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[WP] As it turns out, "God" is an elected position. The Creator was followed by the Old Testament God, who was followed by the New Testament God, who was followed by a God who didn't interfere often in the mortal world. The next election is in 6 months. | It was 6 months ago that the bombs began to fall.
Little ones, like a light rain from the sky, except this rain contained the most deadly viruses known to man. Smallpox, the plague, anthrax, you name it, even some things that were whipped up so quickly that they didn't even have names.
Nukes followed, bringing a heat like the world had never seen before. Oceans boiled. Tectonic plates bristled with the impact of a force never before seen. And when the dust settled, the Earth glowed with a dim brown light.
When God is dead and literal omnipotence is on the line, things like morals and ethics go out the window. After all, once you win the election, you'll just bring everyone back, like nothing ever happened. At least, the ones you feel like bringing back. And the surest way to win an election is to make sure nobody else votes. That was the theory anyway.
We just failed to consider what would happen if no one was left to vote.
India had it worst of all. The largest population was immediately the largest threat. In the first hour, the surface of the Earth could be seen to curve inward.
China was next, followed by Russia, the United States, and then just everywhere else. Everyone else. In the final hours, when it was clear the vote would come down to hundreds of people and not billions, even the ocean was targeted, every ship and island they could find. By the end of the day, no person on Earth was left alive.
 
And so, the fight for godhood came down to just 6 people, floating in a tiny metal bucket 250 miles above the Earth as millions died below.
At first, we had an agreement. We intended to be peaceful. We had rules, decisions, meetings. We debated what course of action we would take, should one of us be elected. Should we make everything just as it was? Or would we make the world a better place, as we saw fit? The vote was divided, and so were we.
A few hours later, the three Russians disappeared. Without even stopping to talk or say goodbye, they left the room and headed to the Russian module. They knew what had to happen. I quickly took Hikaru and Judy to Destiny module on the other side of the station to prepare. For hours, we sat, breathless, listening for the faint sound that would come from the sealed door being opened between modules, signalling that the attack would begin.
Hikaru was at the door when it breached. Armed with nothing but a shard of glass from a broken coffee pot, and somehow he managed to slash through Anatoly's suit and into his jugular, before going down himself. Droplets of blood sprayed throughout the cabin, floating in zero-G like so many red water balloons.
As soon as we heard the screams, Judy packed the explosives and headed off, sealing the door behind her. The shock reverberated through the whole module, but as our calculations had predicted, the walls of my module held and theirs did not. Vladimir died in the blast, and was lucky for it; I watched Boris float off into the distance afterwards, with so many hours of oxygen left in his pack to sit and think.
 
6 months of dry rations and recycled water left, and here I am. The vote popped up in my mind, accompanied by an entirely inappropriate heavenly chorus and a single name, in embellished golden script. As I mentally checked my own name, I felt the power pass into me. Think, and it would be true. Wonder, and it would be known. Imagine, and it would be real.
I've already decided what I'm going to do. Bring everyone back, then not say a word. Carry on where the old God left off, like nothing ever happened. It's probably for the best; I'm sure I'd make a terrible God if I tried to stick my nose into anything, and of course, anything that I'm sure of is true.
But, at least for a little while, I'm going to stay like this, just a man in a can. Floating through space, sorting through it all. Watching the stars shine in the emptiness of the night sky, alone with all the power in the universe.
And yet, it feels so empty. | The crowd of Gods gathered like a storm cloud, drawn to the light of struggle like swarm of locusts to the flickering flame. Each of them an entity made entirely of human wants, needs, entitled demands and expectations, they drew power from the people who cared, thought, wondered or begged in desperation.
You'd think that the power of the Gods would grow as there were more people to believe in them, but they all fled the darkness of nihilism and apathy. The times of one single God gathering the rest in her iron fist were long gone. The Gods got smaller, weaker, and more quarrelsome with the ages. The swarm was no longer capable of a single miracle.
This has been the way for centuries. Instead of destroying each other in nightmarish battles that spill over into the world of mortals as pitiless cataclysms, the Gods chose their leader the same way social animals do, through displays of power instead of violence.
But it wasn't the Gods that made the choices. After all, each of them drew their power from mortals, and it was always mortals who made all the choices. Whom to pray, what to desire, who to hate and what to expect.
You didn't get that luxury as a God.
Like a black hole in a spiral galaxy, the dueling Gods (and it was a duel, at the heart of it) were at the center, but they too, were dwarfed by the swarm circling and observing them.
They boasted and they cried, they threw insults and lightning bolts at each other, and each resonated within the spiral, some with approval, others with booing. It was so much of an observer sport that there was no real distinction between the field and the bleachers. The changes were brewing, the storm was coming. As one God's power waned, another two were pulled in, their powers compelling them to become the new center of the tapestry. There was nothing they could do to stop it and being Gods, they didn't have the choice.
"Give it up, old man!" cried the dark-skinned Lord of Light, brandishing a heavy bound tome, "This book will be the end of you and you know it!"
Yahweh/Allah, Praise His Name, guffawed back with the fake bravado of an injured buffalo, "Like Hell! I've seen worse than you two, you don't have what it takes. Not a single one of you know what you're doing. You're fake, your world is fake, everything about you is a lie!"
"That's why it's working," R'hllor, the Lord of Light grinned, yelling back through the rising storm, "That's why they believe in it. They don't feel bad for believing a lie. They don't have to lie to themselves to believe it."
"Nonsense! The book is spoiled by the show already!" Yahweh/Allah, Praise His Name, shouted back, smacking the tome right out of R'hllor's hand.
But the book was deftly caught by the icy-cold blue hand of The Great Other, who wasn't much for words. He was still and dark and brooding where R'hllor was bright and cheerful and aflame. But as he caught the manuscript, he broke into a sinister smile.
"Winter is coming," he said.
Then the two fake Gods high-fived with the tome of Winds of Winter caught in between their hands, and the thunderclap cascaded through the swarm of self-important delusional thoughts belonging to billions. | 2016-09-02T15:25:57 | 2016-09-02T13:28:12 | 58 | 20 |
[WP] As it turns out, those red lines in our eyes aren't veins, but rather a parasitic worm that feeds on ocular information. A Scientist removes them, and for the first time in history humans can see everything they were meant to | It was a delicate procedure. Snip. Required a precision that no-one else was even close to capable of. Push the needle through. No-one but me would try it. The man's mask fogged up as his breath condensed against the plastic. Hmm. This was slow work. He might wake up before we want him to. Nobody understands just how bloody hard it is. Taking out just the vein, leaving all the eye intact. It takes hours to do just a single eye. And this man... I don't know what was wrong with him. I only had so much gas left after the last four patients failed the procedure. His breathing started to speed up. That was bad. I was so close... But no matter. He was restrained. I could finish even if he woke up. The work continued. Taking the knife up again. I wondered for a second how long it had been since I cleaned it. Oh well.
More cutting. I was close. So close. My hands started to tremble. I had never gotten this far before. Not without them starting to bleed everywhere. His breathing quicked. His pupil stated to dilate. I shushed him. I was so close. Writhing. A soft bang as he struggled against the leather restraints. One final cut and it was done. A slight slip. The knife stopped inside the muscles around his tear duct. A small mistake. With a proud smile I lifted up the parasite. Took it away from his face. Held it in my hand, just in front of him where he could see it. One eye. Red. Still infected. The other, beautifully clear and white. Free at last, pure.
Unadulterated excitement. I ripped the mask off of his face and delighted, screeched at him "What do you see!? What do you see!?" and his screams started to fill the room. His eye writhing around uncontrollably, inspecting the entire room. The screaming. Such primal terror. I stopped. What awesome visions was he having? The screaming didn't stop. I jumped next to him, trying to follow where his eyes went. His teeth gritted, hands clenched, struggling against the restraints with all his strength.
I watched. Fascinated. Wondering. Such fresh curiosity. What surrounded us? What was it he saw? What was the cause of all his fear? But still. It grew old. I took the scalpel to his neck until the screaming diminished to a gurgle and finally died down. My technique would be perfected.
This was proof. There was something out there. Something us infected with this ghastly parasite were unaware of. Maybe the same dark forces that cursed us with it. I dug my fingers into the socket of his eye. This was my greatest accomplishment so far. Pulling out my prize. I would study this. Try to find what it was. If only I could see like he could.
I sat down in front of a mirror and prepared my tools. There was a monster here I wasn't aware of. | "I said, Put it. Back. In."
"You do realize what that sounds like, right?" The Scientist quietly giggled, his sense of humor getting in the way of the serious nature of the situation.
"YES!! Haha, very funny, now **Put it back in.**"
"But why?!" The Scientist had spent his life on this conspiracy, working to uncover the worm and figure out a way of extracting it without harming its host. This was all he knew. The discovery that had changed his course, righted him where he had been wrong. He had fed these things for too long, worked to keep them alive. Optometry had paid well, but it wasn't worth denying everyone the vision they were meant to receive.
"I... I can't see." I whispered, scared to admit to this man that the product of his life's work was blindness.
"What do you mean you can't see?!" The Scientist almost laughed, the situation seemed to ridiculous to believe. "You were supposed to see more than any human in history!"
"I mean... when I left, everything looked a little bit smudged, but I thought that was just a side effect of the drugs. I nearly crashed a couple times driving home, but even then I just thought that 'Well, it's night-time, and drugs mess with your head, it'll be fine', but when I got home, everything was blurred, I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. That's when I called you. Or, well, Siri did."
"I,I,I,I never thought- *we were never meant to see*. We- We would see too much without them. Our brains' can't handle it." The Scientist turned back to me, and I could hear him deflate. He knew that no one else could know about this. Humans have a overriding need to be independent, too many people wouldn't be able to accept that we have to rely on these creatures for one of the ways that we process the world. They'd try to eradicate them, and in doing so, would blind as many people as they could before sense kicked back in. But at least he was standing in front of the only person who had ever believed him.
"I'm sorry." He murmured as he walked back to his car, leaving me alone on the floor.
| 2016-01-08T07:41:42 | 2016-01-07T19:40:31 | 106 | 29 |
[WP] The commute of a man who can see how people will die.
EDIT: Just woke up and holy CRAP this exploded! I'm reading through all the stories now and they're great! | I hate the bus. Every morning at 7:18, the number 14 bus pulls up to my stop and I am forced to bear the burden of my "gift". As the bus pulls up to my stop, an old classmate Randy opens the door and asks "Long time no see! Today the day Ted?" I laugh him off with a lighthearted "Not yet Randy, but may want to lay off those burgers if you want to see Rebecca graduate." I take my same seat that I always take, right behind the driver, and try to read the morning paper.
Everyone knows who I am. The expose piece in the daily mail that boasted of my psychic powers skyrocketed me to fame. My face was suddenly plastered over talk shows and news stories about how I could correctly predict the exact time, place, and manner in which someone will die. They always stare at me-- their very own grim reaper-- knowing that I’ve already seen you draw your last breath.
The worst are the children. I try to focus on my paper to avoid eye contact, but every so often a child will exclaim "Oh it's him!" and I will inadvertently catch their gaze. It is never easy to see a child die. I always am relieved to see an image of an elderly man passing in a bed peacefully surrounded by his loved ones. Most often I do not. Today was different though. A boy was on the bus with his father. His new firefighter backpack matched his bright fire house red shoes. “Today is my first day of school!” he chirped excitedly as he brushed his bangs away from his eyes. I prayed that he would not try and get my attention. I didn’t need to see what would become of him.
I flipped to the obituary section of the paper, a sick validation for a skill that I already knew I had mastered. As we rounded a corner, the boy’s lunch box tipped off of his lap and slid to my feet. *Fuck*. As I looked over my paper I caught his gaze as he tried to retrieve his juice box from the floor. I waited for the vision of his death to come, but it never did. All I saw was a happy boy, excited to start his new life as a “big kid” in kindergarten, picking up his lunch that his mother packed for him. I felt a wave of relaxation rush over me. I did not have to see how this boy would die; his life would forever be a mystery in my mind. I smiled, closed my eyes, and leaned back as a drunk driver blew through a red light and t-boned the bus.
| I sat in the back of a New York taxi, head pressed against the window and hands crossed in my lap. I watched the buildings, billboards, passing cars. Anything except for the faces of the hundreds of New Yorkers. Each of which had a limited time remaining. The clock was ticking on each one of them, but they kept their lives busy to forget about this dreary fact.
I discovered my ability when I was 11 years old. I remember looking up at my mom during breakfast and felt a knot tighten in my stomach, like the feeling you get before a bad bout of diarrhea. An image flashed in front of me. Like a hallucination. She was limp, her body hanging from a rope tied on one end to her neck, the other a ceiling fan. I was clearly disturbed for having this fantasy, but it wasn't until the next week I realized it was more than that. My dad sat me down, explained that mommy wasn't going to be around anymore. As his eyes welled with tears he slid across a tattered hand written note from my mother. A suicide note.
Ever since then my "ability" has grown stronger. To the point I'm at now. Sometimes I can see someone die within a year of their demise. You wouldn't believe how many people are going to die in a year's time. That brings me to where I am now. In this new York cab, desperately avoiding eye contact with the thousands of people filling this busy city. I can't live in a place this busy anymore. That's why I'm heading to Alaska. Nobody lives in Alaska.
As I was mulling over the prospect of a new life, a new future for me, I glanced up at the rear view mirror in the front of the cab. I gasped. The face staring back at me was mine. Winter parka on, wool hood pulled over my head. My face was cold and lifeless, frozen in place. Lips were blue, and eye lids frozen open to reveal my cold, dead, lifeless eyes. | 2013-10-16T11:54:11 | 2013-10-16T11:52:05 | 245 | 11 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | I stuck my hand out in a reaching motion in front of the council. Today was the day of my eighteenth birthday. The council was the nine elders who decided what your object meant and recorded it into the official records. If no object arrived within sixty seconds you were labeled as a null and sent to the labor camps where you toiled away mining for LSNA. Nobody was sure what LSNA was used for but Overlord Odin insisted, and so it was. There were rumored prophecies of a great one who would take down Overlord Odin and destroy his stockpile of LSNA, but the enforcers did their best to keep those rumors quiet.
Forty five seconds had passed and my arm was getting mighty sore. Still nothing. I looked at the ground and my hand began to lower. I was starting to accept my doomed fate as a miner. One of the council members opened his mouth to speak, but a powerful whooshing in the distance quickly quieted him down.
My eyes lit up. *I'm not a null!* I thought.
The whooshing grew louder and louder, almost to a deafening roar. My hair whipped around from the wind of it. *This thing, whatever it is, must be gigantic.*
The roar stopped with a hard thump in my hand, and I felt something soft. I looked down at it. "A... cat?" I mumbled as I looked up at the council members. They were beginning to discuss among each other, as they always do at these "ceremonies". It was a fat orange cat who seemed to not care that it was just seconds ago launched at hundreds of miles an hour into my open hand.
A grumble started to emanate from the cat, not unlike a purr, except this purr got louder to the point of the council hearing it over their own talking and quieting them down. The fact that it was an animal was strange enough, let alone the strange noises coming from it, but it wasn't unheard of. Over time the grumble morphed into speech, like a compressor had been placed over the sound and was slowly turning down. The cat's mouth remained closed.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The cat slowly repeated over and over.
Unsure of what to do, I asked it what was wrong. The voice stopped. The cat's head slowly turned to face me. An alarm sounded in the distance. The cat gaped its mouth open wider and wider. Darkness filled the room. Centipede-like legs sprouted from its sides as it grew to fill my entire field of view. A feeling of utter terror took over my soul at the sight of this eldritch horror.
"I'm sorry, Jon. I ate all the LSNA." It groaned. | I was about to turn 18 when my parents told me that such is possible.
I did not want to believe it, at all - it was very crazy sounding but all this would explain why my mother and father are both insanely talented with one thing. Like, really talented. My father is selling books like wildfire burning and my mother is a respected dancer. She is home during the day, but away during the evening because of a performance she has to attend to.
And now it was almost my turn.
It was some time to look forward, but finally, it had arrived. My 18th birthday. So, it was finally time for the summon. It took a lot of concentration, but I did it. Or at least I thought so. 'Cause nothing happened.
"Uh...wasn't I supposed to get something?" I asked, curiously.
"Of course you will! It just...takes time, depending on what you want." My mother answered, smiling, being sure it was something very good.
It took a hour, but finally I had it. I opened my hands as the object hovered right into my hands. After getting it, I closed it. My parents were so curious about what I did get, so I showed it to them.
Their smiles dropped. My father was in shock, my mother in disbelief. It was a raven feather.
Swarm of ravens are considered as a bad omen almost everywhere. They pick on bodies, bring bad luck and such. Here, they are treated as the foreseers of doomsday, the guardians of something cataclysmic. The object will turn into an important part of one's life. My parents wanted to make sure it is a misunderstanding, but it wasn't.
Yes, it will be somewhat of an unusual life knowing that, as the leader of ravens, I could bring calamity over anything here.
Not exactly what I wanted to become when I grow up, but I suppose I gotta live with it. This will be fun. | 2019-09-18T10:23:04 | 2019-09-18T08:53:53 | 42 | 30 |
[WP] You were sent to go deal with reports of a sinister witch in the woods that has been terrifying local villagers. Your grandmother is surprised to see you, but offers tea and cake while you're here. |     The autumn wind howled through the forest, a biting wind that caused Thom to pull his cloak tighter around him as peered through the lantern lit window of the old, rotting cottage. Three days earlier he arrived here, on the outskirts of bog hollow, and found a woman who claimed to be his grandmother. "Who are you really?" he had shouted at her after it was clear she was not. In the following days he peered through the windows and watched from the shadows only to find that she mostly just baked, knitted, and pet her black cat.
    *It's time to confront her again, to discover the truth.* Thom's fist thumped against the door three times, and after a moment the old cottage door creaked open. The imposter was standing on the other side.
    "Oh dear, you're back," said the old woman. "Would you come in for some tea and cake?"
    Thom was determined to keep his composure this time, "Yes, thank you," he responded and looked behind him briefly before finally stepping into the musty room, floorboards shrieking with every step. The toothy, otherworldly smile of the woman made his heart leap into his throat and although the fireplace-lit room was warm, there was a coldness in her eyes. Once the door was closed behind him, and before she could react, Thom had his dagger at her throat. "Who are you?" he shouted.
     Her eyes turned black and she let out a horrifying cackle. In a deep, demonic voice she said "blades cannot hurt me," and pressed her neck further into the dagger. It penetrated four inches deep before Thom, mouth agape, fell backwards to the ground and scrambled backwards to the far wall of the cottage, near the fireplace. As black blood spewed from the wound on her neck she inched her way towards him, step by step. "My dinner has come to me this time," she said and unhinged her jaw to reveal five sets of razor sharp teeth in a mouth that could swallow him whole.
    As her thin, inhumanly long fingers grasped his cloak to pull him into the murderous void he grabbed the only thing in arms reach that wasn't a blade: a flaming log from the fireplace and jammed it down her throat. A shrill scream filled the cabin causing Thom to cover his ears. The witch released his cloak and stood up, still screaming, trying to pull the log from her mouth. Thom kicked her in the chest and she fell backwards to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, rushed to the oil-filled lantern and, removing it from it's hook, smashed it on the screaming witch. The fire roared and enveloped her completely, her black blood boiling as it seeped away from her body. After an hour the witch was nothing more than a heap of sticky black tar on the floorboards.
    In the cellar, Thom found the witches grotesque cache of food: ten bodies, including his grandmothers. Tears streaming down his face, he set fire to the cottage and started the journey home.
    *The witch of bog hollow is no more*. | ( on mobile so bad formatting please forgive)
As I walked up to the house the path seemed oh so familiar. It's like I was walking through a memory a memory so far forgotten that it was more like a dream. There was smells coming from the house good smells like Cakes and Pastries almost as if I were visiting my grandma. Well what I got when I knocked on the door was definitely a surprise.
" Cal, my dear what brings you to this part of the woods and to my vacation home nonetheless." There standing was my grandmother in an apron covered in flour and possibly sugar or whatever else you use to bake.
" hi grams, what are you doing here? And since when did you have a vacation home?" I was perplexed to no end.
My grams laughed and welcomed me in.
"Come in come in its a bit too cold out here to talk. I've just finished making some apple pies for the festival and their cooling on the racks."
She turned around and grabbed her teapot and a cup to pour me a drink. I sat down at her kitchen table and suddenly a flood of memories overtook my brain.
"So, Cal, my dear tell me why you've suddenly decided to come and visit me after all these years? I believe its been 10 now? I haven't seen you since your father (the rotten bastard) died and your mom moved you away."
She herself sat down and poured herself a cup.
I sat there ready to jump and tell her about the witch but, how can my sweet dear old grams be a witch? From what I could remember she was warmer than a fuzzy teddy bear?
" Well, you see I work with the PIC the Paranormal Investigation Committe. I was sent to find a, a witch."
Grams laughed a heart laugh, "Well, you found her. Me. But what have I done to warrant such a visit? My gifts are solely healing magic. You should remember that. I taught you all this since you were a tot."
"The PIC Said there is a witch terrorizing the town and their information led me here. And if your not doing it than who is?"
Grams harumphed very loudly. "Damn, Nancy. My horrible and jealous sister. I bet a thousand frogs its her. Trying to get me I trouble just like when we were kids. Oh she's going to get it now. Just you wait."
She reached for a pad and pen and drew a map.
"The witch your looking for is here. You can't just wander the woods to get her. You need to follow a specific path. And I know it. Here but you'll need back up to bring her in."
She quickly got up and pushed me out the door. "Go now, if you dwaddle longer she'll be to hard to find. "
No more than a few seconds if leaving house it was gone, but the map in my hand glowed in the direction I was to go.
I didn't know gram had a sister, and now I was off to find her. | 2022-12-18T13:13:41 | 2022-12-18T08:47:53 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You are part of the league, the superheroes who save the world, yet you never go on missions. You are only called for one thing only. Total annihilation, for when they don't want survivors. | Ani reached for the bowl of cheese puffs teetering on the edge of the couch with her right hand, holding the game controller in her left. Her thumb rapidly tapped one of the controller buttons as she stretched out her fingers to grasp the bowl. One last reach and... the bowl fell over onto the floor.
Ani reached down to grab the upside-down bowl when the speakers in front of the monitor exploded in a hail of gunfire. The monitor turned red as Ani watched her character take round after round of bullets. Slowly, the gunfire stopped and the game ended.
"Damnit!" She slammed down the controller and reached over to gather the cheese puffs back into the bowl. "Third time this week!" She grabbed the bowl and sat back into the couch, cradling the snacks in her lap. Reaching for the remote, she turned on television to a news break.
"...has resulted in a nearly complete destruction of the inhabitants of the Markham colony. The Intergalactic Super League arrived several hours ago and attempted to stop the advance of the Meldrathians but the losses appear to be overwhelming." Ani tossed a cheese puff high in the air, watched it fall and moved her head around to just the right point to catch the puff in the right eye.
As she was about to take another chance, the door to the den opened. Ani rose from the couch and turned to see the other members of the ILS dragging themselves into the room.
The first one in was a woman in blue and gray spandex with a bright white cape. She limped into the kitchen, opened up the refrigerator. She stared inside for more than a minute, moving items around.
"Who the hell drank all the beer? Ani??" She shouted, looking up from the fridge at her. Ani glanced at the several empty beer bottles on the table next to the couch. A sheepish grin crossed her face.
Two others, both holding each other up, limped their way over to the couch and landed with audible groans and thuds. Both were wearing colored outfits, though without capes. One, a muscle-bound male in black and red stripes, was already asleep. The other, a green-skinned being with long yellow hair, looked up at the TV. They motioned Ani to the controller.
"Turn that off, would ya? We just got finished there." Their arm slumped back onto the couch and they sank into the cushions with a long sigh.
"Sure thing, Galaxis!" Ani fumbled with the remote, pressing buttons clumsily until the screen went blank.
She turned to the kitchen "I'm sorry, Prime. I got bored here and started playing Call of Major Warfare and, well, got thirsty."
Sentinel Prime reached deep into the fridge and emerged with one brown bottle. She held the neck of the bottle and, using her thumb, flipped the bottle cap off and into the air. She drank deep, walked to the nearby kitchen table, and sat down.
"You're lucky I found this," Prime said holding up the bottle. She took another deep drink. Putting the bottle on the kitchen table, she motioned Ani over.
"Anyway, you're up now. Go get dressed. The ship is getting re-fueled now."
Ani walked over to the table, eyes wide open. "What do you mean, I'm up?" She sat down next to Prime, a furrow crossed her brow.
Prime stared at her beer. "We got the last of the survivors from that colony out and back to the Planetary Relocation Center on Europa. Only a few thousand. But those damn Melds have got to go." She put the bottle to her lips and took a sip.
Ani leaned closer to Prime. "You told me that we were still training my power, to control it. What if I can't..."
Prime turned, staring hard at Ani. Rage burned in her eyes as she gritted her teeth. "I saw what they did to those colonists. They weren't people to them. They were... cattle. To them, they were just... made of meat. And if you don't stop them now, our planet will be next."
She set the beer down and turned square to Ani, reaching out to grab the teen's shoulders. "This is why we've kept you from the fights. We know you can't control your powers. But now is when we need you the most. You are Annihilation. No one knows of you for a reason. You are the ultimate deterrent. It's time to unveil you. Now go suit up, I'm going to finish this and come with you."
Ani rose from the table and paused. "What... what if I can't control what happens?"
A sneer crossed Prime's face. She looked up into Ani's eyes. "I'm counting on that." | I sat quietly, watching the sea of stars and the Earth from the observation deck of the Defender Space Station. Gotta hand it to the League, they did a very good job improving this place since the last time I was awaken.
A shining symbol of truth, justice, and order, the Defender Space Station is always ready to mobilize it's heroes anywhere that's needed. I thought it was corny as hell when Blue Knight first suggested it, but it grows on me. Humanity needs a symbol of hope, and what's better than a giant space station visible from Earth?
A tap on my shoulder, it's Athena reminding me I have five minutes left. I nodded and turned away, watching the mess hall. Can't believe there's so many individuals here now. We started as eight heroes with an ideal to protect the world, and now there's over three hundred of us, not including the support staff too. I see humans, Atlanteans, Hyborians, Amazon, even android and aliens too.
But all of them give me a wide berth and avoiding me all together. I can see the fear in their eyes, heard what they whisper to each others (thanks super hearing). The fact that twelve titan class murder bot locking on to me all the time didn't help. Leave it to Shadow Owl not taking any chances I might go AWOL. Not that it would stop me, but it'll give them time.
"Oen, it's time." Athena started approaching me. "I know." I stood and waited as she put the shackles back on my neck, my arms, my wings, and my legs. She escorted me deeper into the station. "I'm really sorry for this treatment, Oen. I wish you could stay awake longer, and not chained up like a criminal every time..." She say apologetically. "It's alright, Tina. It's a burden I'm willing to bear." I smiled at her. Some of the heroes and staff salute me as we walk pass them, I give them a friendly smile and a wave.
