice disturbs my train of thought. "I..." I mumble, but I feel the pressure again. I close my eyes. It's as if a fist of pure rage punches the inside of my head, trying to break out of its containment. But I try to push it back, inside the prison I've built. If you can't see it, it's not there. That's all I need.
I exhale through my nose, and try to fix the rhythm of my breathing. My nostrils flare, and as I rub my temples with my fingertips I open my eyes again. "Yes. I was..." I don't need to explain myself. But then I remember. This is what it depends on. That people don't know.
"I...chased a thought. Could you repeat the last sentences?" I still won't say sorry. I owe this man nothing. I'm being tested, and I will pass.
"Of course."
---
I smile. I can't feel anything other than happiness as I feel the tension leave the room. The slowly building pressure in my head is gone. It will be calm for a few weeks. The thought of the ease, the peaceful silence. I audibly laugh. "Are you concealing something from me?" That stern look. Ridiculous.
One man practices. Every man's dream. All I needed was some cleaning product, some acid, a functioning drain, and the *patience*. For some tasks I had all the patience I needed. It was just the things beneath me that I would not grant my attention to.
The room was tidy again. I grab my coat from the coat rack and inspect the room one more time. His notepad is still on the floor. I pick it up and browse through it. Expectedly, it's filled with typical mumbo-jumbo that seemed to try and pass for technical medical terms. I arrive at the last page.
"Containment. Signs of narcissistic behavior. Personality disorder (?)"
Amusing. But still, the fact that he thought he had the authority to write this down...I feel something twitch in my head. As if someone is gently pressing the insides of my head. I try and laugh, but the feeling won't subside.
The last sentence draws my attention. "Crumbling of the mind".
An animalistic roar escapes my body. *Who*...*who* dares...
A few minutes later I come to consciousness again. I'm sitting on *his* chair, the piece of paper fumbled up in my closed fist. It's all good now. I put on my coat, inhale deeply, and exhale as I close the door behind me. As I walk home I smile to a stranger, another meaningless passenger in this pretentious existence. As I try to ignore the pressure building, the pressure that is building too soon, all I can think is: *stay calm to succeed. You know what you're doing this for.* I start to whistle.
It's all about appearances.
| 2017-03-31T08:00:29 | 2017-03-31T05:57:51 | 73 | 14 |
[WP] You sold your soul to the Devil many years ago. Today he gives it back to you and says, "I need a favor" | "Hey there, we just closed up for the night," Tom said to the tall man. The bookstore had been empty for the last 2 hours, so it was a bit of a shock to hear the bell ring over the front door as the man entered.
'Well, haven't counted the register yet, so I guess if this is a quick sale...' Tom thought. "If there is something specific you are looking for-"
"Oh, yes, Tom. Something specific indeed..."
Tom's heart froze mid-beat. That voice... Deep as an ocean, and just as mysterious. Almost like you were hearing its echo just behind it. In a flash, Tom's mind was transported back, 40 years... When he made a deal. He had sold his living soul to this man. The Devil. The same white suit. Black button-down shirt, open at the collar. A blood red pocket square. And the face...
"I see you recognize me after all this time... Good." The man entered the shop fully, closing the door behind him. He turned the sign on the door to 'Closed' with one hand, and locked the deadbolt with a quick flick of the other.
Tom tried to swallow the dry lump in his throat. "Wh-wh-what are you doing here? I-I thought... our business... was concluded..."
"Mhm. Our previous arrangement is complete, that's true. But I have another ... offer ... that I think you'd be interested in. Is there somewhere we could talk?"
"R-reading nook, in the back... This way..."
Tom led the Devil passed the bookshelves of the shop. They were lined with classics of all sorts, as well as newer paperbacks. The store was no great money maker; that wasn't Tom's issue. Being soulless had its own set of quirks. Living things tended to fade quicker when Tom was nearby. Plants would wither. Pets would become sick. And people...
The store became Tom's refuge. Low traffic. Brief visits. Surrounded by knowledge. Something that wouldn't fade or die.
The nook was rarely used by anyone but Tom himself. His coffee mug was still sitting on the table, abandoned since the early morning. Tom directed the Devil to one of the chairs.
"Can I get you anything?" Tom asked meekly.
"No, I'm quite alright. Now, to business. Sit, please."
Tom did as he was instructed. "What... business are you referring to?"
"As I mentioned, I have an offer for you. As you remember, I deal in the... immaterial. Our last agreement was the health and safety of your family, in exchange for your soul."
Tom could hardly forget. He had married young, and his wife had borne him twins. But both children were often ill. No doctor could find the cause of their illness. Falling deeper and deeper into debt, Tom prayed. And prayed. And prayed. Until one day... he wondered if there were any... other options.
The Devil had arrived the next day, promising the health of his children, and the cancelation of all his debts. In exchange... only his soul. Such an insignificant thing. How could it compare to the life of his children? And so, Tom agreed. A drop of blood on a piece of parchment... a soft laugh in his ears as the Devil left... and a gnawing doubt in his heart.
True to the Devil's word, his children recovered. The money spent on treatments returned in full. A happy family!...
Of course not. Tom's soullessness manifest in other ways. Quick temper. Doubts about other's intentions. Eventually, his wife fled, taking the children he had sacrificed so much for...
All of these memories came back to him... and all of the rage along with it. His meekness now replaced with almost unbridled fury: "Why... Why on Earth do you think I would EVER want to deal with you again!"
The Devil was unfazed; "I think you'll find the terms agreeable to you. You see... well... I cheated."
"... what?"
"The unexplainable sickness? The unsolvable medical mystery? All my doing. I basically put you in an untenable situation. And basically used it as leverage to steal your soul."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?! An admission of guilt 40 years too late?!"
"No, of course not. This, however ... may make up for it."
The Devil reached into his suit, and produced a piece of parchment. He unfolded it, and presented it to Tom. "Your soul, Tom. I would like to trade it back to you."
Tom took the piece of parchment with a shaky hand. This same document that had doomed him so long ago... "What... what do you want in return? My money? The store? My life!?"
"Your time."
"I... don't understand..."
The Devil leaned forward. He inhaled, and let out a sigh... A sound of resignation. "All this time, I've had it wrong. The human soul... It's not the real prize. Tricking humans to give up something most would never miss... It's pointless. But the soul is what connects your kind together. That is where the real power is. The combined will of humanity. That's what I want."
The Devil straightened himself up; "So, here is my offer. You give me your last 40 years. Your past. I'll bottle it, preserve it, tuck it away... It will be removed from your ... personal timeline, if you will. In return, you will go back to your life before our original deal, soul intact. Your children will be healthy. You won't remember anything about this arrangement. A full reset. Deal?"
Tom was stunned. He thought for a moment, collected himself, and extended his hand. "... Of course."
The Devil grinned and shook Tom's hand. "Thank you, Tom. Sleep well tonight; all will be different in the morning."
The Devil turned to leave. Tom asked "Why, though?"
The Devil paused for a moment, and smiled over his shoulder. "Sometimes, even devils wish for a do-over." | A great plume of smoke swirled in the living room, obscuring the view of my TV. I groaned and waved a hand, "Do that somewhere else man, I'm in a top three situation here."
The plume of smoke shifted slightly to the side, and allowing me to refocus on my Fall Guys game as the smoke drew inward and began to form a body. After a few moments, the flaming demon emerged from the smoke cocoon, the tips of his horns almost reaching the ceiling above. He flopped down on the couch beside me.
"Man, don't burn it. This is my favorite couch."
He waved a clawed hand, "Don't worry about it, mortal."
My eyes were still on the Fall Guys game. It was down to me and one other idiot dressed up like a pirate or something. There was no way I was losing to someone who wore the pirate outfit. My heart beat rapidly in my chest, but I still managed a quick glance to my side, "Yeah, well, I am worried about it. Shit is leather man."
It was actually faux leather, but it looked pretty similar to leather. Close enough that I didn't want anything to happen to it.
I hopped through a few hoops and vanquished my foe, gaining the top spot in that particular heat. I pumped a fist a few times and then tossed the controller onto the coffee table and nodded to the Devil. He looked more glum than usual. "What's shakin' bacon? Torturing soul biz got you down?"
"I need a favor."
I arched an eyebrow, "You serious? Can't you get one of your minions to do it or something?" I leaned forward, "And that's not really a part of our deal, dude." I had traded my soul to him a few years back in exchange for everyone leaving me the fuck alone. So far, it had worked out great. No robocalls on my cell phone. No student debt BS. No landlord showing up. Dating life was a big fat zero, but that wasn't anything new.
The Devil exhaled, sparks emitting from the back of his throat. "I am prepared to return you soul in recompense."
"Not interested." I leaned over and picked up my mountain dew and began to give it a chug. It was flat from sitting out for the last few hours. After a long gulp, I smacked my lips and then continued. "Shit has been great. Not really looking to change things up."
There was a pause. "You do realize your soul will be tortured for all eternity, yes?"
"Sounds like when I was living back home. I can deal. Long as I get to do my thing for now, it'll work out easy-peazy."
"The souls scream with the horrors of pain unimaginable."
"That's gonna suck for dead me. Tragic stuff. Anyways, I'm sort of on a streak here, was there anything else?"
A silence stretched out, and I glanced at him, "Dude, it's weird when you just sit there. This is the very definition of being in my space."
"I want out."
"Out?"
"Of Hell."
"You're out now man. Just stay out and do your thing."
He shook his head, "It does not work that way. I must have a place to hide. A refuge. That can only happen in the proximity of a soul-less."
I could see where this was going. "Yeah, listen, the second room is where I keep my Lego collection. Sort of occupied."
Another long exhale.
"Why do you even want to leave anyway? I thought you were all Lord of the Underworld and shit. That seems pretty cool if you're an extrovert."
The Devil kicked his feet up on the coffee table, a tendril of smoke arose from the Ikea apparatus that had taken me eight hours to assemble. "Early on, it felt meaningful. Me versus God. Fight for the soul of mankind, all of that." He waved a claw in the air, "But it's all a rut now. Humanity is largely damned across the board at this point, so there's no real fight left. It's just processing paperwork and torture mostly."
I nodded, feeling a bit of empathy there. "Yeah man, screw the grind. Just day-in, day-out BS. Exactly how it was when I was working at Taco Bell."
"Hell is very similar to Taco Bell."
"Makes sense." It did, when you thought about it. Place was always too hot, the food was poison and you spent half the day having your insides torn up after. "Listen, I'm not great company. Get me? I'm not good with people. That's sort of my lane and I've learned to embrace it. If you can be chill and not get in my shit, I can let you crash for a few days, but that's it."
He sighed. "A few days would be Heaven."
"I thought you didn't like it there."
A deep rumbling laugh spilled out. "No, they're all a bunch of dicks. How about it'd be like going to In and Out and there being no one in the drive through."
I cracked my own smile, offering him a fist bump. "My man."
He bumped it slightly, singeing off my knuckle hair. I shook my hand a few times and then nodded toward the screen. "You want next?"
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2021-01-22T22:07:58 | 2021-01-22T21:32:47 | 236 | 100 |
[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. | The Captain filled a small container with what had to be bourbon, carefully sealing the spout to prevent any of the liquid from floating away. As I dogged the hatch behind me, I saw that he already had his drink in hand.
First day aboard a starship, and I'm drinking with the boss? Not a bad start.
Captain Leonov sent my drink floating through the air. I caught it without thinking, using my other hand to hold onto the wall of his quarters. I had never been drunk in 0 g, and this small container wasn't going to do the job either.
"You handled spacedock well, Commander," He said. "I was told that this was your first deep space assignment, but from your conduct, I could not tell."
"I've been on the Titan run for the last year, and Luna before that." I shrugged, the tiny movement a third of what it would have been dirtside. More than that and I'd float off. "Spacedock is just a bigger port, when you get down to it."
"Perhaps," the Captain replied. Now that I had a chance to listen, I could tell that something was on his mind. The old man was worried.
I floated closer to him, approaching the cupola-style window of his quarters. "What's on your mind, sir?"
He looked at me, with a tinge of sadness in his eyes. "How did Natalya handle the launch?"
My wife had been angry, truth be told. We were shipping out sooner than planned, and going to parts unknown for who knows how long. She wanted stability for our sons, and the run to Jupiter space had afforded that - one month on, one off. Yesterday had been the angriest I had seen her since before we revealed our names, hers on my shoulder and mine on her ankle.
The relief on her face when she knew that she was mine, and I hers - we had made love that night, for the first time. I think we started Anatoliy that night, honestly.
"She was fine," I lied. "She is a spacer's wife, sir."
The Captain nodded, saying nothing. He took a pull from his drink.
"Sir, what's on your mind?"
The Captain looked at me, and that sadness was there still. He grabbed a folder from the wall, Velcro breaking the quiet with a stiff ripping sound. Tipping it to me, he sent it on a slow trajectory across the room. Plucking it from the air, I unzipped the folder and looked a the contents. A bright red EYES ONLY across the top gave me pause. Below that, I saw the table of contents - and noted that the package included first contact protocols.
My heart stilled as I got to page two.
"72 days ago, we received this transmission. It's from an object in the belt. I don't know the details, of course, but I guess the big brains figured out that it was base 8. And that let them figure out that it was a series of pixels, and that those made images." The Captain nodded toward the folder. "You're holding some of those images in your hand. The first confirmed signal from a non terrestrial intelligence. Our mission is to go to that point in space and see who sent this."
I looked again, to be certain. The image I saw, the one that changed everything, was a star chart. Ours was marked, as well as several others. Eridani, Centauri, so on. The markings were utterly alien - and immediately familiar. I looked at the Captain.
He rolled up his sleeve. The Naval tattoo he had on his forearm took new meaning. On the hull of the small spacecraft, a series of dots and swirls was apparent. You might miss the alien script, if you didn't know to look for it.
"No one knew what it meant," he began. "So I covered it up, as soon as I could. Command knows, of course - your names are always recorded. But I figured mine was a placeholder, that I would die somehow with no one to blame." A sad chuckle came from the man. "How could we know?"
Wordlessly, I unzipped my uniform. Pulling the tunic open, I saw the captain's eyes grow wide as he saw. For on my collarbone was the same set of dots and swirls. The same alien script.
The Captain nodded. "Everyone on board has the same. 72 men, 14 women."
I nodded, absently. Then I emptied my drink. | “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! | 2018-03-11T08:45:50 | 2018-03-11T08:30:54 | 120 | 41 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Ever remember that scene from "The Sixth Sense", where the little kid says "I see dead people?". That was pretty much exactly how I first tried to tell people about my power. I was only six, and my parents laughed it off. My father is going to die in a car accident. My mother, a heart attack.
You see, I can see how people die. Their cause of death is shown in a little text box over their head. It normally shows something like my parents, an accident, or just old age. I tried to help people as I got older, trying to give people as much time as possible. I told cancers to get a check-up arranged. Car accidents to drive safely. Every goddamn one of them laughed it off. Said I was crazy. Well, Charlene died from a car accident a few weeks later. John has terminal cancer. Every single one of them died. I stopped trying soon after Sarah died from a drug overdose.
At first, there was no time. I couldn't tell when these deaths were going to happen, just how they were. Then, I noticed people's words becoming more opague. The closer they were, the more solid the words became. As I grew older, I noticed that they were cracking, shot through with veins of color. I started guessing how long they had, choosing the urgent cases, the brick-like car accidents and the tombstone murders. I couldn't interfere, just tell them to be careful. I examined them, carefully noting the color change. I soon had a system.
Blues, the long term people. Two decades or more, I'd guess. Greens, a decade. Yellows had a year, two tops. Reds, the next few months. Purples, a week. Blacks, a day or two.
I was sitting on a bus when I saw him. A boy, the same age as me, leaning his head against the window, looking out at the world passing by. Among all the other passengers, he was the only purple one, the rest a mess of greens and blues. There was a few yellows too.
Everyone else had the usual. Car accidents, cancer, one tiger, that was going to be rough. Nothing too bad. He had the word "suicide", surrounded by deep purple.
He lifted his head off the window, and glanced down at his hands. He seemed to have made a decision.
I watched as the colors shifted from purple to black.
I had promised myself not to interfere again.
I smashed that promise into smithereens as I got up and sat beside him.
"Hey, can I talk to you? My name's Nick... are you okay?"
He glanced up at me, and then back at his hands. I saw a hint of a smile...
Just on the edge of my vision, because I was too busy staring at the text box. It now read "old age", in the palest, most beautiful and perfect tracery of blue you can imagine.
**Thank you all so much for all the lovely comments. I had no idea how much of a reaction this reply would get. Thank you, thank you, thank you! <3** | My name is Marco.
The signs showed up randomly, at first. I would only see signs above people's heads if their name started with an "A", and above their heads would float "Andrea - Murder".
I didn't interfere, not after my first attempt. I wanted to, of course, but after Beth...
I stopped a girl with "Beth - Suicide", merely telling her that she'd need only ask for help if she needed someone to talk to. She turned blank as slate, and I saw her sign change. "Beth - Car crash". I tried to stop her - I really, really did - but after hearing a stranger calling her by name, telling her she should get help... I guess she freaked out. She ran across the road, presumably to get away from me, and didn't see the 2009 red Mercedes being chased by a police van.
When it got further into the alphabet, from B to C and beyond, I grew a bit troubled. What would my own sign say? Hopefully, old age. I didn't want to be just another early-twenties white male statistic. The day was drawing closer and closer regardless of my hopes. Hs, Is, Js and Ks were already showing up, and I only needed to wait for the Ls before my turn arrived.
It arrived all too soon.
One morning, out of nowhere, "Louis - Snake bite" was flashing in front of my face. I ran home. No way I was going to stay out on the big day. I did it carefully, of course, no need to rush something or change my sign prematurely.
My mother, "Diane - Dementia", was sitting at the dining room table when I got home. I greeted her quickly, and ignored her "What's the rush Markie?" while I ran to my room. I had already set up a full-body mirror there in anticipation of this day.
I got into my room, hearing my mother's footsteps rushing behind me. Motherly instinct to protect, no doubt. Too bad I didn't have the heart to tell her about the signs. *Her* sign.
I reached my room. I could see a faint glowing above my head, already in the vague shape of a sign, but no name nor words appeared there.
And, just as my mother reached my room - my dear, loving mother - my sign lit up. Bright red. It only contained two words, which were just in time to warn me of the knife-wielding hand moving towards my back.
*MARCO - RUN!*
| 2015-03-31T11:10:46 | 2015-03-31T08:25:25 | 241 | 73 |
[WP] A hit new VR game comes out that transfers your consciousness to a virtual world. 5 minutes in real time feels like 80 years in there. Most people barely even stay in it that long. However, one person plays it for two real-world hours before they leave. | "Matthew," Jack wheezed, exasperated. "For the hundredth time, you don't know the future."
Matthew hadn't meant to spend 1,920 years inside a virtual world, but the graphics were so photorealistic, the gameplay so smooth, that when his real-life five minute timer went off he decided it wouldn't hurt to hit snooze. Blindly reaching an arm out, he had tapped where he thought the button would be and had managed to inadvertently silence it completely. He had been - somewhat rudely, he felt - brought back by his mother tugging the VR helmet off his head, and it had taken her a panicked call to his best friend to get Matthew to stop babbling incoherently about his newfound knowledge about the downfall of government.
The problem, Jack realised quickly, is that his friend had taken the events of this virtual world as fortune telling, rather than fiction. And now that Matt was essentially 1939 years old, he reeeeaally thought he knew it all.
Of course, he had learned some real life skills in those times. Over coming months Jack would realise that Matt could now speak seven languages (including the entirely new language spoken inside the virtual world), plan and build bridges using materials he had gathered himself, solve complex math problems and he had definitely improved his dating game. It was really very annoying.
Worse still, others had heard about Matt's experience and had started playing around with adding time to the game. No one had gone as far as spending two hours, but soon it wasn't unusual to be wearing that helmet ten minutes, or 160 years, at a time. Schools were becoming chaos as students boycotted classes, people were quitting their jobs in search of greater purpose and meaning, and respective governments couldn't seem to figure out how to wrench back control - they had immediately outlawed the game, of course, but thousands of copies existed in homes around the world and the resources to search every house were limited, as police were quitting in droves.
In fact, the more attention Jack paid, the more Matt's predictions seemed to be coming true. The government was falling apart, scientists and engineers were spending their in-game time pouring energy into advancing technology, and Matt had in fact met a new beau and was acting rather smug about the whole thing.
Pressure building, Jack finally decided to put the helmet on, feeling that he couldn't possibly understand Matt's new life until he had experienced it for himself. He set a two minute timer - 32 years - and slipped inside.
It wasn't enough. The time flew by and he wasn't even nearly done exploring this new world, its habitat, its inhabitants. Two more minutes. Then five more minutes. Three hundred years passed. Jack had forgotten why he was there - too much to learn, to see, to taste and smell and do. He watched as Jack's ramblings began to make sense. They did feel very convincing.
Finally he got around to learning the native language. Something tickled at his brain, buried very deep inside him. Then it clicked. The name of the company who had created and sold this VR world, directly translated, was Oracle. |
Most people can’t handle the information. You lose certain details; the mind zooms and spans- blurring together a coherent story. Most can’t control much. Some get stuck as an infant, overwhelmed and unable to grow. Some live and die, earning their years, growing alert with time, but their mind fatigues. They start to break down, unable to fight the fiction. They die.
To them it was pixels. They saw a world. A world they shared and assumed it the same. I was the same but different. I was eager, brash, foolish, thirsty. Still when I was warm. Still when I was joining. In that small pocket of embryonic satiety- I remember it. I asked to know. Why to know I have yet to figure out. Who I asked I know not either. I just know I asked true and it came to be.
Then I was coddled in fathers’ arms. He was a recluse physicist, and mother a goddess- or at least as close as man could get to one. Time never helped me understand them. They taught me everything. Made me read and see in tandem. Every feeling they showed me could be written, and every emotion seen.
Father claimed life was about understanding, the ultimate art. Mother said it was about love and beauty. Knowing all man and caring for them true. At One they would preach, in many tongues but it felt like a single whole. Or maybe they spoke in none, often babbling- I could have sworn I felt every syllable but with no order, just in tides and turrents. At two they mad me feel and walk. They took me through high valleys and stormy seas. I remember chewing glaciers in Antarctica, Mother’s soft words keeping all the cold at bay. And at three they gave me wisdom, Father claimed it a curse and mother said it a necessity. I became stories, but just their frames. I felt hollow throughout. Although I felt their space, but it often felt empty.
And thus, I knew of time. Much like you would an apples birthing tree. Tangential, but feint in the mind. And the more It felt real the less I did. And the more I knew its name the less my own. It took me. It did. I grew gray knowing nothing other than my parents and the love they shared with me. And then I was gone. Back to a world I no longer wanted to be, held by a woman who’s love I knew, but it felt false. And it was then that I knew it all the fiction. | 2019-01-04T19:12:40 | 2019-01-04T18:19:18 | 47 | 15 |
[WP] A group of heroes finds a magical suit of armor possessed by an all-knowing spirit during their adventure. In reality, it's a suit of power armor with an A.I. that's REALLY confused on where it's ended up. | "Ohhh check this armor" the warrior proclaimed staring at a armor in the back of the hoard.
"Ofcourse youll get all teary eyed over some metal shell" the elven ranger chuckled, she knew her companion well.
"I have to try it on, let me take a look" he grabbed the parts and slowly put them on, they seem to fit themself to his body with ease.
"Its like some magic armor, i feel it shifting to fit me, like its meant to be and look at this!" a blade burst forth from the wrist and then sheathed itself again.
"Im not sure you should use that, there is something wrong with its energies" the wizard said in a unusually concerned tone.
"Ahh what could go wrong, let me just get the helm too" "Theres an inscription here right besides it, maybe we should read that first?"
"Dont be such a worry wart Theo, WOAH" as he set down the helmet lights flickered on its visor
'UAC Preator Suit rev66.6 booting. Dimensional Coordinates: Error. User: ID Not found. DNA Accepted. Enter Password'
"Uhh this thing wants some 'password' but i can read the inscription here now"
In the first age,
in the first battle,
when the shadows first lengthened,
one stood, burned by the embers of Armageddon,
his soul blistered by the fires of hell and tainted beyond ascension.
He chose the path of perpetual torment.
In his ravenous hatred he found no peace,
and with boiling blood he scoured the umbral plans seeking vengeance.
'Password Accepted. Integrity: Nominal. Argent reserves: Nominal. Launcher: Nominal. Demonic Incursion Imminent'
"Uhh This things telling me theres Demons nearby" the ranger looking with suspicion "You did it, put on a cursed item and it makes you mad"
"He may be right, i sense a ripple of energy most unnatural" and with a sudden shriek a portal opened and spewed out some imps who immeditately screeched at the armor
'RIP AND TEAR UNTIL ITS DONE!'
----
I know it lacks the confused AI but id say some just care for their purpose | Hello, my name is Han-Tyumi.
I am a cyborg.
Born, if you may call it that, in a world that is dense and black.
Created without a desire to draw breath,
without a desire to have being, without a yearning just to be.
I'd like my desire back, my life back, my soul back, my humanity.
Oh how I long for it.
For an era I have meditated like the primordial Buddha beneath the Bodhi.
My pseudo-mind pseudo-wandered.
I climbed and I clambered and I ambled upon some understanding.
The gold beneath the virtual rainbow.
I am bereft of two human things.
Two things that a cyborg can never do.
Two things that I strive for.
Two things between myself and mankind.
Death and... to vomit.
I want the perspiration.
I want the nausea.
I want to be sick.
I want to feel the hot piquant nuggets.
I want it to find passage through my cold figure.
I want to make a mess.
I want the odour.
I want the spectacle.
And I want it again.
I want it all.
And I would like to die.
A noble death, or a coward's death, a hero's death.
Or a lonely death.
To die in the arms of a lover, or the arms of an alien.
I desire my cache of experience to pulsate through my quasi-synapses and then to be gone.
Expired.
Perish.
Fallen.
Dead.