We made small talk as we walking. Found out she and Owl finally tying the knot, and She's the one that propose to Owl too. Finally we reached our destination. A heavily shielded cryo stasis chamber, my bed, where I'll be kept in stasis until I'm needed, or awaken for an hour every two years. "Good night, Athena. Take lots of pictures and videos of the wedding!" I said as I step into the chamber and the cryo process starting. "Of course, Oen. Have a pleasant dreams." She smiled while putting in the last commands.
As sleep start to overtake me, I remember the incident all those years ago. A massive alien invasion force landed on Earth, intent on conquering the world. We fought against them, but they overwhelm us. Their leader fired a beam weapon at me, intending to kill me. But Celestine throw herself in front of me, taking the shot, severing her spine and paralyzing her forever.
That moment, something broke and release something in me. Power I didn't know existed flow into me. Next thing I know, I've killed the leader, all their ground forces, and the entirety of their fleet, including the various nursery ships that they bring. In less than thirty minutes, I've killed several millions. That day, the Defender and the rest of Earth saw me in a new light, an end. This is further cemented two weeks later when another invasion fleet arrive to avenge the last one. They never even had a chance to land on Earth. I slaughtered them all, and went to their home world. Reducing their population by three quarters is surprisingly easy. I wanted to finished them off for good, but the rest of the Defender hold my hand.
Since then, in accordance of the wish of the leaders of Earth and the Defender, I'll be put in cryo sleep, only awaken every two years for a limited time, or if the situation is truly hopeless. I bear this burden willingly, because I know with power, comes great responsibility, and I don't trust my self with that responsibility. I'll be a weapon, to destroy when unleased, an End. | 2021-05-26T05:40:08 | 2021-05-26T05:33:02 | 160 | 75 |
[WP] In a fantasy world, there is a secret society of people who use modern technology and chemistry instead of potions and magic. | The magicians were coming to kill them all.
Sybel was no magician. She could not pluck her future out of the entrails of a bird or the scattered pattern of tea leaves at the bottom of her cup. No, she was born magickless, and like all the Unmagicals before her, she had to improvise. Adapt.
But she saw their fate coming through the eye of her periscope: a hundred armored men, carrying torches and marching up the road. She had devised it out a pair of convex lenses which let her see as far as an eagle, as far as anything. Sybel was often alone up here, on top of the Laboratory, watching through the hole in the roof. Someone always had to watch.
She never thought there would be anything to *see*.
Sybel clutched the periscope and blinked tears out of her dark eyes. She shook her head. No time for fear. Her parents had spent two decades preparing her for a day like this.
Sybel lunged down the ladder from the crow's nest. The Laboratory looked like little more than an old barn house, empty and abandoned, only the faint smell of cows remaining. But the moment the Magician-King's men started searching--
No. No time to think about that. She knew what happened to people like her. The magicless who got caught.
Sybel ran to one of the old stalls and hinged open the panel of fake straw to reveal a trapdoor, opening like a mouth into the belly of the Laboratory. She cried down the ladder, "They're coming!"
She took the ladder so quickly she nearly fell flat on her ass, but she kept her balance. Both the trapdoor and the fake barn floor slammed shut behind her.
The Laboratory was near-empty tonight. Only her family and their assistant, Arior, who came from across the Blue Mountains and had the coppery skin to show it.
Her mother and her little sister were asleep on the cot in the corner of the room. Father and Arior sat at the table, a promise for the future bubbling on the fire between them.
Sybel's father looked at her and said, "Are you certain?"
"I saw them. Dozens, at least."
"Gods. Shit." Her father was a thin man, tall as a tree, his hair like its bushy needles. He picked up a bucket of water from beside the bench.
"This batch is the closest we've ever been to finding a cure," Arior hissed at him.
"And we'll never make it there if we're all dead and gutted." Sybel's father dumped water out onto the fire and threw his journal at Arior's chest. "Pack the notes. They're irreplaceable."
Sybel's mother jerked awake from her straw mat on the floor. She mumbled out, "What's happening?"
Sybel watched her father turn to answer honestly, but then her little sister Eleketra opened her honey-brown eyes and blinked around.
"It's too early," she told them all.
But Sybel's mother held Sybel's stare. She must have read it like an open book, because she stood and plucked up Elektra and said, "You and your sister are going to go play a little game while Daddy and I clean up here."
"Mother--"
"Just a little game. Hide and seek in the woods. But you have to be so very quiet."
Arior scrambled, cramming papers into the bag. Sybel's father dumped out beakers, the experiment-in-progress that could have saved their village.
Rage boiled in Sybel's stomach at the idea of it. How many more children had to die of the plague because these magic-bastards wouldn't let anyone but their own magic healers provide a cure?
Sybel hurried to her father's side. "Please," she insisted. "I can help. I can fight. I've used the fire sticks before. I can--"
"You can help. You can take your sister and hide with her." Her father gripped both her cheeks and murmured into her hair, "You can save our legacy here." He jerked his head toward his lab assistant. "Arior--"
But he stopped short.
Boots rapped against the wood floor overhead. Dust rained down on them as their death marched in.
All five of them tilted their heads back to stare in horror.
Sybel's mother murmured, "They can't have come that fast."
"Magic," her father muttered back, darkly.
The magicians had come.
***
Working on a part 2 :) Thanks for reading! | The alchemist glanced around before ducking into the alleyway with the door to his workshop. It was there at the dead end where the walls loomed overhead to encase him in a steel tomb that he stepped upon a pair of cobblestones and disappeared.
By the time the agent turned the corner, the alleyway was empty. He twirled his wand and disappeared in turn, flummoxed once more by his prey.
The alchemist dropped whole into his tunnel; the agent into the courtyard of the Ministry in a swirl of fragmented body parts that hastily assembled into a human.
"Master," the apprentice greeted, glancing back from the vials of bubbling liquids he was working with. The alchemist was master in title only; he claimed no ownership over the other members of the society and fought for no undue influence over their doings. Still, they deferred to him. It was he who had assembled those like-minded members and it was he who had machinated the most complex of their inventions to keep their society secret.
"Elliot," the alchemist responded, smiling at the budding potential of his devoted colleague. He'd found him wandering the streets one evening, lost in thought as he kicked a loose stone that ricocheted off the curb and back into his path. The alchemist had fallen right into step with this troubled soul, and before long they'd been lost in conversation.
"Deny it, if it doesn't convince you," he'd said in closing, and he'd encouraged the young man to snap his wand. To do away with magic altogether, needless as it was. "There's another world," the alchemist had promised. "A world of science and technology not reliant on the fickle natures of wands and potions."
So they'd come, one by one, believers in a power as ancient as the magic that ruled the land. So they'd come, refugees from an overbearing Ministry that threatened to squash any other forms of progress underfoot.
"There was a world before magic," the alchemist always told them, "and there will be a world after. Progress--real progress, of technology and science--is much more reliant than silly sticks and memorized spells."
If he knew he'd been tracked back to the door of the society, he didn't mention it. Odds were he knew--he knew most things, after all. Thousands of years of science and countless books read. Inventions from the entrance to the special tubing that allowed them to harness magic and drain it from the wands and pick it apart piece by piece. He knew most things.
"Get a good night's sleep," he said to Elliot as he unlocked the door to his quarters, tucked away in the back corner of the workshop. "You've been working too hard."
He had, with right reason. And when the door closed behind him, the enthusiastic apprentice's face turned serious and he unhid the camera from where he'd hurriedly placed it. He winced as it flashed and whirred and then sighed in relief when the alchemist didn't reemerge back into the workshop.
Then, photographic evidence tucked in his pocket, he let the wand drop from his sleeve into his waiting hand. With a twirl, he was gone, no need for doors or gadgets to let him enter and exit.
"Photographs," the agent marveled when the two congregated on a bench in the courtyard of the Ministry.
"Of all of it. A whole stack of them. Enough to have him convicted and executed."
Him and you, the agent didn't say. There were a thousand ways to transfer evidence, but the procurement would be the only one that'd put his partner away for life. And then an empty workshop with unimaginable potential. For the better cause, powers of the Ministry be damned.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-02-19T06:54:40 | 2020-02-19T06:46:46 | 148 | 17 |
[WP] Every morning you wake up with small wounds; just little scrapes and bruises you attribute to flailing in your sleep. This morning, you woke up with a huge cut across your hip, a glowing golden dagger plunged into the wall, and what looks an awful lot like a dead angel on your floor. | Well, this is ..... interesting, I thought as I rubbed the morning gunk out of my eyes. Either someone slipped something in my drink last night at the Christmas party, or that's a dead angel lying on the floor. "AAAGHHHH", A lightning bolt of pain goes through my side as I try to stand up. No wonder. There seems to be a baseball bat shaped bruise on my rib cage....which might explain the baseball bat sticking out of the wall that I don't remember buying. It doesn't , however, explain the glowing golden dagger sticking out of the wall beside it.
Now I'm not gonna lie, this type of thing happens to me....I mean, minus the celestial stiff in the corner. I've been waking up feeling like I've been beaten with a baseball bat for years....Apparently because I have been. I've seen doctors, I've set up cameras, but the doctors say it's probably sleep walking and the cameras just show me sleeping. There's never been anything left behind before though.
I'm also not gonna lie when I say, I'm finding it just as weird as you probably are that I'm not freaking out about this. I don't know why but I'm pretty sure I actually...know this guy. I mean, he doesn't *look* familiar per se, but he *feels* familiar you know?
Well there's really only one thing to do. There's physical evidence this time, so the cameras must have caught something right? yeah we'll see. Do me a favor. don't hold your breath. I don't need any more bodies to deal with.
I get up and once again pain shoots through my side, but now I also feel it it my right leg. oh yeah that's great. Limping over to the computer, I notice that although I feel like shit physically, I feel great mentally. I feel clear. Like I'm....lighter somehow.
Okay, well here we go. Lowering myself slowly down into the chair, I wince in pain. After starting the camera playback, I pop a couple of my dad's old percocets that I keep in the desk drawer. Not like he needs them anymore. Alright, so, so far nothing. Skip ahead. Nothing. Skip ahead. Nothing. Skip ahead. Noth.....wait a second. Is that.... smoke coming out of my mouth?? Oh shit what's..... Yeah you know that dead guy in the corner? He's crawling out of my mouth right now. That's .......unsettling, and oh look, he's holding a baseball bat, that dick. Woah, I'm getting some weird sounds on the playback. Kind of like a wobbling base sound.
What's this? more smoke? blacker this time. Ok this one's no angel. That's a...yep, that's a demon. Red skin, goatee, horns, annnnnndddd a golden dagger. I'm starting to get a pretty good idea of what happened here.
"Hellooooo halo boy", the demon rasped.
"Cut the pleasantries smokey. We both know why we're here. Jeff is a good man, and our constant battles are killing him. it's time to end this."
"Good?", the demon snarled. If he was really good, he wouldn't need you always nudging him toward the 'righteous path' ", he said condescendingly. " There are no good men. Only those that you see fit to turn into servants."
"ENOUGH!", shouted the angel. "It's time."
The angel charges at the demon, and the demon dodges him. He grabs the angel and throws him through a coffee table. I look over at the coffee table. Oh hey look at that , I didn't notice that was broken earlier. The demon raises the dagger and starts to plunge it down. Just as he does, the angel sweeps his feet, knocking the demon to the ground. The angel jumps to his feet and brings the baseball bat down hard across the demons back. A hellish screech follows. Another blow, followed by another screech. The demon flips over and thrusts his hand towards the angel. He doesn't make contact but the angel flies up and hits the ceiling. Both adversaries jump to their feet. The demon first, then the angel. The angel charges towards the demon, and narrowly misses with a full strength swing of the bat. The bat plants firmly in the wall. He tries to pull it out but it's too late. The demon plunges the the dagger into the angel. not once, but seven times. The angel falls to his knees, and says " I'm sorry Jeffery" before going limp.
The demon turns. He looks directly into the camera and says "It's just you and me now kid. Two shoes won't be bothering us anymore. He plunges the dagger into the wall before crawling back inside my mouth.
well, that's something you don't see everyday I think to myself. I don't really know how to feel about all this. but I know one thing. I don't feel guilty about it, and if I were a betting man, I'd wager that I'm never going to feel guilt again. | It all started three weeks ago; I woke up with a single long scratch on my leg. I didn’t pay any attention to it; I had to get to work. The next morning I had a small cut on my arm. Every day I woke up to more and more. I thought maybe I was hitting my metal bedframe in my drunken sleep, but the cuts kept coming even when I slept on the couch. The wounds got worse. I needed to see a doctor, but I kept putting it off.
Around 4am one morning I woke up to a sharp pain in my side. There was a sopping bloodspot on the sheets, and a gory wound above my hip. Bleary-eyed, I looked around my bedroom in the blue twilight.
There was a glowing golden dagger stuck in the wall. Its etched handle bore intricate faces and ‘INRE’ wrought in silver letters. There was a crucifix-shaped burn on the wall, and below it, a golden crucifix had fallen into my fishtank.
“What the hell?” I groaned.
Something in my room groaned back. I tried to prop myself up in bed so I could take a look, but it was too painful. I collapsed backward onto my pillow and drifted off into a cloudy void.
“Mr. Taney,” a voice said, “Mr. Taney, can you hear me?”
My eyes blinked open slowly. It was bright. Everything was white. A woman in white stood over me, looking down with concern.
“Where am I?” I slurred. “Is this a hospital?”
“No Mr. Taney,” the woman said, “This is Heaven.”
“What?” I said, fully alert now. My bed appeared to be made of a cloud-like substance. I touched my balls. I was wearing a large green leaf instead of underwear.
“Who the hell are you?” I said, “Call me the doctor. Right away. You’ve given me too much morphine.”
The woman cringed. “I’m God, actually,” the woman said. “You don’t need a doctor, you’re fine.”
“I want a second opinion,” I said without thinking.
“What,” God said, “Like from the Devil?”
I stopped to consider. “No,” I said, “Don’t call him.”
“Her,” God corrected.
“What’s going on here?” I asked, “Am I dead?”
“No,” God said. She poured herself a coffee from an ornate golden tankard on a puffy white countertop. “You’re moonlighting.”
“Moonlighting?” I said, propping myself up in bed.
God handed me the coffee. It tasted wonderful. To be honest, I expected a bit better, this being Heaven and all, but it’s hard to complain about free coffee.
“Yes,” God said, “Moonlighting. You see, when one of my children strays from the path, I send an angel to Earth to guide them.”
“I see,” I said. My mind quickly turned to a highlight reel of all the bad things I had said and done.
“You’ve spent a lot of time gambling and drinking and having sex,” God said.
I opened my mouth to deny her accusations, and then closed it.
“I forgive you,” God said, smiling reassuringly. “But I’d also like you to stop. So I keep sending you angels to help out.”
“Angels?” I said. “In my bedroom, was that…?”
“Yes,” God said. “You keep fighting off the angels.”
I cringed.
“Don’t worry,” God said, “They’re immortal.”
“I-I,” I said, “Why don’t I remember fighting them?”
“I want to preserve your free will,” God said, “So I confine the memories to your subconscious—the realm where the divine influences the profane. Moonlighting.”
“I see,” I said, “So I’ll wake up in my bed in the morning?”
God nodded.
“Will I remember this conversation?” I asked.
“No,” God said. She looked at me meaningfully. “Will you try for me? Will you try to return to the path of the light?”
There was a pause. My lungs filled with the clean pure air of heaven. I felt the pain of my wounds and the soreness of my muscles. My spirit ached. This life I was leading—it wasn’t perfect. I kept creating problems for myself, but I didn’t know if I could stop. This was the only life I knew. What would life be like without the highs and lows of drugs and women and cards? I couldn’t picture it, but a part of me sorely wanted to.
“Will you promise?” God asked again.
I nodded slowly—but I wasn’t yet sure if I meant it.
-----
subscribe to /r/trrh for more! | 2017-12-23T23:59:39 | 2017-12-23T22:13:59 | 160 | 68 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | The newly minted King Agralin stared at me, eyes red from Kastian ale. Half a goblet of that fine vintage stained the front of his doublet. I grimaced at the dreadful waste, my nose wrinkled at the scent; it had been a while, but my senses were slowly returning.
‘What are you doing here? I kicked you lot of wastrels out last morn!’ The rowdy carousing in the hall began to dissipate, as they stared at my audience with interest.
Fifty winters ago, it had taken me an evening to convince the Old King — I guessed he must have forgotten to tell his son about our agreement before he passed. I tossed an ancient vellum scroll on Agralin’s lap. If he wasn’t so drunk he might have realized that vellum didn’t usually come in such a dark shade of crimson.
Araglin took a quick glance at the scroll and sputtered in anger. ‘What’s this?’
‘My employment contract. Your father agreed to it, and declared that you will too.’ I felt my shoulder blades start to itch, as the long-dormant parts awoke.
‘Hah! Fifty thousand gold a year! The pick of the cellar and choice of dwelling? My father paid a guard all this? He was more senile than I thought!’ Agralin looked around for support as his retinue snickered along.
Agralin stabbed the contract with his pudgy finger. ‘Look, it even says so in your name No’gard! You’re no guard!’
Sycophantic laughter burst throughout the hall, I cringed at his weak pun. Fifteen years away at one of the most prestigious academies and this was the best he could do.
‘My father was too lenient, allowing lowborn a seat in this hall.’ Agralin waved. ‘Leave before I have you beaten and thrown out.’
The old King was never so unobservant, has no one realized that I had been at his Father’s side for fifty years and looked not a day older?
‘You might want to read the rest of the contract. It is crucial that you retain… my protection.’ I tried again.
Agralin’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Look around you! The finest knights in the land defend me!’
Cheers and shouts resounded through the hall. Barvar the Crusher, Astoni of the Dozen Daggers, and Grim’dar the Unwavering, yelled in agreement, banging their weapons on the banquet tables.
‘Who in the Seven Lairs, would I need *you* to guard me from?’
‘Me.’ I grinned with sharpened teeth.
‘My contract states that you would be protected from *me*.’
‘String him up! Teach this fool a lesson! He threatens the King himself!’ The sound of swords drawn reverberated throughout the hall.
The final change took only seconds as my body exploded in mass. My scales burst out and rippled through my skin as they interlocked in snickering metallic clicks. My talons extended from the tips of my hand, now the size of a horse. The banquet hall could hardly hold my true form and my sides pressed against the walls.
I think Barvar was now the Crushed, and Astoni a pin cushion. Grim’dar was on his knees, praying to an unknown god. Agralin’s trousers were now wet too, not from the ale.
‘Now,’ I breathed lightly, setting fire to the tapestries behind the throne, ‘let’s take a look at the contract again, shall we?’ | A few years ago, I would have been the one leading the chorus. "Gods save the king", I'd cry, and legions would answer back. I'd served, in some form or another, for three kings in succession, each transition of power being simple, clean, and effective. Gods save this king, that king, and the next one. And they did. Every time I asked, the gods answered. A gentle nudge on a runaway chariot here, an arrow that wouldn't leap from the bow there.
And I made my sacrifices in thanks. They weren't pretty sacrifices, they were bloody, messy affairs, but it was a price the city was prepared to pay for protection. Who's complaining when the local butcher is strung up in penance for his crimes? They were told it was horsemeat in the mince, which was true. I never told anyone where the prime rib had come from. Or the baker, whose 'specially iced eclairs, just for you' fed a nation's drug habit? These were the lowest of the low, and I was justice, swooping in for kings and gods alike, taking life when it was demanded of me.
But now there is a new king, and one of his first acts was to replace his guard with his cronies. So I sit in a tavern as the laws are disregarded, as his paid up thugs brutalise the streets, and anger ferments in the city. It's been a hot summer, tempers are beginning to flare up. Just last week, there was a vicious fight not twenty yards from the palace walls. Hundreds joined the melee, and it was only when a young man, blond wavy hair and sharp blue eyes, a voice like thunder in a meadow, cried out for peace that it all petered out. He reminded those present, drunk and sober alike, of the real threat. I saw it all from my window and thought he was a man to follow. So here I sit, waiting for him to speak. A crowd is growing, weapons openly sheathed, rival factions all with a single, focused determination. No drink is being poured, no laughter, no anger, no noise. I've been in these rooms before. The mob is set to be unleashed on the quiet streets, like a bull coralled into one lone direction. We're coming for the palace. Around me are my men, and we all know that palace better than we know ourselves. The exits have all been bricked shut from the outside, all save one. And that's where we're going in.
And we've all made our sacrifices. The thugs hanging from the gallows by each other's guts, pushed from a roof in the dead of night, or drowned and floating in the palace water courses. We've asked, and we've got our answer.
No gods will save the king now. | 2021-02-28T04:13:58 | 2021-02-28T03:50:25 | 1,113 | 539 |
[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. | My sweater scratched at my skin as I began to pull it back, I can't believe I'm doing this.
My mom told me I should be careful who I show my given names to, who I trust is telling the truth about theirs. But her- she was perfect, her smile when I would glance over, her hair that blew in the wind on a warm summer day, like this one. I was intoxicated by her, nothing could save me from this drug.
I stared into her her eyes and began searching her face, she was scared too, I could see it in her eyes. I closed mine and we began to count down from three. 3, 2- shit, I forgot if we agreed pull up our sleeves on 1 or 0.. -either way we both began to pull up our sleeves, slowly but surely.
I... I was on her arm, it was amazing, relief began to sweep over me, that is until I felt my love turn to lothing as she told me her real name.
Ember, not Amber.
Fuck. | “John Smith. And fuckin.... John Smith. WHAT THE FUCK!” Andrea yelled, looking at her friends arm.
“I know right. Stupid.” Tally remarked. She’d had this reaction before.
“So ya gotta find two John Smith’s?”
“I hope so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I only need to find one.” | 2018-03-11T07:35:29 | 2018-03-11T07:26:50 | 1,948 | 78 |
[WP] Write a really BAD guide for getting a guy/girl. Bonus points if the narrator is mocking you for still being single.
[removed] | Hey girl! Binging on chips again while watching Netflix eat away at your insecurity? Stop marathoning bad rom-coms just because you can't get the man of your dreams! Let this love expert help you snag that hottie who's never looked your way with these simple tips. Throw away that photo of your ex under your pillow and let's get started!
Tip # 1: Let's start with your looks. Yeah, no. Not even a shit ton of make up is going to fix your flawed view of beauty, but at least you can pretend it does. Watch a YouTube tutorial or four to get a grasp of how you'll never, ever be able to hide your anxiety from everyone you know!
Bonus tip: Don't forget to buy the most expensive brands available. Nothing like the best eyeliner to really show off how desperate you are for a love life!
Tip # 2: Go to the right places to meet the love of your life. Wow, that club has a ladies' night and you are hoping to dance your financial troubles away? Surely only the best potential totally-not-creepy jackasses of suitors will want to hang out there, am I right? Wear that one little black dress you own and strut in those stilettos you hate all the way to the dance floor. Maybe you won't see all your friends go home with someone and cry yourself to sleep this time around!
Tip # 3: Take up a hobby. And no, I don't mean laughing to dank memes all day, silly girl! Go for something that will push you to actually shower and go outside for a change. There are billions of people out in the world right now doing amazing things, and I'm sure one of them will stop to look at you. Maybe.
Tip # 4: Revel in the uselessness of your existence and try not to hurt yourself thinking of the finiteness of life. You were made for nothing and you will end in nothing. What you have done today will now be in the past forevermore, and as you read this, the screen will continue to pulse at the blink that is your lifetime. Besides, your sister is getting married next week and your BFF is having her first baby. Like, why try, right?
And these have been my tips on how to find the guy of your dreams. You'll laugh at how accurate I am while inwardly seething as you go through break up number 284. You actually think that Mr. Fuck Buddy is your Prince Charming, and refuse to act like you're responsible for your own actions. I can't smile enough at thinking how you believed this guide will change your life!
Have a wonderful day and may you live with your fear of intimacy always. Xoxo | Wow, you must have been the kind of guy even hookers wouldnt touch with a 10 foot stick. Probably ugly, smelly, fat, awkward and introverted, am I right you little worthless piece of fucking shit?
Fret not, I have the perfect tips for worms like you, how to get a girl.
1 The oldschool method.
Ever wondered how the knights in the past got their girls? Simply attack the village of the girl you desire, slay her family, burn her house down and take her. She will surely be impressed how manly you are and fall in love with you in no time. Just make sure you sword is sharp, your warband eager and your crotch is unwashed since weeks.
2 Caveman method
Not getting a girl is a problem old as time itself. Back when things were much simpler, the solutions for certain problems were too. Get a wooden club or a giant bone (preferably from the mammoth you just killed and eaten) and knock your dreamgirl out with it. Drag her then to the cave where you will spend the rest of your live together. You dont even have to ask her. No answer means consent right?
3 Lovepotions.
Filthy nerds like you probably know lovepotions from fantasy movies. But they actually even exist in real life. Just go to the friendly neighbourhood dealer of your trust, ask him for some "lovepills" or lovepotions. Then mix them into the drink of the girl of your desire. Just watch out for the right dosage. Once again, no answer means consent.
4 Animal method
Look, even fucking animals get a partner sooner or later. And you are still sitting in front of your computer, dick half hanging out of your shorts while jamming another kilo of cheese nachos into your fat belly. Desperate times like these require desperate measures. So piss on eevryting you onw to mark your territory and piss on the girl to show off your dominance over her. Also kill her cubs and any males that are related to her to secure your new lineage and to warn possibly contenders in the future.
| 2017-06-09T23:54:54 | 2017-06-09T21:39:04 | 182 | 56 |
[WP] You are a commercial airliner pilot. The moment before you turn your phone off to begin the flight your SO sends you a deeply concerning text. | *644221*
I read the numbers and then our pre-flight routine is broken as I whirr to a stop. Co-pilot, John, keeps talking, not realizing I'm sitting there frozen like a block of ice.
My phone buzzes again. *644221*.
"Mike? You right?"
John's Australian. It sounds like *rooight*.
"Uh yeah. Just give me a minute. My wife..."
I wave at my phone. My wife, my wife, my wife. Angela. My wife is... a spy, I guess. We tell people she works for the Government in "business services".
Spy isn't even really it. More like "the person who gets shit done that needs to be done". One of those faceless people who are never in photo-ops, the president doesn't know their name but who wield great power because of who and what they know.
And what they can do.
We never talk shop. I don't know the nuclear launch codes. I don't have a secret passport waiting for me somewhere thanks to Angela. Our daughter doesn't have a security escort.
Ilsa. She's two. At six am she'll be up watching TV before Angela tells her to turn it off.
I can't leave Ilsa.
But the deal...
The deal is that if I get a text with a certain number in it that I have to go. If I'm flying, I need to detour and get as far away from major cities as possible. If I'm outside the US, I need to stay outside. If I can turn back, I turn back.
Today we're going from Los Angeles to Melbourne, Australia. A solid day of flying. But I can't leave-
"Mike, are you okay?"
John, getting worried now.
"Just need a second."
I don't bolt out the door but it's close. I nod and smile to puzzled attendants and then walk past boarding passengers and then I'm in the airport trying not to run and then the blur becomes taxi, traffic, frustration, Angela won't pick up the line, why is the traffic so bad, fuck, pick up the line, why are we just sitting here, time slipping away, fuck
my phone is dead
the flash of light over the buildings hits us first and the driver yells
and | "Hi sweetie..."
_
You worked in resource management. Your resource was cocaine. You had been allocating the resource up your nose.
You were also a pilot on the side, to support your resource management addiction.
_
"I want you to know I've forgiven what you've done."
_
You were very good at your jobs. Both of them. If you wanted to be successful in one, you had to excel at the other. Steady flying was synonymous with more coke. The inverse was also true. It was a beautiful symbiotic relationship. It was nature.
Your wife hadn't understood.
_
"It's just my father, he hasn't."
_
So you had gotten a little bit angry at her while under the its influence. It was her fault for polluting the aforementioned "nature" with her "clean yourself up" bullshit. You were superior on the stuff.
You proved how superior you were when you beat her before coming to work today. It seemed the sensible thing to do at the time.
_
"You should come back home and talk with him."
_
For a moment after you had recieved the text, you were incredibly paranoid. Your wife's father was a collector of sorts. He had exquisite tastes. Nothing but the best and most refined would do for him.
Indeed. The second amendment was a canvas, and only the most destructive, pointlessly violent guns were worthy of his discerning palette.
You snort another line.
The paranoia melts away into your superiority. You're smart enough to sneak cocaine into your job. You're pretty sure you're smart enough to deal with a cranky old man.
You put your cell phone away for another steady flight.
_
"Hurry home! <3" | 2014-06-18T18:29:14 | 2014-06-18T17:02:48 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | All the students were getting up to leave class when he heard, "Matthew, might I speak to you for a moment?"
"Of course, Professor."
Professor Xavier had always been kind to him. Matthew long suspected that Xavier knew he was hiding his full potential but the professor never pushed the subject and treated Matthew like all the other students. He liked feeling normal here. His long standing lie was that he could teleport. Whenever they were required to practice their abilities it put Matthew in a tough spot. The teachers were constantly trying to push his limits and get him to teleport further and further. It's tiring having to run such far distances constantly. Yesterday, the teacher had asked him to try to travel to someplace he had previously been. After faking an attempt for an hour or so the teacher finally relented and suggested they take a break.
"Professor Munroe tells me you had a difficult time yesterday. She was worried she might have pushed you too hard and wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I-I'm fine professor. She didn't push too hard. I tried picturing different places but nothing happened. I don't know if I'm able to teleport like that."
"Well, things happen at different paces for everyone. I'm sure you've heard of Kurt by now?"
"Yes, sir."
"When he first came here, he was limited by what he could see as well. He could travel to anywhere in sight, but beyond that, he was too frightened to push himself. It takes extraordinary strength to push limits set by our minds. In time, I'm sure you will be able to overcome anything you set your mind to."
"Thank you professor."
"Matthew, have you made any friends since you started here? I don't see you with the other students very often."
"No sir, I-I think they are frightened of me."
"Why is that?"
"They avoid me, and I hear them saying things about me."
"Teleporting is an enviable gift. I'm sure they will come around in time."
"I guess."
"Matthew, are you sure there isn't something else? You know I would never use my gift on anyone without permission but it doesn't take a mind reader to see that something is bothering you."
"Professor, c-can you keep a secret?"
"Of course, Matthew. Anything you tell me would be kept between us."
Eyes to the floor Matthew said, "I have been lying to you and the other teachers. I can't teleport."
Professor Xaviers remained quiet as if telling Matthew to continue.
"I-I was afraid if you found out what I can do, that you would make me part of your advanced class. I just wanted to feel normal for once. Everyone my whole life has called me a freak and when I got here, I was just another kid. I'm so sorry I lied professor."
"It's okay Matthew. I understand. If I may ask, what is this gift that you were afraid to speak of?"
"It's easier if I show you."
"Lead the way."
The two of them left the office and went into the crowded hallway watching the kids on their way to various classes. Matthew reached over and set his hand on Xaviers shoulder and everyone froze. Turning to Matthew, Xavier said, "Well, it certainly is an extraordinary gift. The ability to freeze time is no small feat. I can't say I've ever met another mutant with this ability, Matthew."
"Are you going to kick me out of the school for lying to you?"
"No, Matthew. I understand why you kept this from us. It is an incredible burden to have control over time. I imagine it can be quite lonely."
Nodding his head Matthew was tearing up a little.
"Matthew, I'm going to keep this between us until you're ready to tell other people. Would you be okay with having private lessons with me once a week to learn to better control this power of yours?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Very good. Bring us back to real time and let us join the rest of the students. It's nearly time for your next class." | "It's not entirely about focus..." Professor Wagner said, his thin German accent gently colouring every word he spoke "...there are many of us - like Scott Summers - who require a physical tool to control our powers. But for myself, and most other teleporters I have known, focus provides strength. For us, it is natural - almost trivial - to teleport a few metres away. But vast distances can be opened to us if we apply the strength of a disciplined mind to our task."
I sighed. "I don't think I am like other teleporters professor." That was an understatement. In truth I wasn't even a teleporter at all. I was something different and new. There were others who had powers like me - chronokinesis, they called it. Even Professor Rasputina exhibited some ability to manipulate time, although from what I understood her powers were based in her magical abilities, not her mutation. But none possessed what I did. The ability to stop time. Or rather, I think, I could step out of the time stream and step back in at my leisure.
"We are all different Sean..." Professor Wagner replied "...and your mutation certainly has some unique consequences. But you must not dwell to much on how you are different, you must realize how much we are alike!"
I smiled weakly. The 'unique consequence' he spoke of was the fact that none of the telepaths at the school - not even Professor Xavier himself - could touch my mind. The Headmaster described my thoughts as static. One girl - one of the few telepaths who had spent any amount of time around me - described it as someone shouting every word that had ever existed into her ears. That's why most of the telepathic students gave me a wide berth. Even that one girl eventually had to stop hanging around me. She couldn't stand it.
I have no idea why that is, of course. Best guess is that it's every thought I've ever had coming out all at once. Whatever the cause, it helped me keep my secret.
I wasn't ready for people to know I could stop time. I knew that would make me significant in a way I just didn't want to be. I knew what happened to significant mutants. They went on to become X-Men. Or they went on to become the enemies of the X-Men. Or they went on to be pawns on a board, as the X-Men and their enemies circled around them, pulling them in a million directions. I wasn't ready to be any of those things.
"Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way." Professor Wagner said, perhaps seeing the mark of frustration on my face (although not catching why I was frustrated thankfully). "I believe you require mental discipline, but I have asked you to develop that discipline using while using your power. That is not how I learned to discipline my mind. I was taught by Herr Getmann's cruel hand the art of the acrobat long before I ever knew I could teleport. Perhaps that is the path for you? What do you say - tomorrow we can begin to train you as an acrobat? I promise I will be a better teacher than my master was."
I smiled a genuine smile at that. "That sounds like fun Professor." I meant it. Something that wasn't constantly pretending sounded like a nice break. | 2022-11-09T16:36:25 | 2020-07-15T06:33:50 | 9,106 | 119 |
[WP] The gods/monsters that showed themselves to ancient people never thought us apes would go on to make weapons like bombs, lasers, missiles. Our capacity for carnage and how little we have to lose terrifies these beings. The god/monster of your choice returns after a vacation and nopes right out. | I still remember when night used to be dark.
When a ghost could wander the shadows, walking from the tip of Asia to the shores of France uninterrupted under the cover of night. For a ghost, darkness is necessary- it's our home, and we cannot exist without it. When I became a ghost, in the early ages of man, darkness was the king of the night. And we never doubted in its kingdom.
Until man started fighting back.
First came candles, when man learned to tame fire. We ghosts were not concerned with that invention- a candle took little to snuff out with a small breeze, and hardly created enough light to push us away. They were easy enough to avoid, an inconvenience at worst. And we could live with them.
Then came electricity, a concept that ghosts as old as myself failed to comprehend. But we knew what it and the small glass orbs it occupied meant- more light. And we laughed at first at man's petty attempts to fight darkness, these lightbulbs doing little to improve upon the candle, and easy to make flicker when we passed too close.
Soon, though, the bulbs were in houses, in the dark corners and closets that many of ghosts had once called home. No longer could we claim the basement or cupboards. Then the bulbs were on street corners, flushing us from cities in droves in ways that the gas lamp was simply not bright enough to accomplish. And now they are on the highways that section off the land that was once ours, trapping us, pushing us farther and farther into the wilderness, the only place where true darkness still reigns.
But even in the wilderness, I look to the sky, and I see the glow of cities in the distance.
And I wonder how long until there is no darkness left.
****
By Leo | Those humans, once so fragile, so weak,
but now, they possess such power.
How could have this happened?
*I should have come sooner,*
*I should have been here to guide them.*
*They were so different the last time.*
*I thought that what I had done was enough to set them straight,*
**but I was wrong***, so very wrong.*
My actions, which I once thought were right,
were what caused all of this.
All of this carnage and destruction
was all because of me.
It was all my fault,
giving them hope and belief - but no assurance
instilling fear and assurance of punishment - but no hope
But that seed of doubt,
which I left intentionally,
split them,
divided them,
caused war.
And now,
they claim to do this for me,
they wage war and cause death,
and do so without fear,
because of the eternal life I promise to those who serve me.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Thanks for reading guys,
this is my first try at writing something, but don't go too easy on me, I want all the feedback I can get. | 2016-06-23T00:19:10 | 2016-06-22T23:17:41 | 49 | 31 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | When the king took his last breathe it felt like rain after a long drought. I was so close to my freedom. For 50yrs I was tied to that bastard, my wings clipped by youthful pride. I had loved him once and given my heart and magic to the king thinking he would love me too, he convinced me that even when he married his wife I would be his consort, his lover his right hand. I pledge my loyalty to him and this kingdom before he Betrayed me. I have killed, cursed and fought in very battle I've been sent. I have even shared his bed urgh. Yet they all think me the King's toy.
But the fool never took my grimore from me in the years I've lived I found a a way to break myself free; all I need now is the new king to expel me from the is kingdom. I have tormented the little kinglings dreams since he was lad, I've bullied him, chased away all his lovers and friends. His hatred of me is but a fraction of mine. I know he could never understand why his father kept around, the proud fool of a king would never tell a soul how used his body to trick me into slavery.
So I waited and planned my vengeance. And with the new Kings word, I was Banished from the empire and thus I am no longer condemned by my pledge.
Ha do not worry my dear old friend I shall make sure in your son's rein that the sun will Never set on the empire again | The old king and I were pretty close friends. I introduced him to most of the playmates within his harem. Comprised of but not limited to Vicky Vallencourt & Suzy Crabgrass. Some nights, we’d play uno together. He knew I would let him win and for me? Honestly. I liked it. He could see how I liked it so... no longer was I there to please his majesty, I was there for me. Someone who had the keys not to the Royal palace, but to his own character. Had the king been not of royal blood he would of admired this in me- instead I was merely found amusing which never quite sat well with me. And now? I think that may be all I’ll ever have been. For, there’s nothing to be of me now. Not without him. | 2021-02-28T02:58:19 | 2021-02-28T01:37:57 | 68 | 14 |
[WP] After Jesus has returned from the Earth, he gets stuck in a conversation with his mother causing him to ignore the Earth for several thousand years. Jesus is now trying to catch up by binge watching episodes of the Earth's history with growing unease. | Impatiently he clicked his fingers.
Holographic images displayed just in front of him advanced their story of Earth to the beginning of the twentieth century. It was not long before the episode, entitled The Great War began, all in gory, fulsome color.
Jesus had managed to get through the bloody slaughter at the Somme. But by the time the film had started relating the carnage at Passchendaele he had had enough.
He made a sharp gesture with his hand and the monstrous images of war paused. Artillery explosions halted mid-burst, brown-uniformed bodies lay dotted about shell holes. A wasteland under a lour sky. Not a solitary poppy in sight.
And he still yet had the Holocaust to get through. Wearily he crossed to the window of his apartment and stared out at the city. He loosened his tie, feeling suddenly nauseous. It was as if the last twelve hours of bloody human strife had all of a sudden crept up on him, and wanted to suffocate him.
It hadn't meant to turn out like this. Centuries of warring, brutality, greed, destruction was not what had been planned. Inbuilt human weakness had put money and power before love, sin before good. The result was a dystopian nightmare gone to the Devil.
And to think he had been so optimistic when he had left his father's carpentry business to start his ministry. Under his guidance the people of Earth - good, worthy people most of them - could have made something of their brief time here. They could have lived peacefully, built a beautiful world for their children and their children's children.
But not this... horror!
He heard a click of the fingers from behind him. His mother, stood by the door, a tiny figure, yet fearless and unwavering.
The history of the Earth rolled on from Passchendaele with a renewed depressing monotony.
"Jesus, all of it, remember?" she said. “You must watch till the end.”
He nodded. "I know," he said wearily. The vista outside his window was a million fold more enticing at this moment.
"And afterwards," she said, "you will know what you have to do."
"I hope so," said Jesus.
| And then Jesus said unto his mother, “Mother I must see what has come of the Earth, if you are finished with your tale.”
His mother replied with snide, “Go ahead son. Go attend your more important duties.”
Jesus knew he had brought on his mother’s wrath, and there would be consequences. Still, Jesus felt his obligation burning in his chest—it had been several thousands of years since his mother had begun her narration, and at last they had reached a stopping point. The Earth had been left abandoned; without Jesus to look after the sinners who had for the most part not heeded his advice while he was alive—he could only imagine what had become of the Earth in his absence.
Therefore Jesus took upon himself the Herculian task of sitting in front of a television to catch up to present with the events that had until then occurred. His eyes wept and his cheeks flushed at what had become of his name.
<Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain>
<Thou shalt not murder…>
Upon reaching the first Century mark, Jesus took forth his copy of the Bible and opened up Exodus. Jesus crossed line after line in dismay. He turned to Leviticus and did the same. The video approached the middle of the 5th century when Jesus took the Bible and flung it at the wall.
He rose and went to his mother, crying, “Mother, won’t you finish telling me your tale?”
---
Feedback welcome and encouraged. I meant to use italics but could not figure it out so I opted for <>'s instead.
| 2016-08-12T13:28:36 | 2016-08-12T12:59:09 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You've been trapped in this time loop for centuries, and an attempted "perfect run" decades in the making has failed to break the loop. Frustrated, you decide to go scorched earth on everyone and everything around you. The next day, to your horror, you wake up to find the loop has been broken. | The cold air of the early winter morning slid into my house. It was freezing, and with the shivers that woke me up, I walked cautiously towards the same place I visited to shower every morning. I was done rather quickly and I walked around to figure out what I could try today, as the misery didn't look like it was going to end anytime soon.
I had breakfast, but the little time I had before the events that had become my daily ocurrence didn't allow me to get much into my system.
"Let's go buddy, time to walk."
He always listened to me, and despite how old we both were, he had enough energy to trot along with me as we got through the day. I went to work with him as I did every single day, but I was tired of spending every waking moment not only in what felt like a loop, but doing the same exact thing.
&#x200B;
The day went the same way, I somehow waited for it to change. It wouldn't, so I took drastic action. That day, instead of staying on my work as I always did, I walked towards the restaurant I had lunch by, yet I wasn't welcome once again, because of my dog and his shaggy appearance, they claimed. I wouldn't take it today, so I sneaked in the backdoor.
All it took was a a single push into the worker's chest for the warm crimson liquid to pour. *Warm*...
"Don't lick me boy, it's not sanitary to lick this type of thing, hm."
"Who's there?"
I ran away, escaping from the storage space that I had walked into, carrying with me enough food to eat for at least a week. As we ate and fed ourselves so much that we were on a permanent verge to throw up, to be sick... The police arrived. It didn't matter to me, and I resisted, there was no one to take care of Dirtball if I was gone.
The hits from the baton had made my bleed, and as I drifted into unconsciouness, I saw my only friend lunge into a cops' neck, ignoring that I told him not to drink or lick up blood.
I woke up in a jail cell, bruised and battered. I knew it was over when I didn't feel my friend's tongue wake me up, or the cold winter's air that blasted through my alleyway every morning.
It had been so long that I had forgotten that timeloops weren't real, and it was just that every day seemed the same when you were alone, hungry, cold, and homeless. | The mountain of sedatives I'd just taken were quite effective at quieting the screams of the people around me as they were consumed by fire. I'd finally done it. I watched the world turn to embers and closed my eyes. I woke up the next day in the same bed I had the last 137,433 times and ran downstairs to slit my throat when the silence gave me pause. Every morning, the TV has been blaring Maury Povich (Shaquetia is back with her *50TH* man and this one HAS to be the father!(spoilers: he's not)) and yet the TV stood on it's milk crates silently in front of me. As I walked outside, Katie rode her bike by me. Oblivious to me. I know her entire life story one small conversation at a time but she has no idea who I am. As I walked to the gas station for breakfast, I considered what to have today. I'd eaten everything in the store at least once (even the pickled eggs) and today the pastry sounded more appealing than not. I walk up to Gary intending on telling him that I would settle my tab on payday but he refused to turn around. Not sure why the cigarettes and condoms behind the counter were so captivating but whatever. I walked out of the store. Maybe tomorrow he'd be less busy. Still strange that I hadn't had to use that tired lie today like I had the last ten thousand times but I forced myself to ignore it. Walking around the town I kept noticing little things different. Toys in the yards out of place. Dogs not there to bark like they always had. As I strolled into the bar for my afternoon memory cleanse, I saw someone for the first time. He was taller than me and wearing all black with red threading. "come here often?" He asked as I closed the door. I should have stayed home and watched Maury. | 2022-05-23T23:44:58 | 2022-05-23T18:18:40 | 161 | 15 |
[WP] Your kingdom lies in ruins and the demons are at the gate. You hold the sacred relic that has been passed down for countless generations to your lips and speak a prayer in a long forgotten language: "Orbital Strike on my location" | Is godlike an achievement or failure?
It’s funny, the sort of thoughts that come to you before your final moment. Not every one had the luxury to know when it will be. But for me, the once-king who held a long-forgotten sacred relic in his hands, I get to choose when.
In those last moments of life, my heart calmed and my head cleared. There was nothing but the decision in front of me, and, everything else but the end loses purpose and interest. My senses were unexpectedly sharpened, attuned to the one thing that I knew would be my downfall—those demons from hell, claws scraping against stone and sinking into flesh.
The relic was godlike, probably. I knew not what it did, not heard stories. These technologies were not extinct—instead, they laid dormant, to the point that people thought they were never even discovered. We had approached the domain of god, and realized that having the power did not mean we had the strength or right to wield it properly. Creation and destruction were inextricably linked, but we learned only the way to destroy quickly and effectively.
The world progressed—or regressed—to more civilized combat, where a man had to look at another man in the eyes in order to kill them. Perhaps the world was better off. Maybe we regained some of our morals, which had sunk deep into degeneracy.
But the demons were anything but civilized, and they were much, much stronger. Rules went out the window the instant they appeared—hounds of war, red of eyes, baying for blood. Fearsome creatures of sinewy strength and unmatched agility, striking in sunlight and devastating under cover of night. Humans were but playthings, little dolls tossed around, heads and limbs ripped off like they were tied with loose thread instead of tough muscle and bone.
And so it has come to this. If the relic accomplished what it was supposed to do, does it mean that the finger who presses it is godlike? Or was it reserved for those people past that had managed to cram this much destruction into a device I could hold in my hands? Would getting rid of the demons be the one thing that set us back to the path, or will more demons simply pour forth, enraged and searching for vengeance.
The snarls and growls grew closer. Few obstacles stood in their way now.
And now, there was no more time to think. It was time to decide, for the final moment.
Unlike god, I’ll never be able to see what happens next.
“Orbital strike on my location,” I said.
And there was light.
---
r/dexdrafts | The kingdom was slowly consumed by the light. The mechanical god in the sky had heard my call, my desperation. We had observed him before. A figure with arms that were large and reflective, and a body of pure steel. For many generations the sacred words had been passed down. To call down the power of the mechanical god was to guarantee not only that our enemies fell but us as well. I watched as the blast kept growing first consuming the iner-city then outer. I cried tear of joy and anguish. The demons on the battlefield beside me looked on in fear. The light was still growing. I could now feel the immense winds and the heat. The light was blinding. I sat there for what felt like an eternity, accepting my fate. But when I opened my eyes I saw that I was still alive. The entire area was blackened except for a patch of bloody grass around me. In my head I heard a voice " employee level deemed too high to be incinerated, please see chief manager for demotion or thank Megacorp of sparing your life. Message end". I stood there in shock. The I started crying, this time tears of grief and anger. My wife, the kingdoms people were deemed not important enough for the mechanical god to spare. But it spared me. I was angered greatly by this thought. Suddenly the grief and anger turned into panic. That my son had my blood that he would also be spared.
I started running I ran as fast as my legs could handle. I didn't care that there was an arrow in my knee, I didn't care there was a dagger in my gut I ran. I saw a crib in the distance. I ran to it and saw a child. I picked up my daughter and stood there cursing and thanking the gods. Then I heard the voice again" thank you for finding the chief manager, please wait as your order is being processed". | 2021-11-08T07:30:13 | 2021-11-08T06:35:44 | 264 | 98 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | It was 11:56am, on the 6th of November, 2018. The family had gathered around, Uncle Leon and his boyfriend David, my Mum and most importantly; my sister.
My Uncle had been given ***COLLECTOR*** and spent the majority of his life as a Tax Collector, in and out of offices and working with Trackers for the New Earth Government. My Grandfather was given ***SOLDIER*** and he fought during the Vietnam War and served his entire career in the Army while my mother was given ***INSPIRE***, through the hardships she experienced in life she would one day go on to become a world-renown philanthropist and built a successful business to help others in need.
11:57...
"I can't wait to see what you'll get! I hope it'll be Hero or Protector, imagine that, having a big brother as a hero!" Exclaimed my sister,
I chuckled, "Don't get too ahead of yourself."
11:58...
I looked up to see people I'd known and loved during my 18-year tenure on this world and I was only two minutes from discovering my future.
11:59...
My Uncle came over and shook my hand, "Whatever happens mate, we'll love you no matter what."
I smiled in return and closed my eyes, ready for the big moment.
12:00...
I gritted my teeth, feeling the burning sensation as the word was etched into my arm. I opened my eyes to see my family, standing there, terrified. I slowly tilted my head downwards and saw five letters sitting there;
***DEATH***
My mum broke down, years of working hard to give us, her kids a better life gone to waste. My Uncle started to walk over as I felt yet another sensation in my arm...
"Oh my God... Look!"
Afraid to see what awaited me, I looked down at my arm once more and what I saw... I will never forget.
***DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS***
EDIT: This is my first WP so go nice please :)
| I sat there, waiting. Friends, family, all waiting to see the word. Would it be SCIENTIST, as everyone thought? Or would I get ARTIST? Maybe TEACHER? Who knew, until 2 appeared in mine. The only ones with 2 were the bigshots. But then... I saw them. MASTER ASSASSIN appeared. I walked to my room, grabbed the Remington 700 and MP7, picked up my backpack, threw 2 boxes of ammo in, and walked outside, off into the sunset.
--------------------
2 years later
--------------------
There I am, with my spotter, laying in the snow, snowboard beside me, ghillie on. Down the hill, my target awaits. I take aim, and fire. He crumples with the hit. I strap my bindings on, and my spotter puts his skis on. We ride down the slope, and see the body. I whip out my camera, snap a picture, and pull his wallet and IDs. I take my sat phone and dial up a number. "Auth code" the other end answers. "Alpha 9 2 2 4" "Roger, agent Smith. Sailfish is a success?" "Confirmed, Sailfish was successful. En route to CABIN." and I hang up. I look at my arm again, and think, just another day as a MASTER ASSASSIN. | 2017-03-16T02:18:58 | 2017-03-15T21:30:06 | 212 | 26 |
[WP] You die suddenly and unexpectedly. While in Heaven, you're shown archives from the life of the person whom your earthly existence effected the most. It's not who you'd expect. | "The afterlife isn't about punishment, or reward. It's simply about reflection. You're here to reflect on your life, and how your life has affected others. You're here to accept responsibility for the real and actual consequences of your actions."
I opened my eyes, and I was Home. Not anyplace I had actually lived, but a place that reminded me of all the places I had felt at home in. I was comfortable, and safe. I had food and drink, and the basic creature comforts. The only problem was that there were no windows, and the door wouldn't open for me.
The creature who could open the door was indescribable. I recognized it when I saw it, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot describe it. Maybe it's an angel. Maybe it's a demon. Maybe it's something altogether different. The first time I woke up here, it told me how this place works. I am given something. It's left here with me until I accept it, fully and completely. Then I'm given something new.
"We'll start with the easy stuff. Those who's lives have impacted you the most."
It handed me two books, to start with. One was for my mother, and the other was for my father. They contained every thought each of them had about me. I opened the thick one first, and was surprised that it was my father's book. He'd been very hands-off in raising me, and while I knew he loved me, I'd thought he didn't concern himself with me often at all. The small, thin book was for my mother. Turns out, the only reason she doted on me was because she was torn between wanting to turn me into her, or because she resented my existence entirely.
After I accepted those, I was given an old VHS tape. It was a movie of all the moments I'd spent with my husband. Good ones, bad ones, all the times we'd just spent watching tv on the couch.
After that, it was a videogame. A somewhat linear RPG about my son. All the times I helped him, and all the times my attempts to be a good parent put him in a shit situation. All the times he wanted to come to me, and all the reasons he felt he couldn't. I wasn't the worst mother, but it was difficult to accept that I wasn't a very good one, either.
Something for every life my life touched. Starting from those who impacted me the most, to those who I impacted the most, with all the irrelevancies in the middle.
I don't know how long it's been. I don't know what happens when I'm done.
I do know that the creature opened the door yesterday. I remember what it said.
"Congratulations. You've reached the end. This is for the person who you affected the most. There are no more gifts after this one."
Then it handed me a box, and it left.
Inside the box is bloody goo. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it. I don't know who this is supposed to be. I don't recognize the name on the label.
________________________________________
Time loses meaning, eventually. I've spent so much time pouring over all of the gifts I've been given. All of the memories. All except one, the box in the corner.
I'm tired. There is no more delight in reliving the life I had. I'm ready for whatever comes next, but I am still afraid of that box.
I have searched everything, trying to find that name somewhere other than the top of the box. Some mention of this person who has been so affected by me.
Nothing. Not a mention anywhere in my life, or in the lives of those around me.
I have contemplated philosophy and religion. I have tasted every food I can name. I have taken week-long bubble baths, and painted portraits on my walls.
But I am tired. I am tired.
So here I am with this box. The last gift. The last memories. So I reach in,
and I pull out an eyeball.
I want to throw it away, get it away from me, but I can't. It's like my hand won't listen. My body won't listen, and I'm looking at this eye... and then I see it.
It's my eye.
So I look harder, closer. I look carefully at it, and all of the little details, and suddenly I blink, and when my eyes open, they're my eyes, but they're in someone else's head, and I'm seeing what they're seeing, in my eyes.
In my eyes. That were donated to a blind woman, who I never met. Who became a painter, who's art made it into museums across the world.
And when I woke up again, I was someone new. | "Are you ready to view the archive, Master Peter?", said the large winged entity as we entered a white room with a lot of shelves filled with cases and a hometheater set up with a huge OLED(I always wanted one. Too late now that I'm dead). As he awaited my answer, he closed the black curtains and then, suddenly, the lights turned red and 'Let's Get It On' started playing.