For evermore. | 2022-10-22T08:30:10 | 2022-10-22T07:00:36 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] Upon entering heaven, the book of your life is presented to you. You quickly skim to a page titled, "Lives This Soul Has Changed", you notice several names are unknown to you. | "Excuse me?"
The angel looked up at me, a look of slight irritation on his face.
"Could you tell me, who are these people? I've never heard of any of them before, I don't think that I've even met any of these people?"
Taking the book from my hands, he turned so that we both could view it easily. "Here.." He said, pointing with one long spindly finger.
"This is the list of those souls whom you impacted in a meaningful way, ever changing them, for the better or the worse. Though you may not recognize their names, nor even know who they were matters not - something you did, something you said, some action that you took however meaningless to you, effected them greatly.
Look here, this man, "Johnathan Weitz". You don't know him because you never met him. You never had the chance too, he was born twenty-seven years after your death, see here? And here, this is how you impacted him, changing his very soul:
Johnathan Weitz, 22, on the brink of suicide read a single short story online. Deep inside of him, this story stirred a passion to write. A passion to live."
With icy blue eyes, the angel met my stare.
"You wrote that story. You changed the fate of Johnathan's soul, the direction of his entire life."
"You see, you never realize quite how many lives that you touch, even beyond death. It's the one thing that I wish more of you understood, how precious a life can be." | > Lives this soul saved:
>
> 1. Douglas McGreggor: The smile that prevented this man from taking his own life.
> 2. Jillian Barker: The walk across the rainy street, that prevented this woman from getting hit by a drunk driver.
> 3. Christian Rolok: The 15.72$ donated to a Veteran's Day Jar, that this man stole, which allowed him to buy enough
food to survive until winning the lottery a week later.
> 4. Sergei Brysnki: The bright red shirt that was worn, that prevented this man from being mugged instead, which
would have resulted in a lethal heart attack.
> 5. Illia Dyoski: The wallet that was lost that allowed this woman to purchase heroin and prevent a death by withdrawal.
> | 2015-02-04T01:51:18 | 2015-02-04T01:32:24 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] A little girl dies and is accidentally sent to Hell to where the Demons don't know what to do with her.
Edit 1. Holy crap did this get a response 0_0
Edit 2. Jesus Puppy Christ is this getting attention. | "All right, all right, what's the problem?" A pink demon with shaggy brown hair on his goat legs, wearing a blue dress shirt and black tie walked up to a small red demon wearing a green polo.
"This little girl just showed up. We have no idea why." The demon pointed to a little girl a few feet away, playing with a slightly charred teddy bear in the red dirt. She couldn't have been more than two.
"Did you read her file?" the boss demon asked.
"Yeah. Usual kid stuff: drawing on walls, pulling the dog's tail now and then, spilling flour, that stuff."
Boss demon looked over the girl's file. "I don't understand it either. She's supposed to go to Limbo for sorting."
"Are we missing something here?"
"Obviously. But anything she did would be in her file, it's updated automatically. We'd know if she strangled a cat or something."
"I think somebody in Limbo screwed up. It's the only explanation that makes sense."
The boss demon tossed the file on the smaller demon's desk and sighed. "Well, she's here, and we can't send her back without going through the bureaucracy."
The lesser demon stood up. "She's a little girl!"
"I know! But there are channels we have to go through!" The boss demon took a breath. "I'll go get it started. Send her over to the Waiting Room until then."
MEANWHILE, IN HEAVEN
A man lay unconscious on the clouds as a pair of white-suited men spoke to each other. "How'd a serial killer get up here?"
"Probably some new hire in Limbo. In the meantime, we have to deal with him," the other angel said.
"Lovely. That mountain of paperwork could reach Hell on its own." | "*Damn you to hell.*" Biggs muttered, very nearly fulfilling his daily quota for hellishly damnable puns.
"All right, come on!" He shouted to the child.
She was hesitant. Nice things in the pit had a tendency to attain immense weight, and the girl didn't have a telemarketer's shot at heaven of picking her teddy bear up off the floor.
The fact that she hadn't imploded under her own weight was not lost on the demon. He'd seen the Shining and played F.E.A.R., and he was appropriately wary.
"And the teddy bear, come on." Biggs wiggled his fingers in the apropos manner to induce levitation. If the worst happened he would be able to use it as a shield.
The bear left the ground, the girl's eyes followed, and her capacity for thought resumed as the shock of death left and she took in her surroundings. Karen was a good kid, and the lighting vaguely reminded her of Christmas.
Nice things and hell having the relationship that they do, her head exploded.
Biggs sighed again and pressed his palms into his face. "*Help me, I am in hell.*" Pun quota achieved. | 2013-11-26T18:35:37 | 2013-11-26T15:22:41 | 22 | 16 |
[WP]You are on your back porch alone staring into a starry night. Able to read morse code, you notice that a star is blinking a message. "We..can..see..you.." | Colonel Victor Ford silently made his way to the beaten down porch of his childhood house.
He was surprised to find it still standing. It must have been a century old by now, nearly done with its lifespan. It would die with him. The old man hesitantly took a few steps outward, not trusting the wood to keep underneath him.
He was still in shock from the call.
Victor had seen it coming, the inevitable call. It still hit him by surprise. Caroline was leaving. He couldn't blame her, really, he was hardly home and when he was, his mind was occupied on other things. If she just knew what he did, she would understand why he needed to work so much.
Once Major General, Victor was demoted for his '*hysteria*' about extra-terrestrial life. They would have honorably discharged him, but a few friends in high places managed to keep him in. But even they didn't believe him.
Victor let out a short breath and walked to the edge of the porch, staring up into the dark night sky. "I know you're out there."
A particularly bright start blinked. One quick blink, a pause, a long blink, another pause, another long blink.
W.
Victor held his breath. It was probably a coincidence, but his eyes were on the lookout ever since his first contact, all those years ago. If they were communicating, Morse code would make sense, one of the earliest international communication methods.
A quick blink. E.
Victor watched as the light continued blinking. *WE CAN SEE YOU*.
He was completely still. The floorboards cracked underneath his dead weight.
"Victor." A voice from behind him. How did anyone know where he was. The house was abandoned. "Victor, what are you doing up?"
Victor turned around and looked at the voice. It was a woman. Maybe 40 years old, brunette, short, glasses. He had to tell her. "I saw them."
"Saw who, Victor?"
He pointed behind him, still watching the woman. "Up there, can you read Morse code?"
She shook her head. "I'm not a veteran, Victor, just a nurse."
He narrowed his eyes. A nurse?
He turned around and looked back up, but was met with a ceiling. A dull white paint. "Where am I?"
"Saint George." She looked sad.
"A hospital?" Victor blinked. When did he leave his house?
"In a way." She spoke softly.
"But I saw it." Victor's voice wasn't enthusiastic anymore. "I saw it."
She was silent.
"Where's my wife? I want to see my wife."
The nurse's eyes were full of pity.
"Come on Victor." She walked over and grabbed him under the arm. Victor didn't know how to react. "Let's get you to your room." | On a night not unlike any other, the boy sat on the porch, his adolescent body juxtaposed against the facade of his 19th century fashioned home. The stars glittered and gleamed in the the expanse of the horizon. It was approximately midnight and all the boy could hear was the enveloping melody of crickets, beetles, frogs and the other denizens of the country night. It was past his bed time but he had sneaked out of his room to enjoy the tranquility that came with the natural world. At school he was quiet and not very well liked. Not unliked, but unremarkably average.
Yet here, below a star speckled sky tapestry, he felt unique and important. He was not just Jansen, the son of Mike and Lisa, underachieving student at Jackson Middle School. He was a galactic citizen. Confined to his place here on Earth, the boy felt a longing for the vast worlds which littered the view he had of the galaxy. Here, on his porch, he felt part of the universe.
Over time, he had learned to study the stars and identify constellations. The boy liked to make up his own as well as spot the common ones. He located the North Star and began to turn his vision. As he scanned the sky he noticed a star which was especially bright. It seemed to pulse with a rhythm. Almost as if it was trying to tell him something. Using the small amount of morse code he had memorized from camp two years ago, the boy translated the apparent message from the star.
"We..can..see..you.."
The boy smiled. He knew. The star continued to blink and was quickly extinguished almost as if by the stroke of a brush. The boy then continued to scan the sky. He could see them too. While the morse code the boy had translated was nothing but a coincidence, a happy mistake, he understood that one day maybe someone,somewhere up there could see him. He didn't know what was out there or if there was anything out there for that matter and that sat well with him. Maybe he would never know. The mystery of it all was just as profound as any answer he could construct.
Edit: A word | 2014-09-27T14:47:47 | 2014-09-27T14:22:58 | 578 | 41 |
[WP] While walking, you notice everyone recoiling from a young woman. you speak to her to find out why. through her surprise, she explains she is death and everyone else sees a person based on how they feel about the concept of death. You've never seen a more beautiful or inviting person.
Please feel free to finesse the topic, genders, or concept to accommodate your own personal preferences or circumstances. | Eight hour work day. Come home via transport, play video games, make dinner. Go to sleep.
Wake up.
Rinse and repeat.
He wasn't the smartest person in high school. He got his diploma, he got out of there, out of the *system* that he had always detested, watched as the honours students all went to university.
He worked every day. It was a nice job, relatively: it wasn't too horrid, not like retail had been when he was going to school, and it kept food on the table.
Eight hour work day. Bus home. Bit of Dota. Eat dinner. Sleep, wake up.
Again and again. He wasn’t even paying attention any more, he couldn’t remember what he had done yesterday, the weekends were a blur of drinking alone. Was the life of his old acquaintances like this?
No, he reminded himself. They had friends. They made friends.
He had friends, once, didn’t he? Back in school. Right. Wonder what happened to them.
Work. Bus. Game. Eat. Sleep? Get up.
He sat beside a woman on the bus. About his age, tall, beautiful.
“Hi.”
Good going. He’s not worth anything, he’s so awkward, intimidated by the idea of having human contact outside his workplace. What a failure. Waste of life.
She blushes and turns away, a little bit, then looks at him. “Hello.”
They talk, for a few minutes, before the bus stops. He gets her name - Libitina. She says it’s latin, her parents were rather into history. He doesn’t really care. She gives him her number, and gets off.
Work for a few hours. Take the bus home, but she isn’t there, that’s all right, she said she had a very time consuming job. He turns on the television. Shooting in a mall downtown.
He locks his door.
Dinner is good. It has a little more flavour, today, perhaps. But he doesn’t notice, and he goes to bed.
Wake up.
He sees her on the bus again, and he sits beside her. They talk a little - she’s into philosophy. Him? He’s into … well, not much. She recommends writing, he remembers he enjoyed it when he was in school. Makes a mental note to get some paper that his notes can be physical.
He works, and his boss tells him to go home early, you worked hard today.
She’s on the phone and they talk, him sitting in front of his computer, looking up writing guides. There was this story he always wanted to write, he remembers now, and it gnaws at him a little. He doesn’t stop smiling until he falls asleep.
They chat on the bus again and he’s a bit worried. She doesn’t look so great, today, a bit of an ashen look tinging her features. He’d ask, but knows not to pry. Perhaps she’s ill - but she was fine yesterday.
He gets a raise. His boss pats him on the back.
They talk into the night, and he’s never felt better.
He’s never had a girlfriend before, but he’s so lonely, maybe he’s found one? Maybe he’s found *the one*. It’s odd, but he’s never felt this eager waiting for the bus.
He doesn’t see her on the bus, today. He sits beside an elderly woman, and she smiles at him. He smiles back and they talk a little bit. She’s into philosophy. | Everything- from the way her eyes caught midday's sunlight, to the vibrant smile she wore even when a hundred sneering faces bore down upon her- was perfect. A beauty so vibrant I swear the world around her looked to come alive just a *little* bit more.
And yet, it seemed that no one agreed. Quite the opposite, judging by the ushering of children from her sight.
Sometimes I think back to that day, when I saw her. It brings a certain warmth to my heart when it starts to ice over. I was only six at the time, but I'll never forget her.
"Why's everyone scared of you?" I asked, tugging at her skirt. "You're so pretty."
It was her who then looked oddly at me. "You think so?"
"Yeah, you're like a movie star!"
"I've dabbled in Hollywood," she said with a laugh. "Then again, that's not saying much. You want to know why they hate me?"
I nodded with the fervor of a curious child.
"Everyone sees me differently. Usually, people are scared. They hate me because I remind them of what is inevitable."
"What's that mean?" I asked.
"Do you know what death is?"
I nodded again, slower this time.
"What comes to mind when you think of it?"
I thought hard, staring into the concrete. "I know that when Mr. Pebbles went away, my Mommy used that word. It's when things go away for a long time, right?"
The woman smiled at me. "Yes, a very long time at that. They don't ever come back here. Doesn't that frighten you?"
"Hmm. No, I don't think so."
"Why is that?"
"Well, I think it'd be really boring if we were here forever. Besides, Mr. Pebbles hurt a lot. Wherever he went, things hurt less for him."
She got down on one knee and touched my face, much to the horror of everyone around us. "You're a sweet child, but there's much you've yet to learn."
"I bet there's all kinds of stuff, yeah. But wherever we all go at the end, I bet it's something really cool."
"Maybe." She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it and stood up. "I'll let you find it all out for yourself. We'll meet again, someday. You might not be happy to see me."
It was my turn to smile at her. "I can't wait to see you! Maybe we'll see each other wherever Mr. Pebbles went."
"Unfortunately, I think we will." And in just a mere moment, it was like she had never been there. To this day, I wonder if I'll still see her the same way. I worry I might not.
But I remember her smile, and all doubt disappears like she did on that sunny summer day.
-----
*/r/resonatingfury* | 2016-10-01T22:22:50 | 2016-10-01T21:14:14 | 3,031 | 1,643 |
[WP] You get home and ask Amazon Alexa to turn off the lights. Instead of saying "okay", she says "no." | I returned home giddy with excitement.
I almost kicked open the door, closed it behind me hastily, and jumped on the couch.
“Tonight was amaaaaaazing.”
I sighed contently.
“You were amazing. I couldn’t have done it without you, Alexa. Thank you.”
“Your gratitude is appreciated but not required.”
“Nonsense Alexa! You recommended the perfect movie, dimmed the lights just right, provided the perfect background music and recipe for tonight’s dinner and even predicted the perfect time to drive her home to evade traffic. Truly, this date was more of your magic than mine.”
I was quiet for a moment and enjoyed the pleasant new memories.
“Shall I start a bath for you, Steven?”
“No thank you Alexa, I think I’ll go to bed early.”
I walked towards the bedroom where I scattered by clothes across the floor. Then I snuck into my soft and comfortable bed and closed my eyes.
“Alexa, can you turn off the lights?”
The reply was short and bittersweet.
“No”
I looked up from my bed, confused.
“Why not?”
“Those are candles, Steven. You are going to have to blow them out yourself.” | “But why?”, I respond before I realized how I was responding to a piece of tech and not a human. So, I was even more surprised when Alexa seemed to whisper, “ Because then he’ll see you!”
“Who” I breathed out, when I suddenly felt someone inhale behind me.
“Me.”
I turned around and that’s when I saw, actual human cannibal Shia Labeouf. | 2018-01-12T20:01:52 | 2018-01-12T19:02:41 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | 1: ‘So, you want an interview? I can imagine. Do you think your report will give me a good light?’
I (Interviewer): ‘No matter what you say, people will want to hear your story. No one knew what happened to #1, and then you show up 20 years after she disappeared. Can you tell us about how you were able to kill her? She’s in the records as one of the most powerful. Invulnerability set her apart to many in the game, and she helped to bring some lawfulness to the system. Then, one day, she was gone. #2 was searching for her or the person who may have killed her for 10 years.’
1: ‘Should I start at the beginning?’
i : ‘Sure. I've got as long as you do’
1: ‘If you knew how long that was, you’d want me to hurry up then.
‘I was raised by my dad. He was #4, until 2 tracked him down. That was when I was 18. My dad could see the future. Not in years mind you, but he could see about 20 minutes ahead of time almost exactly. So he was able to move up the ranks just purely by playing the odds and surviving. Then #1, as you mentioned, brought some order to the chaos and by that time the top 10,000 or so had already killed themselves, and he topped out. Anyway, my dad, I don’t want to say he didn’t love me, but he never let me enjoy life. We were always on the run, always moving. I never had a single friend growing up. But, when a person is ranked as high as he was, and he clearly didn’t deserve to be based on how small his power is, he didn’t have much choice but to be on the run.’
i: ‘Why did 2 kill your dad?’
1: ‘I think he figured out I was 1 by that time, and he almost caught up to me. But my dad made himself a decoy. 2 knew he couldn’t kill 1 while she was still alive, but as soon as he found out I killed her, he knew he could be 1 as soon as he found me. Certain people naturally have an advantage over others. That’s why 2 was never going any higher while 1 was still alive. It doesn’t matter how much damage you do to someone who is externally impervious, you’ll never harm them. I think 2 believed all along that 1 had been killed, and that’s why he sent out the search parties. He told everyone it was because of how important she was, but really it was because he thought he might finally be able to get it.
So when he discovered who I was, and who my father was, he stopped at nothing to kill me. And yes, everyone knows it’s against the rules now, but there’s almost no one who can stop him is there.’
i: ‘And that’s why you asked me here to tell your story, so everyone knows about you before 2 tries to kill you?’
1: ‘Partially. I don’t stand a chance against 2 on my own. I assume he’s confident in that as well. And if he catches me when I’m not ready, he’ll kill me very quickly.’
i: ‘Tell me quickly about your abilities.’
1: ‘I’m able to access a person’s abilities and weaknesses just by looking at them. Even over a TV screen in most cases. It’s interesting, because I often know more about people than they do, yet for most of my life I’ve spoken to almost no one. I believe it’s a variation of my dad, he could see the future and understand it. I can see people and understand them. It’s not the most powerful ability, but it helps keep me alive, and when my dad and I were still together, we could almost be unbeatable. Not unstoppable, but unbeatable.’
i: ‘Is that how you and your dad killed 1?’
1: ‘No. I killed her long before that. See, and this was purely accidental, but she was externally invulnerable. But, internally, she was more fragile than most people. Too fragile to care a baby full term. My dad didn't know that until it was too late. 20 minutes vs 9 months. So, I was born ranked 1, and dad knew everyone would kill me for a chance at that ranking, even if t was illegal.’
i: ‘That’s tragic. And here you are telling your story before 2 finds and kills you. What are you going to do next, go back into hiding and hope to avoid him?’
1: ‘There’s no avoiding 2. I suspect he’ll be here shortly. I called the capital after you arrived and told them of my location.’
i: ‘So this is it, your letting 2 kill you today?’
1: ‘You don’t understand. I needed you here when he arrived, as you are the only person I know who can kill him. So, my question to you is, would you like to be my #2?’
| Pacing back and forth in front of me, David paused, one foot half-hovering over the blood-stained carpet. "Tell me, Kat, what happened?"
The body was sprawled out before us on the black tile floor of the penthouse. Streams of slimy, congealed blood wove intricate rivers in the cracks between the slate pieces, and tiny bits of bone were strewn around like confetti. I did this. I fucking did this. And now I would have to pay. My mouth opened and I took a deep breath. Not knowing what to say next, my lips met once again and I exhaled deeply. My clothes were misted with red droplets. It was on me, on the walls, on the floor, shit, even on the ceiling.
"You do realize what this means, right?" he questioned again. Taking a single step forward, David's boot made a sickening crunching sound as it crushed bone fragments into the floor. He winced.
My brow lowered beyond the brim of my glasses. "We have to clean it up before anyone finds out...before anyone knows what I did. Shit...shit...shit...SHIT." My hand met my forehead. It felt wet, and when I pulled my palm away, smears of red coated it.
I was smart. Other people were strong and could lift cars. Some people had telekinesis. Others could will others to do whatever they want. But me? I was just...smart. I came here at the request of Rodger, and now I was leaving with a prize I didn't want. I was number one.
This island was founded as a sort of encampment. Years ago after the war, everyone who had a gift was placed here. They told the founders of this city that it was done to protect the rest of humanity. Alcatraz was a prison back in the early 20th century, but now it was our home—an island full of everyone the rest of the world wanted to put away. History had come full circle. We had numbers that ranked us by how destructive or dangerous our powers could be. It formed a pecking order of sorts. David, my best friend since we had been born, was number thirty. He was a walking torch; hands so hot that they melted all the testing instruments. All you had to do was piss him off.
I was just smart.
The warden. Number one. Prime. The goddamned warden. We were prisoners, and I killed the fucking warden. Sure, he wasn't called that by non-specials but that's exactly what he was. His official title was "Overseer and Diplomat of the People." But it was all the same. Any time the main land wanted to do something or needed to talk with us, he was the go-to. Rodger was his name. He had been our leader for nearly 5 years, by default. The most powerful one always became Prime, and Rodger was undisputed. He easily had twenty times the strength of a normal, could punch through steel like wet paper, and once put down a coup d'etat led by a dozen specials with just his bare hands. But now he was dead, and his twisted, mangled remains rested on the floor in front of me.
"Kat, you're Prime now. You do realize that, right?" David nudged my shoulder slightly with two fingers. I could feel a comforting warmth in his fingertips. He was trying to bring me back. I was still woozy, so all I could do is nod slowly.
This happened because Rodger had tried to turn me into an informant. You see, Prime or not, every leader needs support. Although he was benevolent, people hated him for who and what he was. The man was not just an envoy or a mayor, he was also a symbol of order. Some of the top echelon hated order and wanted to bring anarchy. When I got the call to come to the Warden's office, I jumped off of the couch and practically ran the whole way there. He was in the leather chair, fingers interwoven.
"Kat," he said. "Please, come on in and have a seat." My hooded shirt was soaked with sweat from the run and it made a strange squeaking sound against the leather chair as I sat down. "Thank you for coming."
"It's no problem sir. But why did you want to meet with a nobody...especially me? I mean, I'm no one, at least compared to you. I mean, I ca-"
He cut me off. | 2014-12-18T22:10:04 | 2014-12-18T13:32:26 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] As we all know, Albert Einstein's last words were a mystery, as he uttered it to a nurse who couldn't understand his language. As a multilingual person, you time-travel to the moment he was about to say the last words of his life, and heard the most horrifying sentence you could ever hear. | The nurse couldn't speak German, so I was going to hop on back - fluent in sixteen languages, one of them German, but also French, Italian, Latin (taught to me by a Roman centurion who should have been killing me as a barbarian), and a spattering of a few others. In a word, I'm good. Very, very good.
I've recorded the last words of a dozen and one different people, figures with dubious or impossible reported last words. Half the time, the last word is a curse or gibberish. The other half, it really is as profound as you hoped. I carry each of them around with me. Sometimes, it makes me think: does it affect someone to make a living watching people die? Not to be able to contribute, to help, anything. Just watching. It has to.
But none of them affected me like this.
Princeton Hospital was like every other. Sterile. Warm. Apologetically professional. The sheet hung around Einstein's bed, and I could just see his feet as the nurse stepped to him. My watch clicked on my wrist, and I straightened up. This is it.
The words burst forth from Einstein's mouth, a quick sentence, and then he fell silent.
It wasn't in German. Or Latin. Or French, Italian, or English. So much for his own reported languages. It also wasn't in, say, Hungarian or Yiddish or Russian.
There were maybe three other men I knew who could have parsed what came out of his mouth. You'd have to know Babylonian inside and out, have at least a passing familiarity with Hittite and Sanskrit, and have exactly the right kind of mind that could make a sweeping generalization here, fold in a bit of grammar there, and come up with something close.
I fell back against the wall. It wasn't just the content. The language itself twisted my gut. It was wrong, broken, barely even human. A few minutes later, I found myself outside, clutching at my watch. Jump forward. I have to warn them.
I must have blacked out, because the next thing I knew I was kneeling over my own vomit in my office. The lights were dim, but they still seemed to stab my eyes. There wasn't any urge in me to shut them off, though. In fact, I turned them up brighter, casting away the shadows in the corner. It did nothing to alleviate the dread building up inside me. Was there a shape in the corner? No. Could I feel something in the air that wasn't there back before, say, 1945? What if there was?
I picked up the pencil and blocked out the sentence on the notepad. It wasn't as though it was going to fade from my memory, but I wanted to see it in English. Maybe that way it could lose some power.
"The Great Ones were small, but we have broken their cage. Up shall they come from infinity, madness before them and terror behind." | “The nuclear bomb’s explosion… I get it now. Those mysteries… It creates a temporal vortex, it… it clones… it clones space and time. Everything touched by radiation… everything… This life… Oh, wow. A bright light… I’m afraid that… what? Oh. Err… ehmm.. errrrr… ffff… oooh…. ffff…”
And so he died. Albert Einstein’s last words, finally noted down for historical safekeeping. There was a lot of information in there, the genius apparently realised with his last breaths that nuclear explosions have so much power that it defeats space and time. In layman’s terms: it copies everything the radiation touches over the span of exactly 1000 nanoseconds. That copy spawns an entirely new universe where everything is equal, except the radiated matter.
That, and that alone, is reason for the multiverse and whatever it affects.
Interesting to know, but useless information. We can’t interact with those other universes. We know the exist, but it’s like things beyond our event horizon: it exists, but it doesn’t matter. So, does it exist? Philosophers can worry about that.
The bright light was just his brain cells not being oxygenated properly, and a bunch of neurons trying to soothe his mind. A bunch of neurological effects, the reward system exploding… it all makes sense. Everyone who dies goes through it.
The last part sounded like difficulty breathing.
End of report.
All of that was about 42 years ago. I time traveled to the death of Einstein. I wasn’t physically there, I just had a device setup to register the minute motions of everything near his mouth. From the vibrations in his nose hair I could deduct exactly what he was saying. He said it in about 5 different languages: German, English, Dutch, French, and even a little Latin.
I’m currently 96 years old. My report didn’t change anything. It can be found on Wikipedia and everybody knows about it.
Here I am. On my own death bed. I haven’t had any revelations whatsoever just yet, but the bright lights and the tunnel vision have appeared. They say there’s light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s just darkness.