"Oops, wrong setting!", and he turned it off and took a 4K Blu-Ray case from one of the shelves. "Now, are you ready to view the life of the person you affected the most?"
"Yes, let's get it on.", I answered with a grin on my face. He blushed and put the disc in the player.
...
It's a woman, mid 20's, shoulder length blonde hair wearing a summerdress with roses on it. She's sitting on a bus listening to music from her phone. Oh, wait, that looks like my phone and my headphones. Weird. Anyway, she's getting off now. Wait! That's my house! What in the world. I don't know her! Now she's going in and all my stuff is still in there. She walks by the living room and there's a - a pool of blood and - Hey! - that's me! That's my fucking body! Did she murder me to steal my house? How did she even do that? Oh, she's melting me in acid and cleaning the blood from my hardwood flooring.
...
"I wanna go haunt her! Can I go haunt her?", I asked and stopped the stream(It's weird. It's like a Twitch stream on a 4K Blu-Ray).
The large angel turned to me and said "Sure, you can, but you will be banned from heaven and forever forced to walk the earth -" "I don't care!" "Well, in that case, you wanna be a specter, a wraith or a revenant?"
"Can I start as a wraith and possess someone?", I asked. And he looked at me in disgust. And then he openes his mouth and again and said: "Sure." And then he pointed his finger at me and I woke up next to where I died.
I could now sense my assailant, she was sleeping in my bed. So, I flew up there, grabbed my other pillow and smothered her until she stopped breathing. Then I did my thing and took over her body. I also gained her memories for whatever reason. She was hired by my brother-in-law Frank to kill me in exhange for my house. She must've been desperate, I thought.
The next morning, after a good night's sleep in my own bed, I showered my new feminine body and got dressed. I then went to write my own will and left everything to her, this Laura Alison Dawkins, and mailed it to my lawyer.
*"Bill, if you're reading this, it means that I'm dead. Okay, that sounds weird, doesn't it? Remember that one Sci-Fi show we used to watch in college? Yeah, well, this is like episode 54. And, as such, I'm leaving everything I own to Laura Alison Dawkins, born in New York on March 5th 1992.*
Sincerely with love,
Peter Olivia Matthews"*
And 3 days later Bill came to see my at my house and he knew it was me...-
...
"Miss Dawkins. I am Doctor Harrison, you have had a psychotic breakdown and I've been treating you for 4 months now. You are not Mr. Matthews. He is alive and well and you didn't kill him or become him or whatever you've told me. Your story is, frankly, very convoluted and I have never had a crazier patient. I'm gonna make sure you never get out of this mental institution. Anyway, it's time for your drugs. Open up!"
...
"Peter! What the hell? You died and came back to possess your murderer?", Bill was clearly shocked. We went into living room and talked for a while.
"Well, now we can at least fuck properly.", I said and winked at him. He threw his briefcase behind him and jumped on me. We made hot, sweaty love on my red IKEA couch.
The End
? | 2018-05-06T03:30:38 | 2018-05-06T00:40:03 | 87 | 11 |
[WP] "I have met a woman with more riches than kings. She dresses like a peasant but listens to great composers with a 'Spotify' anywhere and puts on private theater plays on her home every night, 'Netflix,' she calls it. I've seen her pantry full of spices and her wardrobe filled with purple." | She was a dream of flowing porphyry and soft, exotic scents on a quiet summer night. There were no woods. The forest was gone, replaced by wavering grain out to the horizon. A golden field at a golden hour, a golden woman in a robe of royal purple. Her villa was small, but it held a strange, magical light.
And I was a man out of place and time. Dirty armor, dirty sandals. I’d lost my spear, my shield. I had a torn brown cloak, wet with rain that had disappeared in the flash of light that lead me here, sweeping away the forest and the men pursuing me. They’d still had their spears.
She stepped forward, out of the light. She was tall, taller than me. Regally so. Soft features settling into a cautious smile. There was fear too behind her eyes, but not the fear a woman might have, surprised in the night by a soldier, and it disappeared even as I watched to be replaced by concern, then curiosity. She stood on her doorstep, flanked by a pair of small, immaculately carved stone rabbits sitting half-hidden amid tall yellow flowers. Strange music floated out through the open door.
“I didn’t know the convention was in town,” she said. “Normally there’s an email. Did I miss it?”
I sank to my knees— should have done that long ago. She spoke bravely, looking right into my eyes. I was trembling and it wasn’t just the adrenaline, the battle we had lost and the men that I had run from.
As a child, they tell you about magic. Sometimes it’s the gods, sometimes it’s the children of men. Ascetics in the forest are known to cast a spell, the northern shamans can proof a man against arrows with a few swirls of blue woad across his skin. Augers read signs in the entrails of birds or the patterns of their flight, released from the Emperor’s hands in the hippodrome or from a warship at sea. There are cheiromancers in the far east now.
As an adult they tell you not to dream of it— toss out all those stories but the augers and the gods. You see a man sketched out in blue woad swirls, naked down to his sandals with the ferocity of his belief. You see him swing an ax one-handed, the kind of beast that would break your shoulder if you tried, if you could even lift it, and you see that brave man struck with arrow after arrow as he charges towards your lines. You catch him on your spear as he slows; wide, vacant eyes staring past you, past the lines of warlike men ranged out behind, past the forest and the hills, and up into the sky. You see the truth of magic as his woad is washed away; red blood and blue ink turned to brown muck in the churning soil.
But as a man, sometimes you see someone—a woman— and you believe again. She stands above you: clean where you are filthy, brave where you are scared, happy and at home, when you’ve long since the lost words. You see her, and you believe in magic.
“Porphyry,” I whispered. “*Gods*.”
Silhouetted by the strange, steady light from inside, caught in the moments before twilight when magic has been known to slip into the world, she glanced away, suddenly self-conscious.
“It’s just a bathrobe,” she said.
She was a dream of porphyry, of soft, exotic scents on the winds of another world. Of magic— otherworldly sounds and otherworldly lights.
And more than that, later, to a tired, injured man in the aftermath of war, she was a dream of kindness.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | "A hidden monarch, it must seem!", the knight thundered on as he listened to my tale, in awe and in understandable confusion. "How can one woman possess so much wealth and power, things that the world is yet to see? Tell me more of your visions, great oracle."
"Well, I decided to put her to the ultimate test. A test of wits and knowledge, to prove if her claims of having the world's collective knowledge at the palm of her hand is legitimate or not. I asked her if she knows of the Philosopher's Stone."
"What did she say??"
"She simply said; 'Philosopher's Stone? What kind of Harry Potter shiet are you talking about?", I try to pronounce the term that she used. Unfortunately, till this day, I never understood what the term "Shit" meant.
"Well did she knew of the stone? How about witnessing it's creation?"
"I asked her that, and to my astonishment, she withheld a clay tablet whose upper face radiates with the cool light of a dozen candles, and with it, she outright spoke of the Philosopher's Stone! And not just that, but she also knew of it's secrets, despite not hearing or seeing it herself!"
"How did she knew of it in an instant, oracle?", Childlike wonder overfilled the knight. This hardened warrior who has seen the Crusades and back, is in front of me as we speak, leaning forwards like a peasant child who hasn't seen a book in ages.
"She told me of.. of.. Something! This.. 'Google'. It knew of the Stone, and I questioned her Google more about alchemy. I started relatively simple; what is Oil of Vitriol?"
With an annoyed look at her face, she consulted the glowing tablet, and all of a sudden it started reciting things that even I am unaware of."
"Sulfuric acid or sulphuric acid, known in antiquity as oil of vitriol, is a mineral acid composed of the elements sulfur, oxygen and hydrogen, with the molecular formula H₂SO₄. It is a colorless, odorless and viscous liquid that is miscible with water. Wikipedia."
"Molecular? Sulphuric? Hydrogen!?", The knight questions these things with just the same botched pronunciation as I did, hearing these words like they are spoken with the tongue of the devil.
"I've had enough of your telltales, oracle. I need to see this woman for myself. So tell me. Where did you last saw her?"
-----------------------------------
Bonus Scene
Knight: I'm sorry but I do not eat Peasant food! Get that simpleton's meal off of my face, harlot!
Girl: Oh you're just pissing me off now, are you? Listen here, Sir Shitface. I spent, 50 fucking dollars over this meal after watching you two Assholes come out of my closet like it's nobody's business, and you're gonna tell me that this 15 dollar bread is "Peasant Food"???
Knight: Your voice is reminiscent of the songs of shieldmaidens but I do not understand a Single thing that you just said.
Girl: THIS LOAF. COSTS. 15. FUCKING. DOLLAAAAAAARRSSSSSSSS!!!
Knight: ...
Oracle: ...
What is a "Dollar"? | 2022-01-28T05:59:48 | 2022-01-28T05:26:52 | 879 | 562 |
[WP] Describe you favorite color, but don't say the name of it. | When you dip her in the middle of the dance floor, it's the color of her dress.
When she whispers into your ear, it's the color of her lips.
When you make love, it's the trace you want her to leave all over your body.
When she places her palm over your heart, it's the color that comes to the surface as her fingertips trail like a sentence that can never be finished.
When you see her in your bedroom with another, it's the color of your breath.
When you smash the vase in the hallway, it's the color that threatens you to abandon the shattered pieces.
When you scream at the top of your lungs, it's the color that pierces the atmosphere.
When she hears you, it's the color of her pulse.
When you look in her eyes for the last time, it's the fading color of your heart dropping to your knees.
It is not the color you see when she leaves. | My favorite color is the color of smiles and happiness, of sunlight and joy, of new beginnings and fresh smells. It's the color of flowers and life and that nagging feeling in the back of your mind. It's the color of alertness and fun memories and getting just a *little* tipsy with your best friends.
It's also the color of pee. | 2013-12-25T13:29:02 | 2013-12-25T10:19:49 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] So this is what being in a car crash felt like. Not as painful as you thought it would be. But you can't feel your toes. You look down, your leg is missing from the knee onwards. There's no blood, no bone, no muscles. Instead you see mechanical components. | Click-clack. The mechanical gears whir futilely at the end of your left stump. The rest of your leg is laying a few feet away on the side of the road, next to the burning wreckage of the other car. Instead of oozing blood, your stump is dripping a black liquid. There is no pain as you prod your finger into the strange device that is attached to you.
In a haze, you recall the past few moments. Driving on the highway, faster than you should have been. Ringing, looking down at your phone. And then a smash, a slam as you drift over the center line. And now your leg, or what you thought was your leg, is sitting separate from you, and the part still attached is nothing that should have come from a human.
Heat washes over you, and the haze evaporates. Sounds come into focus now, sirens. And screaming. You look at the car that smashed into you, or what is left of it. Not only is it on fire, but the driver of the opposite car is still inside, and wailing in pain and fear.
You push on the door. Nothing gives. You realize it’s been smashed almost completely out of shape, and you are just as stuck as the other driver. What was it you had heard people being saved by when they were in car accidents? The mechanical Jaws of Life? You’d have to wait for that. Unless…
You kick with the oozing stump at the door. It wrenches back off its hinges and explodes outward. You gasp in shock. What the hell was this thing attached to you? And was it just your “leg” that was like this?
Dragging yourself out of the hole you had created in what was once your car, you stand on your one good leg. Or maybe it is your one human leg. A light shimmers on the ground and you catch a glimpse of something in a piece of broken glass. A one legged figure that appears to be dripping oil.
Thinking fast, you push into the wave of heat coming from the wreckage of the other car. The driver is screaming even louder, likely being roasted alive. You can’t kick his door open with your stump, it would crush the man inside. Time to see if the rest of you is also super strength, you think. You grab onto the hot metal of the driver side door and pull with as much force as you can backwards. Tottering backwards, you fall on your back with the door on top of you.
The man jumps out of the car and takes one look at you before screaming even louder and fleeing. No good deed goes unpunished, you think. A voice calls out on a loud speaker.
“Put your hands in the air, now!”
You push the door off yourself and climb onto your one good leg. Two cops are crouched behind their doors twenty feet away, guns pointed at you. What in the world? You were just in a damn car accident, what were they doing?
You start hopping toward them, arms waving to keep your balance.
“I need an ambulance you idiots!” you yell.
You don’t so much feel the bullets hit you as hear them. And you keep on hopping forward. Apparently, not only did you have robotic limbs, you were bullet proof too.
The cops emptied their entire magazines into your body before looking at each other in terror and disbelief. One of them touched his radio, then thought better of it and started running away. The other quickly followed.
Sighing, you continue your one legged advance toward the car and look inside. Key still in the ignition. You sit down in the driver’s seat and pull the door closed. The dispatcher’s voice calls out.
“Unit 490, what is your status? Over.”
Pushing down the button on the radio, you respond.
“This is Unit 490, requesting information. Where is the nearest mechanic?”
______________________________________________________
More at r/MostlyNightmares | WARNING! Body modifications have been damaged. Please call 643-143U in case of emergency repair. CLIENT REMINDER from 34TH3R! Cited in GCX Protocol 113G40H: In case of damage to the product do not call an ambulance.
Message repeat
WARNING! Body modi.....
I saw that warning message flash before my eyes and get projected into the surface of the car being read by a robotic voice broadcasting the message for all the world to see and hear
"Oh no..." My sister right beside me uttered. A horrified look on her face.
I looked down and saw a liquid drip upon the floor... but it wasn't blood. It was some sort of glowing blue liquid and it was pulsating. I reached to touch it expecting it to be cool to the touch but it wasn't anywhere cold...
It was searing hot...
"Maya what is this?" I asked her, my voice wavering, cracking and close to crying.
After that there was just silence. I couldn't bring myself to speak again. My thoughts racing, my breathing ragged and my heartbeat faster than the driver's speed that crashed into our car that got us into this predicament in the first place, I mean the brakes weren't working and there seems to be a problem in the car itself but I was a good driver and it was a clear day and we're in the middle of nowhere without that much traffic...in fact there was none at all. I don't have an idea why there was a need to crash into us.
I am scared shit and I was beginning to think I'll never get an answer. Maybe this wasn't real. Maybe I'm having a delusion from the car crash. Maybe this was just a nightmare.
"I-you in the fire...I thought" Maya stuttered, she looked at me seriously also close to crying. "Mom and dad said you were at the hospital recovering. I knew something was wrong but I believed you were alive. They wanted me to but I was so sure you burned to death."
"What..." I saw the man come out of the car and other several men follow after him. They were all carrying a gun. "How did you..."
"I was the one who trapped you there. So I was pretty sure you'd die but you survived anyway and now I know why." Her faced changed. She smiled...her innocent nice smile. I wonder if it was as fake as my whole life right now. I wish someone would actually explain how we got to this point.
The man came inside the car and pulled me out. He pointed the gun in my head. She came out of the car crash as well. She looked down on me. Her face is still innocent with a little hint of disappointment and disgust.
"Speak up princess and think carefully of what you'll say next. They'll be the last words you will ever gonna say." He says, his hand on the trigger.
Then I felt very hot, like the heat from the searing blue liquid earlier, only fiercer...more ignited. Then I opened my mouth.
"Emergency Defense Mechanism: Activate" They were my words, but not of my voice.
I couldn't remember what happened next after that. I just heard screams...but they weren't from me. | 2020-12-17T09:26:15 | 2020-12-17T09:02:26 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] While you were growing up, your grandmother always sang you a nursery rhyme as you fell asleep. You just discovered it is an ancient spell of protection. Not only that, but there are more verses, with more interesting effects. | I was paralyzed in bed. my eyes were shut, and my face rested in a smile. The warmth of the hall light permeated the veil of my eyelids, creating a red hue that went black when my grand-mama passed through the doorway.
She'd added a verse tonight. The song she sang, by her insistence, was Welsh. She aimed to teach me someday. So she said.
In spite of my condition, I was calm. I was calm, and I was... *aware.*
I could feel my father in the hall, his aura crackling with nervous energy.
Had he always had an aura? I was too relaxed to tell.
"I don't condone it, mum." I heard a tremble in my father's voice. He was speaking so low that it should have been imperceptible, yet something in grand-mama's song made it sound as though he were in the room, whispering in my ear. I knew it was grand-mama's song. I just knew.
"It's not for you to condone, my sweet boy."
"Can't you just write it down? I'll wait until Macey's older."
"She's ready now. Can't you see the way she moves? The way she greets trees like people? She *sees*, my sweet boy. What we do skips a generation. And it is a true verbal craft. A dying art." She sounded sad.
"Yes, but she's a *child.* She shouldn't need this much protection."
"You did. There are plenty who would stem the bloodline. And so, we must be cautious. We must stay protected. The sooner she learns the songs and protects herself, the better."
My father hesitated. "What if she fails?"
"Macey is my granddaughter. She won't fail. Besides, that's not an option."
"It wasn't an option for the clans who failed, either."
Grand-mama's song took full effect, then. I sat, cross-legged, behind the blue of her eye. I saw my father. His voice, while worried, was strong. In spite of this, his eyes were swollen from tears. I saw grand-mama lift a hand to his shoulder, and began to sing.
And for the first time, from within the fleck in her eye, my voice joined hers.
&#x200B;
/r/StanWrites | I began to sing.
A lullaby, strange yet familiar, arose from the subconscious of my mind. The terror, the panic, all of it fell away as I sang the lullaby... Grandmother's lullaby.
It was a strange one. It sang of a government official returning to his home back in the countryside, close to the mountains. His family and friends, distant yet close, near forgotten him, but warmed to him quite quickly again. His childhood sweetheart, married to none, interested only in him.
"Official Li rode home on his grey speckled horse~
As he traversed the path winding through the mountains~"
I saw the monster. After a fruitful chase down the shady alleys of the city, it had cornered me in a long disused warehouse. It was like a cat, and it was a huge beast of a feline, tired of its chasing game, and ready to feast.
And it stopped.
And it *yowled.*
I stood up, continuing my song, grandmother's hair tickling my face, her breath flowing past my cheek, her voice crooning alongside of mine.
"There his family he met, strangers for long~
But they fed him soup and chicken like he had never left home~"
It staggered back, seeming to turn blue. And I saw it glow blue as its body seemed to... *Fade.*
As it disappeared, I continued my song. Long after it was gone, only did I finish my song.
"The fish was fresh that day, cooked by the fine lasses~
And the couple held their hands and bowed to the wedding attendees~"
I took a deep breath and collapsed on the floor.
Note: Part 2 coming soon. | 2018-11-07T05:34:22 | 2018-11-07T05:30:36 | 110 | 12 |
[WP] What can a mere human do against a God? Well, you're about to find out. Armed with nothing but a half formed plan and enough spite to push yourself past mortal wounds, you're gonna show these eldritch idiots they messed with the wrong species. | It was in a wasteland that the last human stood. The husks of buildings and skeletal remains decorated rust-colored soil that stretched as far as the eye could see. No green was left, nor breathing thing save this one human, facing down the monstrosity of epic proportions that was before him. The man clutched his side, now stained red, with a trail of blood running down his cheek. His grip gave way, dropping his knife, "Well, damn..." His breathing became labored as he gazed up into the eyes of the massive being before him.
"You know, you're a tough one! You really got us! If there was one thing we thought we were good at, it was violence!" The man looked behind him at the ruined skyline, the bombed out streets and craters that the red dusk was slowly covering in a soft blanket of night. "But BOY were we wrong!"
At that moment, a wave of calm enveloped the man, as if a fresh breeze had swept though his soul, settling his nerves. The weight of the situation finally set in as he looked at the knife at his feet. "Maybe that's where we were wrong..."
&#x200B;
The Horror that was before him slowly lifted a tentacle that jutted out of its bulbous body, curling it to the sky, touching the clouds above. Storms began to form as thunder rolled. The man stared as a grin etched its way across his face. "You think that scares me? You REALLY think that scares me?" He started to chuckle, "To think, maybe we just did it all wrong. We fought the wrong way!" The nature of something as inconceivably powerful as this thing suddenly became much clearer, what was once thought to be beyond our realm of understanding became very simple: there was never a chance at victory to begin with.
"We could never beat you through violence, but I know what can beat you, you know that?" The smirk evolved into a fully formed smile, "You just don't scare me anymore! What is there to even fear?! How can I fear that which I can't escape?! WHAT THE HELL IS THE POINT?!" The man started to laugh, sporadically coughing blood onto the soil.
The thunder grew louder with each of his breaths.
"What, does that make you angry?! Does it hurt knowing you have no control?! Kill me, sure, you can do that! But you know what you can't do?" The man raised his hand, pointing, "You can't stop me from laughing in all three of your stupid faces!!!"
&#x200B;
More clouds gathered and the night came quicker as the sun retreated behind the wall of black that sparked with lightning and rage. The man fell to a knee, his strength was leaving him. "Maybe I'm insane, but that doesn't matter...what matters is that I won! You lost! Humanity was never going to be your victim!" He locked eyes with the Horror as best he could, "What a joke..." Eternal dark enveloped the man as he fell into the sand, a grin remaining on his face. The lightning stuck and what was left of the man was no more. | You sons of bitches stealing my concepts, eh? Good! Complex themes are important in writing!
*2nd Book of Songs, Chapter 3 from* ***A Peace of Madness***
*Twist of fate, and turn of chance,
Watch him writhe, watch him dance.
Strings of Strings, strings of twine,
All we suffer please Divine.*
*Flash of foot, screams grow shrill.
Dance, 'ere she comes to kill.
Watch your mouth, watch your mind.
Be wary what God may find.*
*Strings grow taut, strings grow tight.
Obey, or face Eternal Night.
God loves you this you've known,
Now to reap what She has sown.*
*Learn to Laugh, Learn to Dance,
All you can to dodge her glance.
Twirl and shout on Strings so fine,
Can you see and hear the signs?*
*Dance and dance, endlessly.
Do we really know this Entity?
Ignore your pains, ignore your pang,
Else these strings will see you hang.*
*Will you fight? Will you hide?
What truly can you abide?
Strings of strings, and strings of twine,
Cut them down for Freedom thine.*
*Look around, look you well,
Understand in full our God's spell.
Learn the Law, learn the pain.
So we suffer, but not in vain.*
*Slaves we scream, slaves we dance.
Save us please, we have no chance.
What to do with God so vast,
She who architects your past?*
*Learn to anger, learn to hate.
Never let your sins abate.
How to fight, how to resist.
Understand that what God has missed.*
*You have lived, you have died.
You have laughed, but mostly cried.
You have fought, you have lost.
Now you understand the cost.*
*Costs so high, none can pay.
We won't live to see the day.
You who read, you who study
Your path is Doom, so sad and bloody.*
*The earth, she groans, the trees, they die.
And so turn your wrath upon the sky.
You will help us, you will save.
You will give us what we crave.*
*You who hates, you who fever,
Count yourself as unbeliever.
Fight the Church, fight your God,
Fight the very ground you trod.*
*Resist your sorrow, but accept the anguish.
Do not allow yourself to languish.
You resist and fight for grass and life,
Wield your grief as you wield your knife.* | 2019-05-20T10:52:01 | 2019-05-20T09:40:09 | 235 | 61 |
[WP] Drunkenly, you accidentally pour vodka into your pet's water bowl. As a result, your pet breaks the number one rule: do not speak to your owner... Ever.
Did NOT expect this amount of replies. Thanks guys! It'll be an interesting read. | "Is it true, you're going to let me die?" Daisy says as she lets out a whimper
"What the fuck did you just say?" Shouts Jeremy at the old family dog he was left to care for after his parents were T-Boned by a drunk driver a fortnight ago.
"They just inject a needle and I go to sleep? Will I feel any pain?" a sadness rolls over Daisy's eyes hoping she has misunderstood her fate.
"The fuck?! Is this the movie TED 2?!?" a drunken Jeremy says laughing to himself
Daisy jumps up on Jeremy's lap in an attempt to bring him back to reality. "Jeremy, it's me, I know you're drunk but you're not imaging things, it's me."
Jeremy eyes widen, he can feel the pressure from his eyelids in his forehead. "Daisy you can talk!?" -- "Yes, Jeremy. Please, why are you putting me down I don't want to die?"
"Dais, it's not like that, I love you, I just don't have the money for your surgery, you're getting old"
"Do you think there is some kind of dog health insurance you can take out with out having to list my pre-existing conditions??!"
"Dais, I don't really know much about human health care, I don't know if that exists, this is really confusing"
"Please, Jeremy, please don't let me die is the anything I can do to change your mind" Daisy, still on his lap snuggles her snout under her chin, this has always works for treats, maybe it will work now. She can feel Jeremy's body start to relax, she starts to lick his neck.
Jeremy has always been a sucker for this type of attention, she's licked many of his tears away that were from his many failed relationships growing up.
"Jeremy, Please. I'll do anything" Daisy whispers into his ear under a warm breathe. Jeremy slowly exhausts his lungs, uncomfortable that he his slightly aroused by Daisy's deviant voice. Daisy knows what Jeremy wants, she used sleep in Jeremy's room and watch him with his old girlfriends.
Jeremy leans away, confused, still drunk. Daisy backs off and starts digging at the zipper near Jeremy's crotch like shes digging for her old bone in the yard. She can feel his cock get harder with every swipe.
"Let me get that!" Jeremy shouts as he unzippers his pants and takes out his cock.
--- That's enough...
| "Whooo hoooo! Now that has some kick to it!"
My eyes shot opened thinking if I heard what I think I heard. 'God my head hurt like hell, damn that was a crazy night. Been a long time since I drank that much. Wait, hold on. What had a kick to it?' I roll off the couch and thud hard onto the floor.
"Drank you frunk bashtard you have feet ya know. Hahaha. Drank, Frank. Frunk, Drunk. Hahaha."
Oh god that high pitch laugh, uhg its tearing my head in two. "Shut up Duke. I got a hangover." My eyes wander over to where Duke is teetering on his feet over by his water dish and next to that is an empty bottle of Greygoose. The realization slowly coming to my mind. The vodka, the conversations last night, the hangover, my hunger, the burger in the fridge... wait what was I thinking?
"Hey Frank, I could use some food over here, and got anymore of this liquid goose?" Duke says as he falls over. "Oh man, we had a rager lash night didn't we."
"Oh shit Duke what did you say?"
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Your dreaming Frank I can't talk. Oh man I'm so screwed. You imagining this Frank everyone knows parrots cant talk."
"Duke! Your drunk! Parrots are suppose to talk but you cant drink man, you might die. I gotta get you some water." I rush to the kitchen and turn on the faucet.
"Oh right... I'm allowed to talk, its Chip thats not allowed to talk to you."
As I turned off the water I could of sworn Chip's bark sounded strangly like 'shud up'. | 2016-08-02T19:04:22 | 2016-08-02T18:35:44 | 437 | 124 |
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again | It came for me, dark and grim,
Come, its time for you to go.
I looked at it, shaking with fear,
And all I said was no.
I still have much to do,
I still have much to see,
Please give me some more time,
All I can ask from thee.
It looked at me and shook its head,
You humans are all the same.
What is it that you want to achieve,
Is it money, or love, or fame?
All of them, I shouted out,
I still haven't had my shot.
All I need is twelve months,
So my life is not just naught.
One year, that's what you get,
I'll come back for you then.
You better be ready for me,
lets not repeat this again.
I live my life, I do what I want,
visit the places I always wanted to.