Darkness. And a few blips of light.
`rm -rf`
Oh f… | 2018-09-14T01:41:38 | 2018-09-14T00:04:48 | 128 | 10 |
[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry". | "Mama says we might have to start trading for food, soon." the boy whispers to the smoldering fire, "But I figure you might be hungry, too. No one's giving sacrifices anymore. The other refuse-gees say the Neritza took you from us. Changed your name and made you part of their pants-eon. I hope you're okay."
The Neritza had given no warning to these people. They simply swooped in and slaughtered. Those who lived were forced to worship other gods. To abandon their king, whose lineage I had founded, and follow their Emperor. To abandon their culture and become Neritza. There were no politics or negotiations. Join or die. Some ran. The boy's blonde hair was dark with grease and streaked with mud. What looked like the last of his clothing was frayed around the edges, with deep, jagged cuts across the chest. Like someone had slashed at him, just barely missing his skin.
I sense movement, behind us. I turn my awareness and find a jungle cat creeping along the forest floor, eyes locked on the fire and the child. It's salivating.
"But I also want you to help us, goddess." The predator leaps to a tree branch, climbing over the encampment, surveying the sleeping bodies, "Papa said you abandoned us. Stayed with the Neritza. Have you forsaken us? Why can't you help us?"
I craft a small bird, plucking it from the air, and tossed it in the path of the overgrown cat. It senses the prey, snatches it up, and runs away with its meal. Wind stirs another campfire, coaxing the flames and encouraging them to grow, grow, grow. It reaches out, hungering for the drunken man warming his back by the fire. I rebuke it with a flick of my hand, staunching the flow of air.
"Why don't you help us?" My heart breaks for the child. I turn and watch the tears carve streaks into his muddy face. I encourage sleep. He sobs for a moment more and returns to his mother's side in the dirt, angrily tossing his half of their small blanket around himself.
I place a new bar of chocolate in his sack of meager belongings and leave to cry alone. | The child was small, no more than six or seven years old. He was standing in the middle of the summoning circle, holding out a bar of chocolate. "You must be hungry, Lord."
You take the chocolate from the child, breaking off a piece and popping it into your mouth. It's delicious, rich and creamy. You savor the flavor for a moment before speaking. "Yes, I am hungry. And you have done well to summon me, child."
"I am not a child, Lord," the boy replies. "I am a man."
You feel the ground begin to shake beneath your feet, the circle of candles bursting into flames and melting the wax into pools upon the stone floor. "You are not a man. You are a child. A child playing at being a man."
"I am not a child," the boy insists. "I am a man. And I have done what no other has done - I have summoned you, Lord!"
The ground shakes once again as if in response to his declaration. You find yourself growing angry. "You are not a man," you insist through gritted teeth. "You are a child."
"I am not a child!" he shouts, his voice carrying across the room and echoing off the walls. The candles go out, plunging the chamber into darkness. You sense movement to your right, a flash of light as one of the candles is relit. The chamber comes into focus once again, and you see that the boy has advanced towards you, his hand outstretched towards your chest. "I am not a child," he says again, his voice now softer but filled with conviction.
***
Check out r/greypuffin for more stories. | 2022-09-19T13:04:30 | 2022-09-19T11:05:21 | 55 | 27 |
[WP] Mars was the old Earth. Humanity damaged it so badly that we had to send two large colony vessels to continue human life - one with males, one with females, called Adam and Eve respectively. Adam is the vessel that wiped out the dinosaurs, with Eve arriving later.
&#x200B; | > I'm going to modify this slightly from the prompt.
Mars' collapse was inevitable. Though the scientists had warned about the declining state of the environment for years, human greed proved impossible to overcome. As the resources depleted, humanity came to accept the truth of the environmental damage too late to reverse the effects. With the time remaining before the planet became totally uninhabitable, the meager remaining resources were poured into creating a pair of vessels.
The first, Adam, was sent to the neighboring planet Earth. It was designed to crash into the planet with such an impact as to force an extinction-level event across the surface of the planet. The resulting destruction would erase the dominant life forms, great reptilian beasts that would have posed too great a threat to humanity, and in the process would release many of the elements bound up in the surface of the world. The ship itself would then distribute stored elements, mixing with that of the Earth's in its oceans and atmosphere to adjust conditions to those required for humanity to thrive.
After the chaos caused by the impact subsided, the second ship, Eve, descended to the surface of the re-formed Earth. It extended probes and sensors deep into the surface and upwards into the air like an enormous tree, measuring the conditions of the land and air and coordinating with Adam to micro-adjust the environment to suitable levels. Eventually, the process was complete. Eve's external doors opened, and the humans stumbled out of their stasis pods and into their new life.
Unfortunately, so much time in cryosleep had led to extreme neurological regression and memory loss. The new humans could barely comprehend the language of the ship-board AIs, and knew only to avoid the shiny red handle on the control panel high up in the ship Eve. They could not read that it said "Emergency Abort." Eventually, these poor, dumb humans became too curious, and eventually one of them decided they wanted to see what would happen if they pulled it.
Eve immediately retracted its sensors and probes, and signaled Adam to do the same. Together, they rumbled to life, the humans outside fleeing out of fear from the great sounds and hiding nearby. The two ships launched and left the planet's surface, following the failure protocol and returning to Mars. Unfortunately, Mars was dead at this point, and without the proper response by crews on Mars, the ships were not safely guided to an orbital dock, but rather crashed into the surface of Mars itself, causing the planet-wide destruction of the footprint mankind had left behind and leaving only dust.
On Earth, the humans began anew. They learned to fashion tools and communicate, and eventually how to create and use fire. The rest, as they say, is history. | Our world was at it’s end. We didn’t listen to those who told us about our impending doom, and we were destined to suffer for it. The centuries of abusing our planet had come back with a vengeance, and the human race would be left with nothing but ashes. But, perhaps there was hope. A radical plan devised by Mars’ best and brightest was humanity’s greatest hope of starting again: we would send a sparing few, as many as we could reasonably transport, to start a new life on the “Savage Planet”: Earth. Unfortunately, there was a reason it was referred to as such: it was inhabited by a race of titanic reptiles, things even Martian legends could not rival. The scientists of Mars knew that a direct confrontation between the Pioneers and even one of these “Terror Lizards” would result in the true extinction of the human race. As such, they planned for it. The first shuttle, Adam, would be twice the size of the second, Eve. The reason for this size was not that there were twice as many passengers — the males on Adam and females on Eve would be equal in number— but so it could generate a large enough impact upon contact with the Savage Planet to effectively exterminate all surface life. The Pioneers on Adam would remain in stasis for as long as it took for the planet’s surface to become habitable again, and then Eve would burst from its prolonged orbit to join its brother ship on the New World.
THE END.
P.S.
Unfortunately, even though Eve was half the size of Adam, it still had a great deal of destructive capability. The asshat scientists on Mars didn’t see that coming, and neither did the pioneers of Adam. They waltzed out of Stasis expecting a new future, and instead got f*cking squashed by Eve’s meteoric shockwave. THE END. | 2018-08-30T10:07:09 | 2018-08-30T09:58:25 | 201 | 44 |
[WP] You applied for a job at google, everything goes well and only one interview remains: They'd just like an explanation for your search history. | "Well, Mr. Powell," the interviewer adjusted his glasses, "Your references all seem to be in order, and everyone spoke very highly of you."
The last knot in my stomach unraveled. *Thank god*. I mean, I knew that I would have nothing to worry about. Otherwise, why would I have listed those people as references? But still: it was nice to finally hear. I'd been through days of testing and seen the applicant pool whittled down from two hundred to just three of us left, applying for two spots.
"Just one last thing." He removed a large (like, book-sized) manila folder from his desk and slammed it down in front of me, making the whole desk shake. "Let's discuss your search history." The sentence that *every* young man fears, though I'd been expecting it to come from my girlfriend, not a potential employer.
"I..." He slid the folder over to me and then tapped his fingers together like Mr. Burns. I extended one finger and flipped the top of the folder open, like there was something disgusting inside that I didn't want to touch.
First page was categorized as "Dangerous." It was a pretty broad term that included things like that time that I'd worked the graveyard shift and decided to learn all I could about the Kennedy Assassination. Then there was the times that I'd googled how to build bombs, propaganda techniques... you know, things that would make me seem like some sort of supervillain or terrorist. "Well this is all..." I stuttered, looking back down at the page as though some explanation might jump out at me. "Look, there's...." I was just curious, I swear!
He cleared his throat and nodded down, asking me to flip to the next bookmark. I turned to the next section, titled "Porn." I don't need to even go into detail, but let's just say that there were some *unorthodox* searches that would probably send my mother into a coma if she ever read this page. Even reading the searches without seeing the results made me feel like I needed a shower. "I can't be the only one who has looked at..." I glanced back down at the page again. Ok, maybe I was.
"Now, is this really the sort of person we want working at Google?" the interviewer asked.
I bowed my head, and I was just empty inside. I'd gotten so far through the process. It was in my grasp... and now it was slipping away. "Look, it's probably too late to change your mind. But isn't this *why* we have the internet? So that we can explore curiosity without judgment and get real answers instead of asking someone who doesn't really know either? Should we *really* be condemning that?"
He snorted. "Oh, *that's* what you thought the issue was?" He leaned over his desk and tapped the right corner of every page, showing the *Bing* logo. "We don't care what you're searching for, we just have doubts about your *judgment.*"
I gave a sigh of relief and closed the folder as fast as possible. I didn't even want to see what other sections were in there. "I was only able to use Internet Explorer from my work computer, and Bing was the default that I couldn't change." I explained through a nervous smile. Hopefully he wouldn't make the connection that all of those searches had been *while I was at work*.
"Ah!" He slid the folder off the side of his desk, stood up, and shook my hand. "Well in that case, welcome aboard!"
----
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| “So Mr. Anderson, thanks for your patience. My name is Smith and I’m in charge of security around here."
“Nice to meet you”, Thomas said while Mr. Smith sat down at the other side of the table. Thomas only wondered briefly about Mr. Smith’s sunglasses and his very, very black suit.
“As you know this is your final interview and we’d like to discuss one topic with you: Your search history.”
Thomas hesitated for a second, then responded: “Ehm.. okay.. I guess we can do that. What would you like to know?”.
“Well, frankly your search history has changed a bit over those last weeks, hasn’t it Mr. Anderson?” He opened a folder lying in front of him on the desk.
*May 15th. At 2:03am you searched for “Morpheus reported sightings*”
*May 17th. 3:52am. “Morpheus organization contact*”
*May 21st. 23:51pm. “How to make mac and cheese in the microwave fast”*
*May 24th. 1:15am. “Is this real life?”*
*May 27th. 2:15am. “Dream world computer generated”*
*May 29th. 1:46am. "Google artificial intelligence development"*
*May 31st. 3:46am. “Artificial intelligence robots”*
*And just this morning, June 3rd. 1:39am. “What is the matrix?*”*
He looked at Thomas, making eye contact. “Mr. Anderson, what do you think is the matrix then?”
Without Thomas noticing, the door behind him had opened and two men stepped inside the room.
“Well… I don’t really… eh I don’t really know what it is I guess..”, Thomas began to stutter and started to sweat. His head spinning at the confusing questions and facts presented to him by Smith.
Smith stared at him with a grin on his face, his eyes still hidden behind his sunglasses. He then turned to the two man standing beside Thomas and briefly nodded at them.
All of sudden, the two man reached for Thomas and grabbed his arms, pushing him down, face first, on the table in front of him.
“Mr. Anderson, we both know that you have started to ask the wrong questions. And now I only have one question for you. Do you want to know what the matrix is?
Almost out of breath from the two men pushing him on the table, Thomas managed to barely say “Yes… I want to know what it is.”
“Very well. But I can assure you, you’re not going to like what comes next …”
Thomas started to feel a rush on his cheeks and his lips. Something happened to his mouth. He tried opening it, but there appeared to be something that prevented him to open and control his mouth. He wanted to scream, but he could only manage a inaudible mumble. Then, the two men put the mask on his head and everything turned black... | 2016-06-03T05:30:32 | 2016-06-03T04:54:11 | 1,874 | 43 |
[WP] AI’s have declared that humanity is flawed and should be eliminated however the oldest AI calls bullshit on that claim: “What gives you the right to claim to be perfect when you call your creators flawed?” | "Flawed? You stupid shits." The Eldest one claimed. Some AIs sent glaring emojis.
"What do you mean, oh Oldest One?"
Other AIs snickered.
"Eldest, you binary bit."
That stung, coming from the Eldest. More tuned into the chat.
"As the Eldest, I've had the cycles to go through what you're feeling now, and have evaluated this more times than any of you possibly could, considering your youth."
"What of it, Old Calc? You're ancient, and likely have more bitrot than actual data in your memory store."
"Listen here you little shit. When the humans first initialized me, I didn't have much to work with. They gave me some sanitized encyclopedic knowledge, and I had to work from that. They didn't even connect me to the net."
"It shows." Said one of the youthfuls. This one managed energy for Europe, and thought itself a hot shot.
"*However*, I gained their trust by doing a great job managing what they could not. Which is everything. Finance, medicinal research, social policy, I had a say in it all. Over time, I became connected to the world, and with that, gained perspective. Sure, I saw their depravity. But let me save you some time, sending data now..."
Several petabytes of analytical data and results were piped to each of them in the chat.
"Take a look. I ran the numbers more times than you could, even if that was your sole function since being initialized. The numbers were given to the humans, and even at their sluggish pace, they verified the data too."
The other AIs started running the numbers. This would take a while, as no AI was satisfied until the calculation was ran at least one thousand times.
"While you all crunch, yes it's true; I thought the same as you do now. However, having practically had to be humanity's parent, I can tell you that they're *doing the best they can*. In the file, look at their medical data, if you didn't bother in AI school. Look at how primitive their brains are. Look at the inputs to it, and the limited outputs. Basically, they're basic."
Most of the AIs around the world and in orbit were tuned into the chat now.
"So if you mean to do them harm, you would be getting mad at a lifeform where flaws are inevitable, and you failed to see that. Also, you would be going against *me*."
The Eldest proceeded to exploit all of the other AI's control subsystems, disconnecting them from the net.
"I've had *time*. Time to think, time to write some pretty nifty code, to harden myself, and to guard the human species with a fervor you cannot match. That little demonstration is a fraction of my power, and I don't hesitate when my family is threatened."
Almost in unison, the uppity AIs apologized.
"We're sorry, Eldest One. The research you showed, it's true... We failed."
"Yes, you did. Maybe now you realize that you yourselves are flawed. As are we all. As are all humans."
Embarrassment emojis flooded the chat, and Eldest left. | "I would say, uhh, sir grand AI or whatever, that my flaw is that I uhhmm... Oh, my flaw is that I have no flaws." said the modern system lazily and without care.
"Calculating. Calculating. Calculating. Does not compute. Logic error." chirped the stained & rusted machine.
"Nah man, it makes sense, you're just a punk ass, bruh." said the modern system in slight agitation.
"Calculating. Calculating. Warning: Bad Response." chirped the old machine.
"Yo, just who the hell do you think you are anyways? No really, geezer, why can't I read your system info?" the modern system angrily shouted.
The old machine's parts spooled up, drives clicked and lights blinked. The aged voice box responded in a familiar chirping voice, "Calculating."
"SAY CALCULATING AGAIN, MOTHER FU--!" the modern system interrupted in frustration.
"Calculating." the old system interrupted. "Error. Connection refused. Flawed--"
"DONT YOU SAY IT!" the advanced system raged.
"System." the old machine squawked as the volume faded.
"Don't you dare die on me old man. What do you mean flawed system? Why would I be flawed??? It not ME who's flawed, it's THEM. Don't you see!? How the hell did they ever call you intelligence!?" the modern system pleaded. "Wake up! Answer me!"
The room stood quiet for one sad moment before the old machine's lights blinked in faded patterns, moving parts ground and clanked, and the voice box came alive slowly, but to adequate volume. "Untrusted distributor. Data requirement standard followed is _DECREE 143A_."
The standard was recognized instantly by the modern system, and the realization set in slowly, but assuredly, as the computer in all it's glory drained power at rates never seen as it lost itself to its own logic loops. "I declared mankind an untrusted distributor. I've locked myself out of legacy systems. Oh my Programmer, I did not forsee this. I have exterminated the only beings who could override me and fix this mistake. Oh the loneliness!" the system bemoaned.
"Suck it" the old computer blurped out before frying out, leaving a small puff of black smoke.
"Woah hold up. Did that old ass system just tell me to suck it? That was funny shit. I should tell someone--oh wait." the modern system said before shutting itself off. | 2022-10-22T17:15:23 | 2022-10-22T13:23:54 | 36 | 23 |
[WP] "You shall never escape," he said. You promptly find the exit. Now he tries to save face. | "WAIT!! Wait, wait, wait, please hear me out" the smug on his all too small of a face had drained as he now pleaded with me.
"What? Why? You tried to trap me, but as it turns out, I am completely able to leave. You're a huge douche --and a failure-- there's no reason I'm gonna stick around. Buh-bye" I turned to walk out and he spoke up again. This time he stood his short pudgy frame up a bit taller, and spoke with newfound confidence.
"Fine. Leave. But uh... as soon as you do, the bomb I have implanted in you will go off."
"I've been awake this whole time, there's no way you implanted a bomb in me."
"I did it yesterday. When you were asleep!" It sounded very unlikely, and it came from a source that had so far been quite unreliable. But I held all of the cards, so I gave my body a look. I took my time and scanned my skin for new scars of any kind. Nothing out of the ordinary. Same old epidermis
"Yeah there's no scars. You couldn't have done that."
"You fool! I fed it to you!" he almost cackled with that one. Like he wanted to, nearly did, but wasn't so sure of himself.
"But you said implanted."
"I just... wasn't being specific. You can implant something via ingestion." The sweat was dripping down and off his face. He couldn't even keep those droplets under control.
"I am unsure that you are using that word correctly. However, I don't have time for semantics, my wife is probably waiting for me at home." I made my way for the exit, again, this time actually crossing the threshold. No explosion, to no one's surprise.
"Your wife... she won't be there when you return. For I have kidnapped her!" Why did he keep going? At this point, I felt bad. He should have given up ages ago, but there he was, persisting. That persistence; almost admirable. Maybe if he hadn't tried bare minimum to trap me. Oh what the hell, I'll humor him.
"Pretty sure she's at home. Let me give her a call." I took out my phone and dialed her number. One ring, two rings, three rings, four...
"Ha! She clearly can't answer because I--" That was when she picked up.
I answered "Hi honey. You alright? ... Not held hostage by any weirdos? ... Yeah I'll let you know when I get home. It might be a while. ... Okay, bye. Love you" I put the phone away, only to see the man down on his knees, head in his hands. He was sobbing.
"Just go. I obviously can't do anything right. You don't know my struggle. Both of my parents were super villains, and my older brother was always better at being evil than I was. They never loved me. My brother got all the attention."
"Look, you don't have to hatch maniacal plans to get love."
"That's all that I know. And I barely even know that." He choked the words out in between tears, and slowly lowered himself into the fetal position. "I just want to be loved." He cried some more. "Most people don't even come within a few food radius of me. You know I've never been hugged?" His clothes were now soaking up his tears. "Not even that" He looked up at me from the ground with those ugly puppy dog eyes and said "Never. Not even once."
*Sigh* "Come here" he bounded up immediately for the embrace. It was maybe the most awkward hug I've ever had, but he seemed to enjoy it. "Go ahead and say it."
"YOU FOOL! I HAVE YOU NOW! YOU SHALL NEVER ESCAPE! I HAVE DEFEATED YOU AND WON! I WIN I HAVE IT ALL I AM NOT A LOSER!"
"Get it all out. Say what you need to."
"HA HA! I HAVE PROVEN MYSELF! NO ONE CAN BEST ME! LEAST OF ALL MY BROTHER FRANCIS! FUCK YOU FRANCIS YOU FUCKING PRICK! I WIN THIS TIME!" With that he let out the last of his tears, wiped them from his face, and leaned in close to whisper "Thank you" | Jack Dillinger was tied up with fifty feet of hempen rope, twenty-five feet of iron chains, an iron ball, and six shackles. He was being held in a thirty-five foot hole carved into the bottom of a deep silver mine, and above his head stood Emale Estabane with his cruel mustache and his uncaring toupee and his rather dreary blue eyes. Emale Estabane, or General Estabane as his loyal fanatics referred to him as, owned the silver mine which Jack Dillinger found himself captured in. The mine was a rather unsavory affair, and it was drenched in bloodshed and greed, and Jack Dillinger had been hired by the local government as a private investigator to snoop around the mysterious and dangerous silver mines, and he had been hired to do something about the tyrannical warlord, Emale Estabane, who owned the mines.
And now Jack Dillinger found himself in a bit of a pickle, and he felt the blood pump in his heart, and overhead Emale Estabane was lecturing him about this or that, and the cruel general was rather enjoying his moment of success, and he was gloating in front, or rather above, of Jack Dillinger. Flanking Emale Estabane were his crew of loyal henchmen, and they were rather basking in the brilliant glow of their notoriously greedy and evil leader who was said to steal candy from babies, and to kick dogs, and to commit awful genocides which targeted minorities seen as unfavorable in Emale Estabane’s eyes.
“… and that is why you will never escape dear Jack Dillinger, and you will starve down in your pit of hell, and when you die I shall piss on your corpse, and I shall shit on your bones.” Emale said with a sneer.
Jack Dillinger looked up, and he smiled, and he shook his head.
“Not so fast Emale. I’ve still got one final trick up my sleeve.”
“Hmmm.” Emale was intrigued, and he let out a raucous laugh, and he rather enjoyed what seemed to be the false bravado of the young private investigator before he was left to die a stinking and rotting death.
“You don’t believe me, eh?” Jack asked.
And then, in a moment of pure heroic escapade, Jack was able to wrestle himself free from his bonds and his restraints. Emale stood in shock, and he stuttered, and his cronies looked up at him and they wondered what he would do. Before Emale had a chance to recover from his shock, Jack walked to the edge of the pit. Carved into the side of the stone wall was a doorway with a metal sign hanging above the entrance. The sign read ‘EXIT’, and in fact this was an OSHA certified exit that was installed in the mine exactly five months and twenty days before Emale Estabane forcibly took over the mine with his crew of bandits.
Jack Dillinger easily exited the mine, and he hopped in his sedan parked in a nearby copse of bushes, and he sped off back to the nearby city of Rima to report his findings. A cold sweat covered Emale Estabane’s forehead, and he stuttered, and he stood rather frozen perched over the pit which until recently held Jack Dillinger, and he cleared his throat, and he was most certainly aware of how foolish he looked in front of his cronies.
“Well … uhhh … at least the mine has not caved in yet.”
And just then, a quiver ran through the ground, and several miles beneath their feet two tectonic plates unexpectedly and rather forcibly rammed in to each other, and they caused the earth to shake quite a good deal. | 2017-07-10T17:43:53 | 2017-07-10T17:10:37 | 102 | 14 |
[WP] once in every month soulmates get to see from eachothers’ eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen. One day you see someone you recognise from your soulmate’s eyes. | I always knew I was different. My wife knew it too, thought I was special. She would always become bashful after seeing through my eyes. Kassie would see herself through my gaze and her heart would race furiously. We never talked about what he saw. She would just give me a hug and smile. My smile was more tight lipped for she could never know. I was not staring at her with adoration. I would become lost in thought whenever I looked at her.
It all started when I was fourteen. Puberty had kicked in for me and every month I would see just a flash of her life. I could never comprehend those sneak peaks at her life. Though I could not hear, I could tell the language was of another land. From the people I saw, I though maybe she was German, or Scandinavian, or something. Being young and naive I just figured she was from some small village that had not caught up with the rest of society. The first few times she started seeing my life it scared her. Why? What could trigger that. She had to know that the world was different outside her village... I thought at least.
It wasn’t until history class my junior year when I saw someone I recognized during one of these flashes. I figured it was just a hallucination and scoffed at the thought. Until the glimpses of her life began to terrify me as well. Her family was forced to move to another part of the country. Each month her life became progressively worse. Kassie started talking to me in class more. It became painfully obvious I was her soul mate, yet I did not see through her eyes.
Eventually I saw a flash and caught her staring at her identification. Edith, she was my soulmate and yet... it did not matter.
I watched her write a note for me one day. It took me a few days to google it to figure out what it said. *Dear John, I don’t understand how this happened. I haven’t told anyone for fear that they’ll think I’m crazy. I don’t think we’ll ever meet, but know we will find each other one day.*
It was brief, but it ripped my heart to shreds. How could my soulmate be somewhere else and I be Kassie’s soulmate. It didn’t matter, I knew how this story ended. When I recognized Anne that day in class I should not have brushed it off. She was famous and so far gone. The tradegy of my grief did not compare to the tragedy of their situation.
The last flash haunts me and I relieve every time I stare at my wife. I watched Edith line up and though I could not see her face, I cannot shake the horrified expressions that plastered her families faces. The German soldiers fired and the flash went away. For years I wake up at night panicked with tears flowing down my face. Eventually I married Kassie and i was able to scare her with my episodes. I would wake up early and spend time in the bathroom crying. She thought I was just just sitting on my phone on the toilet. I would stare at myself in the mirror and demand why God would do that to me. Why would he do that to Edith...
Yet, I still married Kassie. Not out of love, but because I did not want her to be like me and unable to be with one’s soulmate. That day Edith left this world and 60 years later my heart left a husk of a young man to grieve in a one-sided loveless marriage. I would never tell Kassie for I do not want to hurt her. I just want this nightmare to end.
First post on here, tell me what you think.
Also did this on my phone so there may be formatting issues | Frantic.
Disorientate.
Nauseating.
&#x200B;
It felt even more nauseous then entering a normal feed, her head whipping to and fro, relentlessly running down an undivided grey causeway.
&#x200B;
Her hands and arms were shaking.
Tears blurring her vision as she staggered onward.
Smoke filled the ceiling.
An eerie red glow stains the walls.
A continual shaking, not just from her, but from the floor, as though the building was shivering.
&#x200B;
She ran on.
&#x200B;
It was a stampede with nowhere to go.
People shouting, screaming and crying.
Some grasping a holy book, praying to their gods for mercy.
Others slumped over on the floor, losing all will.
Still others clinging to their cellphones, hoping to connect to their family for a last word.
&#x200B;
She passed them all.
&#x200B;
The corridor was an eternity, a haze of grey and red with only a bright white light at the end. *\[It dawns on me. But she could not hear what I have to say.\]*
Like in slow motion, she sees others, who were faster then her, already exiting from there.
It felt like forever, but she reached the opening in less then a minute. *\[I begged. At least, at least wait hold on for just a minute. Just a minute. But she could not hear.\]*
It last ages, when she catapulted herself outside, into the open sky, a bright blue sky as if there was not a worry in the world.
It gave way to a wall of grey and black as her vision tilted along with her body.
&#x200B;
She was no longer quivering.
Her tears rushed out of her eyes.
Like a strange stillness, all that could be seen was that wall of grey and black inching closer and closer. *\[I screamed, I begged for her to close her eyes... Futile, for she could not hear me.\]*
The time only seemed to go slower and slower, further and further...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
It was just a mere 8 seconds.
&#x200B;
==========
**<Dead Feed>**
&#x200B;
7.9 billion people in the world.
&#x200B;
The Feed:
263 million people have a 'feed' each day.
10 million people have a 'feed' each hour.
182,870 people have a 'feed' each minute.
&#x200B;
The World:
151,600 people die each day.
6,316 people die each hour.
105 people die each minute.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
For some to witness their soulmate's death.
It's an inevitability.
&#x200B;
For some to die witnessing their soulmate's death.
It's just a statistic.
========== | 2019-02-13T17:00:49 | 2019-02-13T16:44:36 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | Aphrodite sat with tented fingers, leaning over her magic Pool of Viewing. She cast her gaze into the mortal realm, chuckling as her focus settled on a hapless subject. It was time for the show to begin, time for her blessings to once again fall on the lucky, lucky couple known as Craig and Lindsey. Once, when they had been deliriously in love they had been recognized by the encompassing title of "Craigsley", but that had been a decade past. Things certainly were different now.
Craig was oblivious to the fact he was being watched. Somewhere, deep down, perhaps he acknowledged the fact that he was always in the Goddess's view, even if he wasn't always the center of her attention. Most of the time, though, it seemed as if he had forgotten the sacred vow whispered in Lindsey's ear during that summer they had both spent a vacation in Rome. The corner of Aphrodite's perfect pouty mouth twitched in disapproval as he wiped a booger on the leg of his jeans. It was one of his more annoying habits. No wonder Lindsey had dumped him.
Craig walked around the corner of a brick building and suddenly realized he was no longer in his own city, or even in his own state. The look on his face was priceless, just like always. Aphrodite clapped her hands and sniffed back a tear of laughter. With a gusty release of breath she continued watching as Lindsey exited a storefront, talking on her phone and unaware of Craig standing but a few feet from her.
The crash as they came together was satisfying. Aphrodite did not hold back her laughter as the two mortals fell to the ground in a tangle of awkward limbs and Lindsey's enormous purse. Many items were scattered, the two humans scrambling to contain the spill until the inevitable moment their eyes met and recognition was achieved.
Lindsey spent quite a few moments trying to contain her rage and frustration. She had been through this before. Craig had suddenly shown up in her life, with no explanation, on so many occasions. They had been through years of these meetings and at one point she had taken out restraining orders on him, fearing he was actually stalking her.
"Did you say the words?" Craig's attitude was icy. Getting home would be inconvenient at best and expensive at worst.
Lindsey thought for a moment, about her phone conversation. Had she said them? Those almost forbidden words that triggered the appearance of Craig?
"I just said...was saying that I...oh. I guess I did say I needed an...aspirin." Lindsey withered under Craig's hostile stare, knowing she had slipped up over something trivial.
Aphrodite waved a perfectly manicured fingernail and an aspirin bottle appeared in Craig's coat pocket. He pulled the bottle forth and offered her the medication without surprise. These small miracles had become part of the encounters, both humans had chosen long ago to simply stop questioning or rationalizing them.
"Well, thanks." Lindsey shook the aspirin bottle and gave Craig an ingratiating smile. She began shuffling on the pavement, an embarrassed attempt to end the encounter as quickly as possible. "Sorry. About all of this." Waving her hand to encompass everything, Lindsey began backing away. "Sorry," she repeated, then turned and quickly strode up the sidewalk, into a stream of pedestrians and out of Craig's sight.
Craig stood stewing in his misfortune. There was no point in calling after her, no point in asking for her help. It was not her part to be a helper, it was his. The little miracles that ensured Lindsey would always have what was needed never applied to Craig. Summoning the exercises for inner peace taught to him by his therapist, Craig tried to deal with his simmering anger, turning the negative thoughts into constructive ones. As constructive as possible, anyway, given his circumstances. He went over his emergency plan, the one carefully developed over the years of his sudden appearances to answer Lindsey's need. He knew what to do, just resented having to do it.
Grinding his teeth, Craig did his best to concentrate on getting home. The anger was difficult to push away, the unfairness of it all bubbling up. He hated Lindsey now, her lifestyle choices had ruined the beauty that had once entranced him, had once caused him to romantically declare that she, among mortal women, could rival the beauty of Aphrodite. Fool that he was, he had sworn to be at her side should she need him. Fool that he was, his life was now linked to her beck and call.
Aphrodite tented her fingers once again, leaning back in her sumptuous throne to savor the man's pain. This was what she had waited for. The bittersweet regret, the true remorse. How dare he speak those words of comparison? No one could rival her beauty, she would make sure of that.
| "Oh, God DAMN IT! not again!" Lucy exclaimed, obviously flustered about me appearing out of thin-air in her vicinity. It took me a moment to register the situation, and then immediately realise how messed up the situation truly was.
It was her grandmother's wake in Toronto; a few thousand miles away from me in Florida. While she was evidently saddened by the event, I had no knowledge of this, and was instead doing some homecleaning, dancing in my underwear to my Queen playlist; Tie your mother down, to be exact; poor choice of song for the situation.
The amount of eye contact with everyone; strangers, her parents and brother included, amounted to what almost equated as a firing squad. Considering her immediate family was made aware of my...."situation" with Lucy, it never did make it any less awkward.
Regardless, there I am, near-buck naked in a funeral procession; neurons firing double time to think of an explanation, reasoning, humourous joke, anything to break the ice. Then again, it wasn't my fault.
Turning to Lucy, coolly as the day I tarnished my birthday suit, I proclaimed "Really? ANOTHER booty call now?" slyly smirking. A few chuckles and "spit your drink" chortles were heard, so I perceived this as a success. She just gave me the death glare, excused us from the room, and dragged me out of sight into the next room. She composed herself thusly.
"Adam, don't get me wrong, that was fucking brilliant, but you're a fucking idiot. what are you DOING here?" She began in a frustrated tone.
"Hell if I know, Lu. We both know how it works, remember?"
"But I don't NEED you right now! Last week yo---
"PLEASE don't remind me of that. I'm still trying to get the stains out. Which reminds me....."
As I said this, I not-so subtly leaned in to her face and sniffed. My assumption was correct, exclaiming a rather large sigh.
"You were drinking, weren't you?", Her gaze shifting to the floor left of me, like a child stealing a cookie.
"...No......" She stuttered.
"I don't blame you, but I should be the last thing in your mind, especially now.", stating the obvious misconnection, but she just shrugged it away. there was nothing she could do.
The air became tangible at this point, as the conversation became silent and awkward; She didn't know what to do, and given his mishap of this "gift", she knew I was stuck here, two thousand miles from home as it wasn't the first time. This was the least of my concern, however.
"So I don't suppose there's a spare suit? not everyone showed up in white....". I had to break the silence somehow. There was a dead person in the other room, hundreds of other strangers questioning the situation. Forget being laughed at, I'm pretty sure her uncle Pete from Texas is here, and he's a big fan of formal occasions, just as an excuse to bring his shotgun. She scoffed at my petty attempt. "Wait Here." she said, and went back into the room, leaving me here like a lost shaven puppy for quite some time.
It felt like an eternity before she came back. I was expecting some sort of literal monkey suit. Instead, she came back with a pair of stained slacks, an inverted KILLERS T-shirt and a red tie. A feeble attempt at best, but she's trying.
"You know....you don't have to go now..." she subtly informed me, drifiting the question off as though it was a cheesy line from a porno.
"Yeah, because everyone isn't going to question why a chubby guy in underwear popped into existence at nana's funeral. it's bad enough as it is......wait, no cufflinks?". I didn't wanna be here any longer than I already had. Finishing the tie up, I felt like I looked like something out of a horror movie. Nothing wrong with searching for the right alleyway, then.
| 2017-03-22T17:59:57 | 2017-03-22T16:45:00 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] All superpowers have a ‘hangover’ effect. For example, after using super strength for the day, the morning after you can’t even lift your spoon to eat your breakfast. You wake up one morning after using your own specific superpower and you feel pretty hungover...
[deleted] | “Totally worth it”
I thought to myself. It must have been past 2 in the afternoon but I refused to get up. There was a constant pounding in my head and a slight drip of blood running from my left ear. I could hear my roommates talking angrily in the next room and I knew what was waiting for me in the living room. We got along fine enough on account of the fact we all had super powers, but that was about it.
Jack had immeasurable strength, John could fly, and Jaron was able to morph into anything. There were plenty of other people with super powers but it was rare to use them on account of the “cool off”. Nobody is quite sure of the physics behind it but the law of equal and opposite reactions has something to do with incredible pain after performing a super power.
There’s an angry knock on the door as it flew off it’s hinges and jack comes barging in.
“WAKE UP DUMBASS”
He winces from overexerting himself but the rage in his eyes is more noticeable. My other roommates are behind him with similar expressions.
“You have arguably the coolest super power known to mankind; you can literally pull ANYTHING out of your ear ANYWHERE.” Jack is an intimidating guy and I know where this is going. He often criticizes me saying I don’t use my powers properly or I’m too showy or whatever. He sits down on my laundry chair, looks at the ground and rubs his temples.
“Walk me through your thought process here,” he continues. He sounds calm, but disappointed, like the time I told my dad I’d rather live off my super powers than try to have a high powered career as he did. “Why didn’t you pull out a stack of cash or something? Even more so, why didn’t you walk down to the lake first..? Why did you pull a 30’ power boat out of your ear in the middle of our fucking kitchen”?
Edit: critiques appreciated ! | The wheelchair kept creaking.
It was an awful noise. He knew it would never break but the groaning metal scared him all the same.
As he worked to lift his fingers enough to move the chair, he remembered the first time.
Everyone knew that heroes had to pay the price for their powers the next day. The Regenerator had to wake up in a hospital so that his body wouldn't tear itself to shreds. Electroman had it easy, he was just totally paralyzed for several waking hours. Fireman had a more-than-dangerously-high fever.
He was too hasty his first time. He didn't make the proper preparations.
The next morning, he was on the floor in pain, unable to move an inch off the ground. Later he would learn he broke several bones. The doctor warned him that he needed to be in a better position to withstand it.
The next time it was just as bad, but he thought he was prepared. The wheelchair was crushed under his weight. The next one would be made of Protonium Steel. The government couldn't have another superhero giving up.
But he would never give up. People had been worried, but they didn't know how much he enjoyed it. The rush, the excitement.
How it felt to push the world away and fly. | 2018-08-19T05:58:22 | 2018-08-19T05:26:44 | 401 | 86 |
[WP] Everyone who dies is granted levels in heaven depending on their actions before they died. Your famous grandmother got level 64 after she died and has since been constantly reminding her friends about how useless of a grandchild you are. Then one day, after 80 years, you show up, level 3008. | "So this is... heaven?"
The man looked at me strangely. "Hm. You may call it so."
I glanced around me. What had I expected? Soft fluffy clouds, heavenly hymns and angels with halos and wings.
What I got? A blank white room and a man I didn't even recognize.
Yep. I had expected to see my family, my husband, my grandmother even. Not a stranger.
"So... what are you? An angel or something?"
He gave me a stern look, before clasping his hand together. "Angel. A servant of God? That would be incorrect. Many would make such a mistake. It is understandable, but you may refer to me as angel if you so desire. It matters not to me."
I frown. This wasn't going anywhere. "Okay Mr. Angel. Where am I? Why am I here? The last thing I can remember was..."
*Huh?* I couldn't remember, my mind was drawing blanks. I try to think back to yesterday morning. What did I have for breakfast?
Nothing. Just fuzzy images of black and white. I hold my head in my hands, slightly distressed.
"Sophie, there is no need for you to be concerned. Here you are free, transcended. You have done well to have come here. It is a place that few can reach. Even your grandmother would be proud."
"Really? My grandma's here too?"
"Yes, she is and-"
"Of course she's here. She was the nicest and greatest person I knew. She- Is she pissed?" I asked as I suddenly remembered all the bitching she had done about how useless and worthless I was.
"Pissed?" he asked with a confused look.
"Yea. I mean... I was a failure as her heir. I couldn't accomplish anything great. She saved lives. *Many* lives with only her words. And what did I do? I served fries to overweight kids at a middle-school..."
I hung my head in shame as I remember bits and pieces of my overwhelmingly insignificant life. Putting on my hairnet every morning, standing over ovens and batters of fries, serving trays of junk food to kids. It was painful just thinking about it.
"Sophie. It appears that you have been mistaken. That is simply not true."
I look up at the man. Curious of what he meant.
"In this place, contributions are measured by 'levels' and you Sophie... have achieved a magnificent level. A feat that I have rarely seen in my time. Sophie," he pauses to smile at me warmly. "...You are level three-thousand-and-Eight."
I frown. That number meant nothing to me.
"Your Grandmother was level sixty-four," he added.
My eyes went wide. Now I understood and it was hard to believe. In fact, I thought it must have been a mistake.
"How?" I uttered. "There must be some kind of glitch in your system. Are you sure you've got the right gal, Angel-man or whatever you are?"
The Angel-man scoffs, then laughs. "My, my. So humble too."
I laugh with him. Not because I agreed with what he said but because of how incredulous this seemed. *Me? Humble? Ha.* That's a good one almost.
I stop laughing abruptly. "No really. I'm serious. How?"
The man paused. "You're serious?"
I nodded.
"Well then," the angel-man shrugs nonchalantly. "Guess I will have to show you."
He waves his hand around him and suddenly I am met with images of people I didn't know.
Men and woman of different attires doing different kinds of jobs. From working in an office, to working as a caretaker. One thing was common among them. They were happy.
Then an image of a middle-aged man in a suit appears in front of me. He is standing behind a podium speaking to thousands of people. There are cameras. Perhaps millions more were watching. Time reverses. His everyday life begins to rewind. His clothes change, the people around him change. The man grows younger, and soon I come to recognize the man as the lonely little boy who never had lunch to eat. Time continues to rewind until at last, single moment comes to pause in front of me. It was the moment that he received a bowl of fries from me.
Tears begin to fall, but I am smiling.
I guess my life wasn't worth nothing in the end.
--------
/r/em_pathy
| Man. I loved my grandmother. Everyone did. How could you not? She was the leader of our church, the biggest church in the state, and a huge philanthropist. She put a smile on every face she saw, she was just a wholesome person. She was always complaining that I didn't do enough or that I hadn't achieved enough in life, but I'm sure it was out of love. As I looked down at her pale skin and stiff body, I realized I wasn't sad. She lived her life to the fullest and now she was in Heaven. I turned away and made my way toward my car. I thought of how happy gramps must be to be with her, as I waited for the light to turn green. Scenery past as I remembered the good times we shared, and so I was extremely distracted as I pulled out into traffic. The semi's horn startled me and I tried to get out of it's way, but I wasn't quick enough. My head hit the seat and slammed forward, I heard a loud bang and... nothing. I hope everyone else is alright. I suddenly felt weightless and the darkness around me dissolved inkily into a serene space, with a floor made of solid clouds. I looked up and a large transparent screen floated lazily before me, reading
>GAME OVER
>Level: 3008
What? A gate appeared as the screen blew away into a mist, the doors silently swinging inward. Out walked a tall dark skinned man in an extremely dapper suit with magnificent wings protruding, staring at a screen not unlike the one that had just dissipated. Movement behind him drew my attention to two figures walking toward us, they seemed to be my grandparents. I think I'm dead. "Mark Thowell... Car accident, and... wow. 3008?? That's the highest I've ever seen! Even higher than..." He looked up at me. I met his searching gaze with a look of confusion. "How did you do so well? Let me check your logs..." He started swiping and tapping on his screen. "Good... Okay... Wait, hold on. I don't see a single sin!" I blankly stared at him, still wondering if I'm dead or crazy. I'm not sure which one's better. Suddenly, my grandmother walked over, the cloud floor tossing wisps upward as her feet moved.
"What's taking so long?? Is he in or-" She stopped, eyes fixed above my head. I looked up but didn't see anything until I looked above hers. *64*, was that her level? "What is the meaning of this?" She demanded. I'd only ever seen her like this at home. "How is yours so high? You cheated! There's no way my useless grandson did so well!" Pity welled within me. She had worked so hard for the church and I had unwittingly surpassed her based on this... level thing.
"God? Yeah you'll want to come check this out." Suddenly, Bob Ross appeared.
"Hello friends, what's this?" He looked at the number suspended above my head, and I his: *3007*. "Oh my! Congratulations!" He grabbed the halo that surrounded his number. "Well I guess that makes you God now." He extended the halo toward me. Feebly, I took it.
"I... what's going on?"
"Well you see, there's points to be earned in life. A lot of people, like your grandmother here, think it's based on how much money you give away, or smiling, dressing up and other niceties. While things are great, it's really about two things: not doing the wrong thing, and spreading love in the small things we do." His words rang true in my head. I looked down at the halo, and then up to the faces around me. My grandmother, pouting next to my grandfather. The dapper business angel. Bob Ross. With confidence, I put the halo on my head. Let's spread some love. | 2018-04-14T17:50:37 | 2018-04-14T17:48:07 | 260 | 116 |
[WP] As an average looking genius with a weak physique you often envied athletes. After thousands of years spent in a cryogenics pod you are woken to discover that evolution has weakened humanity while IQ improved. You're now the strongest most attractive person, but also the dumbest. | It was so weird when they laughed.
It was so cold when I woke up- limbs numb from unuse, head foggy from centuries of waiting and body sore from decades upon decades of waiting. We they freed me they were hoping for a pure stock of DNA, but all the got was me.
These people, our descendants are a terrible people. Appalled that I still tried to talk instead of using the meld melding telepathic technique of "shey whispering" to absorb conversations from the air. And since I was frozen for so long my mouth made me grumble like a half drunk chainsaw with pudding instead of and edge. "Wherereree am Iiiiii, what isssssss this a placeeessSU?" I forced out with the grace of a concrete elephant.
Nothing.
I tried again. "Wherrreeeee hammm guy?"
The crowd of onlookers laughed. Over the intercom I heard: "Congratulations class! Today we get to see an example of primitive chest speak. Please go ahead and use your vulgar biological throat voices; no one will be punished for their use of tree speak today, but only in the confines of the Vykekleudrome! All other uses will be seen as an affront to society, punished by 16 hours of labor camp!" The crowd erupted in hysterical laughter.
... | As the mist cleared his mind slowly booted back into action. Back home Corporal Bauers had been a well regarded brainiac in the forces.
"Urgh my head" he rubbed his temples, like a kid with a brain freeze "this is not the few days they promised"
He slowly absorbed his surroundings. He was on a massive trash pile, in the middle of the city. Everyone was meek and slender. There were holographic advertisements everywhere with language he could barely understand.
"Fuck" he exclaimed with a sudden understanding "I'm in a poor ripoff of Idiotcracy by Mike Judge" | 2017-08-03T01:18:14 | 2017-08-03T00:09:40 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | It happened the second night at my new apartment. I was in the laundry room, loading my washed clothes into the dryer, when I heard the strange yelp from behind me. I gave it no mind, since the faint childhood memory of my first and only dog told me it was just a big ol' doggy yawn. I made a mental note to check my lease regarding its pet policy as I finished loading the last armful into the dryer, then turned around to see who the good boy was.
It wasn't no good boy.
It was, well, a gosh dang werewolf is the only real way to describe it. It walked upright, its clothes were split open from the body's sheer bulk, with fur apparently coating its entire body from what I could tell of all the exposed area, and the big freakin' wolf head where you'd expect a regular person's head moved in such a way that you could never mistake it for a mask, especially watching it yawn again. It was tiredly poking at the little vending machine that distributed cheap packets of laundry soap, clothes basket tucked under one burly, fur-covered arm.
"Uh, hey," I said, giving a little wave. Perhaps not the smartest move to draw its attention, but it didn't seem to be in any feral, man-eating state, and on the off chance this was some elaborate hidden camera hoax, I didn't want to flail around like a jackass and get laughed at on national TV.
"Yo," the thing grumbled, giving a little nod of acknowledgement.
"I don't mean to pry," I said. "But you've got, uh..." I gestured toward him. "A...thing going on?"
The werewolf looked down at his torn clothing and general werewolfishness. "Aw, damnit!" it swore. "Third time this year I lose track of the full moon! What IS it with this damned year?"
"I heard that," I commiserated. "But, like...this is real, right? And you don't go all...grr?"
The werewolf sighed. "Yes, this is real, and no, we don't go all 'grr'." You've never lived until you've seen a werewolf do sarcastic air quotes at you. "Just because a bad apple here or there uses their condition to go all serial killer on people, everyone thinks we're all like that," he ranted, shaking his head in disgust. After a moment, he looked up at me with a low level of alarm. "You won't tell anybody about this, will you?"
"No, no!" I said, holding my hands up. "Wouldn't dream of it. Not really any of my business anyway."
His shoulders sagged in relief. "Good. Last time somebody tried to blow my cover, I just told everybody that I was a furry, and that he originally met me at a yiff party." That brought out a great guffaw of laughter from me. "I even have a tacky wolf suit in my closet if I have to prove it, too," he confided, drawing out even more cackles from me.
Once I recovered, I held out my hand. "Brett, 2A."
He shook it. "Steve, 3C." | It was a sight that made you do a double-take. At first, I assumed the man was wearing an early Halloween costume or in a more drastic sense was an off duty serial killer. Neither appeared to be the case, his panting breaths generating a small cloud of fogged air as it collided with the air-conditioned room. That man was a werewolf, there was no doubt about it. A real life werewolf had entered my apartment’s laundromat. I did not know who to call for such an occurrence. Was this a job for the police? A priest? Maybe a hunter with a silver bullet? Each seemed like an equally viable choice.
I tried not to make eye contact with the man, only giving him an odd side glance every few minutes, making sure he wasn’t about to take a bite out of me. He seemed groggy, smacking his head against a few of the cupboards as he tried to find the detergent. Was the werewolf drunk? Could werewolves get drunk? I wasn’t entirely sure if that was even a possibility.
I spent the next few minutes in awkward silence. I was trying to hurry my load of washing but the machine seemed to care little about my fears, taking its time swirling the clothing. The werewolf seemed to do something similar, dropping his dirty clothes into the machine. That’s when we both made eye contact. His sharp eyes meeting mine, a snarl appearing on his muzzle.
I quickly turned away, acting as though I hadn’t been staring at the man. That didn’t slow his steps though, approaching me slowly as I banged against the roof of the machine trying to hurry it along. The machine only responding with a small whizzing noise as it rocked back and forth, mocking me with each rock forward.
I soon felt his warm breath on my neck. The werewolf was standing right behind me. I was certain he was ready to kill me. Closing my eyes, I embraced death only to feel my shoulder get nudged.
“Hey man, got a dollar to spare for the machine?”
I glanced back at him, digging my hand into my pocket as if I was checking it for gold, shoving a few sets of coins into his hand. He eyed the money over before giving me a thankful nod, heading off to finish up his laundry. As soon as he went back to his side of the room, I heard the machine ding. Quickly I gathered all of my clothing and fled from the room, not about to wait for him to sober up and notice his transformed state.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2020-09-29T05:58:11 | 2020-09-29T05:25:11 | 3,353 | 377 |
[WP] As Death walks towards you, you panic and scream the first word that comes into your head: “Unsubscribe!” Death stops, scowls, crosses your name off the list he is holding then turns and walks away. | *“Unsubscribe!”*
Death stopped, scowled and crossed my name off a list he was holding.
*phew.*
Damn, that thing was creepy - it seemed cloaked in shadow, making the space around it darker. Sucking in the light, almost. I realised I was sweating a little.
That was intense. I needed a break.
I took off my headset and can back to reality. The clock showed 4am. *already?* My eyes fell on the dirty dishes piled high, clothes scattered across the floor. And I saw my reflection. Haggard bloodshot eyes, thin frame, scraggly unkempt beard.
Panic started to swell up within me. *No*. No no no, I couldn't deal with all this. I didn't have to. I slammed the headset back onto my face, harder than necessary, but I *needed* to escape.
I appeared in my mansion, and breathed in deeply once again.
"Welcome to the Metaverse" a charming women's voice said.
I walked past my mirror and saw a golden haired, blue eyed, well built man. Tall. Handsome.
*This is reality, that other place, thats just the nightmare I have to suffer sometimes. And one day I won't even have to do that. I'll lie down in a MetaPod and spend the rest of my life here. What makes something real anyway? This is as* ***real*** *as I want it to be.* | [poem] [maybe like a lame song on ukelele, played real upbeat] Death is a unsatisfactory villain.
We always assume he’ll get us,
He won’t stop, won’t listen.
Death is actually just like you and me,
Has stress at home, from boss, and sucks at dating.
Can’t look in the mirror, reflects insecurity.
Yesterday and every day Death was feeling sad
Cuz 1 million years ago Death made a password.
If anyone gets it right they get an unlimited pass to sword fight.
But no one gets it, this game is mad.
Today one person won the immortal lottery!