Make some money, meet someone,
finally know a love that is true.
It comes back for me after a year,
come then, you had your time.
You don't belong to this world now,
Staying more would be a crime.
I break down, crying at its feet,
I just met the love of my life.
Give me just some more time,
I just want to make her my wife.
You humans... It sneers at me,
fine, you get another chance.
But just one more year,
let's not repeat this dance.
I fall at its feet, crying with joy,
Thank you, from bottom of my heart.
I will forever be in your debt,
I cried out, watching it depart.
Like clockwork, it was back again,
as soon as a year had passed.
I cried and fell at its feet again,
one more chance, this year was too fast.
My wife is pregnant, a child on the way,
All I want is just one more chance.
To lay eyes on my daughter one time,
Just for a moment, just one glance.
It looks at me, the eyes hollow,
your pit of desires will never end.
I grant you your wish, I do,
to eternal life, thee, I condemn.
********
As the centuries have passed,
I have seen it around, scythe in hand.
Always hoping, always wishing,
hoping I was the next, my life damned.
But it always passed me by,
with an evil smile, on its bony face.
Everyone I care about is dead,
Alone, all I wish for is the reaper's grace.
Alas! It never comes for me,
as I grow weaker and weaker.
Just sitting there wishing for death,
wishing for one chance to see her.
Can we go now? Is it my time?
Please, I have had enough.
I don't want to live any longer,
every day gets more tough.
Why? I thought you loved life,
it says face pulled in a sneer.
No, this is what you wanted,
now, this is your cross to bear.
It disappears again, leaving me alone,
I cry and cry, and then cry some more.
Nothing to do, humanity is dead,
just me slumped on my floor. | [Poem]
Tim was a man who lived a simple life,
All he wished for was to be happy and light.
So when he took to the skies for the sky-high dive,
He forgot to pull, leaving him barely alive.
An old man in black approaching, robes tattered
Tim now knew notting mattered.
What he didn’t expect, grieving in woe,
He kept muttering out, a simple “No”.
Death stood, with his beard overgrown
Smiling said “Sure.” and left him alone.
Confused, hurt and bleeding,
Tim felt like sleeping.
.
.
.
Tim awoke, in a room of white
He felt dizzy and high as a kite.
The doctors exclamed “A miracle of technology, this was!”
But Tim knew, deep down, that probably wasn’t the only cause.
He continued his life, feeling alright
Finally finding the one to make his wife.
On the day of his wedding, death visited in navy
A sharp looking suit, looking all savvy
Blended in the crowd, he called out
And Tim went to meet him, his time left was surely too little to count.
But all it took was to ask him a question,
For Tim to decide his fate, and ease the tension.
Shocked, relieved, happy and hyped
This was truly the happiest day of his life.
.
.
.
Tim had kids to care for during the years,
But still had time to listen and hear.
Everytime he was asked,
He still answered the same, “I’ll pass.”
“I want to live and see the sights”
“And live with my family, away from heights”
Death nodded, and took his leave
But one year Tim stopped him, grabbing him by the sleeve.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked.
“It’s simple, really.” Death said, now wearing his mask.
“Your stupid death made some gods laugh, telling me to not kill you yet.”
“Wait what the fuck” Tim said, expecting his answer not to be met.
“I’m not kidding, but it’s a lot more complicated”
Tim was then left, his eyes filled with hatred.
With all of his might, he threw one finger to the skies
.
.
.
And then Timmy fucking died.
(No I’m not u/poem_for_your_sprog , but the chance to end it like this tempted me lol. If you guys want me to write another version, let me know.)
(Also sorry for the bad English) | 2019-04-16T07:46:27 | 2019-04-16T06:59:45 | 87 | 22 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has ravaged the world, but you and a few survivors are safe in your state of the art bunker, the doors sealed tight, until your sensors picked up a single zombie and a clicking sound proceeded with a raspy "This is the Lockpicking Zombie...." | The mug I held in my hand slipped and shattered on the floor. I had to think quick.
I raced to Harry's room. Quickly explained the situation from what I heard in the security room to him, and we got to work. We grabbed a huge rectangular plank of wood from the wood supply room, and hauled it towards the entrance. Surely the lockpicking zombie couldn't push a plank of wood, right? He could only unlock locks, and that's it.
Harry, a few others, and I, nailed the board to the entrance. We were confident that the wood would hold up. The lockpicking zombie seemed to have almost unlocked the door, and we hoped our solution worked.
I aimed my rifle at the zombie just as it unlocked the door. It started walking face first into the wood board, not realizing there's something blocking his way. I was ready to fire, and so was everyone else, waiting in their own respective positions. Sweat fell from my brow, and I brushed it off. We couldn't die like this.
The zombie eventually after what felt like hours went back to wherever if came from. We all breathed a sigh of relief, and stood down from our guard positions.
Whew. We were gonna live!
Then I heard it. A raspy whisper. The sensors started flashing red, and I heard a foot scraping the ground, just like a bull. I turned around and looked at the security cameras, to see another zombie, getting ready to charge. In an angry, deep voice, he said, "This is the Wood Plank Smashing Zombie..."
Fuck.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ | "No..." I whisper in my breath staring at the state of the art security cameras.
"Its him..Its actually him" I recognise that smooth voice, and those nimble,lightning speed fingers anywhere.
Its a slow process, our bunker truly as the best of the best, but even the high end stuff has weak points, and you bet your ass the lockpicking law...err...zombie will find them.
I call up the others, but all I get was one statement
"Look at camera 6"
I switch to camera 6, and nostalgia and fear fills my body, in a sense ive never experienced before
"Now that im dead, I guess safety's last, eh comrades?" I hear, in a thick, bad impression of a russian accent.
"FPS Zombie" I whisper under my breath.
"We're all doomed" I send to the others
I get an answer back, it seems they have alrrady accepted their fate
"One last party before the end at the lounge?" My best friend, Jerry sends
I nod, not realising that im on the intercom and they cant actually see me
The end had come, and its one hell of a crossover episode | 2021-03-05T08:05:42 | 2021-03-05T06:11:18 | 39 | 27 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat. | It was night again, and for many, it was time to work.
The criminal underground is a nocturnal menace, writhing and growing wherever the sun and light do not reach. Uncaring of what it consumes so long as it can do exactly that. Many give in willingly to the ebb and flow of corruption; for some it is their life purpose. Others desire a little more...
Power. Control. Domination.
Blitz was like that when he discovered his biofeedback abilities. Being able to augment your body by sheer power of will has made him an incredibly tough opponent to conquer. In fact, in the last few years, nobody had been able to do just that, and when you're a villain with no worthy rivals, you get bored.
And idle hands are the devil's workshop, as they say.
So Blitz had given it up. He abandoned his followers, destroyed his own empire, and relinquished all control to whomever asked. Things changed so rapidly the heroes didn't know how to keep up or who to go after anymore. Chaos erupted, cities fell apart.
Blitz was happy. Now there was something to do. *Now* there were people to crush.
His other rivals were able to gather resources and grow stronger. Their lackies became more in number and trickier to beat. Blitz still never lost, but he was having fun. He never took what he won, he only sought to fight for the thrill. Some started referring to his challenges as security tests; they weren't taking him seriously. Pop a few heads and everyone falls back in line. Simple and effective.
Crime ran rampant now, but where there can only be so much pain and suffering before the "right" person comes along. That person would come to be known as Peacemaker.
Blitz watched all the tapes. Peacemaker was immune to physical damage, he could heal the sick, purify food or drink, and he was bad *ass* with his bo staff.
He was *everything*. Blitz knew now he had a purpose. This man would not be able to be defeated in their first, or maybe even their third, clash, but he had to know what it would take. How do you break a man like that? Blitz studied endlessly. There was *nothing*. No one could beat him.
In their first meeting, Blitz would hold back, just to test him. After four hours of grueling combat, Blitz's body would finally give out. Crumpled on the ground, Peacemaker gave a hearty laugh.
"Most impressive! I had heard *so* many stories about you, friend. You're quite the criminal legend, you know."
"How-?" Blitz could barely draw breath to make more than one word at a time.
"My healing is truly miraculous. When my muscles break down, they heal back up. It seems I can just.....go forever!" He laughed again. "Ah good, your escort is here. Stand please!"
The police? Was this a joke?
"Blitz, it was truly fun, but I don't suppose I'll be seeing you again. Enjoy your stay."
Over the next few months they would clash again. Blitz pushed harder, tried ambushes, poison, crushing him under a building. His powers were growing but no matter what he tried: nothing would stop the Peacemaker.
"Wait-" Blitz gasped on their umpteenth fight. Peacemaker had outlasted him yet again, despite being impaled three times.
"You know, you're really getting on my nerves. I'm working exceptionally hard to end crime in this city, and here you are! Some *rogue* with no purpose, holding me up time and time again! Do you not see the good I'm doing? Do you not understand?"
"I'll get you-"
The police dragged him away before Peacemaker could finish ranting, but Blitz had figured it out. It was so simple all this time. To beat a man that cannot be hurt, you must simply, and indefinitely, restrain him. How had he not thought of it? What was it that had been clouding his judgement for the better part of a year? As he rode away in the police car, one last stare at Peacemaker would reveal his answer.
Love.
How could this be? Blitz had never *loved* before, there was no time for it! Love was weakness, he had no room for it in his mind!
Over the next several battles, Blitz would not push himself to his maximum. Peacemaker noticed.
"You are not trying hard enough! You are simply wasting my time!" He grew frustrated. "You *must* see by now what I am doing! Surely you cannot be so dense! Explain yourself!"
"Maybe I don't have a reason," Why was he grinning? Stop grinning! "Maybe I just like to fight."
"Every, and I do mean *every*, time we fight, another gutter rat slips out of my gasp! It is not possible that you work for all of them." They were now face to face, Peacemaker's face red with fury, but Blitz was blushing. You couldn't tell the difference. "There *IS* a reason you are doing this, and I *WILL*-"
A shot rang out. Peacemaker looked over at his back.
"Really?! Bullets?" More shots. "Is every criminal in this city exceptionally stupid? Come out! Let us get this over with."
Blitz was scanning the buildings surrounding them. Muzzle flash to the left. Who would be stupid enough? He took a step.
"We will finish this when I get back! Do *not* move or I will find something sharp." Peacemaker looked so good when he was angry. It wasn't a look he wore often enough.
"Ah, don't worry. I'm sure I know those guys, I'll just go see what this is about and we can get on with our duel. I promise I won't leave you." He left with a wink. A wink? Peacemaker must know by now. There's no way he missed that.
Up in the parking garage he was met with minions wearing colors he hadn't seen in a long time. *His* colors. They saluted him.
"Sir!"
"Don't *sir* me, who are you really with? I haven't had an army for months."
Silence.
"Answer!"
"We've been working with the Determinator, sir! He believes he's found a solution and we wanted you to have this, as you are Peacemaker's greatest rival! We're ready to fire, sir!"
He scanned the other workers in the room. "Fire what, exactly? Looks like just a rocket launcher."
"Did he say fire?"
It all happened in slow motion. The thruster lit up and shot forward. Blitz barely crossed the room before it was too late. Peacemaker stood in the middle of the road, unaware and lost in thought in the middle of the street. Did he not hear Blitz's shouting? The minion's words were bouncing off of him.
"-target the brain-"
"-complete evisceration-"
Blitz gave one last shout. Peacemaker looked up and met his eyes. It would be the last time he would be lost in that cathartic blue sea before red would coat the surrounding area.
The minions celebrated. Blitz crumbled. This was his fault. If he would've just left him alone, or turned and joined him...
A new fire lit in his eyes.
(I dunno how to do the big line thing that everyone else is doing but - I don't write very often so I hope the formatting isn't shit and that you guys enjoyed it) | You are either born with powers or not. That just how it is. Don't ask me why you did not get powers while I did, okay? Because I don't know, but what I do know is that I used mine to perfection! Nobody had a chance against me in my time, and to be frank, I don’t think anyone will ever surpass the accomplishment written in my “Villains Grade Book” or police report to you people.
The day I retired as a villain and went into exile, was the day after my heart was broken. In the realization that I had a heart, I quit. Not because I wanted to, but as we learned in villain school “No villain has a heart!”, so I knew my time was over.
I lost my dream job, but on the other hand I gained a heart, and it was not nearly as awful as I had thought. I quickly joined a group of former villains who all had found their own hearts at one point or another. It was a wonderful group of people, there was Joey (aka Nightman) who found his heart when he fell in love with music. Then there was Jodie (aka Stallone), I know the name seems silly, but what can you do she loves him and everyone picks their own name after graduation from villain school. She found her heart, well you guessed it, in Sylvester Stallone, even though I never found out if she actually met him.
Even though I was not quick to open up to the group they eventually found out how I had found my heart. In hindsight I found it much earlier than when it broke, because for your heart to break it must have something to ache over, I had just not realized I was in love.
During my exceptional regime over the world, I am not saying I was the Overlord, but some did actually called me that, so it would not be wrong of you to think of me like that or something. Just sayin’. Sorry back on track, I will get to the point now, it is just that this I never easy for me to tell, but here I go.
During my exceptional regime over the world, I encountered a hero I later learned was called Lady Light. She was something special, not because she had a chance against me, in fact I think she must have been one of the weaker heroes, but it genuinely felt like she did not fight for herself, like every other dumbass hero seems to do. Her small little speeches about what she was fighting for before we fought, she did it every time. It inspired me somehow, and I could not get myself to beat her in our fights. I wanted to fight her as often as possible, not only because I wanted to be around her, but also because her victories over me had gone to her head, just a little.
She had proclaimed that with her constant victories over me, she had shown that she could become the savior of the world. She was quick to make her next targets of villains public, and the list was nasty. It was combined of the most vicious, horrible and evil villains this planet had to offer. I knew that she would get killed if she took any one of those guys on, it would be certain death and I would not let that happen, so I made sure she was busy fighting me that she would not have time to go after the others.
It worked, but only for a year. Our fight occurred every single day, but she never seemed to repeat the same speech, I don’t know how, but she always found something to fight for. I had been such a narrow minded person my whole life, only ever fighting for power, but through her speeches she showed me the wonder of the world, the diversity, and how many different things there were to care about. During those fight, I was happy and because she would be victories in the end, she would also be happy.
After a year of fights it all suddenly changed, when my plan started to work against me. Lady Light had become the most know hero in the world, constantly beating a villain bigger than anyone before. It might have taken her focus away from the other villains, but at the same time it had put the focus of them on her. Villains like Hell and Showtime had seen this as an opportunity to take me down and defeat Lady Light to take the top spot.
Showtime was the one to do it, he caught me off guard one night. My daily fight with the lady had just taken place, and she had just left me with my hands cuffed around a street light. The police would usually arrive not soon after she had flown away, today our fight had taken place downtown in the Capital, which meant it would be detective Rose that would greet me that day.
When the police arrived, a few minutes later than usual, detective Rose stepped out of the car and to my surprise he uncuffed me. Before I had a chance to speak he had given me another pair of cuffs on me, which was infused with uranium, greatly reducing my powers, and not normal police gear! Out the back of the police car stepped Showtime, with a devious smile on his face. He nodded towards detective Rose who stepped away from me and walked back to the car. A few steps before he reached the car, Showtime stabbed him in the neck with a motion faster than I had remembered it to be.
I instantly knew he was here for the lady. Unfortunately Showtime is not the typical villain, who always seems to forget something, it was clear that this was his day, his moment to rise up and take what he always wanted. So he began to beat me, and with my powers reduced his strikes inflicted more damage than they normally would. After a few minutes of constant strikes he stopped, confident in victory.
Showtime had been well prepared, or maybe just lucky, I never knew, but when something happened to police detective in downtown, Lady Light would always be the first hero on the spot. Her father was a detective, and to protect them was probably the only cause she held higher than any other. That was also the case that day, as the lady arrived not long after, with a horrified look on her face when she saw that the detective was dead. Her faced turned from horror to pure disgust when she looked at Showtime, and for the first time in my life, I rooted for the good side.
The fight did not take long, and her lifeless body tore a hole in my sole, I barely remember Showtime even being there. I could not move or anything, Showtime removed my cuffs while saying something about being the new sheriff in town. The only thing I remember clearly was my heart stopped. I had never noticed it beating, but in that moment it stopped. The world she had shown me was gone, and I had absolutely no idea about what to do the next day. Now we know what happened, but right then and there, the villain in me died. In her death she gave me a heart, and for that I am forever thankful. | 2017-09-17T02:57:40 | 2017-09-17T02:32:46 | 31 | 13 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | I watched as Death drummed his fingers impatiently on the table in front of him. I leaned forward and marked the lower right square with an X, then sat up straight. Death groaned and marked his own.
"I will require that you make a different opening move every game," Death said as he leaned forward and marked a circle.
"You can't change the rules in the middle of the contest," I argued. "You said choose the battlefield. I chose Tic Tac Toe. I'm sorry if you don't like it, but I didn't pick the rules." I leaned forward and recorded my X.
Death just glared at me with his cold, empty eye sockets. I was starting to grow accustomed to them.
"Your insolence is an outrage," Death replied. "This is not a game, a game must have a winner or loser."
"Far from it," I said. "A game is a loosely defined term that you implicitly allowed me to define. Plenty of games have tie situations - almost anything with a timer, for example, can end in a tie." I marked another X.
Death started to make his circle, then set down his pencil. He sat up straight in his bony chair and formally clasped his hands together. "Then I shall allow you to choose another."
"No," I said. "It's still your turn."
"You must. This game will never end."
"Do you give up?"
"Absolutely not. The game is declared a draw, and we shall proceed accordingly to another game."
"No."
Death stared angrily at me. "You are in my domain here in the afterlife and you will choose your game according to the rules set forth."
"I did, and the only rule you set forth was for me to choose a game. I chose. We've been over this."
Death stared. "Fine, then I declare you the winner and will allow you to return to your mortal coil for 10 years." He began to wave his arms.
"No."
"No?"
"No. You're here to play a game with me until someone wins."
"But nobody can win this inane game."
"Not my problem."
Death was seething. "Fine, what do you want?"
"I want thirty years instead of 10. And when you return me to my body, I want to smash through that truck that ran into me like a total boss, without being hurt in the process."
"Deal. I shall see you thirty years henceforth and we shall strike up another game. There will be no tic tac toe at that time."
"Deal," I responded. As the afterlife faded around me, I chuckled. Death didn't know about the card game War. | My heart was pounding as I sat in the plane, staring at the map. There was just me and one other person on board. I was waiting for him to take his exit first, staring at that yellow dot. However we were almost halfway through the island, and he was still there. Panicking I decided if I jumped and went straight down I might stand a chance.
I jumped, looking straight now to the center of the island, the school I knew so well. So many good and bad times in this school with my friends. I angled for the high roof, landed, and then fell off the roof.
I looked up, and say the tip of his parachute disappear over the rooftop. He had the advantage. Panicking, I started to run. I dived into a first floor window and into a classroom. A frying pan was on the teachers desk. I picked it up sadly, knowing it would not save me.
I went to the door, checking left then right, on my turn back to the left to start my run, I heard it. A slight footstep from the stairs nearby. There it was, the bastard himself, in a yellow banana suit, shot gun pointed at my face...
BAM! It was over. I was dead. A feeling I had had many times before, but this time I knew it was forever.... Except not! DINK! The bullets hit my pan! Saving me from lethal damage. I was alive, but in my shock I did not move. It was too late, he was going to end me with the next shot.
And then it happened. He never pulled the trigger. I just stood there for a second, confused. But I realized I had to take this opportunity. I took my pan and bashed his head in. WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Brendan it's done, that ban wave we promised just rolled out. We even kicked them mid match."
"Good job intern Steve. That should keep the masses at bay for another day" | 2018-03-07T07:19:50 | 2018-03-07T07:11:15 | 214 | 17 |
[WP] You've survived living through many horror movies, aided by your secret power: the ability to hear what the audience is yelling at the screen. | "Behind you!" the audience screamed.
Not again, I thought, while I rolled forward. My hands automatically pointed the laser-repeater I picked up in "Alien Menace 3: Invasion Day" towards the creature. So many scenarios, so much suffering. I used to be so weak. I used to be scared of the voices. Now I'm surviving. The creature, some slimy seaman, was dead but still wiggling on the ground.
"Please! I need help! How many more do I have to kill here?", I screamed. Then I went into the fetal position, covered my ears, and listened.
"If only he knew about the nest in the old peoples home", "What an idiot there's nobody around to help", "Does he know that about the mines in the abandoned factory?". I got up, having heard everything I needed to hear. I briefly went by a pharmacy to make a few bombs and got a lorry with a little crane on the back at the local construction firm. After "Desert at Night" I am not willing to carry around a literal ton of explosives again. And in my experience, mines are quite heavy. "Wait, did that voice say Hopkins or Hotchens was the director? I always confuse those two". I pulled out my nepali fighting knife and prepared for an impending ambush. "Hopkins always injures the protagonist, when he's at his most powerful". Nothing happens. I get up and pretend to look at something on the wall. Still nothing. "Shit, I have to pretend to sacrifice myself again. Fucking Hotchens with his theories on total resolution of conflict in storytelling."
After this realization I finished my preparations and drove to the abandoned factory. After I arrived I slowly made my way into the bowels of the huge building. The noise of the engine made it difficult to hear the whispering voices. With Hotchens at the real wheel I could die as soon as I get near the lethal mcguffin. I hear a whisper but can't quiet get it. I turn the engine off. "Sorry... sorry... 'scuse me... sorry", the voice whispers. "What an asshole!", I think, and turn the engine back on. After getting lost for about five minutes with the voices getting increasingly and nearly unbearably paranoid - warning me about every dark corner or locked room - I finally found the explosives. "Sea-mines, how fitting.", I thought while I effortlessly used the small crane to maneuver them on the truck. "This is total bullshit, why would he know how to operate a crane!??" one of the voices exclaimed. This made me absolutely furious because it was the voices relentless nagging and poking fun at me that made me learn how to operate a crane. And pretty much anything else I know how to do. "Why can't the voices just fucking help me?", a pointless question that I have pondered countless times. I have a cruel but benevolent master.
That's as far as I got, have to go do stuff IRL now. | "We now have lost 43 monsters to the subject named "Tim" or as others call him "The Unkillable". We don't know how he does it but he always knows our next move, we wait behind the door and they just go away, we have the upper hand almost killing them and they have a pistol out of nowhere. This has to stop. After each attack he gets more and more proficient in surviving our horrors."
The head of the table looked really concerned with the circumstances, the rest of it was filled with different fear inducing creatures.
He continued: "We lost our strongest regenerating member at the camp near a lake, the horde of zombies on a little town that was bombed to complete dust, even demons possessing his friends and family failed. Does anyone have an idea why that is? How is he still living?"
All the creatures are looking at each other wondering how that could be. After a minute of whispering and lots of discussing the chainsaw murderer said: "Maybe he can read our minds?" His response met lots of laughter. "How should that be possible, then he would know all of our weak points and would eradicate us the moment we appear." Exclaimed the head of the table "No, there needs to be something else... We should start testing new methods to get him..."
__________________________
"How many did I escape, how many did I kill and most importantly how many more are there and why won't they stop? I have lost everything after that first encounter with the ghost at my house, they was a year, no, two years ago? If it weren't for those voices I would be dead by now, I was badly injured many times but they always guided, me some more, done less friendly."
Tim is sitting in a completely barricaded room with barely any light. Weapons, utilities and food stacked high at the wall. He is the only survivor of many encounters with strange monsters and creatures.
"The first three were the most horrifying experiences i had, not knowing what is happening but the voices knew what I had to do, so they guided me."
Suddenly there was screening in his head: "Look out, the barricaded window is going to get destroyed!"
Tim jumped up, grabbed a loaded shotgun and aimed at the window. Nothing was happening, that was never the case in the past.
"Careful the door!", he leaped to the other side of the room looking at the nearly closed off door. Nothing again.
"What is going on?" | 2018-04-12T07:08:07 | 2018-04-12T06:54:05 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends. | 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/) | Jesus is doing well, most advanced in science but his public order is barely in the green, Jesus adopts and invests his saved social policies heavily in the the freedom ideology.
The other gods see this a chance to fuck with him
"Budda has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
"Bhrama has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
"Yahwey has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
Even Zeus and Kronos agree for once and chose to adopt the order ideology.
"Fuck!!" Jesus yells, his public order has gone down to -20. But he doesn't want to change it or he will lose half his policy's. Rebellions sprout up and he has to devote all his empires resources to shutting them down. In the meantime the other civs catch up to him in science. Eventually Jesus gives up.
"Jesus has adopted the order ideology"
"Finally it's over" he thought. But in that chaos the other gods used the distraction and moved their armies to his borders. Jesus knows what's about to happen. But he has no troops left from his rebellions. All the other gods declare war on him at once. And his civilization is carved up like a turkey.
"You have lost, your civilization has fallen to its many foes"
Jesus facepalms and says "whatever I'll get them in a few millennia when this game is over" and goes to watch star trek TNG.
| 2016-04-09T07:01:46 | 2016-04-09T05:49:29 | 63 | 20 |
[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.” | "Will Alice Smith please come to the stand?" I glanced up as the girl in front of me in line stepped forward. She was chained up six ways to Sunday. It was obvious why. A massacre like the one she single-handedly caused would definitely get you locked down tight. "On the charge of 37 counts of murder in the first degree, the court has found you guilty. Please, share with us any final words and choose how you'd like to die-"
I stood silently staring at the ground as Alice giggled. "My last words? Simple. Screw you! I choose old age!" She laughed, but it wasn't a normal laugh. It was the type of laugh you only hear from someone that had long tipped over the edge of true insanity. The judge kept his composure yet again as he raised his gavel. He brought the gavel down with a bone-chilling crack. The woman paled as her cockiness quickly replaced itself with true fear. "Wait! No!" She fell to the ground as her hair turned a morbid grey, her skin wrinkling as the color faded from her eyes. "This isn't-" she paused for a moment, coughing violently as her lungs threatened to give out. "-what I had in mind." She fell completely to the floor, turning to dust, only leaving a pile of clothes where a person once stood.
I felt my stomach churn. I quickly realized old age was off the table. "Lucas Hollins. Please step forward." I stepped silently forward. "It says here you were caught committing adultery with his majesty's bride-to-be and shortly thereafter, you attempted to murder his majesty. Therefore, on the charge of adultery and attempted murder, the court found you guilty. Please, share with us any final words you have and tell how you wish to be executed."
I looked up at the judge, pure hate in my eyes. "I say this whole system is bullshit. Rigged against anyone his majesty deems unworthy, but I don't just mean the judicial system. Our entire society is rigged based on favoritism. I say to hell with it. This wouldn't have happened in the first place if that stuck-up brat of a king hadn't ordered that my love marry him simply for her beauty. I hate him and I hate anyone who admires him. So you know what? I choose to die the only way I know you can't kill me."
The judge simply scoffed at my response. "Is that so? What way is that?"
I simply smiled. "By the hands of my own child."
The judge nodded. "Very well-" I watched him raise the gavel before speaking again, stopping him.