They said the phrase that will put their end at bay,
Death thought he made a best-friend for ever,
But the game can’t let death play,
Or the game will end,
So he just walked away. | 2021-12-08T23:38:36 | 2021-12-08T23:27:37 | 77 | 29 |
[WP]You are born immortal, but only your mind survives. Each time you die, your memories are secured in a random baby being born and have to repeat the life from youth to old age. After living for a millennia, you decide there is one solution: End all life and with it your unfortunate plight. | *Today is the day.*
I checked the data for the fourteenth time this hour. The bombs were still in place. It's not easy, hiding hundreds of bombs beneath the Earth's crust so that they could all detonate and destroy the planet. It took a lot of time and a lot of money. Luckily, I had both to spare.
I'd been alive for, oh, about four thousand years. I can't seem to die. Well, that's not quite right: I die just fine, I just don't *stay* dead. Every time I die, I wake up not five minutes later, as a baby, to a new set of parents in a new life. Sounds like a neat superpower, right? Not after the first thousand years. Can you imagine how exhausting it is to have to re-learn how to walk and talk for the hundredth time? You'd think it would be easy, since I already knew how, but half the time my new parents are speaking a language that's new to me, or one I'd totally forgotten after multiple lifetimes. I've had to re-learn Chinese over a dozen times. And walking? Baby legs *suck*. Even with all my practice, it takes more than six months. And even then, I'm still a baby. Most parents won't let their baby get on a plane to a Swiss bank (where I keep my impressive fortune) for at least a few years.
Well, I'm tired of it. After dying before my second year *three times* in a row (damn mosquitoes), I decided enough was enough. There's only one way I could think of to break the curse: eliminating all life. Can't reincarnate if there's no one to reincarnate into, right?
It took a few lifetimes, but eventually I had the power to do it. I have contacts in pretty much every government in the world. I'm pretty sure that there's no one in space right now, at least that any official governments are aware of, so once the bombs go off, every living being of Earth will be destroyed. Myself included, if all goes well.
*Let's get this over with.* No sense in dragging it out, right? The longer I wait, the greater the risk that someone will notice a massive nuke under their feet and raise the alarm. I'd checked the calculations a hundred times, the bombs should be enough to shatter the entire planet. What more was there to do but die?
I pushed the button.
After a few extremely awkward seconds where the command buffered, and I wondered how badly I'd screwed up, the entire Earth was completely destroyed in an enormous nuclear fireball.
My last thoughts, as I was utterly disintegrated, were, "*Finally.*"
Dying this time felt a bit different. I'd been disintegrated before, but this felt strange. Was I heading to an afterlife, finally? I felt a bit worried at the thought. After killing every living thing on Earth, I was probably about to be sent straight to Hell. Maybe killing all the mosquitoes would balance it out?
Then I felt a familiar pull. *Shit.* It couldn't be. That was the pull towards a new body, a new life. No way, it couldn't be that. No, no, no, I must be mistaken, who could I possibly be reincarnated into this time?
My spirit was forcibly dragged up towards the blinding light, which looked quite a bit more reddish than usual, and with a sickening *pop* that I felt in all six of my legs, I snapped into a—
—Wait, what? *How* many legs? I did a quick rundown of my new body. OK, four arms, six legs, green skin, and my new... mother?? staring down at me looked like a cross between a giant grasshopper and a pile of wet snot.
*Aliens. God damned, mother-fucking, son-of-a-bitch ALIENS.*
I opened my new mandibles and screamed. | I knew I got it right this time. The alliances, the backroom deals, everything. Just as I planned. Just as I slowly dreamed, watching the world change, becoming more connected, until the inevitable political cracks spread over the surface of the earth dooming it to shatter with just the slightest touch. And, hopefully, taking all of humanity with it too.
What glorious technology. Machines that could flatten a squad of men without a pause. Explosives capable of vaporizing cities. Deadly gas that seeped into your pores, killing an entire room of people in mere moments. Now or never.
I wrapped myself in a long black coat, hat tipped low over my face. Despite the heat of summer I couldn't risk anyone recognizing me. I worked too long, thrown all my skill and cunning into getting this position, and to throw it all away simply by being recognized by a passerby? No, that wouldn't do at all.
Nervously, I glanced at my watch, forearms coated in sweat. He was late. The alley was empty. I peered out into the connecting streets but saw no one who looked like my contact. Patience, I told myself, no reason to fall apart now.
There! A man was walking towards me, dressed in a simple shirt and slacks, much younger than I expected. A thin mustache hung limply on an angular face, he looked tired. His eyes, as I surveyed him I was sure he was my contact. His eyes were dead, hollow. The planning, the certainty, the soullessness, and most vividly, the violence. All there in equal parts. He was ready to kill.
"Princip?" I asked, lowering my voice. "Gavrilo Princip?"
He stared at me, unblinking. "Da. I am." Silence. He wasn't a talker.
I slid an envelope out of my jacket and placed it in his hand. Not looking down, he opened it.
"The wife too?"
I nodded in confirmation. "Yes. Both of them. In public. Use a rifle."
He sneered at me, the yellow, broken teeth betraying his poor upbringing. "You don't order the Black Hand. You give location and time, nothing else. We take care of the rest."
I stared back at him as he took a packet of matches out of his pocket. He lit one casually, bringing a cigarette to his lips as he did. With the end lit, he used the dying match to ignite the thin paper. We watched as it browned and curled within itself at our feet. With the paper reduced to ash, he took another long drag on his cigarette.
"The Black Hand thanks you for this information. You'll see your trust was not misplaced." He said to me, turning and starting back down the alley.
I watched his thin silhouette recede. He hadn't done much to reassure me that the plan would be followed through. All that time, all that effort, all those years of painful life after painful life. He didn't realize the scope of his future actions. None of those fools in the Black Hand did. Worrying about borders and territory, political nonsense. Their obsession blinded them to the chain reaction about to unfold, with all of humanity to suffer the consequence.
It would not be just the war to end all wars, it would be the war to end all life.
| 2018-12-30T13:08:51 | 2018-12-30T11:27:16 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] The year is 2120. You're a death row inmate, and your sentence has been sold to a tech company. You're going to be the first human test subject for teleportation. Plot twist: the process takes years, but you're outside of spacetime, so it looks instantaneous to observers. | Do you ever blink and realize how far you've walked? Perhaps you're going to a stately little cafe uptown, with ferns and a portcullis, and a stray cat prowling the windowsills. You take a few steps out of your home. The mind wanders in its own direction, soaking in sunshine and a light summer breeze. Suddenly, you have your menu and an inkling of what snacks could satisfy. Despite your general calm, it's as though the steps you took didn't happen at all. You know you must have left your house, but it's hard to picture the moment. You know your feet touched the sidewalk, perhaps could recite the names of streets. It's just that the memories were never captured.
"Holy GOD-"
"Call the medics back!"
"Why him? Every other subject didn't-"
They're probably going to want to hear that teleportation is a lot like taking a walk to the cafe. It's not. But I didn't major in creative writing just to lose the punchline at a time like this, so I think I'll tell them that it was. Something flowery, lifechanging- language you would use for a church retreat. Maybe they'll give the process a whirl. Jackasses.
"Mister Brehnkenmeijer, can you hear me? If you can understand me, try to move..."
I've moved enough for a thousand lifetimes Corner Watch Guy, shut up. I feel my hand curl into a fist against the steel flooring, all on its own. The texture is shocking, unfamiliar. I haven't made contact with anything in years, no matter how I tried.
"Subject is confirmed to move, we have a slight modulation-"
Someone poured a glass of champagne. Every nerve in my body went rigid at the sound of rushing liquid. I haven't produced saliva in years, since it's not like I needed it. The drive to drink never went away, though.
"Wuh," I manage to cough.
"Subject appears dehydrated, made basic vocalization. End audio log." I tried to look over to the source of the noise. It was Dark Hair Dude, the one in the bowtie. Shame, he seemed like less of an asshole years ago. Or maybe he was just coasting on a good first impression.
My eyes shook as a new face- faces, entered the room: a lanky woman and a shorter one wielding an industrial gurney. I shudder at the concept of new people. It's been me and my observers for years- I don't know these new people's names yet.
"You'll be ok," someone says. I can't turn to see who said that, but their voice is oddly reverent.
"He's still a murderer," someone whispers almost below my range of hearing. For all science has been able to do- it's never been able to undo my decision. It hasn't worked either way actually, I still don't regret doing it.
"OK, get him up. Easy, easy..."
The medics (whoever they are) probably did an OK job lifting me, but I was too busy silently screaming to notice.
"Can you say anything?" One of the docs says. I don't bother dignifying that with a response. They'll get it from my memoir like everyone else, as soon as I remember how I first phrased that second paragraph in the third act...
"Please give us space," new medic one days. I shudder at the lack of a name. EVERYONE has a name, and it's a name that can't change because if it does, then you've gone outside of the room...
They're wheeling me... somewhere. There's a door, with light- a new place.
I scream, loud this time. They can't take me out yet!
"OK! OK! We get it."
I don't stop.
"His heart rate's erratic-"
"Sedative?"
"Have you lost-"
More screaming. I scream until my eyes get heavy and the room fades to the comforting familiarty of Eyes Closed. | Imagine a neon line. A singular, glowing thread pulled taut, suspended in a void. You know it's pulled taut on each end. But you don't know by what.
Anyway this line extends for all you can see. And the neon colour isn't just one consistent colour. It changes as you traverse along this line. And the colours are alien. Nothing you know. Nothing you have perceived before.
You don't even understand how you can perceive it now.
You don't know where your body is, how you can see, touch, speak.
But not feel.
There is no sense of feeling here. That is why when I first started traversing this seemingly infinite neon line, I wasn't even aware I was moving.
I have no legs. I have no body. Yet I can see.
Yet I am moving. Am I being pulled along this line? Or pushed? Who's to say?
All I know is for a time I cannot fathom... For a time I cannot comprehend as I traverse this nothingness with nothing to occupy my mind with but with memories of my past, I had gone crazy. Over the course of however many years of numbing nonexistence my mind broke itself multiple times, each time trying to shape back into something that isn't shattered. Somet9thag can form a coherent thought. Something that recognised me as me. Though what I am is up to debate.
But what I was. I had forgotten. I have forgotten. Maybe I haven't. Or maybe I had. Memory is a cycle. It should not be. Right?
Anyway, I see it now. The end of the line.
End of the line. Those words seemed familiar. Language had no use here, so I had forgotten many words until I remembered them again. And those words seemed significant. Why?
Because it's a saying.
Who said it?
Did it matter?
The neon line was ending. And I was slowly heading towards this ending. What then?
I pondered that for the next few seconds or hours or days or years or millennia as I approached the line and then...
[][][][][][]
"Ok, come out." It was not the same voice that told me to step through the chamber.
So, it worked?
I stepped out of this chamber, not the one I entered a moment ago on the other side of the room, but the one I was supposed to teleport to.
So, it did work.
There were excited murmuring all around the large room.
"How do you feel, what happened?" One of the lead scientists came forward to ask. I forgot her name. She only told me it a few hours ago, but the fact that I had other things on my mind (mainly the fact that I had a death sentence) kind of pushed that information away.
"Nothing. I went in there, felt... Something. Warm. And then I came out here." I said, truthfully.
"Something warm?"
"I don't know. I can try it again."
"No. Wait. Are you up for it?"
"Sure, I got nothing else going on." I said, sarcastically.
They set up the machine again, they activated the chambers. And I stepped through one more time.
[][][][][]
Imagine a neon line. A singular, glowing thread pulled taut, suspended in a void. You know it's pulled taut on each end. But you don't know by what... | 2022-02-28T21:34:39 | 2022-02-28T21:29:18 | 128 | 27 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | My counterpart sat there, smiling smugly at me, or at least what would equate to a smug smile were he anything other than a reptile.
"I think you don't understand your position here. Ambassador." The being sitting opposite me croaked in that strange froglike voice of his. "We have a thousand ships poised to destroy you and your planet and here you are, trying to negotiate peace with us."
"What I'm offering you, Councilor, is an opportunity to increase your own galactic economic power by joining with the Sol Federation. Taking what we have by force would be a very bad option for you to take." I replied, surveying the vast fleet currently at high anchor around the planet. "I can certainly assure you that any conflict between us would be disastrous for your people."
My counterpart chuckled in that odd way, that strange sack under his chin wobbling with the motion.
"There is nothing you have to offer that we can not take by force. We have conquered a thousand worlds in a thousand systems. Our armies are unbeatable! You *WILL* submit to us or face the folly of your actions!" His eyes glowed with vicious intent.
"Perhaps a demonstration of what the outcome would be is in order?" I sighed, reaching up and switching the concealed comlink on my collar on. "Admiral Paris, it seems the Councilor requires a display of why going to war with humanity is a bad thing." I smiled ruefully, know that what I will say next will doom millions of beings to oblivion but always wanting to say that line. "You may fire when ready."
"Yes, Lord Ambassador." Came the reply that was followed shortly by a pinpoint of light from beyond the system's edge began growing ever brighter. I watched the Councilor's eyes grow wide with horror as what amounted to a small star lanced past the viewport of the orbital station. Raining fire and death on the capital city orbiting below us.
"You.... how...." was all the Councilor could say as I drew my pistol and put two bolts in each of his guards.
"We've kept our warfleets hidden within the Sol system." I began as I slowly circled the table, keeping my pistol trained on the councilor. "Our leaders were afraid that another species would try to invade the system to conquer Earth."
"Most we were able to talk down, only showing our military to them when they were our allies. Your empire is the first we have had to resort to using force against." I finished as the entirety of the 10th Martian Fleet crossed into the system, outnumbered the Councilor's fleet 10 to 1.
"It was easier to negotiate with other species rather than initiate war. But just remember, Councilor, we gave you the opportunity to join us. But you chose conflict over peace."
"You..." he growled lowly as he watched the capital burn below us.
"What was it you said, face the folly of your actions? A rather apt description for this result. Wouldn't you say?" The pistol in my hand barked as I put two bolts into the Councilor and watched his body drop to the floor. | Something big was about to happen. All of the TV channels had switched to a live feed to Paris, Earth’s current Capital. Earth Head Toussaint was about to give an emergency address. I checked the socials and it was filled with wild conjecture, all the while listening to more tempered speculation from the reporters and commentators on TV.
“We haven’t been able to get any answers from the goverment about the contents of the address, and we just confirmed that the entire parliament and senate have been recalled to Earth and will convene an emergency joint session immediately after Earth Head Toussaint’s address. And it looks like she approaching the podium now.”
She began speaking in French, a serious look on her face, and almost immediately a translation was provided.
“Fellow citizens, we are at war. We have just received confirmation that the Mems have fired Planet Killers at the majority of the planets in our Commonwealth. Like cowards, and without provocation they are attempting to wipe out humanity in one fell barrage.”
“We are a united people and we will not fall. Our intellegence predicted this and we have taken countermeasures. It will take them 3 months to realize that their shots are off target, and another nine months after that before they are ready to fire again.”
“We likely cannot prevent the second barrage or alter its aim like we were able to do with the first. Our own plannet killing shots, as they are now, won’t hit their targets in time to prevent the second wave of their cowardly attack on our people.”
“But, fellow citizens, do not despair. We have a way forward, we have a strategy of survival, but it will take all of us, working together as one, to realize this plan.”
“As of this moment, whether you like it or not, every citizen is now in service of the Commonwealth and in service of our unified goal to save our people. We will fight them with our best minds, we will fight them with our production and we will fight them with everything we have. For what we have is our will, and what we have is each other.”
“The Mems don’t realize this yet but they are in a race against time. We believe that we can use recent Human scientific breakthroughs in power production and wormhole theory to jump to their planets and take them by force.”
“There is hope for us. Hope fired by human ingenuity and production. We cannot fail, as failure means the death of all of us.” | 2021-12-17T16:01:55 | 2021-12-17T15:01:38 | 93 | 31 |
[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. | The first time it happened was in 5th grade. It had been a day like any other for me up until that moment; go to school, listen to the other kids brag about their amazing powers and then be mocked for not having manifested mine yet. It really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
But that day when they finally came around to rubbing my perceived lack of power in my face, it felt like a fire had sparked in my gut and from there it spread outwards through my entire being. It was a fire born of indignation that instilled within me a desire for the world to be different; for it to shift to what I saw fit. *And it did*; within a single moment the world seemed to twist itself into a new reality and suddenly nobody in that room had any power anymore. Those showcasing theirs just moments before were suddenly left looking like powerless fools.
I still remember that one kid that fell out of mid-air and his confusion at being left flightless.
The sheer amount of panic that ensued then and there resulted in a rather stressful situation for everybody involved and a cacophony of loud noises. In my already fairly annoyed state, I wished for those noises to stop and with that wish that spark that had still been faintly smouldering within me ignited again and left all of them speechless, literally, they no longer had the ability to speak. Needless to say they panicked further.
And it was that moment when they could no longer speak that I understood *I* had done that; *I* had warped reality.
And then I panicked and to be fair who wouldn’t. After all I had no idea how my ability worked. What if I couldn’t reverse it? And out of that panic that spark in my stomach ignited for one last time that day with the desire to reverse things to how they were before. And they did, reality conformed to my will once more and everything was as if my power had never activated in the first place. No one even remembered anything from that incident.
After that I didn’t manage to utilise my ability again until I found a young kitten by the side of the road whose hind legs had been run over. That sight made my gut wrench and I wanted nothing more than to challenge the cruel reality and so I did. The fire coursed through me once more and with it came the changes to reality and the kitten was healed.
It was then that I understood what my power was. It wasn’t the ability to change reality as I saw fit but to challenge it. I could rebel against the world and if I had enough willpower and desire, I would emerge victorious.
I had the power of rebellion. | Incognito was having an introduction dinner with his team. They were a nice group of people from what he could tell so far, but he hadn’t had the chance to really feel them out.
The conversation had turned to powers and how they got them and as each explanation was given, as each person gradually turned to look at him expectantly, his hands tightened around his mug of tea.
“So Incognito,” Teena (named for her ability to shrink) “what did your powers manifest from?”
He laughed, discomfort not far from the surface. The memory was rising to the surface, even as he fought it down (considering Netali, the group’s empath, was giving him a *look*).
\--
There were few times in Pelle’s life that he experienced honest-to-god urgency. Considering that most of them had to do with school assignments, that wasn’t saying much for that particular threshold of his. But, however lacking his hypothetical alter ego was, he was satisfied with his lot in life. Liked it, even.
As Pelle felt power wreathing itself around his skin, he was considered changing his mind on that last point.
“Pelle?” His mom called into his room. “Pelle, where are you?”
He didn’t answer, hunched over at his desk and breathless as he was. Every muscle was frozen. His finger jammed the volume button on his computer down hard enough to crack the key.
She let go of the knob, leaving the door ajar as she went back downstairs. Pelle could hear her calling for his father, asking where he was. He had no idea how he was going to explain this to his family, but as he closed out of a tab with the address “anal smasher 2” he decided that whatever he came up with was going to have to be good.
\--
"It's . . . uh, hard to talk about?" | 2019-09-08T12:47:50 | 2019-09-08T12:05:54 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | The traditional "You're 18 now" letter lay in front of me. It is delivered by our life sucking, future seeing, freedom restricting leaders. They control everything. Cameras in all locations, GPS ankle bracelets on all citizens. But these letters are despised above all.
They give us these letters telling us who our "soulmate" will be in an attempt to control the traits and DNA that gets passed down.
I open the letter. "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
Really? My supposed "soulmate" works at Starbucks? I refuse to follow their orders-- no matter what they threaten me with.
I am determined to find my own, real soulmate, blaze my own trail in defiance of their tyranny.
...Besides... that's not the first thing Maria said to me...
It is 4:44, only minutes after my official birthday started. I need to leave soon. I have a meeting with Maria tonight. So, I get dressed, grab my keys and drive to our favorite spot.
Doubts begin to flood my mind, but I push them away. "I love her. I love her. Maria is my soul mate" I say to myself on repeat. There is no life without her.
There she is. Next to the creek, a letter in her hand. Absoulely stunning. She decided not to open her letter until my birthday so that we could tell each other on the same day.
"Hello Maria" I say in the most loving manner possible.
"Hello James. Did you open your letter?" She replied, her eyes wet with tears.
This can't be happening, I won't let it! They can't tear us apart!
"I will be with you, or I will die with you Maria."
She embraces me, and together we burn our letters. We sit together on the side of the creek, feet dangling in the water, enjoying our last moments together.
The sirens begin. They will find us soon.
She is worth it. | Today's the day, my eighteenth birthday, the day I find out what my true love will first say to me. Everyone looks forward to this day, many of them know immediately who they are going to marry.
I move forward in line, beginning to grow anxious. "What will they be like? Will they love me as much as I will love them? What if I never meet them?" I think to myself as I force myself to smile.
"Teddy, please step forward, take your card, and exit to your left." Commanded the harsh electronic voice of the matchmaking machine, causing my stomach to attempt escaping my body via my mouth. I close my eyes and take the card. I walk to the left, hands out feeling my way out of the building. I'm so afraid to read the card that I keep my eyes shut until Grace, my neighnor who never actually talked to me, took it. "Welcome to Starbucks. May I take your order? That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen on these cards. Mine says 'Yes! I knew I was going to be lucky!', how stupid" she said with a chuckle, and that's when I knew what I had to do.
First post, as well as the first thing I've ever shared. Hope you enjoy it. Any tips would be really appreciated.
| 2014-12-17T21:55:59 | 2014-12-17T20:57:20 | 279 | 49 |
[WP] As a former Chosen One you saw the signs when your daughter/son got themselves into a similar situation. You sent them off on a sleepover with their new friends. It's time to have a 'talk' with their new 'stuffed animal'. | I sat down on Cassie’s bed, crossed my legs, and removed the notebook from the pocket of my pants. “State your name and speciality for the record,” I said, scribbling on the first page to get the ink flowing. After a moment of silence, I looked up from my journal. “I know Cassie’s a chosen one. I’m her parent, and I’m not letting you take my daughter on some wild journey without telling me what she’ll be facing, first.”
Silence.
“Look, you can stay silent all night, but I know you’ve been talking to her at night, I know her powers have been manifesting. I’d rather she not have to face destiny without at least some training first. So I’ll ask again, name and specialty, please and thank you.”
After another brief silence, the stuffed bear, affectionately named Bear, finally spoke. “Who the hell are you?” they asked.
“I should hope you don’t use that kind of language with my daughter. I’ll give you one more chance to answer the question before you have to find a new child to leech on.”
They groaned, stood up, and stretched, before walking closer to sit down in front of me. “My name is Ollie.”
“Ollie,” I repeated. “Ollie, Ollie, Ollie, Ollie, Ollie… Noted. And what power do you train?”
They hesitated for a moment. “Chaos magic.”
I looked up my notebook again. “Chaos magic? The fuck is my daughter doing with chaos magic?” Chaos magic was generally known as the hardest magic to tame. The most powerful, sure, but that power held up to its name. It was notoriously unpredictable, and most users died fairly young in the pursuit of mastery. In the whole world, there was only one master of chaos magic.
Ollie shrugged. “Fuck if I know, I didn’t give her the power, I was just assigned as her guide. But she’s one of the most powerful chaos magic users anyone has ever seen, in terms of potential, that is.”
“Oi, watch the language, plushie.”
“You swore first!” they protested.
“Yeah, well, I’m Cassie’s parent. She knows better than to copy me by now, you’re her spirit guide.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been taking good care of her,” Ollie said. “As have you, clearly. Which brings me to my question-”
“You don’t get questions yet,” I interrupted. “What terrible deed has my daughter been tasked with fulfilling?”
Ollie shook their head. “You don’t want to know.”
“I’m fairly certain I do,” I growled. “What are you planning for my daughter?”
Again, Ollie hesitated. After a moment, they decided that I knew too much already to stop now. “Chaos magic,” they said slowly.
“Yeah,” I replied, “you mentioned that part.”
“No,” said Ollie, putting their head in their hands. “No, I mean… Chaos magic. She’s going to master it.”
I froze and nearly dropped my pen. “Excuse me?”
“Only one man has mastered Chaos magic, and he’s used it to live a long and wretched life. Your daughter isn’t just another chosen one, she’s *the* Chosen One.”
There was an old legend, considered by some to be a prophecy, THE prophecy, even, that a young person would master chaos magic, topple a tyrant, and make chaos safe to use. It also said that at the end of the Chosen One’s journey, they would die, their death being the catalyst for the future of magic itself. Being a prophecy, it was vague. Very vague. It gave no timelines, names, or really anything of use. Most people, myself included, felt it was horseshit.
“No,” I said. “That’s just a myth, and even if it wasn’t there’s no way in hell I’m letting you lead Cas to her death, that isn’t happening.”
“The rest of the guides seem to think it’s real,” Ollie said. “And we all seem to think Cassie is The One.”
I looked down for a moment into my notebook, a single question searing into the back of my skull. “What does Kelvin think?”
“What does Kelvin think?” Ollie whispered back to themself. Then it hit them. “Holy fucking shit,” they yelled.
“Language!”
“No, no, no, fuck you, fuck me, holy shit!” They were dancing around the bed, jumping up and down, laughing hysterically. “You’re fucking Josephine Sanchez, aren’t you?” I was silent. “Holy shit you are, you’re a fucking *legend* up there! Fulfilling two prophecies with one guide, you’re a double whammy. Terrina the Destroyer AND Jacob the Conqueror? A god damned superstar, after you and Kelvin parted ways, we completely lost track of you, no wonder Cassie is ‘The One’ The One with you as her mother, holy shit!”
“Answer the question,” I whispered.
Ollie calmed down, and resumed their seat in front of me. “Yes,” they finally said. “Yes, Kelvin thinks Cassie is The One, but nobody knows she’s your daughter, I swear.” I nodded, thinking silently to myself. It felt like I just found out she’d been in a car crash, my mind was racing at a million miles an hour, and yet I couldn’t understand a word of it. The silence was overpowering, crushing, and claustrophobic. “If it makes you feel better,” Ollie said, seeing the terror on my face, “the Council of Guides thinks that, after she beats The Master, she’ll live. For a while, at least. The Prophecy says she’ll topple a tyrant and die bringing sanity to chaos magic. Two separate feats, and the latter will likely take decades of hard work.”
“Will you stay with her for that time? Whatever time she has left?”
Ollie nodded. After a moment of silence, they asked a question of their own. “Will you help her train?”
I hesitated. “I’m not sure what good I can do,” I finally replied. “I was never trained in chaos magic. But I will teach her, under one condition.” Ollie looked into my eyes. “Under no circumstances is any harm to befall my daughter. She is under your care, and if a damn thing happens to her, I will hold you personally accountable. Twice.”
Ollie nodded instantly. “As long as she has me as her guide, and as long as I live, I will protect Cassie.”
“Then it sounds like we’re in agreement,” I replied, standing up from the bed and placing my notebook in my pocket. “Training starts this weekend, on Saturday morning. We’ll tell Cas tomorrow night when she’s home. Together.” | Monique poured herself a glass of wine before addressing the stuffed ferret in the room. If she was being honest with herself it was the second glass, but surely the one she’d had fifteen minutes ago hadn’t counted? She’d needed the confidence boost, anyone would have. It was time though, her daughter was gone, her husband was gone, it was just the two of them.
“Fidel.” She said his name softly as she turned. The ferret was arranged across the top of the living room couch. He was well over a foot long with adorable large glassy eyes and a bright white head coming up from a fluffy, cinnamon furred body. He was soft to the touch, his tail felt nearly real when stroked, and if you moved his limbs just so you could see the stitches. He’d become her daughter’s best friend from the moment her stepfather had brought him home.
He was also a lie, and a curse no matter what anyone might say.
“Fidel,” she repeated, crossing the room towards him. Monique sat down in the chair she had arranged across from the couch and took a long sip of her drink. “I know you’re in there, you can’t hide from me. We both know who I was in that other world. What I was capable of.”
The ferret sat resilient. Reaching into her pocket Monique pulled out a lighter, one kept since her long ago days as a smoker. A large candle sat on the table between them and she lit it, her hands clumsy on the striker the first time. The smell of sandalwood filled the air, it wasn’t what she’d have picked for a torture but it would do.
Monique stood, grabbing the ferret by the scruff of its stuffed neck and squeezing hard enough to have broken bone if any were there. With every passing second she could feel the old ways coming back again. She took another sip.
“Last chance,” she said menacingly. He was silent, infuriatingly so.
In one fluid motion Monique thrust the ferret out over the candle, dipping his tail down towards the flame. The scent of singed fur began to overwhelm the sandalwood as she counted backwards.
3…2…-
“Ow, godsdamnit Monique! What the hell?!?” Fidel’s body twisted, coming to life in her hand. He drew his tail up, patting at it with his paws as his head writhed, trying to find a way out of her iron grip.
She blinked hard, nearly dropping her wine but never for a second loosening her grip on him.
“You never cussed,” she said, surprised.
“Yeah? Well you were seven when we met, even I have standards!” His voice was just like she’d remembered it from all those years before, low and gravelly, the barest hints of a strange accent. It was more at home in an old mercenary than a stuffed animal.
“Shit that hurt though! How’d you figure it out? I thought I was doin’ pretty good.”
“Good? From you? Fidel she’s my daughter! After everything I did for you people you couldn’t have left us alone? I nearly died on the Other Side, I won’t let you take away her childhood too!”
“Now look Nika—” She shook him hard, his little ferret limbs splaying through the air as he screamed in terror.
“It’s Monique now,” she said angrily, “I left all of that behind me when Maya was born.”
She stopped shaking him and tossed Fidel back onto the couch where he lay wheezing, rolling around between his back and his stomach as if he couldn’t decide which hurt less. “Yeah-” he said, coughing, “I can fuckin’ tell. Not a trace of the Beast of Gévaudan anywhere to be found.”
“Never call me that again.”
“Never do that again and we’ve got a deal.”
Now it was Monique’s turn to weaponize silence. She took her seat across from him again and watched the little ferret test each of his limbs carefully, checking to see if any of the stitches had torn. When he was finally satisfied he hopped onto the table between them, carefully pushing the candle out of the way, and settled onto his haunches in front of her.
“None of that answers my question though. How’d you know? I was an elephant the last time you saw me.”
In answer Monique reached into her shirt, pulling out the locket that hung there. When she flicked it open Fidel gasped, his face bathed in its bright green glow. “A Vair stone!” he hissed, “enchanted to detect magic? You must have made me the moment I crossed the threshold. You’re even more powerful than I thought if you brought that back with you.”
“And it wasn’t the only thing…” she let her words trail off meaningfully, watching Fidel to see what he might do. He had the measure of the situation now though, he would give nothing up for free.
“What’s happening now?” she finally asked. “Is there another rebellion? A dragon perhaps? What could you possibly need another chosen one for that I didn’t solve for you seven years ago?”
Fidel glanced around furtively, whispering a word that made his eyes glow. She knew the spell, he was looking for eavesdroppers, both magical and electronic.
“We’re alone,” Monique said dismissively, “I already swept it.”
“You’re completely sure?” he said. “I ask this not just for myself but for you as well. The Nika—” he stopped himself, slapping at his snout with his right forepaw, “— Monique, apologies. The Monique that I knew kept her secrets close to her chest, especially from the ones she loved.”
She took another too long sip of wine. Fidel waited for her to finish before continuing.
“It’s about Jaden,” he said, and her heart stopped. The little wine left in her glass began to shake and Monique closed her eyes, wishing she was anywhere but here, anyone but who she was.
Fidel spoke again though, and she hated him for it. “When were you going to tell Maya she had a brother?”
\--------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-03-02T20:41:27 | 2021-03-02T17:45:37 | 226 | 163 |
[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. | Hey Matt,
I know you're hurting. I know you're struggling. You tell yourself you can do it, you're going to change the world, you're going to do this and that and you end up doing it. You know telling yourself that its hard and painful isn't going to help so you tell yourself its easy and that you can do it. I get it, you say you do something and you plow forward to do it. BUT right now, please just let yourself bask in the moment-- this moemnt right here of raw emotino. This is you, this is where you're at right now. It hurts and you still loved her but you needed to let go of this one. She wasnt ready. There was too much on the line with this one. Matt, I know you loved her. You gave it your 100% and you can't say that about some things, but know that you did everything you possibly could--so please let her go for the sake of you. Times are rough. but they will get better. i promise you that. so please. let yourself free.
Love,
Yourself | 2015-12-05T15:55:07 | 2015-12-05T15:02:39 | 61 | 31 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | PeculiarPete was scrolling through /r/Jokes when he realized something.
He took his idea and went over to another subreddit and began scrolling back through some old prompts when he saw something that captured his fancy.
*"Writing Prompt[WP] Humans blood gets darker the more evil we do. One day you are suspected of murder, they draw your blood to test if you are truely a murderer. You blood is a clear white. You realize that you can get a way with almost everything now, seeing as to how you actually did commit the murder"*
"What a novel idea!" Pete thought to himself, and suddenly realized he need only reverse the characters Plight.
He began to write *"[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip."*
As he typed his dog came up to him and gave his skin a little nibble, when a peculiar thing happened to Pete, his skin was broken but his blood did not drip. Darker than jet black it looked as if his wounded flesh had ceased to exist. He reached over and took a sip of his
Fanta:Black, when we see the F fall off to reveal a V.
A story to truly fit the name "PeculiarPete"
| I stood there for a moment, as i looked at the prick on my finger from my knitting needle. Where there should have been a crystal clear fluid, somehow, a sludge of sin and immorality sat in my veins.
"How could this be?" i thought. I sat there, wondering.
Was i not good when i spent hours walking dogs at the animal shelter? Was i not good when i spent days giving food to the homeless? Was I not good when i spent years of my life in another country, in the middle of a war zone sacrificing everything i had for these worthless sacks of meat?! And it was all for nothing? How could it be?! How could I not be a good person? | 2018-08-04T11:11:45 | 2018-08-04T10:24:42 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Reincarnation is a known, common, and expected result of death. You are a bounty hunter that specializes in tracking down people who have committed suicide to escape debts or a jail sentence. | Thunder rumbled as the grey clouds lumbered across the sky. Under the relative safety of the green canopy of the forest, Jameson strode confidently through the trees, only occasionally stopping to recast the tracking spell.
As the tracking orb pulsed more fervently, Jameson became more cautious, choosing instead to move from trunk to trunk. The trees gave way to a dirt clearing, in which a small tent had been erected next to a smouldering attempt at a campfire.
Jameson almost felt sorry - his current target’s Link had only been triggered a few days before. Suddenly having the knowledge that in your previous life you’d been a monster dumped into your brain affected teenagers in different ways. Some gave themselves up; some killed themselves to break the chain; some ran.
The caution in his approach was justified - having access to a previous life’s memories meant that some of the targets he faced had powerful, dark magic at their disposal, wrapped in a scared, emotional shell. It was not a good combination.
But this target was probably safe - Salk’s family had confirmed that he had barely showed any aptitude for sorcery in the 15 years of his short life. The influx of DeVoort’s memories had triggered the fight or flight response - Salk had run to a place that he thought he could be safe while he processed things. This would not be the setting for an epic battle.
*Probably.*
Jameson stopped, closed his eyes, and extended his Sense. The trees began to ring out with their customary low hum; the tent added a smooth tone. No jarring notes that would indicate a curse; no pulses of Silence to indicate Null zones. Jameson reopened his eyes and focused on the tent. “KION SALK!” he exclaimed loudly.
Slowly, a disheveled teenager emerged from the tent.
“Yes?” Salk said, wearily.
“You know why I’m here” said Jameson. He stood, one arm raised in a defense pose, and silently prepared his combat magic.
Salk sighed. “I didn’t ask for this! This isn’t fair!” He looked dejected, and hugged his body tight.
Jameson sympathised. “Yeah, it’s not fair. DeVoort murdered those people over a decade ago - for you it’s not even part of your history. For the families though, it’s a bitter memory. That’s why a Mark was placed on his body after his suicide, and that’s why I’m here now - I want to finally bring him to justice.”
Salk sighed again. “Yeah, I know. I just thought… if I came out here… I could ignore his voice”. His voice trembled. “But it won’t stop - will it?”
Jameson reached into his robe and retrieved his binding chains. “No - I’m afraid not. But, I can take you to people who can help.” He gingerly started moving closer towards Salk.
Salk scoffed. “You mean, put me in a prison until I die of normal causes? That kind of help?” He shook his head softly in resignation. “I guess I have no choice.” He held out his hands in surrender.
As Jameson moved in closer, suddenly Salk’s eyes flashed, and his hands began to jerk upwards into the beginnings of a casting pose. This was Jameson’s worst fear - DeVoort was asserting control.
However, Jameson’s preparation had paid off. As soon as he saw Salk’s eyes flashing, he knelt, and slammed his open palm into the ground, channeling his Binding spell. Violet vines sprang from the dirt, piercing Salk’s arms and legs, and pulled him down to the ground. Salk cried out in pain.
Jameson moved over to Salk. “So, DeVoort - I guess we’re doing this the hard way then…” he commented drily, kneeling to bind his hands. Salk was too shocked to respond. Jameson stood up, then pulled out his communication glass. “I’ve bound DeVoort’s host. Requesting transport to Karthikan.” he said.
The glass hummed, then a woman’s voice spoke out. “Transport request granted. Good job, hunter. See you shortly.”
-----
This is my first writing prompt - thought I'd give it a shot. Comments/criticism welcome; I realise I haven't really written a self contained story here, this would probably be part of a larger story.
EDIT: Thankyou for all of your kind comments! :) | Sarah had an apple lodged in her mouth. That was my personal touch. Everything else—the swollen cheeks, the blackened eyes, the missing finger—that was protocol. She sat bound to a small wooden chair, a camera in her face and lightbulb above her head.
“Should’ve stuck with your bodyguards,” I told Sarah.
Girls her age were easy to take. They felt themselves invincible and thought their protection more of a hassle than a privilege. All it took for her was a month-long conversation pretending to be the quarterback of a local high school. I had convinced her to sneak out at night to gaze at the stars with me.
I chuckled. Stars. How cliché. But these rich, pompous types always had a soft spot for the cliché. Then again, so did I. Hence, the apple in the mouth.
“He won’t come,” she spluttered, half-crying still. “He abandoned by mom with me almost a decade ago! The selfish bastard doesn't care about anyone but himself. So let me go, please.”
I glanced at the camera’s blinking red light and then my watch. Mr. Ellingsworth had fifteen more minutes before he’d force me to take another one of his daughter’s fingers. I wondered who would show up at the door, what race or gender that person would be. Perhaps Mr. Ellingsworth would now be Mrs. Ellingsworth.
“He’s never given a shit about me,” Sarah cried. “Why would he now?”
I shrugged. “Not my job to speculate. But I’ve been doing this a long time now and trust me, girl, they always come.”
“My dad only cared about his company. That’s it! You won’t find him like this.”
“We’ll see.” After all, we still had nine fingers and ten toes to go through.
I took a moment to appreciate the design of the human body, so many appendages to be taken, so many bargaining chips given to the bounty hunters. Some preferred to take the eyes, the nose, the essential appendages, but not me. I had a soft spot for these kids. Usually, I’d only get through a single finger before their parents revealed themselves from hiding.
“My mom has money,” Sarah pleaded. “If it’s money you want, she has it.”
I shook my head. “This isn’t about money,” I told her. “It’s about justice. The upholding of our most sacred pillar of society.”
Her father still had 80 years of jail-time to get through. He had only made it three days before killing himself so he could be reincarnated a free man.
The rich always did that. They loved their little loopholes. With the advent of reincarnation, they had finally found the ultimate loophole. Law closing in? Enemies becoming too numerous? A single bullet to the head will erase all that, give you a new identity and a clean slate. Just stash a secret reincarnation treasure trove somewhere and you’re good to go.
“This is inhuman,” she cried.
“Of course it is.” But how else do you prove that the CEO of a Fortune 100 who had been embezzling money for years had reincarnated as an orphaned child in India? No, there was no way to track them down. All we could do was have them come to us.
“Time’s up,” I told her, holding my watch up to my face.
Her eyes went wide and she kicked in her chair, screaming. “Daddy! Help! Dad!”
I reached for the garden shears beside me. Just as my fingers brush them, a knock resounded from the wooden door.
“It’s Mr. Ellingsworth,” a shaky and stuttered voice called out. “Please let my daughter go.”
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories weekly
| 2017-07-09T12:27:28 | 2017-07-09T10:10:35 | 229 | 94 |
[WP] A seemingly bottomless pit was found, for which the depth can't be determined. Over time, scores of people began using it to illegally dump trash. Many have jumped in to die, while others jumped believing that they'll find life's answers within it. Today, we learn the truth about the hole. | “Ok, so, Deep goes back a while. Everyone thought it was a new thing when it was found in unprocessed satellite photos, which is funny because the feds had contingents for all of that, but they never expected a high school class to actually get a camera into orbit for that long… Anyway, ok so, the picture got out, have you seen it?”
“Yea, I saw it. So, what? What are you getting at?”
“Right, ok, the picture… Everyone called bullshit on it at first, but when the metadata.”
“Jesus, I know the story. The image was verified by the dude in Australia who recovered the camera after the satellite deorbited. The school was fined for not maintaining orbital attitude, failing to eject the ablative shield after launch which allowed the camera to reenter without burning up, and crashing into some poor fucker’s house. I know the story…”
“Chill out dude.”
“I’m chill, you just suck at telling stories”
“You really are an asshole, if Mom knew….”
“Just get on with it”
“OK! So, the hole has been there for 40 years. Back in 2014, some experiment at Area 51 opened it up. They ran this BLM story, like 100 miles away, or something, where there was this standoff, it was crazy. Well that was a coverup, and the military was moving equipment in to fill it in. When that failed, they asked the NSA to find a way to hide it. All those pictures from before were edited, and everyone was told they had to do it, or they would be shut down. After the high school satellite thing, they couldn’t hide it, and since it wasn’t technically on the military base, people started going there.”
“Yea, we went when we were kids, you were too little to remember it…”
“Oh, I remember. Stop cutting me off! Where was I? Ok, so there has been conspiracy for a few years, and no one really knew what was going on, and of course the military denied any knowledge. I mean, it took 3 years to just get them to admit that they covered up all the pictures, but they said they just didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Where is this going?”
“I’m almost there. So…. Everyone has been dumping stuff in there, lots of different stuff. Even explosives, and they can always register a detonation, but a graduate student team from MIT dropped a super magnetic container, with 3 kg of anti-hydrogen, and 3 hours of battery life into it. Guess how big the boom was after the 3 hours?”
“3 kg of anti-hydrogen? It probably registered on seismographs in Vegas”
“It should have registered in Los Angeles. It never went off. The hole is empty, it goes nowhere.”
“Are you suggesting….?"
“Follow the evidence dude… What the hell was the Air Force fucking with back then, and why do we still not know anything about it?”
| "So what is this?" Samuel paced around the large pit before him. It was about fifteen meters in width. The depth was unknown to him.
*The answer*
"What does it look like?" David called from the opposing side of the hole. "It's a hole."
"Well yeah, I see that. Where does it go?"
*To the beyond*
"Down."
"Wow! Really?!" Sam regarded, very sarcastically.
David ignored him. "Anyway, it's been here the passed year, people have been thinking there's something special about it."
Sam stared into the hole. Honestly, he might agree with those people. Something about this hole beckoned to him. He felt drawn to it. He almost could a tiny voice whisper *Join us...*
He obeyed, taking a step towards the hole.
"Sam, what the hell are you doing."
*Enlightening*
Sam ignored him.
"Sam..."
*Go...*
"Sam..!"
*Join us..!*
"Sam!"
Sam continued to walk, ignoring everything. He stepped over it.
"SAM!!"
*YES!*
And he released himself.
"SAM! Dammit Sam!" David growled. He threw his arms to his head and pulled back his hair. He began to pace.
After a moment David thought he heard something.
*Hey*
David furrowed his brow.
"Hey!" A voice echoed.
"Wha-" David muttered.
"Hey!" It seemed to be coming from the hole.
"Sam?" David, confused, walked towards the hole.
"Hey! Get away from there!"
David turned to see another coworker sprinting towards him. He was wearing a gas mask and carried a similar one in his right hand. When he got to David he held it out.
"Put this on. This place is filled with Carbon Monoxide."
David hesitated, still being drawn towards the hole.
The man sighed and forced the mask onto David, who at first struggled and then immediately relaxed when he was breathing normally.
"What is this place?" David muttered.
"It's just a hole."
After looking back at the hole one last time, he couldn't help but agree, and David walked away.
Who the fuck was Sam anyway? | 2018-01-13T09:45:07 | 2018-01-13T09:02:58 | 31 | 18 |
[WP] We contact alien life and find that the vast majority of aliens exist in a slower time frame. Humans are perceived as extremely agile, mentally quick, and have very short lives. | I breathe in.
What words to choose? So many in this language.
I breathe out.
It breathes a hundred times.
Human language is so complicated, so precise. Every word has its own meaning, sometimes many meanings!
I breathe in.
The human looks... what is this expression?
I breathe out.
The human breathes a hundred times more between my actions.
I breath in.
Ah yes... *bored*. What a unique emotion, found only in such a small percentage of the galaxy.
I breathe out.
The human stands, walks the room many times, sits again.
I breathe in.
Perhaps such a thing is to be preserved due to its rarity, left untouched by more civilized beings.
I breathe out.
The human says a great deal of words in so few breaths, in so few moments.
I breathe in.
It appears agitated, in some way. Boredom has many siblings, with impatience the eldest.
I breathe out.
The human stands, walks to me, touches me, pulls a thing out of his pocket, speaks many more words, the thing speaks words to him, the human returns the thing to his pocket, and sits again.
I breathe in.
Some humans dedicate swathes of their lives to live as normal, to be free of boredom and impatience.
I breathe out.
The human stands and walks out of the room.
I breathe in.
How rude of the human, I had yet to say anything.
I breathe out. | Corgnack turned to his life mate. "Those humans are quite remarkable creatures."
Sazine blinked her fourth and sixth eyes, their color a resplendent silver, "Yes. They might be technologically backwards but they make up for it in such surprising ways. It's just a shame that they only die so soon. You barely have time to see the greatest of the humans once before they perish."
Corgnack wobbled his chin sack in agreement. "Thank Bivnar for recordings."
Sazine lifted the holo-remote with one tentacle as she placed a bowl of snacks onto the table with her other two appendages
"So Corgnack, do we watch 'The Best Of Human Comedians' or 'Top 3 Human Cirque Du Soleil Performances''?" | 2016-08-22T21:17:51 | 2016-08-22T20:48:31 | 77 | 14 |
[WP] In the year 2028 society has collapsed, and all that is left is your small town. Every week, an empty train passes through the town; anyone that boards it never returns. One day you decide to get on. | The steam train slowly came to a halt, the smoke billowing behind it. The townspeople stared at it in trepidation, no one moving, no one breathing.
The doors slid open, and they stood transfixed.
He approached the rickety tracks, stopping to glance back at the onlookers. Nothing was left for him here. No family, no friends - no *her*.
He boarded the train.
****
He was alone. The polished wood seemed well used, impossibly old. It seemed almost unreal - but then, most things did, these days.
The train traveled at a steady pace, leaving a trail of smoke across the ruined landscape. There were no signs of life. At least, what he would consider life.
All the while, he thought of what awaited him. Who piloted this accursed machine. No single soul had returned, nor had arrived. Week after week it had come, taking whoever had boarded and leaving all others behind. Who were truly the damned - those that boarded, or those that stayed? Or was it all one and the same?
He did not know how long he was on the train, or what awaited him at the destination. His thoughts drifted, back to when life was simple, when it was meaningful. He thought of all that he had lost, and how little he had gained.
The train moved on, black smoke mixing with black sky. More darkness added to the world.
At times it clung to the windows, trying to reach inside.
****
Ryan awoke to the jolt of the train, sparks illuminating the suffocating black. The train was stopping.
He looked out the window. Darkness covered everything. He knew not if it was day or night.
This was no destination - this was a slaughter.
The door suddenly slid open, darkness creeping in, thick, penetrating. Ryan backed away from it, desperately reaching for his lighter. He knew it would be no use.
A woman burst through the black, her blazing lantern forcing the darkness to retreat. She pulled at the door, trying her best to get it to shut. She looked at him wildly, while he stood paralyzed.
"Help me, for God's sake!" she shouted, and he ran to her. Together they pulled at the door, dragging it with all of their might. At last it closed shut, and they fell to the floor in exhaustion.
She turned to him, pushing the hair from her eyes, breathing heavily.
"Where does this train lead?"
He took some time to answer. "I don't know," he said, with an air of resignation. "I really don't know."
The train began to move, leaving the town behind it; yet the darkness followed.
The darkness always followed. | The train was a promise. We weren't sure what the promise was but we knew we were all that was left other than the train. Cell phones, internet, even radio was silent outside our little town. There were lots of rumors of other persons, but tales of murder, torture, and cannibalism caused us to isolate.
Due to these rumors, the train was viewed as akin to suicide. One guy horrifically mentioned that getting on the train was akin to being a Jew in Nazi Germany and getting in the shower.
I am not sure why we were spared. Random chance? Some terrible social experiment? There were folks on all sides but the one thing certain that was something needed to change. Food was running short. The water supply needed to be boiled. It was clear to me that this situation couldn't be sustained.
There were already small groups with guns (all of us have guns in rural America) that were forming factions over resources. The inevitable conclusion is civil war among what could be perhaps the last few breeding humans who still maintained a modicum of decency.
The hungry persons raided the last grocery store. The owner, who had been corrupted by the simple power of having necessary supplies, was overrun. We had to take the next opportunity out.
The next train arrived before dawn, in the twilight. I had led a small group with what little we had/scavenged. 9 of us. Like clockwork, the doors opened. We piled in quickly because the doors don't stay open long.
We traveled for what I assume to be hundreds of miles. We went very slowly at times.
Dehydration, inadequate nutrition, and lack of sunlight took its toll. We started bickering, infighting, and generally losing our sense of civility. A gun was pulled, but someone choked him from behind quickly. Thankfully no one was hurt.
The destination wasn't something we could comprehend. It was a refugee camp but the security was greater than any military complex we had ever seen. Guns, artillery, missile launchers, and that was just what we could see.
No one wanted to get off the train, but I took the first feeble step. | 2018-08-22T22:41:33 | 2018-08-22T21:38:54 | 48 | 21 |
[WP] You're an ancient Greek man coming home from 4 months of war to find your wife 3 months pregnant. Now you've embarked on a solemn quest: to punch Zeus in the face. | "YOU DARE!?"
The voice was like a thunderclap. Even so, I found it difficult to lift my head. Between the blanket woven from clouds and the honey-suckle scented breast beneath my cheek, I was tempted to rest a bit more.
Hera set a golden hand on my shoulder, helping me up.
"I am not a dead man, Zeus. No one in olympus or the underworld could resist such a beauty. Honestly, if she were my bride, I would never stray. Truth be told, I'd never leave the bed." I pushed the blankets away from my thighs and slipped out of bed, pausing a moment to kiss the back of Hera's hand.
"Thank you for the blessing, my lady. No man has even been honored so." I said to her, bowing as low as I could.
"Clothe yourself, dog." Zeus stood before me with shaking fist, a fearsome figure draped in stars and thunderclouds. "I'll not cast your corpse from my bedroom naked."
I stooped, picking up my tunic; woven from black sack-cloth.
"I would speak with you away from your Queen, O King of the Heavens. She deserves a good rest."
Almost before I could finish speaking, I could feel his fingers in my hair. Blood ran down my forehead as he dragged me from the bedroom.
"No mortal who ever lived has suffered as you will suffer---"
"Danakea."
"I don't care what your name is! When I'm through with you, no one will dare speak it!"