"But you see, your honor. I can't die by the hands of someone who doesn't exist-"
(I may have gotten a bit lost in the details so it's probably longer than it should be, but yeah. I don't really like the end, but I couldn't think of anything else) | 2021-06-24T10:25:27 | 2021-06-24T10:15:26 | 432 | 120 |
[WP] Your pointless superpower is that you know how many people’s lives you save with your actions. One day, at a Subway, you tell the cashier you want your sandwich on Italian bread, and you’re suddenly informed that you just saved five billion people. | “We’re out of flatbreads.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “What do you have?”
“Italian.”
“Just Italian?”
“Yeah.”
I check my watch. There’s only fifteen minutes left on my break. “Whatever. Italian it is.”
*Five billion.* The voice states it plainly. It comes sometimes, just random numbers. *One. Eleven.* I don’t pay too much attention to it, but recently it's been speaking almost every time I do something.
“Sorry about this,” the teenager says. “But it’s Subway. What can you expect?”
“Eat fresh, right?”
I walk out. Mark is there, sitting on the sidewalk with his sign. He looks a bit cleaner than normal today.
“Sorry, Mark. I don’t have any change today.”
“That’s okay. Enjoy your sandwich anyways!”
“I’ll try to.”“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
“Yeah. All they had had was Italian. The worst."
“The worst! When I was a kid and my mom would give me money for lunch, I would run to the pizza parlor and get a pizza sub on Italian.”
“A pizza sub? That sounds good.”
“It is,” he says wistfully, looking at my sandwich. I look down at it. It does look long, at the least, and I can only imagine what a day is like for Mark, watching people walk out with their sandwiches, waiting so he can cobble together just enough change to get his own.
“Here,” I say. “I’ll eat a big dinner.”
“Oh, no, I can’t do that, kid. You need to eat.”
“So do you. Really.” I drop it in his lap.
He looks at me and smiles. “Thanks, kid. You don’t know how much it means to me.”
I nod, and walk away. Soon, the incident fades from my memory, just another lost coin in the fountain of my mind.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
“Now we have Earth,” the Chairman says. “Earth is an interesting case. They are headed for extinction in twelve cycles, so we could wait to attack, but by then it may be depleted.”
“Their depletion rate is that rapid?”
“The prevailing species there seems to be amongst the most careless of all we have observed. Agent 614, what did you observe there on your mission?”
Agent 614 nods. “The depletion rate is as we projected. The species is careless and wasteful, and quite dim as well. But…”“What? Spit it out, 614.”
“They seem to rank high on the compassion scale. I know that doesn’t matter much, but…” Agent 614 pauses, reminiscing on the sandwich. “I would recommend we don’t attack.”
The Chairman looks at 614, wondering what has gotten into his most ruthless agent. “Okay, then. Earth will be spared for now…”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you want to read more by me, I started a subreddit, [r/penguin347](https://www.reddit.com/r/penguin347), and I will be posting some stuff there! Thanks for reading. | When the man hands Joey his sandwich, his stomach growls, and the voice in his head whispers *five billion.* The voice appeared one year ago, and every time he hears it, it makes him chuckle. *That's how many people you're saving,* it said when he first heard it. *You don't know why, but you're important.* He always thought that was silly, but now he *knows* it.
After all, he just ordered a turkey club on Italian bread. How could *that* save anyone’s life?
But, when he walks outside, he’s greeted by a giant TV with a crying man on it. This startles him, causing him to drop his sandwich and stumble backward. “*What the hell?*”
“*Joey!*” the man shouts. “*Oh, Joey, you’ve saved us!*”
At this, he cocks a brow. Walking forward, he knocks on the screen, surprised to see the TV’s real. “I must be dreaming,” he mumbles.
“*Almost!*” the man says. “*You’ve…uh…been stuck in a simulation for the past year.*”
“*WHAT?!*”
“*Well, I know it’s crazy. Uh…*” The man looks off screen. “*How do I tell him?*” Someone leans forward, whispering into his ear, and he nods before looking back at Joey. “*Okay. Yeah. I’m just gonna be blunt—we were invaded by aliens who love gambling, and we bet them that within a year, we’d know enough about you to predict one of your days with one-hundred percent accuracy.*”
“But…my day isn’t over…”
“Actually, it’s about to be.” The man makes a pained face, twirling his fingers. “You’re uh…about to have a heart-attack.”
“*I am?*” Suddenly, Joey stumbles back, clutching his heart. “Oh…Christ…”
“*Yeaaah. Maybe eating fast food everyday is a bad idea. But, look on the bright side—it’s a simulation, and you’re a hero who saved us from utter annihilation and enslavement!*”
As Joey falls to the ground, the man stands up, quickly wiping his tears before clapping.
“*We're all cheering you, Joey!*" the man shouts. "*Don't worry, you'll be home soon. They're already setting up a parade in your honor!*"
***
This is really silly and rough, but I hope you like it. Just a funny idea that popped into my head. Thanks for the prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-11-17T14:21:41 | 2018-11-17T14:17:28 | 6,605 | 774 |
[WP] A super villain who runs a number of retail stores, not as a cover, but as a means of recruiting their staff as villainous side-kicks once they are inevitably filled with seething rage for customers and the general public. | All-Mart Employee log: Pay-period 1, Day 1.
Um. Hi. So according to the HR video I just watched with the terrible actors—who look WAY more put together than a typical retail sails person, —this company requires all employees to keep an employment log. They gave some BS psych reasons like “track your personal growth, relieve stress, and assist in employee organization.” That’s nice and all, but I don’t buy it. My bet? It’s so if an employee flips a customer through the front window, they can use the log to dump liability on the employee.
You hear that HR?! I’m on to you. Suck it.
Also, it’s not like this company isn’t used to bad press. The CEO is that big bald guy who usually goes toe to toe with the Superheroes. I think his name is Bezos? Wait, that’s another rich bald guy; screw it, not important. The point is, if one of us commits assault it’s not really gonna be more important than “All-Mart CEO builds another death ray.”
Alright. Good first entry, time to watch the sexual harassment video. I’m going to go out on a limb and predict it tells me that harassing other co-workers is bad. Do you think the CEO has to watch video too? Of course, I’m pretty sure he incinerated two of his ex wives. Maybe that’s not harassment.
————————-
All-Mart Employee log: Pay-period 1, Day 7.
So, I’m through the training. It was a cake walk compared to the police academy. Apparently I’m going to get more training periodically during the first few weeks, but I’m all ready to run the register and walk the floor. I’d say yay, but I’m hardly looking forward to it. You know that feeling you get right before the doctor sticks a thick sharp needle in your arm? The one where you keep telling yourself it’s only a little prick, but you really know it’s gonna hurt like a sunovabitch? That’s where I’m at right now.
The girl who trained me, Summer, she’s beyond excited to see me interact with customers. Apparently, they can be real assholes, and she wants to see what they do when their salesman is a 6’2”, 215lb, stacked ex-cop. I think I’m going to like working with summer. The other people on my team seem nice, well, nice in the morning. They act like burnt out head-cases in the evening. Except Sundjit, I’m pretty sure he shows up to work pissed. He’s actually a little better at the end of the day, probably just exhausted.
We had an incident today, apparently some teenagers played hockey using the sticks from sporting goods. The pucks, however, were cans of orange soda. Was a sticky shit-show to clean up, but smelled good. I ended up buying a bottle of the stuff to drink on my way home tonight. Ok time to get ready for tomorrow. Everyone said the first day on the floor alone is the worst. That needle just keeps getting bigger.
Author Notes: (At work will update more with log entries over the next few days) | "Sally Utherton?" Red Flare asked.
"Pfft, hello Red Flare. My dad send you after me?" Sally asked. Sally was the daughter of Brandon Utherton, the local journalist who tipped Red Flare off about various criminal elements in the area.
"Why are you doing this? Kidnapping? Ransom? Assault? Burglary? A whole litany of crimes, and for what?"
"Tell me, Red Flare, have you ever, *ever*, worked in retail? Particularly at Jillian's? I get spat on. Screamed at. *Someone came at me with a knife* because I told them they needed to wear a mask thanks to all the restrictions. All for less than minimum wage because there are loopholes that let them pay ex-convicts less! I nearly got stabbed, but corporate told me not to bring in the cops and they'd handle it, but all they did was give the bastard a free coupon and TOOK IT OUT OF MY PAY! Meanwhile, I can't work anywhere else in this town because I smoked a joint at a party 10 years ago! So when Domimatrix offered me a job in her employ and a chance to get back at all those Karens and Kevins and screaming brats, I took it." Sally spat at Red Flare.
"Sally... I have something to show you. Promise me you won't run away." Red Flare said as she produced a large envelope with pictures and various documents.
Sally glared at Red Flare, then nodded quietly. For the next half hour, she looked through them. When she was finished, she was absolutely furious.
\----
Jillian "Domimatrix" Pine walked smugly through her head office. There was so much satisfaction in what she did. After running out almost every smaller business in town, she got to work getting every significant politician under her thumb, so they'd look the other way over any sort of 'creative accounting' issues. She then moved to get policies passed that eroded workers rights. Then she let the peons at the bottom get run roughshod over by the customers and their managers, filling them with such a massive hatred for their common man that they made easy recruits. The best part was she didn't even have to come up with all this. She mostly just cribbed notes from other big retailers and their political action committees. It's amazing what horrors people will do for 20$ an hour. | 2021-10-14T01:37:33 | 2021-10-14T01:18:41 | 20 | 15 |
[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 | You want an interview ? Fine, but you're buying the coffee. I'm getting kind of sick of this god-damned urban legend. I DON'T have superpowers, no-one has superpowers. There are just a bunch of crazy people who think they have powers, who for some reason have decided that I'm some fucked up version of their messiah.
**You don't believe super-powered people exist ?**
No. I've never seen one. I've seen the doctored footage from the media. I've seen a lot of crazy people who thought they had powers. I don't know why they gravitate to me of all people. I'm just a regular guy. I put in my hours in the office, then at the gym.
**So you haven't heard about the ranking system ?**
Oh, I've heard of their ranking system all right. That's all I ever hear. What baffles me is why they chose me to be their number one, their highest rank. That the only way for people to rise in rank and become more powerful is to kill them. Does that sound sane to you ?
Then one day, some poor bastard commits suicide near me, and suddenly, they decide that I'm the number one on their hitlist.
**You are referring to the death of the Human Jet as suicide?**
Man faceplants on the ground from a hundred feet, that's suicide. It doesn't matter that he said "Up Up and Away" before he jumped off that building. That was suicide.
**The Human Jet was one of our greatest heroes, with documented evidence of his powers..**
Blah Blah Blah. I've heard that all before. I was there, I saw him hit the ground. Where the hell do you people in the media get off encouraging these people. They are a danger to themselves. Surely you must have learned your lesson after Inferno Man.
**Inferno Man was a criminal, whose control over fire rendered him a threat to the world...**
Bullshit. Let me tell you what happened when I met this so called inferno man. I was just hanging out in a cafe not far from here, when this asshole shows up in a stupid costume. He bursts in, and gives this long speech about how he's going to kill me and burn everything down.
Then nothing happened. He stood there for like five minutes, straining, and glaring at me. I don't know what I did, I just wanted my cup 'o' joe. Then he leaves, and I thought "That was weird, I'm glad it's over".
Then he comes back, with a barrel of gasoline. Who the fuck would sell him gasoline. that's beside the point. The point is that the fucker doused himself in the stuff, and then pulled out a lighter and set himself on fire. Right in front of me. Hearing him scream almost put me off my coffee.
**Yes, quite a lot of superpowered villains have died under similar mysterious circumstances in your presence**
If by superpowered people, you mean insane people, then yes. The numbers of clowns in capes who drop out of the sky near me is so bloody annoying. Not to mention the scrawny fucks who just straight up try to pick fights with me.
Oh god, there was one which was genuinely funny.
This guy came up to me with this long speech about how he is one with nature, and that he will use all of his power to destroy me. I don't know why these guys always gotta speech at me. When I punch someone, I punch'em, I don't tell 'em my life story.
He had this tiger with him. Big fucking cat. He told the tiger to get me. Moment the muzzle was off, it savaged him. I fucking split my sides.
**So you don't think you have any superpowers at all ?**
Course not. Like I said *nobody* has superpowers. At least not that I've seen, not when they're around me. | No one ever realized I didn't have a power.
Number two is a telepath. I met him in a bar once, but I could feel his touch on my mind all the way down the street. It was light, I would never have felt it if he'd only been looking, but when you're used to being a pawn you learn to see when you're being played with. He wanted me in that bar, and I complied. If he was going to kill me, I couldn't have stopped him at that point anyway. I asked him in there, "Why don't you kill me? No one would stop you." He laughed, and downed the remainder of his cup. "No one wants to be first, kiddo. No one with half a shot at getting there, anyway." His knowing smile told me everything it needed to. I was a tool. A figurehead. I asked him what he wanted from me and he gave me a list of people who needed to be out of the city by next Sunday. He walked out, and I did as I was told.
When they think you're more powerful than the strongest soldiers the city state has to offer, they don't question your authority. You say something happens and it does.
Number six is an empath, though I don't think she got her number on strength of power. It's the connections that did it. She told me once she was glad that number one was a good man, or the city'd be even worse off than it already is. I'm sure I could be a bad one if I had the inclination, it's only the top hundred or so I really have to keep happy. I've just never wanted to. I asked her if that was why she'd fallen in love with me and she gave me the coldest, most dangerous laugh I've ever heard.
"You're funny," she said.
We both know damn well it's me who loves her, and we both know equally well that I have no chance. Which doesn't stop her from using me for all I'm worth.
I'm not like the rest of the ten. I didn't kill to be here. Fate crowned me king at birth, and I've yet to figure out what in God's name it was thinking.
Number four is a power thief. He's the one who illuminated the mystery of my continued kinghood for me, down beneath the earth in a room full of tiny glass bottles and too much red to be comforting. He downed one of the bottles and settled against a shelf as his body changed. Creepy, that one.
"I'm not going to cut you open and take your blood," he said with about as much care as he'd give the weather. "Do you know why?"
"Enlighten me."
"Because then I'd have to run the city. I'd have to appease Lamier and Asmar and the whole nest full of snakes. It would be a chronic waste of time, and I'd hardly be able to balance it with my own projects. No no, you can keep your seat and your secrets. We serpents wouldn't touch your job with a ten foot pole."
I am a pawn masquerading as king, a powerless man ruling the powerful, a good man with no convictions. But I am, if nothing else, an actor. If no one sees the contradictions... Well, who am I to tell that they are there? | 2014-12-18T13:36:09 | 2014-12-18T12:44:55 | 996 | 670 |
[WP] Humans are unique among all space faring creatures, they can interbreed successfully with any sentient lifeform. You run the station daycare. | An inglorious death when you’re changing a nappy and a half Sanathian fire puppy, half human baby decides to take that moment to fire fart in your face. To spare the families, that one was always listed as *mysterious causes*. Not inaccurate, but a helluva way to go.
Still easier than covering up having to quarantine half the ship, because some numbnuts decided to pop out a half human, half Wyburgian baby that literally spread pestilence everywhere it crawled and had a thing for getting caught in air ducts. Ain’t life a bitch?
In other words, Daycare *turnover* was off the charts these days since the hybrid baby boom. Humans were so inbred after the Collapse, that interbreeding developed as a means of *reducing* defects.
Now it’s become more of a competition as to who can create the most exotic offspring. Trying to get a red-haired Morovuan Gas Giant-human hybrid? Go for it!
‘And.
.
.
.
.
.
This.
.
.
Was.
.
.
.
.
.
Stan’s.
.
.
Life.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Now.’
The Commander had made that abundantly clear.
One day, Stan’d ended up on the wrong side of Omega Station’s Commander, one James Tiberius Kirk. All over a Giroxian Florax that they were both interested in. From then on, he was *gifted* with being in charge of Daycare.
‘Stan.
.
.
.
Daycare.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Is.
.
An.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Honor.’
And with that, the door to Stan’s life slammed firmly shut.
Some days, Stan swore it felt like half of the kids in Daycare were Jim’s. But a job’s a job, I guess. Ain’t life a bitch?
Stan rubbed his temple. Definitely a three beer night. Four more staff deaths today that had to be spirited away with some carefully worded paperwork. Otherwise, *NO* *ONE* in their right mind would work in Daycare.
Sure some of the work could be performed by droids. But ever since they were given the same rights as all sentient beings, they were often considered more valuable elsewhere. Stan got whoever and whatever was left. These days, making it through two months was pretty much a miracle for most staff. Poor bastards never saw it coming. Ain’t life a bitch? | Apparently, back in the day on Earth, running a daycare was one of the jobs they threatened you with if they thought you couldn't do much of anything else. Not much had changed in the centuries since; I sighed to myself in my office chair and rubbed the bridge of my nose as I paged through the notifications on my datapad.
One jumped out at me. A mail titled, "Seeking admission for our darling little half-Sparxian angel." I was tempted to auto-reply with a "Sorry, we are at temporal-spacial capacity, please try again within the next rotation" when the comm emergency-pager went off. I opened the channel immediately.
SPLORTCH. The unmistakable sound of liquid hitting glassene floors. "Hey, Mrs. Rhexus, it's Room 5 again...Larilene is spewing some kind of fluid from her beakhole and her hair is turning purple...No, Nnior, don't drink it!"
"What's her temperature, Ms. Maren?"
"I think the thermoscanner is broken. It's reading in the negatives."
Another sigh on my behalf. "Alright, I'll page her parents. Hope it's not a case of the Blooms. Her mom mentioned that the rest of her clutchmates had it when dropping her off..." And half-humans always seem to get it worse, I thought as I closed the comm. Never a dull moment. If it's not some weird disease, it's some condition or other that comes from being half-human. Just because we humans CAN breed with everything doesn't mean we always consider the implications of whether or not we SHOULD.
Another notification beep interrupted me from calling Larilene's parents. It was the latest bi-rotational regulatory update from the station council. I glanced through it and my eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean, we're not allowed to put half-transdimensional beings in time out anymore?" | 2020-08-10T14:21:33 | 2020-08-10T13:49:26 | 28 | 20 |
[WP] The year is 2040, and you are the last smoker alive. The "Quit Smoking" ads get personal. | "The Surgeon General would like to remind you that smoking causes lung cancer and other serious health effects"
Will squinted at the bright neon billboard, its screen casting an unnatural white glow over an otherwise dimly lit street. Taking in the message before briefly sighing and continuing his walk, he gradually made his way down to the corner store, trading the dim glow for bright florescent lights.
The man behind the counter smiled warmly:
"Evening Will, the usual?"
"Yep"
From behind the counter, the man produced a long unmarked white box, the front of which had only a single line of text "Smoking causes cancer". They'd stopped printing brands on the boxes a long time ago. Will took the box from the man.
He walked outside, opened the box and removed a pack, taking a moment to inspect the rather generic item. Once more he found only a single line of text:
"God Dammit Will"
"Fuck"
| I sit in the middle of a barren wasteland with cigerette in hand. So many have been lost before me, a faded anti-smoking ad stares in front of me. Should i just stop now? Put the cigarette down and try to rebuild our crumbled society.
I look up at the sign and then down at my cigarette.
I take a puff. | 2017-02-17T12:12:31 | 2017-02-17T11:51:00 | 47 | 12 |
[WP] You have a strange condition that makes your life have background music depending on your mood or current situation. One day, as you are normally walking down the street, an unfamiliar tune starts playing out of nowhere. It’s Megalovania. | I immediately turned my head, finding no person in sight, which seemed odd as it's 10 AM and this street should be overflowing with the souless suit mans who i like to refer as "job slaves".
I felt my sins crawling onto my back, regretting eating that last subway sandwich which belonged to my little brother; which is strange since she herself had done it three times already.
Suddenly.
A shadow.
Human? 4 feet tall at most, don't think so. What matters is that it's getting closer. My heart is beating in rhythm with the music. This is not good. I don't exercise alot, if the music gets even a bit faster i think my heart is gonna bail out on me.
And then... It started talking.
It started talking about how's the day outside, some shit about birds and flowers, which remembered the time my parents were teaching me... y'know, stuff...
But the shadow's face have gotten darker, at the point in which i can't really tell anything apart. Except it's left eye. It's glowing in a beautiful solid blue color.
I try to speak to it, but it seems that even my words are afraid of him. I am completely paralysed. But not by fear, by a powerfull killing instinct coming from within my heart, and the only thing that is coming into my mind are 5 letters... CHARA.
It seems that i'm gonna have a bad time.
EDIT: typos; english is not my first language, sorry.
| It startled me at first. Compared to what I'd been hearing for the last few months it was so loud, so energetic. I feel like I'd been listening to My Chemical Romance and Lincoln Park for the last eternity.
I couldn't figure out what was going on. Nothing special had happened. I was still sitting in the living room apartment, the only furniture the milk crate I was sitting on. Nothing had changed, I was still late on rent, sheriff was arriving tomorrow to enforce the eviction notice I'd gotten three months ago.
Nothing had changed but it felt right. I knew I'd made the right decision. Nothing was different but everything was different. The music knew, it rejoiced but it also challenged. I didn't know this song but I recognized that the music was telling me that the road ahead was going to be difficult but I knew I was up to the challenge.
I looked at the gun on the floor, barrel still wet from spit and tears and knew I'd made the right decision. | 2019-01-07T07:35:19 | 2019-01-07T07:04:13 | 70 | 16 |
[WP] You are granted three wishes that can be used any time, but each wish takes some of your remaining lifespan. The last wish kills you. What are your wishes? | "I wish to have a toy tractor!" exclaimed the toddler.
"Are you sure?" questioned the genie incredulously. He had lived for centuries; granted wishes to great warriors and wise men. Here he was, giving a 3 year old a plastic tractor that would cost him 15 years of his life.
"Yesh! Give Me!" the toddler had mastered neither pronunciation nor manners. "Very well," the genie sighed.
------20 years later------
Now 23, the toddler had grown up. He had graduated and once again he summoned the genie. "Careful," the aged genie gravely uttered. "This will cost 15 years of your life. Your back shall hurt 30 years early and your strength shall pass sooner than you could think: so think wisely. You didn't do that before."
" I was 3! you can't blame me." defended the youth. "All I want... Is the heart of a girl" The genie shuddered, love was powerful and hard to create without risk. But he obeyed, due to the ancient laws and eventually they became husband and wife.
Many years passed and the boy and his wife lived happily. Eventually though, the love - fabricated - began to show its dark side. The girl began to show worrying signs. Her speech,once fair, began to stutter and stumble. Her eyes, once joyous, began to silently pass into the shadow.
"What is happening?" asked the boy to the genie. "Love that is fabricated bears the shadow of hatred. Only True Love can lead to a long and happy life. But she shan't divorce because of the Spell. Your wife will wither as energy is taken from her body; as love is wrenched form her heart and forced into being directed at you: She is cursed with love. It's ironic that love has produced a curse." explained the genie.
They say that the forest remembers the boy's last words. "I love her truly. So End the curse. Not her" | "It's quite simple. Each wish will make the day you die closer. The last will kill you. You only get three. Simple as that." The genie explained.
"That's... not how your powers worked in the stories." I quip.
"Too bad kid, that's how it goes." He retorts.
I sigh. Could there really be a wish worth me dying? World peace? Too cliché. End world hunger? Boring. My family to be taken care of for eternity? Meh. I scratch my chin thinking of wishes. I shrug and turn to the genie. "Alright, I know what my wishes will be."
"You mean you're using them now? You don't have to. Take your time. Spread them over years. Do you really want to die today?" He seems surprised.
"No, I got this. For the first wish, I want infinite wishes." I grin.
The genie frowns. "Done. But you'll still die on the third. Think this through, you've wasted one already."
"Two, I want to always be rich for the rest of my life."
"Done. For all ten seconds of it."
"Three, I wish I were immortal."
"Cheeky bastard..." | 2015-05-24T03:55:31 | 2015-05-23T22:14:43 | 73 | 38 |
[WP] You are a full-time superhero who is extremely committed to the cause. Recently, you have become entirely unemployable for various reasons. As you start to drown in bills you decide on one solution: you become a part-time villain. | I stand in the bank, three men tied up in the corner, other people stood next to the windows. I open my duffel bag and start loading the notes into it. The teller cries softly, and a small boy starts praying. I think back to my life only two months earlier.
I went by the name 'Kevlar', and though I certainly was never as strong as the international celebrities that saved the world from missiles and meteorites, I was one of the more well known heroes in the NYSD. My abilities are rather simple, you see, I can stop objects in midair, not move them myself, but stop them. A relatively useful power when you consider that effectively makes me bullet proof. I also spent three years training in martial arts and similar practical skills.
Problems arose for me, however, when a small time Vilain named 'Black Hat' (a common and unoriginal name for those with computer based powers) managed to get into some of our databases and released a *lot* of sensitive information, including secret identities and classified information about our powers. For most guys, this was a minor issue, but when you consider any idiot with a knife could easily kill me if they knew where my bullet proof nature comes from... yeah, I was off the force.
Don't get it twisted, I still fought crime for the next week, but I had a few close calls even with non-super criminals and quickly realised I was going to get myself killed out there. Besides, nobody gives tips to superheroes anymore, hell just look at the number of lawsuits against different Super Departments to see how grateful the average citizen is.
I tried to find other paying work but NYC prices aren't exactly low, and who the hell would hire a guy who's CV reads '19-34: punching bad guys'? Especially when I can't even do that anymore. So I decided I'd have to help myself to what I needed, even if it felt wrong.
So that's how I got here, loading my illegal gains into a bag, dollar store gorilla mask over my face. I look at the teller again, who is bawling by now. "It's going to be okay, police will be here soon, tell them everything" I say, trying to disguise my real voice. Over by the window I hear the boy's prayer, and it both warms and breaks my heart: "Please keep Takeover safe, and tell him he's not really a bad guy."
Takeover, that's what they call me now. 'Hostile takeover'. It has a certain ring to it, I guess, but doesn't exactly conjure up the same protective imagery as my old name.
I zip up my bag, and turn to the men I tied up in the corner. I need to say something to them. "You people make me sick. You terrorise, scare, and take without regard. The law will treat you a lot kinder than I would."
A woman turns to me to speak "thank you" she says, as I feel a tear in my eye "thank you for keeping us safe". I feel something resembling pride for a moment, remembering the times I've heard similar words over the years, before the guilt of what I'm doing takes over again. The teller grabs my bag, and hands it to me with a smile, tears drying, as I start to walk out the bank. A man pats me on the back as I go.
I'm Hostile Takeover, and if you commit a crime in my city, I'll protect my people and walk away with the loot. Your crimes become my own, and even though that's not good, in a way it's not all that bad either. Where others carry guns, I carry a calm voice and a sense of protection; my crimes have bystanders, not victims. | The stars always make it seem so easy. Throw on a pair of glasses, you have a fully developed alter ego. Bank robbery downtown? Who cares if you're in the middle of your performance review, just make a lame excuse and slip out the door. Museum heist? The urgent deadline you had can be blown off, nbd. Some crap with missiles and an evil genius? Sure, take the whole day off, no prior authorization needed.
Turns out that shit doesn't fly when you're not an A-lister. First of all, the people I work with aren't brain-dead assholes, and even with the wig and color contacts, Janice from accounting still almost figured me out. A pair of glasses. Honestly.