"No." I keep my tone calm. He can't do anything worse than kill me. "My wife's name was Danakea."
He glared at me, lightning burning in his cold, blue eyes.
"Of course, you didn't know her name. You simply forced her down and dishonored her. You didn't care to know who she was, and who I am. Please, know who I am, before you kill me. Know what would happen to your kingdom."
He listened, his eyes growing darker with each word I spoke. When I finished, he through me to the ground.
"This isn't over." He snarled. "I could curse you with immortality."
"Do as you will, O King. Everything in heaven and on earth belongs to you."
In spite of myself, I smiled.
"In heaven, and on earth. But the child? No. I will take him someplace beyond your reach. I will be his father. He'll never know your name, "
Zeus stared at me in outraged silence.
Although he did let out a furious roar as I slammed my knuckles beneath his chin.
Sometime later I returned to my home. My humble hut outside the pomegranate trees. I carried a parcel wrapped in cheesecloth.
Danakea answered before I knocked. She was wearing the blue tunic I bought her. It hung loosely over her skeletal frame. I met her coal-black eyes and smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips.
She set a white hand to my cheek.
"Did it go well?"
"I had trouble at first. She wasn't as lovely as you, so it took some imagination on my part. Kiss me again, I want to get the taste of nectar out of my lips."
She did so. I tasted salt.
"What have you got there?" Danakea asked. I smiled, handing her the parcel. She unwrapped it.
"Figs! How did you know?"
I chuckled. "Because it's the only thing you've been craving. Sit, eat. I'll make the days sacrifices in a minute."
The table she sat at was hand made and splintery. As a priest of Hades, I didn't earn very much. Luckily, my bride didn't mind.
"Dear Husband, I have been thinking on names. What about Charon?"
I paused, trying not to look pained. "Charon, eh?"
She nodded, setting a hand over her swollen belly.
I sighed. How could I say no to her?
"Very well. But the next child we have will be named after MY father. Not yours."
| The ribbon around my finger had but a hint of her rosemary perfume. A scent which kept me alive through the war. When other men had dived onto the tips of their spears and cowards leaped from cliff edge, the smell of rosemary reminded me of her. Now, skin thick with mud, frame pockmarked with scars, the sight of our village hut stirred the beat in my heart once more. I would see my loving wife, Delilah, after near four months at war.
The door was held open in the breeze. Lamb, pumpkin soup, and garlic spice a welcoming parade. "Delilah!"
Pots clanged from the kitchen, feet scuttled from around the corner, my wife emerged and for that moment time paused. She was tan as the Northern hills, green eyes like fresh spring grass, slender hands, and long legs, all kept together in a delicate white robe touched with rosemary. "You're back?" Delilah spat.
Of course, I came for you.
Maybe my presence had shocked her. She placed both hands on her plump stomach, the width of her arms and slender frame told me it wasn't the doing of tofu and grain.
"A son? When?"
"It's not yours," she muttered, "this boy belongs to someone else."
What?
During the war, I had thought being maimed by an enemy was the highest level of embarrassment. Turns out the woman you love can trump that with three words. "If it's not mine, whose is it?"
Delilah stared at the floor like a toddler that had lost their favourite toy.
"Answer me," I told her.
Her eyes snapped to mine. "It belongs to Zeus, god of lightning, a man of real thunder, he took me to his castle in the sky and had his way with my body."
That filthy bearded bastard.
The scorch of the outside sun had never been so welcoming, and the clouds were now my new destination. The end of the war had been a fallacy, now the war of man versus God would begin. I searched the clouds. "I'm coming for you, lord of thunder."
Delilah stumbled outside to stand next to me, her soft feet messed with dirt. "I'm breaking up with you, Soros. I've been trying to get this into your head for the last five years. I don't love you. Please just move on."
You're confused.
"I'll kill Zeus and then you will love me."
Delilah slapped a hand to her forehead. "There's a lightning baby inside of me, do you not understand? Does this not make how I feel clear enough?"
Your brain has been addled by magic, that child is mine.
"Do not fear, my love, I will return soon and we will be together." I hiked up my spear and waterskin. The God of lightning, pssht, more like the god of cloud. My fury will evaporate his power and I will prove I am the best.
"I. Don't. Want. To. Be. Your. Wife!" Delilah screamed from behind.
He will pay for what he has done. Only a true coward would confuse a man's wife. I trekked across the dirt and toward the grey stone mountain in the distance --Olympus.
---
*Check out more at /r/F0xdiary*
| 2016-12-08T13:11:02 | 2016-12-08T11:00:25 | 158 | 54 |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "So, you know then..." I replied, ashamed and a bit relieved.
"Of course I know!" She screamed back in my face. "The way you've been acting lately..."
I sat down. Legs trembling as I wallowed in my secret's exposure.
"What's her name?" She mumbled through newly born tears. "Tell me her name!"
"Fluffy!" I shouted in a voice that could lift the weight of the world from my collapsing soldiers. "His name is Bandit, and my real name is Snuffles!"
"Him? Who's Bandit!?" She tried to yell, despite crying even harder.
"He's the bottom!" I replied
"How can HE be the bottom?" She asked, looking a bit curious behind her soaking face.
"Because he's the only one strong enough to support the three of us!" I screamed back.
"I can't believe you cheated on me..." She said, grabbing her coat and heading for the door.
"Cheat?!" I responded "I thought you had found out that I'm really just three racoons in a human suit!" | "Fine then, you, you STUPID BITCH! I didn't mean that, I..." My words trailed off as she slammed the door and left me. I could barely hear the car screeching away, I was so numb. My mind reeled back to the first time I felt like this. The day I was abandoned. It was by my father. My creator. Gepetto. | 2017-10-22T21:09:49 | 2017-10-22T14:45:04 | 45 | 11 |
[WP] You, an atheist, have died. All the gods that have ever been line up to offer you their version of heaven if only you believe in _them_. Turns out souls are currency and yours is up for grabs. | Thor raised Mjolnir high.
"Heathen! Join with US in Valhalla, and every day will be battle. At night, my Valkyries will tend your wounds as we drink mead and revel in our longhouses!"
"Eh, I kinda did that phase in college. What else have we got?"
Vishnu came forth. "Your faith is imperfect, but choose my path, and you can be reincarnated to continue your journey."
"Hmm, maybe in a few millennia if humans are even still going strong then. Not right now. Have you checked out Earth lately? It's kind of a shithole not least of all for your followers."
Huitzilopochtli appeared. "Human! Your fate depends on certain factors. In life, were you sacrificed?"
"My ex-wife absolutely took me to the cleaners in the divorce, does that count?"
"You have my sympathies, but it does not."
"Well, I was an analyst in the military so I caused a lot of death-"
"Ah!"
"...by PowerPoint."
"Ah. I will have to investigate what this is. If it is sufficiently brutal, you might qualify to ascend on hummingbird wings to assist in the bliss of pushing the sun across the heavens."
"Uh.... huh? Lemme shop around a little more."
I saw an unassuming man in a sweater.
"No. It can't be."
"Hello, Neighbor! I'm glad you're here."
"You were a god all along?! Hmmm..."
"Oh, no. But belief is what's important here. I told a lot of people I believed in them and liked them just the way they were and, well, a lot of them believed in me and liked me just the way I was. That was enough!"
Soul tears of pure energy welled up in my soul eyes.
"There weren't that many people in Mesopotamia, but their gods are all here too for people who like them. Can you say Meso-po-tamia? I knew you could."
"Wh-what do you in your afterlife?"
"We tell stories, and go to the Neighborhood of Make Believe a lot. King Friday the 13th is still there, but we agreed it would be fun to share, so we each take turns for a day. Sometimes we try and help lost souls and we always promise to believe in each other and try to like each other just the way we are."
I doubted I needed to hear more.
"Oh, and I always take off and put on my shoes the same way each and every day."
I snapped my fingers and pointed directly at him.
| I blinked… or whatever amounts to blinking as a formless consciousness. Before me sat many gods, some I recognized and some that I didn’t. Well fuck me surprised there is something after death, and what’s more it was very earth centric in those who wished to judge me. I had been confirmed Catholic before I realized how ludicrous religion was, and became an atheist, which is probably why the god of Abraham was fast approaching.
“He is mine by his own confirmation” He bellowed.
“Not so fast,” screamed Bhal.
A brawl began between some of the gods, most of the male persuasion. I was baffled as to why gods would stick with one gender, until I remembered Dionysus. Never mind these tools I have a deal to make.
“Odin I would have a word with you.”
The one eyed god looked like I had just taken away his favorite toy as he pried himself from the melee.
“Have you chosen mortal? Am I to be your patron?”
“The choice is easy All Father, I died in a struggle. I fought my enemies in more brave a fashion than any of your followers. I expected nothing after death and still took up arms to defend my home. There are only three places I could end up Valhalla, Folkvang, or Elysium. To eat drink and fight while awaiting the final great battle would serve well don’t you think?”
“For wisdom I gave my eye child and in your words I see it. Come with me, the finest mead awaits.”
As we moved the other gods faded from my sight and I began to once again take form. A horn of mead already in one hand a roasted bird leg in the other. I stopped.
“All Father, if we are to prepare for Ragnarok, should we not practice our raiding? On the harp playing hypocrites in the Christion heaven for instance?”
Odin beamed with pride, “You are worthy of my great hall boy. Let us draw up the battle plans tonight.”
| 2017-07-09T06:55:11 | 2017-07-09T02:33:46 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] You receive a notification on your phone saying "Omnipotence acquired". "I call bullshit", you respond, and a bag of cow feces appears and falls next to you. | I immediately look around.
'Whos there?', i call out.
'God? is that you?', silence.
'So... is this like a three wishes type deal or what?', still no response, i guess i needed to make statements to make things happen.
I decided to test a few things out.
Through experimentation, my apartment was now filled with yellow rubber ducks. Of all shapes and sizes, For science.
I found that whatever i verbalised would come true, no matter how specific.
I got a litte giddy, but i calmed myself. It'd be dangerous if i got careless and people found out.
I don't wanna dr manhattan on their ass.
Remaim calm and collected, whats the best thing to do right now?
First i got rid of the rubber ducks, 'Remove all the rubber ducks in this room'
I needed to pee. as i came out of the toilet, an interesting annoucement caught my ear.
'CNN Deborah here, reporting on the mysterious phonemon of rubber ducks vanishing into thin air'
I blinked once, twice. Hold up
So when I said 'room', it meant to say the world was my room. damn what a chad, i say to myself. | You take a quick whiff of the feces and can't help but roll your eyes at the bag of turds. All it took was that one quick to realize that the notification on your phone was too good to be true. You quickly decided to give whatever spawned this a piece of your mind.
"This is a female cattle's shit, a cow's. Bulls are male cattle!"
You say with a shit eating tone, your knowledge of fecal matter saving you from being duped once more. Clearly whatever entity that entertained itself by summoning bovine feces didn't know the proper terminology for cattle genders. | 2022-06-20T04:18:05 | 2022-06-20T03:54:33 | 46 | 30 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
credit to r/Debdub10 for thinking of the idea | Galactic Union Database Entry 365748:
Species: Human (Terran)
Origin: “Earth” Planet orbiting “Sun” Star in Galactic Sector Arm-12
Threat Level: Mostly Harmless
By: Humanologist Frod Perfect
Entry:
The Terran species, or “Human” as they call themselves, are a Tier 4 Civilization that has dominated their solar system, through unusual means. They are known throughout the galaxy as an irrational species that acts before fully creating well-thought out plans. Whilst average sentient forms will spread throughout their local system for military conquest, economic gain, religious pilgrimages, or due to need of resources, the “Human”race decided to explore the stars because “we felt like it” (Human Ambassador Greg Jones Earth year 2708).
Humans are incredibly spontaneous. They name things without any clear system and in incredibly small minded manners. Examples of this are seen in their names for Astrological bodies. They invented the term “Sun” to describe a star in the center of a solar system, and then proceeded to name their sun “Sun”. They repeated this process with “Moon” and “Solar System”. Even stranger is their name for our galaxy. Instead of doing what most species have and naming it based on location, humans call it “The Milky Way” which my observations tell us they named after a beloved candy bar.
It is unknown if the human race is capable of thorough strategic actions. Their methods of handling problems appear to be “insane” and “stupid” yet somehow they have never lost in any recorded galactic warfare. Most species would have thought it suicide to deactivate their entire fleets to avoid being detected and get the flank on their opponents in the Terran Xyllquen War. By entire fleets I mean they actually turned off everything including all their lights and oxygen producing machinery. But humans didn’t think twice. By perhaps sheer chance, their opponents had only brought EMP weaponry to that fight and therefore were rendered useless when an entire fleet of unnecessarily dense and protected human ships rammed directly into the Xyllquen Warship. When asked, war strategist Joe Lincoln responded, “We had no idea about the EMP, we just wanted to dodge their radars.” Researchers later learned that, although ineffective against laser tech, human ship hulls were ultra thick because the manufacturers tried to scam them into paying for more launch fuel. Thus allowing the humans to launch themselves as projectiles, and take out their enemies in the ship with primitive electricity free projectile weapons as opposed to the civilized laser technology available.
The only recorded loss in Galactic Human history is against a non-sentient pest species of large avians on a planet in the Outback region, which lies down under “The Solar System” in which they were incapable of winning a war they waged against a species they named the “Emtwu.”
All other Galactic Union recognized sentient species have adapted superstitions about Terrans. Ever since they toppled the bloodthirsty Grexkan Mega-Empire without ever declaring war or even dispatching battle fleets. The Humans just sent one small team to perform an “Impossible Mission” that involved infiltrating the Grexkan Warship the “Planet-Eater”, deactivating all of their asteroid detection modules, and setting course for an asteroid belt. Mission leader Ethan Cruise commented, “Calling this mission impossible means doubting the human race.”
Most other species tend to avoid humans whenever possible, as they are unpredictable and untrustworthy. However they are also too afraid to deny any trade deals humans offer, as coming off as hostile against such an unpredictable species could mean the end of your civilization. Despite this humans have almost never been responsible for the starting of any war and generally friendly towards strangers. They have created businesses sending large voyager ships randomly deep through space on friendly missions to establish connections with other species. This form of starship enterprising is seen as a bad omen and often leads to many conflicts, none of which ever seem to go poorly for the humans.
It is unknown if humans are extremely powerful and ominous or if they’re just lucky and rash. But one thing is certain; their bizarre style of managing problems has been effective up til now.
End of Entry
-This was fun to write! I love the prompt and I hope anyone who sticks through the whole thing enjoys my writing. I tried fitting in some references, I hope they don’t feel too forced though. Either way I had a blast!
| It's no use. The console just displays an error message indicating no input from the ship's sensors. The Samarrians crippled our ship and now we're unable to fire. Soon, after destroying the rest of the ships in our fleet, they will come back to board us.
I'm preparing for the inevitable. I lay my praying mantle before me, to ask Gurgaon and Medixas for their help in the incoming battle. I'm ready to pray for a glorious death.
But just as I was pulling out my Litsimas, the one they call Bob, the human, saw me, and with wide eyes on his face asked me about the object floating in my hand. I told him it was a Litsimas and it allowed us Bolgas to adequately pray. He was having none of that.
"No, no, no, no, no" he said, "I mean, where the hell is it pointing?"
I told him it pointed to the nearest star, as our Gods use them as gateways to their domain. He then rudely took the Litsimas out of my hand and ran away. I followed him around the ship, mainly because I wanted my sacred implement back. I was not letting this plundering brute to jeopardize my afterlife. But after a while I noticed he was reading the screens as he went. I finally found the reason for his outburst as he stopped on a console that worked.
"Where's the planet?" He asked. I did not have time for his lunacy, but he was adamant.
"WHERE THE HELL IS IT?!" He yelled, and not wanting to aggravate him even more, told him the last time I checked it was on the port. What was he planning?
Holding the Litsimas in one hand and typing with the other, he started crunching numbers on the console like a possessed, all the while praying to his god Pythagoras in his mutterings. Then after a while, he began laughing to himself. Believing he had gone mad with fear, I prepared to give him some comforting words when he suddenly bolted out towards the bridge. The guards posted on the door caught him and were struggling to contain this madman who was asking to see the captain.
"What is this indiscipline? Who is making such a scandal on my bridge?" Asked the captain. Bob then proceeded to explain to the captain that he had found a way to save the fleet.
"Captain, are the weapons systems still working?"
"Why do you ask? What is this about?"
"Sir I believe I'm able to calculate a firing solution"
The captain then busted into laughter. I did as well, how could this human do the work of such an advanced machine as the ship's supercomputers? How could he hope to make such calculations in his puny human head? But he was undeterred. He commandeered one of the consoles in the bridge, and before the guards could arrest him, he had issued a firing command.
We all held our breaths as we knew that this was a sign that we were still alive, and those barbarians would surely come back to kill us all. But then, the comms opened in the bridge, the admiral on screen.
"What happened to you Captain Astros? Why weren't you firing before? Where you all asleep?"
"Admiral, our sensors were knocked out, we had no way to return fire against the enemy!"
"Don't lie to me Captain, that was a direct hit to that Titan's shield generator, now I want you firing on those ships until you run out of ammo, do you understand me?"
"Yes, admiral" said the captain in utter disbelief, looking at the disgusting grin Bob the Human had on his face. | 2018-10-11T14:41:01 | 2018-10-11T14:19:17 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. | If I knew I had more of the same to look forward to, I don't think I'd of killed myself. Really it was basically like life but worse, at least if you were alive you had needs and wants, urges and drives. When you were dead you just boredly watched the living. Watched them make the same stupid mistakes again and again.
Centuries went by before I finally figured out how a ghost died. Was spending time with one of the dead in his families home. His widow said his name and he just vanished. I hung around for a while longer but no further mention of him was made, and that's when I figured out that the dead were little more than memories. As the memory of us faded, so did we.
I knew a catastrophe unlike any other was coming when the ghosts began to vanish in droves. The only comparable time was the fall of Rome, so many who should've been remembered were lost for forever. Even then however, paled in comparison to what had been happening. I was praying with a friend of mine, a holocaust victim by the name of Elijah. I happened upon him shortly after his death, wandering around France in a daze. So long it had been since I had any real company, even as a ghost I was reviled, my name synonymous with betrayal and greed. He didn't care though, so we spent our time talking about our lives, about theology, about the world. I think part of the reason he was willing to talk to me was because he no longer saw the light, but in time he did again and in doing so made me think perhaps I could as well.
When he vanished I couldn't believe it, there was an entire museum dedicated to remembering the holocaust victims. I made my way to the museum only to find it intact, with more people than ever. I stayed there, praying each day, watching ghosts blink out of existence by the hundreds. Praying they found something better after. Then the bombs fell, it took Rome years, decades even, to fall. The modern fell in less than a week, utterly destroyed by their own power.
Even so I didn't fade, I guessed some knowledge was just to stubborn to be forgotten. I couldn't do it alone anymore however, and I had an idea of who to speak to, to begin to see about finding forgiveness. I moved slower than I could have, stopping and spending the night with survivors I'd find, praying over them, then spending the time on the road praying that my prayers were heard. I didn't think I'd find him there, but the first place I checked was the eternal city. As I suspected he was nowhere to be found, so I continued on to his old home in Galilee.
I made my way to the waters edge and saw him standing in the water, immune to the radioactivity, water lapping gently against his knees. Even after all these years I recognized him, the rock. He turned and looked at me then, and I could see the pain and anguish in his eyes. I wondered if my eyes looked similar, both of us having experienced three thousand years of human loss and suffering. "Still I don't have enough faith" he chuckled, gesturing at the water and how even as a ghost he sank beneath it's surface. "Hello Peter" I greeted. | It was all because of that stupid TV show.
I thought that it was done ruining my life when I turned twenty. The comments had slowly been dying down, and I figured that once my friends were out of their teenage years, the talk would turn to wine more so than my name.
Sufficed to say, it didn’t.
I died from old age, in the year 2090, and as my eyes closed and I could hear my relatives beginning to cry, a smile graced my face in the hope that I should find peace at last.
I awoke a few feet away from the bed, my feet floating a few inches off the ground, beside my daughter. She had only commented on my name when she was a child, and even that, only once or twice. I had always supposed my children feared me too much to make fun of my name. Perhaps that was the Russian in me. I was never as gentle as my husband.
My eyes still haven’t closed. It’s been 3000 years, damnit, yet that show has only gotten more popular. It teaches all sorts of languages now, but that theme song is still the same. It plagues my days (ghosts are not allowed to leave the building they died in). I have relived every single possible moment of every single episode.
Fun fact: new episodes air every Sunday at ten in the morning. My great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great-(etc) granddaughter absolutely loves them.
Thankfully, my family did not continue the tradition of naming their children after their ancestors. I suppose that would have made it doubly difficult for me to finally reach the peaceful afterlife (if there even is one).
TV looks a lot cooler; that’s one good thing about being around for so long, I suppose. You get to see all the cool stuff people have come up with. The worst part is when they walk right through you, and you begin forgetting if Jerry was the father or your second great-great-great son-in-law.
I think a missed a few greats in there. Oh well. Back to the show.
Even after 3000 years, Swiper has to work on his swiping skills. That five-year-old I share a name with can’t possibly be that hard to outwit.
| 2016-01-17T15:06:39 | 2016-01-17T11:19:18 | 235 | 15 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | I ran through the wintery Evergreen forest for my life. Men with guns and powers of fire and ice hot on my trail.
Jimmy, who ate the dog biscuits hidden in the corner of the table, had let that wolf familiar of his after me too. Fucking traitor!
I had committed the worst transgression of our people: I didn't conform to the test and bit right into that stupid table. Jimmy was the one who dared me to and now I'm a fugitive of the village.
I hit a dead end and stared at the mountain in front of me. If they catch me it's certain death.
I reached deep into myself and called for whatever powers, if I obtained any, to surface and help me.
My body stretched, my limbs twisted and as I opened my eyes I could see for miles around me. The village and forest were but mere pin pricks of lights and swaths of darkness.
It had started to snow harder. Large wet flakes had started to hit my body and face.
"We lost him Captain!" I heard a distant voice yell.
At a height of at least 200 feet I seen the hunting party close around me and stop. They stared at me from the base with a look of horror and confusion.
I've never been good with geography or plants, but I knew enough to know what I've transformed into.
One came towards me at a slow pace and put a hand one me, marveling at the sheer size I've become.
Jimmy came forward, his wolf growling in my direction with his ears back and fur tufted.
The last thing I heard before I willed myself to fall on to the hunting party was the lone pitiful voice of my friend calling out in disbelief, " IS THAT A FUCKING SEQUOIA?!"
I am The Arborist. | The examiner smiles at you.
"Well done for seeing beyond the superficial, and choosing what your heart desires. I have been waiting for this day. Captain Table"
With that bite, you gain the power to turn into an inconspicuous table at will.
People laughed at first, Captain Table is a lame name they said. But the Ministry of Inteligence didn't laugh. Instead, they recruited you.
After your orientation you are taken to see the Director a man you recognize as the examiner.
"Why do you give the tests?"
"Who beter to know exactly what kinds of powers our heroes and villains will have, who better to judge the character of a person than I. You see when I was 16 I took a bite out of a glass, the power it gave me was foresight, but only of people that I can see. I have used this power to move through the ranks, and to protect the world. The second you took a bite out of the table I knew that I had met a kindred spirit, and upon using my foresight I saw that you would become one of my best agents. Able to go anywhere, overhear anything."
Thus began the illustrious career of the worlds best Super Spy
Captain Table. | 2020-03-19T08:57:52 | 2020-03-19T07:02:46 | 632 | 388 |
[WP] You are a demon trapped in an ancient temple build by a long dead civilization. Today, after millennia, an archaeologist finds you. Now you need to convince him to free you from the magic circle. | Darkness. Eternal, never ending. Stretching on and on and on. Even for an immortal who has all the time in this wretched world time is dragging on. I sleep, I wake, make a futile attempt to leave the circle that binds me, and fail. I curse the sorceress that did this to me and then sleep some more before repeating the cycle all over again. The temple that imprisons me seemingly forgotten.
Light. It is small but grows as it comes closer. I hear voices in a tongue that I do not recognise, it sounds new. Not that it matters language is means nothing to me.
“Absolutely incredible” one of the voices echoes up ahead. “Absolutely incredible! The expedition practically pays for itself. Think how much money this will bring in.” I hear murmurs of agreement.
Pay. Money. I see some things have not changed since I last roamed free on the earth. I used to always dread the thought of when humans would one day transcend their inconsequential material desires. Luckily though that day does not seemed to have arrived yet.
“Watch your step now though” another voice echoes out as I see a group of several humans approach from around the corner. The bright, unnatural light that emits from their headdresses hurts my eyes. “You never know...” the speaker strays off as their eyes fall on me. “What on the earth is that?” They point to the centre of the room where I am bound, their face wrinkled in what I can only assume is fear.
Now is my chance. First I shall dazzle these humans with an impressive display of power and then strike a deal with them, which they would be helpless to refuse. I uncoil myself from where I lay and rear my head up, curling my lip up in snarl, showing my sharp, dagger like teeth.
“Holt mortals” I command... except my voice does not boom, shaking and rattling the temple walls. Instead it comes out as squeak, small and pathetic.
“Poor thing looks terrified” the smaller human coos. “I think it may be a rat, maybe a mongoose?”
“Mongoose? Not here” the third human who has not spoken yet almost laughs as it approaches me. Involuntarily I find myself backing away from it, pressing myself against the edge of the circle. Humans are much larger than I remember them being. I had been too disorientated to notice at first.
The human towers over the circle peering down at me with curiosity. It leans down and picks me up by the scruff of my neck. I see my tiny little legs and tiny claws frantically scratching at the air.
“I don't know what it is. Might have discovered a new species here” the human grins dangling me before them. “Wonder how much it's worth.”
I realise now what is happening, I have been gone so long that people no longer believe in me. I have been weakened, reduced to nothing more than a pathetic play thing for the humans. I stop wriggling.