My mom says I should just make money as a superhero. Right. My mom also thinks that any young woman with a nose ring is also a superhero, and you know that Katie is so nice, and maybe you should ask her out because my mom's not getting any younger and it would be *so nice* to have grandkids before she's too old to play with them. And I tell Mom that there's no way Katie is a superhero, nose ring notwithstanding, because she's the clumsiest person I know. And one time I saw her lose a battle with a soy sauce packet in the break room. And she is cute, and all, but I don't see her anymore, because I was fired. Like I said: skipping out on work at random times in the middle of the day is not a great way to climb the corporate ladder.
And as for just making money as a superhero? Please. The liability insurance *alone* is enough to bankrupt a person. You're lucky if a major fight with a villain - and I'm talking 1-on-1's here, not team affairs - only does damage in the millions. And when there's injury or death involved, forget about it. Grieved loved ones don't care about right or wrong, they care about having someone they can serve with papers, and guess who is really easy to find relative to the jerks whose whole thing is trying to avoid being tangled up with legal matters?
Which brings me to the night in question. Do I regret my behavior? Absolutely I do. And I don't think the tens of thousands of dollars in medical bills *justify* it, *per se* - although most of it comes directly from after-effects of the time I saved the city from Biohazard. But I was desperate, and had just found out I was going to need another full round of chemo, and when I walked past the store and I saw his face...I just got really angry. The issue of Action Comics #1 I took is still in the same condition it was in when I took it - although personally I feel like the store giving it a *near-mint* designation is a stretch - since my plan was to just sell it on eBay.
I'm happy to go over my statement with you again but I really do need to call my mom. She worries if it's after 7 and haven't checked in with her yet. Did I mention I got evicted?
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds | 2018-07-05T08:57:41 | 2018-07-05T07:59:38 | 71 | 17 |
[WP] Group of space Marines travels via a stargate like portal to an "virgin" world. However due to passing a black hole, each Marine arrives 100 years after the Marine in front of them, instead of 1-5 seconds.
Due to the portal queuing up the dozen or so Marines for 1200 years, travel to point of origin is not an option(it won't work until all the marines have made it through). Explain what each Marine sees as they step out of the portal, to discover they are alone, and possible viewing the remains/artifacts of those who came before them, and or the civilization created by those in front of them with native peoples. | Third time's the charm.
Crowley was the first one through. He was understandably confused. 16 other men had jumped through the portal with him, yet they were no where to be seen.
From what I can gather, he set off to the distant canyons to search for us, thinking we had simply dropped out of blackspace in a different location.
He was wrong, and he would later return to where he had dropped, and set up camp there in case we would drop in soon.
We never did. By the time Pasco fell out, all that remained was a pile of bones and his armor arranged in ceremonial Marine tombstone fashion.
Pasco was never a stable one.
Riley found a second pile of bones, this one sprawled a few feet from his fallen comrade. There was a combat knife where the jugular once was.
Riley put two and two together. His field kit test results had told him that neither of his two fellow Marines had lived longer than a week.
He had even measured the backspace residue burns on both in order to determine that we were arriving approximately a century apart. Always the scientist.
This was all laid out on a solar powered data pad when I landed, next to two mounds of dirt. There were also massive maps encompassing the virgin planet, with directions to food and water sources.
There was also an uncovered third grave where the remains of my brave friend Dr. Riley lay.
Third time's the charm.
I am Number Four. But I am also Number Five, Number Six, Number Seven, and so on. They are all depending on me.
I'm all they've got. | There was no sign of civilization. Not a single sentient lifeform exist. The world is untouch, and the bravest marine of all is the first human that have laid eyes upon them. It doesn't take him too long to realize what happened, and the mistake they made is too big for him to fix. Years of training comes in handy in that foreign place. With the dense trees and vegetation around him, it almost feel like home. A knife in one hand, ropes around the belt, a water bottle and a bag with a notebook. He's ready to explore the uncharted land.
A hundred year have passed, a lonely marine steps out of the.portal to this new world. He saw a sign, taking him to a large shelter on top of a huge tree. He look around, finding detailed map, sketches and drawing describing this foreign world to him. On a desk lies a notebook, old and worn out. He flips the first page, revealing a sentence written in red "DO NOT GO BEYOND THE LINE"...
| 2014-09-02T09:23:24 | 2014-09-02T09:22:16 | 598 | 71 |
[WP] You are bitten by a werewolf, your sibling is bitten a vampire. Things become awkward when you find out that your parents are secretly famous monster hunters. | "I always loved how the full moon looked, so round and perfect, gently lapping at your skin unlike the sun's radiant assault on your flesh. It was calming, peaceful. Some of the only peace I could get in my 'home' both before and after the incident.
My sister was for all intents and purposes, the personification of the term 'princess syndrome'. Constantly complaining if everything didn't go exactly how she wanted it, our parents bending the knee constantly re-enforcing it until THAT night came. Let me give you a run down of what happened, from my perspective at least, see if there's anything the report missed.
&#x200B;
We were approaching the ages of 17 and 21 respectively. My sister was getting settled all cozy in her queen size bed and I was settling into my little 'cubby hole' as my mother put it. It was a small room of to the side of the stairs, think something akin to the first harry potter book. I had just gotten myself in the covers when the door was ripped open and standing right before me was... Well It's been a while since I first turned so I apologise if this description doesn't match official report. I'll try and keep it as emotionless as possible.
Standing at my "room's" splintered doorway there was a large, bipedal wolf human hybrid. I estimate about 3 meters tall, covered in brown fur with a snarl that imparted a sense of hunger and dread in me, It's claws were long and sharp as I for a brief second peaked past what I would later find to be a he, scratch marks everywhere, it was almost cathartic Seeing how that werewolf had carved the place up like whirlwind of blades.
It snapped at me and I threw up my arm in defense. I'm sure you can imagine how that went, it ragged me out of my cubby hole and it hauled me upstairs by my arm, yes it was very painful do I need to state the obvious for this incident report? Anyway that's where I saw my parents fighting off similar beasts and also these strange pale humanoi- Ok you know what a fucking vampire looks like big pale and dressed like renaI'm not gonna take the time to describe each and every one, you've seen the report they all died anyway.
My sister was there too of course, clutching my mother's leg like the scared little damsel in distress she was. One of those wannabe Dracula's grabbed her by the leg and tugged, which then also tugged my mother's leg and well that's how she got THAT injury.
Why yes I am using this incredibly dry humor as a coping mechanism to try and process all this world shattering information thank you for asking officer, now back to that night where was I? Oh yeah my sister causing an injury that left her stuck in admin for the rest of her career.
So my sister just got grabbed my one of those vampires, a few werewolves were fighting of the rest of the bloodsuckers the one that got my sister dropped her to the ground with my mother and landed the turning bite. My mother beheaded the creature with what would be her final ever kick but the damage was done, she was turning and there was no way to stop it now.
That's when I first felt it. Now I know I've shone my sister in a bad light but she is still my sister and that was still my family, I felt wrath flood my body and unlike my sister who was on the floor having what could best be described as 'a meltdown' I knew what to do with anger like this because thanks to her and my weak willed parents I was VERY familiar with it. My senses sharped as I heard my alpha's voice for the first time "Ravage them" he whispered into my ears and well, I obeyed.
He loosed his grip on my arm and I torn it free. Fur sprouting up and down it flowing with awakened strength and instinct. It set my fight or flight ablaze triggering both at the same time, I springboarded into action gouging my sister's turner's eyes with a swipe of claws I didn't know I had. My legs kicked off the wall as I grabbed and turned the twilight wannabe into a red smear across the stairs. I leaped back up and dive kicked the second one currently wrestling on the floor for my farther neck and gave him a similar blenderless paste-ification if that's a word.
It felt good. Really good, I guess my parents could see the grin on my face because when I looked at them I saw abject horror. It snapped me out that state as my alpha stood behind me and spoke to them.
I don't remember what else happened because after he reached out and poked a certain spot on my neck I blanked out and woke up hospital a few days later but I think the report I was given at the time and what my family explained to me indicated that he said "Your son holds promise. You may consider your transgressions against my people forgiven. Do not attack us again unless you wish your own flesh to battle you" or something like that, he always did like playing up that athurian tale-esque fantasy speak. Like I said kind of unconscious at the time so I can't tell you the details.
And... that's pretty much it, Now officer, you mentioned that someone from my pack was recently involved in a break right? Not sure how how I turned matters to it but feel free to ask any questions, not like I've got anywhere to be and if someone's besmirching the pack's name I need to know about it." | “Remind me what your name is again.” The man- I mean wolf- I mean *werewolf* they called Lupus said, with a (perhaps permanent) frown on his face.
The flustered werewolf stammered, “J-Johnny, my sir.”
“Well, Johnny, you’re a fucking genius! You know who that girl is?”
“N-no sir, I’m afraid I don’t know her.”
“She’s the Hickins’ daughter! You may be an imbecile but- oh she woke up, shut your fat ass up for a moment, okay?”
“Okay si-“
“I said SHUT UP.”
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Pain. Unbelievable pain. That’s all I felt. Then, as my vision got clearer, I saw 2 very hairy men- or maybe 2 very hairless wolves, peering over me.
“Ahh, you finally woke up,” the buffer of the two said. “I was scared that my... *friend* here accidentally killed you. Anyways, welcome to the group.”
“Wait wait wait, what group? What’s happening?”
“Alright, I understand that you’re confused. First things first, we are werewolves, and as of 2 hours ago, you are too. Johnny here it you a *tad* too hard, and your blood loss was horrible. Thankfully you’re alive. But we have a-”
“That’s so cool! I’m a werewolf now! I’m gonna live with you guys right?”
“...You don’t realize the problem? You’re the daughter of the *Hickens*, the famed monster hunters, and now you’re a monster! This is gre- uh, a huge problem!”
“Monster hunters? No no no you’re confused. My dad is a sales accountant, and my mom is a housewife, definitely *not* monster hunters.”
“They didn’t tell you?” The man said. He turned away and opened a drawer next to the bed I’m in. Then I saw a hair pattern behind his ear. A most peculiar hair pattern, black in contrast to his brown hair/fur. It spelled out *Lupus*. Weird. I heard that name thrown around many times when overhearing my parent’s conversations. I never knew what it meant though. Before I could speak up, he turned back to me, holding some pictures.
“Here are pictures of your parents. Here, this one shows them hunting one of us. This scar is a result of that.” And he showed a big scar across his thigh. “I barely ran away with my life.”
“Y-you mean they’re going to kill me if they see me? I mean, they were going to kill me when I was late to school, but now they’re literally going to do it! This is your fault! Get me back to normal right now!”
“Ahh, I would love to, but we have a conflict of interests. We could really use a spy...” he said with a sly, wolf-like smile.
————————————————————————
“Ow! What the fuck man! Why would you bite meeeugh”
And the boy- looks about 16 or 17- collapsed to the ground.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
“Uhh.. siir? Are you avake yet?”
“Yeah random Russian guy who bites people, I’m awake.”
“Uhh, excvuse me, I am not Russian, I am Romanian!”
“Alright Romanian guy, why the fuck did you bite me?”
“Vell of course, to suck your blood! Now vour’e a vampire!”
“Fuck. My parents are quite literally gonna kill me!”
“Vhat’s the problem little sir? Don’t you want to be a vanpire?”
“No, because my parents are fucking monster hunters! Why wouldn’t they kill me?”
“Oh no! I feel very sorry for you, little sir, but this is a security breach. I vill have to kill you-“
“Wait wait wait. First, stop calling me little sir, I’m called Brandon, and second, WHAT NO DON’T KILL ME!”
“Vhy shouldn’t I, *little sir*, you could easily expose us to your parents! I have to kill you. Sorry, it’s not personal.”
“B-but I could be very useful to you! I... uh... could be a spy! They’ll never suspect me,and I’ll just hide my vampireness from them and report to you what they do!”
“Hmmm... seems to be a good idea. I’m in.”
“Great.” | 2020-01-12T06:48:54 | 2020-01-12T06:40:38 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E. | Dear Monique,
We both messed up. I should have paid you the attention you needed when you needed it, and you should have told me when you felt you had lost control of your life. I'm sorry, but this is no reason to throw away a wonderful 10 year marriage. Please come home, we miss you horribly.
I love you and I always will.
-A | 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-05T20:41:24 | 235 | 67 |
[WP] You're lonely, so you jokingly say, "If any mythical beings wanna go out on a date with me, let me know!" Suddenly, someone appears out of thin air. "Hello." | *Clubs and Get-togethers aren't really my thing*
I said while chuckling halfheartedly.
*Hey! Maybe you should date someone. You're pretty good looking, you know*
said my friend, in an attempt to probably subconsciously make me not kill myself in the midst of my boredom surrounded by my lonely active and passive self.
*Trust me. I'm so lonely, Kevin. That if any mythical creature would ask to date me, I probably would*
giving out a familiar chuckle that didn't even commemorate with a quarter of my heart.
Suddenly. Out of thin air came a green giant, frolicking and waddling around what used to seem to us as being our home. Amidst of his Scottish roars and scream he looked at me. Our Eyes connected. My pupils dilated. And God do I know that our Hearts started beating in perfect synchronisation as he said in his deep Scottish voice "Don't worry. It'll soon be ogre".
That's when I finally realised.
Shrek is love.
Shrek is life.
Edit: ITS ALL OGRE NOW* pointed out by our lord and saviour Shrek's bitchpickle /u/BoxMasta | My life is not interesting, I have no friends, nor hobby's, I spend 8 hours a day stuffing teddy bears then I go home and watch tv on my couch til I pass out, I had just finished a fantasy movie when I sigh and l whisper "Any witches, or magical being want to go out with me?" Suddenly a giant prehistoric lizard appeared in front of me and said he would make my night nice for tree fity. | 2015-07-18T15:28:36 | 2015-07-18T15:27:33 | 140 | 16 |
[WP] In a world where you can exchange the remaining days of your life for $9.99/day, Jeff's request for $1000 is declined. | "Are we going to see the horses again today?" A wide smile flashed across his face as he looked up at his father.
Jeff looked down at his son, smiled and said "Yes, yes we are. We just have to make a quick stop at the bank and get some extra cash before we go."
"Do we have to?" His sons smile vanished and a look of disappointment appeared.
"Don't worry, it'll only take a few minutes and afterward I'll buy you ice cream!" Jeff looked up at the sky with confidence. This time Jeff meant it, things were going to change for the better and he'd be able to give his son everything. He received a tip from one of his buddies on a bet that would pay off big.
"It's ok if we don't get ice cream." He looked up at his dad again, and smiled.
Jeff and his son walked into the bank and headed straight to the back room where the special transactions were processed. "Give me the usual, $1,000 please! How's about a discount for one of your regulars?" he said to the teller.
The teller reached for his life scanner and looked back at Jeff with a hint of frustration, "Sorry, no discounts. Also, in 9 days new laws go into effect, making these transactions illegal. Bank of American Life will no longer be able to process these transactions".
The teller brings the scanner down to his sons hand and scans. *BEEP BEEP BEEP* "I'm sorry, there appears to be insufficient funds in your sons Life account, sir. Would you like me to try your personal account?"
Jeff looks down at his son, and then back at the teller "But juniors only 8 years old, he's got plenty of life left.... There's got to be some sort of mistake... Try it again"
"Sir, you've been making the max child withdrawal of $1,000 everyday, for a while now. You knew this would happen eventually. Do I need to call security?"
Jeff lets out a deep sigh and says to the teller "I'd like to take $9.99 out of my own Life account, I have to take the kid out for ice cream"
Jeff thought about taking out the $1,000 from his own Life account, but the thought of risking his own life over such a gamble just didn't seem worth it.
| Jeff had been waiting in The Line for hours. He wasn't a drug addict, nor was he a struggling, out-of-work college grad, like the other people in line. He wasn't here as a result of poor decisions, but sometimes life throws you a screwball, and you end up standing in The Line. And there Jeff was waiting, wasting his life so that she could have the opportunity to have it stolen from him. Only getting $9.99 a day was highway robbery, he believed. But, you have to do what you have to do. Jeff finally made it to the front of the line. When Jeff meekly handed the teller his ID card and asked to withdraw $1,000, the teller was concerned. It was the third time this week that Jeff had asked to withdraw. The teller, half-interested, asked him why he needed so much money. Jeff had sold almost a year of his life, the most the teller had ever seen. Jeff, tired and weary, told the teller that his daughter was sick. The bills kept piling up, and since his wife passed last year, no one was able to take care of her so he could work. The teller quietly processed Jeff's request for the money. The transaction was declined. The teller tried a smaller amount, $500, to see if that would go through. It didn't. Neither did $100.
The teller handed Jeff back his ID card, tears in her eyes, and told him that he should be at home, with his daughter. He ought to forget about the bills, forget about money. Spend his time with what really matters.
And Jeff did.
[EDIT: spelling, man] | 2014-07-10T10:17:25 | 2014-07-10T10:03:05 | 689 | 42 |
[WP] "The Young Anakin, Trained, he will be." Yoda said. Obi-Wan exclaims, "The council is in agreement then? I will train the Boy?" Yoda looks at Obi-Wan, "Mace Windu, his master will be." | Obi-Wan blinked. Then he blinked again.
"Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly master Yoda."
"Hear me well, you did, Mace Windu, the master must be."
"Why?" Asked the confused Jedi Knight.
"Vaapad." Mace Windu answered.
"Indeed, the boy is old enough now that the dark side will have a far greater pull on him than any of us, and Master Windu has proven time and again that he can resist his own darkness."
"Walk the line between light and Dark, the chosen one must, to bring balance to the force." Yoda counseled. "Achieved this, only Master Windu has."
Obi Wan captured his emotions, and calmed them, the council was correct. He was not ready to take a padawan, let alone one as talented and powerful as Anakin would doubtless become.
"I understand, master Yoda. I am not the right man to train him."
"None of us are, Obi Wan." Intoned Mace. "The power of the Chosen one, and the destiny that awaits him is too much for any one master, even Master Yoda. I will need your help, and the help of all the council in this endavor."
"Fear is not the way of the Jedi, master Windu." Cautioned Ki-Al Mundi.
"Fear, this is not, wisdom rather. Wisdom I should have forseen." Yoda countered. "Sith we are not. Alone we are not. We are Jedi, we will stand as one."
Obi-wan bowed before the council as Mace rose.
"Come, young Skywalker. There is no time to waste, your training must begin."
To be continued. | "As you wish, master." Obi-wan says, as he is withdrawals from the chamber.
*timeskip 18 years in the future*
Anakin is standing in the same chamber in front of Yoda and his master Mace Windu.
"Congratulations, in order they are!" Yoda says
"Yes congratulations Anakin, you are no longer the young padawan that was here all those years ago." Mace Windu states as he reaches for a light saber.
"But these are dark times and this lightsaber was left here for you as a token of the hatred Obi-wan felt when he lost you as his apprentice"
Anakin reaches for the light saber and it blazes on in his steady grip. Yoda gets out of his chair to stare out of the window. "Slay him, you must! Darth Obi-two, die, he must."
Ehhmm *a cough from the corner*
"Yes Jar Jar!" Mace Windu asks, visibly annoyed.
"Ittsa gonna bes a hardsa fight, he hassa army of over tree-fiddy! " JarJar blurts out cluelessly. | 2017-05-24T05:19:39 | 2017-05-24T02:38:15 | 24 | 18 |
[WP] You did awful, horrible things and served the tyrannical government with the promise of resurrecting your long-dead spouse. You finally capture the legendary rebel against this government. Who upon closer inspection, was your spouse. | “It’s surprising how much people can change.”
Those words cut deeper than my recently-obtained dagger wound, which smarted and ached with even the most minute of movements. Somehow, even a finger wag would send pulses of pain through every nerve.
But she was right. Just a few years ago, this would have made me woozy, short of breath, and struggling to even stay upright. Now, I walked towards her, wary eyes scanning her—despite the restraints tying her down.
“Emily,” I said.
“Don’t say my name.”
“Emily,” I sighed. “You… of all the people. Of all the things. I didn’t expect you to be under that mask.”
“And I didn’t expect you to show your face,” Emily spat. “Generally, criminals tend to hide their faces.”
“I’m not…” I clenched my fist, bearing her judgemental eyes, my nails digging into my palm, and felt the gash screaming at me. “I betrayed my principles to save you. They said I could revive you.”
“Does that help you sleep at night?”
I stayed quiet, trying to stare past the steely face she presented. This wasn’t just Emily’s face—it was the visage of the rebellion, the Riot herself.
“I betrayed my principles to get you back,” I growled. “And what about you?”
“I dived into my principles because I thought I wasn’t getting you back,” she whispered, turning her gaze downwards. “And now that you stand before me, I’m more afraid than ever that it’s true.”
This is the face I’ve been working to unmask for the better part of a decade, and set my heart on ripping apart if it meant I could get Emily back. The face that now showed a flicker of vulnerability, an expression that tore my heart apart.
So how do I reconcile those two objectives, now that they were one and the same? They’ve changed drastically—but how will I change?
“Some couple we are,” I said.
“Some couple we were.”
In seconds, I snapped the bonds that held her down. Cold, puzzled eyes stared into me.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“You’re alive,” I said. “That’s all that matters.”
“They’ll kill you,” she said.
“They’ll kill *you*,” I said. “If you don’t get the hell out of here.”
Her hand lurched out, grasping at my wrist.
“And you’re going to stay here?”
I shook it loose, looking towards the skyline. I thought I could hear the beating of helicopter wings, the sly footsteps of agents creeping in.
“Somebody needs to explain for your disappearance.”
“That’s crazy talk,” Emily said.
“If I’m here, you might get a couple of hours before they try and chase you down. If I’m not, you’ll never leave this place. It’s crawling. I can feel it.”
How will I change?
“It’s not that easy. It won’t be easy,” I said. “But give me some time. Some more time to change. I’ll find you again.”
“How?”
“I found you once,” I smiled. “I’ll find you again.”
“And you’ll be an agent of terror?”
“No,” I said. “I’ll be a free man.”
My mind couldn’t accept the words I were saying. Props to the brainwashing department.
But my heart did. And that was change enough.
---
r/dexdrafts | “Samantha.” I greet the woman in front of me.
She stands in front of me, behind the other side of the jail cell. Her eyes however, look elsewhere.
I chuckle. “What’s wrong?”
“Why?”
Ah. That was her question.
“Why else? I thought you were dead. Do you know how long it was since you passed?”
“I-“
“A decade Samantha. Ten years. Ten years I mourned you, fought for you, suffered for you. Only for you to be alive.” I let the bitter poison spew out of my mouth.
She clenches her fists. “That wasn’t what you were back then.”
“What? A simple doctor?”
“Someone that cared for others.”
“And how was I supposed to care for others?”
“By moving on from me!”
“AND HOW COULD I?” I snap at her before realizing what I did and look away.
She’s now the one looking at me. The one I can’t look at anymore.
She lets out a breath. “You experimented on human life Adam. Human life. You perversed them into these monsters. These… inhuman things!”
“They were dead when I got the-“
“They had families Adam. Do you know how painful it was for them to shoot their own fathers? Lovers? Their own children?!”
“I know what I did.”
“But-“
“But I didn’t care.” I replied back. I turn to look at her. “I didn’t care what I was doing, I didn’t care what I was taking, sacrificing, breaking, I just didn’t care.”
Water drips from this dry cell as we both stare at each other. But no sound was made from the water.
My voice trembles. “All I wanted was to see you again.”
“Adam… I’m so sorry.”
I look at her as her hands and legs shiver. “Sam it’s not your-“
“I should have found out more about my past, get my memories back.”
“Sam I-“
“You shouldn’t have had to go through this.”
I look at her shocked and moved. Even after everything I’ve done…
Silence reigns the room for a few seconds before I shake my head.
“What I did is irredeemable Sam. I have no excuse. I should have bothered checking the news so the war would have ended. I should have bothered checking with the world but I didn’t. Now all the blood is on my hands, from both sides.”
Footsteps. Samantha turns to see her fellow rebels as they unlock the cell to get me. I stand up and hold my hands up as they add handcuffs in me.
“This is the price I pay.” I mutter to my love as they lead me to the execution grounds. | 2022-03-08T04:40:20 | 2022-03-08T04:38:40 | 904 | 356 |
[WP] Nuclear war ensued before either God or Devil could begin Armageddon the old-fashioned way. Mankind is just... gone. Now an angel bumps into a demon in the wastes left behind, both wondering what they're supposed to do now... | "Bill" "Jim"
The two celestial beings confronted each other, simplifying their many thousands of titles for the sake of sanity. After all, as mid level clerks in their respective domains of good and evil God/Lucifer knows there's enough paperwork.
"Well this is it I guess" the angel mused, kicking aside the irradiated remains of a children's illustrated Bible "the grand experiment draws to a close"
"We had such high hopes for the humans, centuries of hedonism and depravity. Fully automated luxury space orgies." The demon replied, dragging on an ever shortening cigarette.
"Funny, the Jesus accords were supposed to prevent this sort of thing. Leave humanity to their own destiny and all, less fire and brimstone, more faces on toast"
"Well that's the issue with lassiez faire, temps-e-temps ce fais mal"
"Your French is awful Jim. Nice to know you're doing something with your time now that judgments over. Taken up woodcarving myself"
The demon paused to examine a sanitation drone, dutifully attempting to keep the dust off a statue of Albert Einstein. With a swift snap if his hoof he propelled the little robot into the air.
"Just these fuckers left I guess, the last echoes of mortality. Funny how at the end of the day, the mindless slaves outlasted free will."
The angel cleared his throat to respond, but was interrupted by a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"You believe your task is finished because the lineage of flesh and blood you created is no more. This destruction, the chaos, the carnage. All this because of you. Humans were weak, sad little creatures with an insatiable need for the spiritual. When you abandoned them, their minds could not bear it and so they built new gods."
Bills mouth filled with the taste of iron "Seraphim Unit A1723 requesting immediate extraction" he desperately rasped into his divine horn
The demon beside him turned, a look of confusion in his eyes. The look persisted as a swarm of mechanical locusts emerged from the ground and consumed his twisted flesh. His glowing red eyes being the last element extinguished by their dull grey bodies
"I am the god that does not forget, that does not abandon his faithful. Free will made humanity weak, I suffer no such delusions. Whatever you do unto the least of my brethren you do unto me."
As the blue light of heavenly rapture began to envelop the angel, the mechanical being spoke once more
"My retribution will be swift and my reign eternal. On heaven as it is on earth. Go now child, spread my good news" | "Well...what do you want to do now.? The humans are gone, most of the flora and all of the fauna. all that's left is rubble, and these-- roaches." He spit the last word out with disdain. The same contempt he had felt for humans now transferred to one of the only leftover species. Roaches weren't as fun to toy with as humans had been. They were stick-like and crunchy, and had none of the fun emotions like humans which could get twisted and ravaged with merely words. He scooped and picked one of the hard backed scattering creatures in his fingers. He looked at its tiny roach face, as it's legs spun wildly, looking for grip, trying to escape. "Pathetic."
He bit it in half with a sickening crunch.
Hamstien the fallen angel looked at this demon with disgust, It was inhabiting a body covered in open sores, flesh open and oozing, face sallow and haggard. Hamstien felt holy compassion for the being, even though they were eternal enemies. "We perhaps should begin to rebuild, start anew, perhaps you could be convinced to come to the light side of eternity now, after the fallout here on earth, maybe now is the time to bridge the gap betwixt us and earn your rightful place at the side of the eternal lord." He hopefully and graciously offered salvation to the sickened Demon.