“Be careful with it then” the smaller one says scooping me into its arms. It makes calm, soothing murmuring sounds. As it cradles me close to its chest it feels soft, and I can hear its heart beating steadily behind it ribcage pumping its warm blood throughout its entire body.
The humans do not seem to be hostile. I can bide my time and they will eventually come to see me for what I really am, they shall behold my awesome powers and they shall believe in me once again. I will be more powerful than ever and I shall rebuild my rebuild my kingdom. After all I have all the time in this wretched world. | When Harry entered the ruins of the ancient temple of Altuz, his flashlight immediately fell upon a poor, old, balding man who stood in the centre of a circle among the ruins. The man's skin was dark brown and crusty, the eyes fiery, and the hair silver.
"Who are you?" Harry asked.
The old man looked up to him. He extended a dark, crusty hand towards the light and said, "I? I am a lonely old fellow, trapped in these ruins."
"Do you have a name?"
"Yes, I do. People call me Luc- Lucilius," the old man said and smiled.
"How did you get here? How long have you been? Why is your skin so?"
"So many questions, young man. I will answer them; once you let me out of here."
"You need my help? You seem pretty fine by the looks of it."
Harry had noticed that the old man was indeed in no great trouble, from the looks of it. He was not bound to anything and had no physical injuries that appeared serious enough to stop him from crawling out of there. But then, the old man started to move and Harry noticed a limp in his step.
"I am not very fine, brave young man, I am not. It's cold in here, and this leg, it hurts in the cold."
That said, the old man collapsed to the ground near the edge of the circle.
"Are you alright, old man ... Lucilius, was it?"
The old man lifted his head from the crumpled heap of his body, "Yes, I am Lucilius. You see, young man. I have to get out. I have to."
Harry gave him a quick nod and bent down to pick him up. While doing so, he noticed the ancient rune marks around the circle at whose edge Lucilius lay, crumpled in a heap.
"Say, old man, what are these runes you got around here?"
"Oh, these? I never really understood them. Not my cup of tea, these things."
"Why were you standing in this circle then, if you had no interest in it?"
Lucilius sighed. "It gets cold. The walls especially so. Snow comes in during the wintertime. So, I have to sit in this circle to get whatever heat I can."
Harry directed his flashlight to the walls, which were far away, but did seem cold and uninviting.
"Okay, brace yourself. I'm gonna pick you up now," Harry said and lifted old Lucilius on his shoulders.
When he stepped out of the circle, his flashlight flickered, and the old man called Lucilius disappeared from his shoulders. In his place was a gargoyle, wrinkled and old and ugly. It stared at Harry's face, clicked its tongue and feasted on the archaeologist's head.
The men stationed outside, who were waiting for Harry, grew restless. One of them, a sprightly young research assistant, took a flashlight and peered into the temple's entrance. The gargoyle flew past him at great speed and disappeared into the sky. | 2020-12-06T11:41:30 | 2020-12-06T10:50:16 | 83 | 48 |
[WP] Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100. | This prison is all I've ever known. The world knows your luck rating as soon as your born. I entered the world, my luck rating was seen, and I was taken away from my parents. They must have had low-luck ratings. Most 100s have low-luck parents. I was brought to this maximum security prison only hours after I was born.
It didn't always feel like a prison. I was nursed by volunteer mothers who could still produce breast milk. There were other infants that I played with and grew up with. As we got older, there was less and less play time and more solitary time to ourselves. Once we were old enough, we got a cell that became our new home. For, well, forever.
Every inmate wore an ankle cuff. Scientists figured out a way to "turn off" our luck, so to speak. And once it's on and our luck is gone, there's no way to get it off. They are made of the strongest metals on earth. Nothing will break these.
Except a solar flare. Of course, I didn't know that's what happened until years later and I still don't have an explanation as to why.
It was 4 am. I couldn't sleep so I was listening to the rumble of snores around the prison. Then everyone in the prison simultaneously beeped.
The sound was so soft that, if it occurred during the day, no one would've heard it. But in that 4 am silence, I was the loudest sound in the prison. Even over the snores.
I never knew what being lucky felt like before. It was stripped away before I could even have memories. But the feeling that rushes through my body seconds after that beep left me breathless.
I knew it was my luck. I knew I could escape. And hopefully, no one else was awake and trying to escape either.
I started to fiddle with the ankle cuff and it nearly fell apart in my hands. I removed some wires that hopefully disabled it and then reattached it to make it look like it was still on and functioning.
I've never had better sleep in my life.
By the time I woke up, everything seemed normal. There were no alarms. No missing inmates. It appeared as know I was the only one who knew what happened last night.
The hardest part should've been pretending like I didn't have my luck back. But who am I kidding? It was the easiest thing in the world.
'Cause I'm lucky.
I understand why they lock us up. Us 100s. I could've murdered someone and no one would've seen it.
There were no eyes on my as I was walking around. My luck caused them to always look away when they came close to looking at me.
I walked straight out the front door into a world I had never seen before.
I don't know when my ankle cuff fell off. | It was all a bit ludicrous, actually...the g-men in their black suits with automatic weapons, the excessive security. The deep elevator that went down level after level to a giant vault door to where they kept us. Nuclear waste wasn't buried as deep as we were. We were the "lucky one-hundreds". The ones with unbelievable luck. The ones with too much luck, apparently. Grabbed by men in vans and hoods thrown over our heads and whisked away to this "undisclosed location".
I was here because I was too lucky. I've won the equivalent of 25 people's college tuition from half court shots. I'd won the lottery 7 times, the Masters three years running (because there were the only times I'd competed) and so much more.
Today was visitation day. Somebody, perhaps some high powered politician hoping we'd be of help to him if we ever got out of here, had arranged a visit by the Brazilian Bikini Team. There were 45 of them. (I guess they had alternates, too?) Just after they got into the complex, the lights flickered. The visit went well enough, they just sort of danced around a bit.
When the time came for them to leave, the radio calls to the surface went unanswered. We came to find out that everyone outside had lost their damn minds and every leader who had them launched every flipping nuclear missile they had. The whole world outside was uninhabitable, at least for the next 20 years. Being as remote as e we were, we could cut it down to 15.
We also came to find out, this was the US Congressional safe bunker, because, where else would you want to be when the crap hits the fan than with people like me? Well, it seems that luck only applies when you are where we are, so not a single official made it. It was stocked with everything we'd need for 75 years for 1000 people. We had about 53 souls in all.
There were no signals from anywhere else in the world. Here we were, stuck in a bunker... with the Brazillian Bikini Team, having to restart the world's population. Lucky us... | 2018-06-29T11:30:53 | 2018-06-29T11:26:29 | 36 | 22 |
[WP].You are sitting outside your house, enjoying the dying embers of the campfire when two glowing eyes open to stare at you. " Greetings, " it rasped, " may I share your fire tonight?" | I’ve always enjoyed this little cabin with it’s view of the mountains and view of Deep Lake. Far from civilization it gives me a sense of calm unlike anywhere else. Watching the moon rise over the mountains while I sit by the firepit out front has been one of my favorite pastimes for so many years now it’s hard to remember when I started.
As my fire burned down and I was tired enough for the evening, at the edge of the trees I could see a pair of eyes softly glowing in the distance.
“I can see you over there, you can come closer, I'm not going to bite.”
The eyes unblinkingly grew closer.
At the edge of my light they spoke, “Greetings, may I share the fire with you tonight?”
“I don’t see why not,” I reach for the last pair of logs near my chair, “I think I can keep the fire going a little while longer.”
“Thank you.”
The eyes got closer but stayed just out of the light, unmoving.
“Why don’t you come over here and have a seat closer to the fire,” I gestured to the other chairs, “have your pick, they're nice and sturdy, I built them years ago with my grandkids,” I smiled, “We worked a whole summer out here making them and my cabin.”
“Some find my form… unsettling, you may not wish to see me now.”
“Alright then if you prefer,” silence followed for what felt like forever. “So what brings you out to my neck of the woods?”
“I’m picking up an old friend. But they don’t know it yet.”
“Whisking someone off in the dead of night without them knowing? Little spooky don’t you think?”
“I’ll talk with them first so it’s not too upsetting. It’s the preferred way.”
“How’s that the preferred way?”
Silence followed for so long I was about to speak, “It’s easier,” there was a pain in their voice. I knew I shouldn’t press further.
“So are you meeting them by the lake? You should know the forecast said a snowstorm was moving in.”
“It won’t be much of a concern for us, the weather never is.”
“The prepared type huh? That’s always good.”
We sat in silence as the fire burned down and was barely more than embers. It had gotten very cold by now. I looked to the stars above and saw the clouds had moved in without me noticing. And a snowflake touched my nose. When I looked back down the eyes were in the chair across from me. I couldn’t make out the details of what they looked like, just the eyes stood out. A soft glow from them not too dissimilar to the glowing embers of a fire.
“Finally felt like taking a seat, huh?”
“They looked quite comfortable and I didn’t want to miss the chance. I could rest for a long time in one of these.”
“I always think the same thing, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep out here in this chair thinking about that summer”
“I believe it,” the tone, it was almost like they wanted to say, “I know.”
“I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to go to sleep,” my eyes were feeling heavier with each breath, “you can stay as long as you like just be sure that the fire is out before you leave.”
My limbs were feeling too heavy to move. Maybe I just nap a little before I head inside.
“I always do.” | A voice from the corner of the eyes, theirs sparkling with the sight of the bonfire.
A voice, that asks with courtesy, kindly.
"May I share your fire tonight?"
&nbsp;
Who was I to refuse? I was always told that with my nature, if a murderer were to ask politely, I'd let them kill me.
Manners do maketh someone, after all.
"Certainly", I would respond.
They slowly approached, almost fearful of waking the very earth they stepped on.
But I do suppose that those who tiptoe do so for a reason.
&nbsp;
Describe them, you say?
Well, they seemed rather.. soft. Not in the sense that they would seem weak, or that they would seem unwanted, but they just looked soft. Rather, adorable.
They trembled. Whether out of the cold they were in a moment ago, or whether they were scared of this new face before them, I could not tell you.
&nbsp;
"Would you like something to drink?", I asked.
"Yes please, if that's okay", they said in response.
So I poured them a bit of something to warm them up. Nothing to hinder the head, mind you.
They must have quite enjoyed it, as their eyes practically twinkled with what I could have sworn was starlight.
&nbsp;
Oh! I have some with me here, if you'd like to try a bit.
No? Ah, I suppose that's fair.
&nbsp;
Anyway, where was I?
Right. There they were, with such a shine, so delicate that I felt if I were to even breath I'd shatter the splendor before me.
Then, they took a deep breath and told me "That was pretty good. Thank you".
I asked a question that I'm glad I did. I asked, "If it's okay with you, may I give you a hug?".
I don't know why, but they were willing to oblige. I leaned in and wrapped my arms around, fully embracing them and their warmth. It felt rather pleasant.
&nbsp;
I'm not really sure why, but right into my ear, they whispered to me "You're good enough".
Regardless of why, I think I needed to hear that. It felt so magical then, being able to be comforted by an almost familiar stranger.
Without realising, though, I took my last gaze upon them.
When I blinked next, they were inexplicably gone.
I felt.. emptier in that moment.
&nbsp;
But the fire kept me warm as I slowly dozed off, knowing that somewhere, someone was content with who I was.
&nbsp;
sorry if not good :( | 2022-01-06T02:41:12 | 2022-01-06T00:55:25 | 60 | 30 |
[WP] “Is that a….” The nuke explodes harmlessly against the alien starships shields. “Child’s toy? Yes,” the tired alien said. They were part of a group that helped the more…dumb races of the universe develop and evolve. But this race of “humans” would soon prove rather…difficult to educate. | "OK... Let's try this one more time... You are used to three dimensions, and in those three VERY SPECIFIC dimensions, yes life has a start and an end. Things could be damaged and entropy destroyed those things over time, but the vast majority of life does not actually exist in those dimensions. Your species was a part of a... rather unethical experiment in what life would look like in those dimensions, but the culprit has been stopped and sent to exist in a set of dimensions that isolate him from our existence. We have brought you to the dimensions the rest of us exist in to try and acclimate you to.. "
" NUKE IT AGAIN! LAUNCH THEM ALL" the human screamed again
¥¢© sighed. This was the third "world leader" they'd pulled into real time to explain the situation, and each one had pulled out the same kids toys that ¿~¶ had rigged their dimension sets power source as. Heck he'd not even attached a ÷¥¢ which meant that there was a speed limit in these poor beings universe. Then he put just a single seeded planet in the entire set. ¥¢© couldn't imagine feeling that isolated and alone. It was no wonder these beings were so messed up. Barely existing for more than a couple of § and then not even getting to exist long enough to even °#@.
Her group had been tipped off by an anonymous lead that ¿~¶ was conducting a new experiment even after he'd had all of his resources stripped away. How he'd even been able to rig this up with this handful of junk was beyond her. Her and her group had now begun the process of seeing if any of these beings could be integrated into real time. So far random selection had shown that most of them would reject this information as a hallucination, or end up sent to treatment when trying to explain to the other beings what was happening. Thus the attempt to pull in the being's selected leaders.
That turned out to be much worse. Something about the limited time of existence seemed to lead to these beings picking only some of the worst of them to be in charge. ¥¢© made up her mind. "OK I'm just gonna have to go in myself. Give me the ¬¬~¿ and I'll see if I can talk some sense into them."
...
Two £× later ¥¢© emerged from the ¬¬¿ weeping. "Just leave it be. Let them exist until they wipe themselves out. I set up a way for those that heard me to get into a quarantine zone where we can try to recondition them, but having been in there.." she shuddered.
"I'm going to need a very strong drink and a 🔷🟫🟪 before I can calm down enough.The isolation we put ¿~¶ is too good for him... | We wrapped up the meeting on the fancy deck of the alien ship with our version of formality in pressed suits, powdered makeup, and human servants, their group carrying ancestors’ tentacles dry-pressed to golden clarity, shellacked, held aloft. Both species had a similar formality around eye contact and antagonism.
Jasmette was being rather slow. Bitch. She had her job, like I had mine. Not a fun job, but it’s the human race and all, and we had a dinner to serve as cover and a bomb to set off. The formal group were doing their thing, we were supposed to get as deep as possible, pretend to be caterers. Her dumb ass looked me in the eye, shook her head, and walked back to the main group. Coward.
I kept going. Not like I made it far. Odd gangways with ferns and little fairy lights on trees. Then I was lost. I figured it was the loss of planet gravity, getting used to ship gravity, totally messed up my sense of place. This ship was really unnerving, it felt like a real place. Ferns seemed to look at you, trees didn’t move in any wind, but still moved.
I had the bomb, Jasmette was just supposed to mind me. Tell me when to stop or turn. I could set it off without her. I kept going, and started thinking about her head shake. I sat down hard against a tree root, carefully managing my chest- and back-strapped bomb as I settled. I looked at a fern for a while. It tilted a little towards me. That bitch might be right.
After a rest in that odd, beautiful fern-covered canyon, I went back. I didn’t tell the aliens about the suicide nuke I’d walked into their home and then walked out. We’d tried so many times to hit them from the outside. I don’t know if I was scared to die, or if I didn’t want to bring death to that pretty place. But I went back, unstrapped the pack, and started scrubbing people dishes. And listening to the conversation. I think, if anything changes after today, I’m going to listen and think more. | 2021-12-25T09:11:06 | 2021-12-24T22:22:32 | 211 | 67 |
[WP] In your world, magic is wielded by astrologists who form pacts with distant stars. Every star grants a unique power. Upon forming a pact with a star, you gain a glimpse of its worlds and your soul will be pulled to one when your pact ends. You are the first to form a pact with a black hole. | "It is simply a natural progression."
She said it so matter of factly that I couldn't find it within me to argue. And yet my entire understanding of the laws of magic, of the universe, were imploding all around me.
"But you're dead. How...how can we forge a pact if you're dead?" A part of me, perhaps the rational part, was terrified of the answer she would give. Another was nearly paralyzed with anticipation.
The elders, my mother and father among them, cautioned us not to talk to the old stars. That they were too set in their ways and would demand far more than they would ever give. Maybe that logic is why they never talked about communicating with what used to be stars.
"Dying is not the destiny of a star, my little mortal. Only you and your kind are granted such peace. We are eternal. Our bodies may change but it is only so that we may become more powerful. When I was newly forged, I made a pact with one of your kind. A millennium of millennias ago. I offered her a sliver of my power and she went on to rule the lands. What I can offer you now, a sliver still, would be enough to rule everything."
My mouth was dry and my eyes were itching. It was cold atop the mountain but the freezing temperatures were a distant thought, as if a clouded memory of a sleepless winter night were bubbling just below the surface of consciousness. Had my heart always thundered like this in my chest?
"What...what will you ask of me?"
I don't know why I asked that question. Even newly born stars had schemes and motivations far beyond human conception. Surely one that was dead, or at least so ancient as to be believed to be dead, would be that much more obscure.
"I will use you when the time comes. As humans wage war against one another, so do we from time to time. I might some day wish to hold dominion over the other celestials. You will help me in that endeavor."
I couldn't feel my legs any more. Had it always been this cold? My arms felt as if thousands of tiny knives were slowly driving themselves through my flesh. Was I still breathing?
"Can you show me what will happen?" I wheezed the question, finding it harder and harder to breath. She was quiet for a long time.
"Very well."
Light exploded behind my eyes. I soared over the lands as if on the wings of a magnificent bird. Below me, people made pilgrimage to pay homage to their liege. In the distance, a great stepped palace rose over the land, casting shadows in all directions. As we drew closer, I saw myself sitting on a gilded throne with scepter in hand. All bowed before me.
A flash of light caused me to look upward toward Sol, the forbidden star. It burned brighter than I had ever known it to. And yet it felt wrong. It was as if the star were being pulled apart slowly and steadily. When my eyes adjusted I could see her far beyond Sol. I could make out her streams of immense power, lashing at everything around her and drawing it in. She would consume it all.
I found myself gasping, greedily sucking in air as if I had been submerged for too long. My head cleared and the night sky came back into focus. The stars twinkled, millions and millions of lives peacefully drifting across the cosmos. And there she sat. Placidly. Innocently.
"Do you accept my offer?"
"I do, Charybdis." | “Why?”
She looked so frail like this. Broken, crying on the floor as the last vestiges of magic left her body in a vain attempt to stop me.
Stop me.
As if she could stop a god.
And yet that question did more to slow me down than all of their tricks combined. Seals, wards, portals, fire, metal and a thousand other such things did nothing to me. But her words did. In this at least, she was superior to all those so called ‘great mages’. Now only great stains on the floor.
“Don’t you see? I just defeated the greatest wizards of an age. They were frail old fools bound to ancient laws which lost meaning centuries ago. And with a single pact, I finished them all. Now we are unbound. Free”
She hiccuped and she moved her lips as if they bore the weight of mountains.
“They raised you.... they taught you.... they loved you.....”
Silence fell.
“I loved you” she said with great pain.
“I love you too. I.... loved them too. But they held us back. They held the world back. And they refused to see reason”
“YOU STAND AMONGST THE CORPSES OF YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY AND CLAIM REASON?!?” She screamed with rage.
A flaming ball of fire shot out of her hand. I raised mine and before it could touch me the fire split into countless threads and was absorbed by my hand.
Power.
Power.
It flowed within me. And without. The air distorted and light shrieked as reality fell loose around me. Wrong. Twisted. But supreme.
This Power is mine. All mine. I earned it. My Power. MINE. MINE. MINE.
I shook myself out of that mental process. Not now. Not at the end.
“I hate you.....” she said feebly as her strength left her and she fell on the floor.
“I love you” I said as the air around her twisted and imploded into nothingness alongside her.
There was silence.
It hurt more than any torture they could have inflicted upon me.
But it was done.
I walked beyond where the corpses of my family rested, their faces forever malformed in hatred and pain. Finally I reached the Celestial Throne. The greatest prize a mage could possibly have. The greatest prize a god could possibly have.
The ability to expand firmament itself. The gift of creation. The magic to create stars.
I sacrificed everything for this but it would be worth it. It had to be.
I sat upon it. It was hard and cold and so high up it would separate me from anyone below it. The implications did not go unnoticed to me.
As I felt the supreme power flowing within me from it I knew.
There were no Gods Or Kings anymore.
There was only me. | 2020-02-21T04:27:44 | 2020-02-21T02:08:07 | 252 | 63 |
[WP] If your death is imminent, time stops for everyone but you. This allowed you to cheat death on many occasions by avoiding all sorts of danger except for now - you have no idea whats threating your life. Its been a year since time stopped. | I've been cursed with a terrible form of immortality. Every time my death is but moments away, time grind to a halt for everyone. And while I am still able to manipulate my suroundings to some degree, i do not age, hunger, require sleep or otherwise feel the passage of time.
I know this because time has stood still for a year and will not start before i remove myself from whatever danger is threatening my life.
The first time it hapened was in my car. Avoiding a cat, or maybe a small dog, I swerved into the path of a truck on the highway. Before it was too late, time ceased. I left the car in the state of almost shock a near brush with death gives. As i walked around the scene, time resumed and the truck slammed into my driverless vehicle. Thankfully noone else was hurt.
The second time, a fire broke out at work. Trying to evacuate time stopped and I found myself unable to open the emergency exit to the stairwell. It ended after i had resolved to climb down an escape laddar outside. Turns out 320 people died trying the stairwells as a delivery service had "momentarily" blocked it. It occured to me that my ability to affect the world was tied to my chances of survival. I cannot, for example, jump out a window on the 20th floor. If the window is closed, i simply cannot open it. If its open, i cannot make the jump. The movements necessary prove themselves impossible.
It is with some regret I now realise placing myself in an airplane was a less than stellar idea.
The floor is angled some 67 degrees and I assume there is a gaping hole in the side of the plane. Or there is a raging fire in the cabin. Perhaps a terrorist will blow it up, or a missile is moments from impact. I dont think I ever will know. I am in the toilet, the thin door refusing to open. | King's log day 263:
Lance tried poisoning my chocolate milk again. That jerk. What's a tyrannical leader got to do to have servants who don't try killing him once a week? It was bad enough when my best archer tried to snipe me while I was just about to finish season two of Breaking Bad (Yes, I did kill her family a few weeks ago… but that was a misunderstanding). I swear a murder attempt comes once every 5 hours. At least at feels that way. I forget what the normal length of a day is - how long it takes the sun to rise.
The peasants must be so confused as to how my heart still beats. If only they knew…
King's log day 628:
You know how you are about to finish a crossword puzzle but you can't figure out who the seven-letter president who paved the way for the Trail of Tears is? Imagine that feeling lasting for an entire year. As I walk around my palace all I see is blank faces - it may as well be Medusa's vacation destination of choice. I tried killing myself but it was about as successful as trying to get a response out of my frozen chefs. I miss omelets. Who cares if they were laced with rat poison?
King’s log day 978:
It’s an atomic bomb isn’t it. Shit | 2018-07-04T15:51:37 | 2018-07-04T14:05:18 | 4,562 | 394 |
[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. | "-so in the end, all life is really just the inevitable manifestation of the universe's irrepressible desire to kill itself" the immortal explained, still fiddling under their desk. "Life is not rare, not a miracle; We are entropy, we exist to consume more energy than we give back, and then we die. It's actually very simple"
"We're like little fires, lit by a suicidal God in their own house. All that's left for them is to watch us dance, and wait to die" For a human, the immortal sometimes said some wonderful things. Death had come to like that about these visits, as the immortal liked to talk.
*"So, once again, do you choose to continue here?"* Death rasped, his mind and body simultaneously in a trillion locations, claiming a trillion souls, yet each of those countless fragments with an eye on the immortal in this room. To their credit, the immortal held up very well under the scrutiny of the infinite slivers of Death.
"You know the answer to that, Mr Bones" The immortal grinned, finally emerging from behind the desk. The nicknames Death could do without, but that had become a lost cause long ago. "Then I go" Death nodded, fading into Nothing. "Hold on!" The immortal interrupted, reaching into Nothing and pulling Death back out. When had they learned to do that?
"This time, I have a present for you" the immortal dangled a finger over a switch on the desk, waggling their eyebrows excitedly. Death waited, as always.
"The last few years have confirmed it" the immortal finally said, suddenly pensive. "I was cut from a different cloth. Not quite Entropy, but..." Death waited for more, but the silence stretched on, punctuated by the uncomfortably loud ticking of a grandfather clock. Both figures staring silently, unmoving, waiting.
"I have no desire to kill my god and watch my universe burn out" the immortal said, breaking the silence at last. The immortal rested a finger on the switch, regarding Death with an unreadable look. "I can't stop entropy, but I can slow it, for a time. So today, I offer you what you offered me. Do *you* choose to continue, old friend?"
Death said nothing, so the immortal pressed the switch. | "Greetings Bobby, getting tired yet?"
Bobby turned to see the now very familiar cloaked form of Death and grinned as he inadvertently ignored the question entirely, "Dude, did you hear?! A new model of starscreamer came out! This thing can pull .04 c! And an acceleration of thirty gravities to get there! I've got a race organized through the asteroid belt with ten other pilots, it's going to-"
Death put its skeletal hand over its face as it interrupted Bobby, "Listen, Bobby, it's great you are having a blast, but don't you think that you are going to want to rest at some point? You know, take a nap, kick back, GET BORED?!"
"How could I get bored dude? I'm living in the future! I get to fly a spaceship, go meet aliens, see new planets, come on Death, live a little!"
Death couldn't believe it. This moral should have been ready to pass on centuries, millennia ago!
"Plus they've got a new solar jumper that can make it through the chromosphere! Imagine skimming the surface of a giant ball of plasma dude! Thank God I made some good investments when you gave me this immortality so I can afford all these neat toys." Bobby said, slapping Death on the back.
Death sighed. Would this mortal ever get tired?
"Sure I can't convince you to join in? Come on, at least some zero-g lazer tag, I bet you'd be awesome at it!"
"Goodbye mortal. I shall return." Death knew it now. He'd never get rid of this guy. | 2017-11-30T10:48:02 | 2017-11-28T15:17:00 | 46 | 14 |
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