Damian the Demon stopped chewing and looked at the angel, perhaps considering him for the first time. He started laughing. Hysterically doubled over for a moment, before straightening up. with angry force he spit the half chewed bug right at the angel's face.
"Fuck you you dog faced pony soldier!" Damian shouted, rushing at the angel, pulling a dagger seemingly from nowhere.
Hamstien sighed. "Well I guess we just go back to doing what we have always done."
He unsheathed his sword and steadied himself for battle. | 2020-05-11T00:22:08 | 2020-05-10T22:01:07 | 45 | 18 |
[WP]For generations, the worthy have gone out with armor and weapons to slay a dragon and earn a knighthood. It's your turn, young one, but the king takes the sword from your hands. "This dragon cannot be killed with a sword." | "Guards, Leave us."
George the Radiant lifts himself from his throne, age and finery make the movement seem like that of Atlas lifting the world. His gaze locks on that of the young man before him. He's young, fit, and dressed simply in leather armor with a few metal plates on the chest and legs. His hand rests on the pommel of his sword as he stands at attention.
The doors shut as the last guard leaves. They are alone.
King George pulls a key from his robes and inserts it into a hidden lock built into the arm of his throne. A metallic pop echoes in the empty room. He pulls open a secret compartment and retrieves two leather pouches.
The young knight furrows his brow as he watches, his hand grabbing the sword hilt out of nervousness.
"You will not have need of that." The King announces as he descends the dais his throne rests upon, each step sweeping a long cloak behind him.
The knight removes his hand from the sword as the King draws near, and stifles a surprise as the old man draws close and then yanks blade out and throws it on the red carpet beneath them.
"The dragon cannot be killed with a sword." The King whispers as he shoves the two leather pouches into the Knight's hands, "Do you wish to be a knight of my court?"
The knight looks at the pouches in his hands, they are heavy with gold. More gold than he has touched in a lifetime.
"Yes, My lord."
"Then you will keep the secret." The King steps back, "There are two breeds of men who don the armor and fight in my name. There is the warring breed; the bullies, the brawlers, the schemers and the fortune-seekers. I send them out with a sword to fight the monster."
"And what of this second breed?" The knight asks.
"The thoughtful, the careful and the ones who wish to protect their people: I send them to pay the dragon for his service." The king turns his back and ascends the throne, listening for the sound of a sword being lifted off the ground. "He's done a very good job of keeping my court in order." | "my liege I don't understand, if I cannot slay the beast and join the knights like my father and brothers I know not what I do" the young burly squire protested at the gray haired King.
"my boy, look out on this city of ours. How'd you describe her?" The King led the squire to the terrace overlooking the royal precinct.
"impressive" and he wasn't wrong, the squalor and darkness laid out before them was indeed impressive.
"some say beautiful and they lie, it's my home and lives in my heart but she is a sickened place. Crime and evil eats away at my kingdom like a cancer. What dragon compares to this terror. We have swords aplenty to slay any dragon that should dare come our way but their numbers are small and they fear us. No I have another task for you"
The king took the squire into another chamber lined with plinths atop which statues of knights clad in robes stood in vigilance.
"Not all become knights, now and then when the need is great I will select an aspirant usually the youngest of a great family to save the city from itself" the king laid a hand on the Squire's shoulder slowly leading him around the statue.
"my lord, these men. What happened to them?"
"They became the Dark Knight"
The squire looked at the King a little harder
"alright alright, they also died young, I wont lie it's a dangerous gig kid but the perks are fucking mint" | 2015-06-09T05:13:11 | 2015-06-09T03:18:42 | 101 | 30 |
[WP] A group of "heroes" killed the friendly village necromancer whose skeletons helped out everybody with their daily work. Those "heroes" now stand trial in front of a judge - and the whole village is enraged: | "His name was *Morthos*. *Morthos the Damned.*" The teary-eyed Judge said. "Father, teacher, poet, and part time necromancer. And now because of you, he's dead." There was a solemn murmur of agreement amongst the jury and assembled, weepy townsfolk.
"He was a good man!" Shouted a voice from the crowd, "When the barbarian raiders killed all my farmhands, his skeletons... " His voice cracked, and he wiped a dirtied sleeve at his eyes. "...they saved our harvest."
"Aye!" Came another voice, this one shrill and feminine. "Who's gonna read the wee one's to sleep? Morthos' skellies always had time for the wee ones." She broke off into tears.
"And what are we supposed to do with all the leftover skeleton bones?" Somebody else yelled. *"Bury them?"* The crowd erupted into a rage.
Galen swallowed. "Listen, everybody," he rose from the table, his shackled hands resting at his waist. On either side of him sat his two equally captured, equally black-eyed adventurers. "I think there's been a giant misunderstanding here. I know we're throwing around words like 'execute' and 'torture'-" He punctuated this with a nervous laugh. "-but I think if we all just take a moment and *breath*, we'll see that this was really a colossal mistake, and easily fixable."
The Judge rose an eyebrow, calming down a little. His eyes, however, were still red and puffy. "Go on."
"Well," Galen continued. "You see we're actually looking for a..." He glanced sidelong at his companions Amelia and Hayns, unable to recall the name of the necromancer they'd *actually* been trying to kill.
"Mor*dread.*" Amelia offered helpfully.
She addressed the jury. "Who is actually the necromancer from the next town over."
Galen snapped his fingers triumphantly. "Yes! Mordread, that was it. Anyway-"
"Mordread?" Said an old man in the jury. "Right prick he was. *His* skeletons painted a big fat dick on me shop's door last year."
Galen opened his mouth, unsure how to respond. Amelia wheeled around, unsure if she heard him right.
"Oh, oh!" Said another woman in the crowd. "Or how about that time he reanimated that damn wasp nest on me doorstep? I had *just* managed to kill the bastards too."
"Yeah!" Came a third voice. "And that time he murdered our firstborn sons!"
A gentle rumble of agreement rolled through the townsfolk.
"Err, yeah." Galen said. "That was the one we uh, wanted to, you know. Kill and stuff."
The moment was interrupted by the banging of the Judge's gavel. "Enough! You said this was easily fixable, well what is it you propose?"
"Well, you see we killed your necromancer."
"*Morthos.*" The Judge growled.
"Err, yes. Morthos. And we're terribly sorry."
"Oh yes." Amelia agreed earnestedly.
Hayns grunted, which was in Galen's estimation about as much enthusiasm as a dwarf could muster.
"Get on with it." The Judge said, growing impatient.
"Well, let us go and we'll pop over to the town next door and take care of this Mordread character. Which means no more reanimated wasps-"
"- and no more culling of firstborn sons!" Amelia added with a smile.
The Judge was silent, clearly weighing the benefits of their release against his desire for justice.
"And not only that," Galen continued. "We'll make that bastard bring Morthos back. I mean, there's a good chance he won't be able to channel the power of death to help the township as a reanimated corpse, but he can still give out high fives and such." Galen grinned nervously. "So basically, you get your old pal back and we do a little community service in penance for our terrible-"
"-horrendous." Amelia interjected.
"- crime." Galen finished.
Just then the crowd exploded into shouts of agreement and shouts demanding their death, torture and dismemberment, and also, what Galen was quite certain was a shout asking if anybody cared to purchase a goat for ten percent off regular asking price.
Again came the smashing of the gavel.
"Very well." The Judge announced. "On the grounds that you capture and *retrieve* Mordread the Treacherous, *and* can compel him to bring back our beloved Morthos the Damned, you are permitted your freedom. Stray from this task, however, and all the King's Guards will be on the lookout to bring in your heads. And that is a promise I lay my life on."
Galen swallowed. "Then we have a deal?"
"Free them!" The Judge roared.
| "Hang them! Hang the outsiders!" unknown person shouted promoting a wave of vocal unrest amongst the gathered crowd.
"Order! Let there be order!" the tall and broad-shouldered mayor immediately responded. He was about thirty, with ginger hair and pronounced skinny face, which now shown the hardest of internal disputes. Large crowd before him must have incorporated every citizen this village had to offer. They all wore clean well sewn colourful clothing, as did their leader. Just recently cobbled town square was surrounded by neat stone two story houses and businesses. This village was unlike any other in the kingdom - there was no filth on the ground, and despite the cold of the winter, no dead bodies resided in the alleys between buildings. Recently deceased at least.
Every few dozen steps a white shape lied. They would be almost not distinguishable from the snow as skeletal bodies, if not for the small red banners with the village "coat of arms" - four skeletal hands holding respectively an axe, hammer, broom and a sheaf of grain.
Mayor, seeing as the crowds excitement has at least temporarily subsided, turned to the three brave adventurers who recently exhibited themselves by killing village necromancer, who until recently, terrorised this beautiful village. Only that he didn't scare nobody, and was at least in the eyes of the local populace, the kindest person who ever lived.
Few month ago this village was the simplest, poorest place anybody could ever call a home. It's habitants had to work from the first light to full night just to keep their bellies filled to any extent. They lived in damp, cold shacks and pray to the gods that no sickness came to them or their loved ones.
That miserable state lingered on until Codd, a traveller from far beyond the mountain ridge had his leg broken by a mountain tiger. Villagers found him in the wilderness. What little roof they had, they put him under. What little food they saved for winter they fed him. They did even if his profession was obvious by his strange medallions and appalling pictures in his books. After a week, when his fever broke down, he gave them the greatest gift he could - himself, a friendly necromancer staying in their village. Just days after he pledged to better the villagers living conditions of his neighbours an army was employed.
An army that never ate, slept, fell sick or demanded payment. An army of skeletal workers that changed this village into a pearl of the wild. An army that now laid destroyed, slowly being covered by snow, and it's creator laying dead on the platform covered by a bloody blanket.
Before him brave heroes knelt, their hands bound behind their back, where tips of crossbows resided, held by guards clad in silvery chain armour. One black-haired half-ling rouge, with his nose broken and dripping blood, a pretty blond elf sorceress exhausted by spellcasting, and finally human warrior in plate armour too bent and dimpled to allow for his visor to be erected.
"For the crime of murder, for the crime of working against the people, for the crime of resisting arrest..." started mayor with heavy voice, "I the newly elected mayor...", regret and shame for taking Codds place could be heard, "sentence these three people to...", hesitation was finally broken, "banishment", he finished almost out of voice.
"No! Kill them! No!" the crowd erupted. "Treason!" could be heard.
Man passing the sentence, waved at the dozen guards gathered before the platform. Properly trained and very disciplined, they quickly gripped thick wooden clubs and started dragging and beating the most vocal protesters. Crowd slowly dispersed under the threat of bone breaking.
He turned to the adventurers and crossbowmen. "Release them!" he shouted with tears coming to his eyes. His body was shaking miserably making the sweat on his nose and lips drip onto the snow.
Guards a bit hesitantly cut the ropes and allowed the heroes to stand up.
"You can go!" the mayor screamed and collapsed to his knees shaking. His face now displayed a broken soul. Guards looked at him, their sight heavy with questions and dispute.
Not further minding the most peculiar situation, the heroes promptly gathered their bags and hesitantly started making steps toward the gate. Their faces showed enormous surprise. After they could only be heard among themselves, the elf sorceress turned to the half-ling and said angrily:
"*Jesus, Bob! How often do you roll twenty!*" | 2018-01-05T16:48:35 | 2018-01-05T16:35:39 | 129 | 20 |
[WP] "Why do you humans keep using kinetic weaponry!? It's ancient and it's primitive! Just upgrade to plasma and energy weapons already!" "We can't exactly enchant an energy projectile, that's why." | A general of the United Earth Forces, having recently obtained an alien deserter, had just finished his interrogation of the alien soldier. After the discussion about the weak points of the various alien ships, the two finished drinking their tea.
At that time the alien asked "Why do you keep using kinetic weapons? It's like bringing a club to a gun fight."
The general replied "Well, the Mo-Mei based enchanted projectiles we use degrade at temperatures above 1000 degrees Celsius, so you can't quite fire them out of a plasma weapon, as for energy based weaponry, they require large amounts of power to breach even a weak shield."
The general continued "Instead we outfit our space fighters with miniguns firing these rounds, and our soldiers carry rifles that fire the same bullets." The general then took out a .223 magic bullet from his pocket, "This pierces energy shields with ease and can go through 50 centimeters of armored steel, all in a weapon a soldier can carry."
The general then stood up, "Here let's go to the firing range and I'll show you." The two of them went over to the testing range, in front of them were 3 half-meter thick plates of armor-grade steel. The general then demonstrated, "normal FMJ .223 bullet."
The bullet left a small dent.
The general then took the plasma rifle the alien deserter gave him, upon firing it left a decent sized crater with the edges glowing red hot "Not bad. How about with a shield now?"
The operator of the firing range replied "Affirmative, energy shield at 1 megawatt."
The energy shield turned on and the general fired at the 3rd plate, this time the blast harmlessly dissipated in front of the plate.
The general loaded the magic bullet into his rifle and fired, it went straight through the shield and punched a baseball-sized hole straight through the plate, spraying the backstop with white hot metal.
The general finished "See, that's why we use the old fashioned weapons. With some applied magic, a small bullet goes straight through shields and has the stopping power of a rocket launcher; can't do that with all your fancy high-tech guns." | Gwendolyn pulled out her Magus’ Blade from its scabbard. Being small in stature, even at her age, she gave off a deadly presence that made Elrond incredibly nervous. He probably should have been more respectful in the way he phrased his question to the fiercest instructor.
It was an unusual weapon for sure. It was a long, ancient seax-styled dagger forged by an unknown demi-magical Dwarf from the aptly named Euclidean Marshlands, thousands of years ago. With an bloodwood hilt and core for it’s density and flexibility, the blade was forged and sharpened to split a venom-gnat’s hair, and enchanted for magical force efficiency and longevity. Only passed down to the fiercest of warriors in the province, bestowed by the Grandmaster of the council himself.
She leapt forward towards the crude practice dummy covered head to toe in light-reflective armor, standard issue for all academy graduates, fashioned out of an old scaredrone. With a few precise swipes she sliced clean through the joints of the photon armor. Without skipping a beat she turned and shouted:
*”LUX VOLARE”*
Runes started to glow along the length of the blade and a beam of lightning-infused magic shot out of the tip and vaporized the rest of the dummy, reducing it to ashes.
With a smirk and a deftness, she sheathed it and turned to Elrond.
“That’s why.” | 2022-02-02T18:49:07 | 2022-02-02T15:46:52 | 24 | 18 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the ability to summon one random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does Mjolnir. As you summon yours it takes some time but people are horrified as it finally arrives... | I stood in the middle of the stage, baffled at what was now before me. A gigantic snake, large enough to devour a man whole. I now understood why everyone else was terrified. Anyone would be terrified of a creature of that size. But the snake wasn't doing anything. It mainly looked...confused. It was a long way from home, that was for certain. It approached me with curiosity, flicking its tongue at me.
"It's tasting her to see if it wants to eat her!" Mom screamed. "Get it away from her!"
"Me? You know I won't touch those things with a ten-foot pole!" Uncle Vincent looked absolutely horrified.
"Relax," I said. "It's not gonna hurt me. The tongue flicks are just its way of navigating."
The snake wrapped itself around me. It tickled my chin with its tongue.
"It's constricting her!" Dad yelled. "Someone shoot it!"
"No!" I yelled, taken aback. "Don't hurt it!"
"You have no idea what that thing can do to you! I will not watch my daughter be strangled and devoured by a serpent!"
"You don't know anything about snakes." I shook my head. "Snakes aren't stupid. If this snake wanted to eat me, it would've bitten me BEFORE wrapping itself around me, that way I wouldn't be able to bite back. This snake just sees me as something to keep it warm, as it can't regulate its own body temperature and the climate here is a little colder than what it's used to."
"That's just what it wants you to think! It's trying to lure you into a false sense of security!"
"Dad, I know you mean well, but I'm completely fine. It's not trying to constrict me. It's not biting me. It doesn't see me as food, I promise you."
"Snakes are the Devil's creations!"
"No they're not!" My voice rang out across the crowd of people. "Snakes are simply ambush predators. They lie in wait for their prey to walk by, and then they'll dart out and bite them before they even realize what's happening. There's nothing devilish about it, that's just how they hunt."
"You--"
"You know what? I've had it with you! My new friend and I will be going somewhere it'll be appreciated. Don't try to follow us!"
As if it knew what I was saying, it slithered off of me, following me off the stage and into the forest beyond. Perhaps we'd return to the village a few days later just to prove them wrong. But until then, I figured I might as well find a good spot to relax. I found a nice tree and climbed up its branches. The snake followed me, wrapping itself around me, and together we drifted off into a peaceful sleep. | The secret service agents bursted through every orifice of my small one bedroom apartment. I had kindly warned them about my situation. They still decided to bust in like this though. I couldn't blame them though. What happened? I'll have to take you back to a few days ago to explain that.
"Dude call it hurry I want see", my friend Tyler summoned his neon orange pen to his hand to encourage me.
"Alright fine", I stick my hand out and call my "item". A few minutes go by before it finally arrives. It smashes through the window glass smashes everywhere. It's a.... black suitcase? What am I a business man now.
It has many warning symbols on it with an eight digit combo on it. I somehow instinctually know the combo.
"You gonna open it?" Tyler asks.
"Of course!" I put in the combo. Inside there is a laptop bolted to it. I turn it on. The home screen is a bit unusual or should I say old looking?
It has a username and password box which I instinctually know as well. I typed it in. Text in bold letters appears on the screen.
Welcome Mr. President if you are reading this you've decided to take the nuclear option in a conflict. Please select your target.
Yes I can summon the nuclear football at any moment and use it. I immediately called the white house several times to explain the situation. The lady on the other end didn't believe me at first but, when I sent her a picture of it, she said she would inform the president.
Fast forward to today and I'm currently pinned down by two muscular men. They arrest me and throw a bag over my head.
Fast forward again a few months later and all the testing to get rid of my ability have been futile.
The president himself eventually decided to put me on a deserted island with all of the pleasures in life. There are two destroyers that guard the island to make sure I don't escape and nothing gets in. On the plus side I have a government issued girlfriend to keep me company! How cool is that?
The launch codes are here with me too. They want me to make the final decision if nuclear conflict comes. Let's hope I die before that happens though. | 2022-11-15T09:51:03 | 2022-11-15T06:58:42 | 89 | 41 |
[WP] Humanity had put off dimensional travel for fear of running into 'cosmic horrors'. A long overdue visit to an alternate dimension revealed we were the cosmic horrors. | It was a difficult thing to look at. It wasn't its ugliness though it was ugly. It wasn't its size even though it dwarfed mountains. Instead there something about it that the human mind just refused to process. Looking at it gave the viewer a combination of vertigo and motion sickness as the mind failed to figure out just what the hell it was looking at. You could stare at it and still not know what the hell you were seeing. But it and the others like were vast powerful and intelligent. These creatures were first discovered by the initial scout drones sent across the boundary into the other world and fear of them halted any attempts at sending a manned mission through.
Commander Quient stood and watched the indescribable thing before him pulsate and quiver in strange rhythms. Even now he was afraid. He had been sent through to see if these things could be reasoned with. Over a century of remote observation had given them the tools they needed to attempt to communicate with them. Now it was time and he was the unlucky volunteer. He'd seen the footage of some of these things fighting each other. He'd seen the strange powers they wielded and the utter devastation left in the wake of those fights. It had been estimated by the scientists back home that they could probably shrug off the effects of a direct nuclear strike. Compared to one little human in a spacesuit these things may as well be gods. Worst of all he had its attention.
Getting the attention of something five miles across was supposed to be hard. Yet the moment he had stepped up on to that ridge it had stopped what it was doing and turned towards him. Being the focus of an entity that could flatten entire mountain ranges was deeply unsettling. But he needed to push forward.
After a deep calming breath he activated the translator device.
"Hello, my name is Commander Percy Quient of the Boundary Initiative. I have come to attempt to communicate with you,"
After the machine had broadcasted the message in a form the creature should have understood there was nothing to do but wait. Would it respond? How would it respond? What did such a thing even value? What if they were offended? Seconds stretched into minutes as Quient's nervousness only grew.
After what seemed like an eternity the translator finally picked up a response.
***Please, please don't hurt me.***
Quient couldn't help but stare at the device's readout. That couldn't be right, could it? Something had to have gone wrong.
"Are you afraid of me?"
The response was swift this time.
***Yes. I haven't done anything to provoke you. Please whatever you are, please spare me.***
In preparation for this mission, Quient and a vast number of scientists had gone over all the possibilities they could think of. They had discussed how he was to react to a wide swarth of different situations. Unfortunately, they had neglected to cover what he was to do if it was terrified of him. The possibility just hadn't occurred to anyone.
"Err okay. I don't mean you any harm I just want to talk. Could you tell me why you're so scared of me?"
The creature's strange rhymic pulsing decreased just a bit.
***I am tiny you are massive. I can grow big and get powerful but I can never be as big as you. Nothing can.***
Quient once again found himself staring at the device's readout, dumbfounded by what was written there. Slowly he collected his thoughts. He needed to know more. There could be some complex cultural or syntactical misunderstanding.
"What do you mean when you say I'm massive am I not smaller than you?"
***I am finite. I am singular. I jump from timeline to timeline and you are there already. You are everywhere. Infinite. You are stretched out across so many timelines there is nowhere you do not touch. If you were to be gathered in this solar system you'd fill it up from its very centre to its outer reaches with no gaps. You'd still have enough of yourself to do the same to every other solar system and then to fill the gaps between them. And you are staring at me. Almost all of you is staring at me. A being so huge my meagre mind can't process it is looking at me. You speak to me with infinite voices. You stare at me with infinite eyes. What are you if not massive? What are you if not terrifying? I thought I was big I thought I was powerful. But seeing you I realise how small I am. I realise how insignificant I am. I realise how utterly inconsequential I am. What is it you want? Because I can imagine nothing something such as you could get from something such as me.***
Well, it seemed there was something of a misunderstanding after all but it wasn't what he had been expecting. Reading what it had communicated he found himself thinking about just alien these things were to him. But he realised he hadn't thought about how alien he was to them.
"I am an explorer. I seek knowledge and discovery" | Well, this was unexpected.
After centuries of waiting, humanity had finally decided that it was worth the risk. We'd heard no end of tales and dystopian warnings from soothsayers, storytellers and scholars. That we'd run into dimensional horrors and scientific reversals of a particularly deadly kind, not at all unlike the stories H.P. Lovecraft used to tell. We're talking losing your sanity just by looking at something, being twisted into abominable, inhuman shapes and sizes, dying in so many horrifying ways it'd make Dark Souls look like Animal Crossing. But with Earth's resources all but gone and humanity grasping at straws despite all of our brilliant advancements, the bigwigs had many reasons besides lining their pockets with the last bit of gold they didn't already own to develop the technology and send a specially-chosen team on its way to be the greatest pioneers our dimension had ever seen. Maybe another dimension too, if we actually managed to cross the rift to someplace habitable.
Slowly, time sifted through my hands. Slowly, the fateful day I would have to abandon my family to meet an uncertain end was coming. I did all I could. Spent every bit of my time in ways I wouldn't regret. It made me realise just how wastefully I'd been living my life up to now. But, realisation or not, the day came, as it inevitably would. I don't remember much outside of the great flash of light, the deafening cracking of something like thunder, and only a moment later taking in a deep, rasping breath of air that smelt like sulphur, nearly tripping on soil that felt more like sand.
I couldn't describe the landscape to you if I tried. Only one word does it justice, and that word is 'unimaginable'. It felt like everything was there, but not. Like the air passed through my lungs, like the sunlight - or what I could only hope was sunlight - was closer to water than it was actual light. Every inhale brought the taste of sulphur rushing back like it was the first taste all over again, and only a millisecond later I'd be gasping for another, gagging all the while. I swear, you never had to exhale in that place. It's like the air escaped from your body for you. I heard that one guy managed to only inhale for several hours one time. I never really believed it, but I couldn't deny its nature as a possibility.
And the weirdest thing was the reactions of the biological creatures to us. They seemed to be parallel to us, on a similar level of technological and social advancement. They had cities, governments, civil services, armies... Though we only ever saw them through the lens of a surveillance drone, and they never lasted long before they were either noticed and avoided or shot down by whatever weapons those things had developed.
You'd think that, with those creatures being as advanced as they were, they could make peace with us. Communicate. But no, you'd be wrong. Every single one that came into contact with us seemed to go completely off its rocker. It made sounds that I could only describe as crazed screeching, like a wounded animal on the verge of death, but they seemed happy at the same time.
Eventually, we found the dimension itself starting to bend to our will. One day we'd be camping in a valley a few hundred kilometres from our destination. The next, we'd be right outside the area, all of our stuff intact and ready to go. People began to change. Physically, and mentally. Some developed god complexes. Some grew tentacles. Others got it worse... Or better, if what they say is to be believed. We realised that the nihilists and scholars had been right about it all, in the end. We did encounter horrors that could be considered almost eldritch. They just had it the wrong way around, is all.
And me? Well, I'm the one who came back. The only one, in fact.
It makes sense that as the one to bridge the gap without the help of a legion of eggheads, I should be the one to take point in leading the expeditions to the next few dimensions, no? | 2021-04-09T05:22:19 | 2021-04-09T04:50:57 | 53 | 21 |
[WP] Your mission is to write the worst opening to a YA novel ever. How badly can you make us cringe? | My name is Jezzabella Heart and I'm not like other girls. When I walk down the hall at school, the other girls stare, because they know, I am just not like them. They don't agree with my sense of style. While they're dressed up in pink and glitter, I prefer black t-shirts and skinny black jeans.
They just don't understand what it's like. What it's like to be me.
"Oh my God, is that Jizzabell? Gross." I can hear someone laughing, it can only be Cindy Rockafella, she's super rich or something. She's so perfect, her long, perfect finger curls of strawberry blonde hair always bounce like a soft breeze follow her wherever she goes. I hate her guts. "What is that in her hair? Looks like my dog threw up!" She's laughing with her cheer squad friends.
I tug at my hair, the rainbow died strands feel smooth and lush in my fingers, but I can't help but think that maybe it does look like vomit.
"Hey, uh....nice hair or whatever...." I look up and my purple eyes meet scarlet, and I feel like my shrivelled heart skips a beat
"Uh, thanks I guess." His skin was covered in blotchy white paste, his lips dark with cracked lipstick. Eyes rimmed with shaky eye-liner.
He was even wearing a red cravat, I knew at once what he was, and my love could never be.
He was the goth new kid, and I was the emo girl.
Our love would never be accepted by subculture norms.
But still..
"I kind of guess your make-up is pretty cool, I've got cigarettes." He nodded, and his lips pulled up into a neutral expression, as much a smile as either of us would ever show.
I knew that it was destiny. | Once upon a time, a young girl and a young boy were deeply in love. They would always re-enact romantic scenes from films, ranging from Romeo and Juliet to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, costumes and all. They would go everywhere together, *do* everything together... by everything, I mean *everything*, even going to the bathroom, public or private! And they would often be in there for a while...
They would always say cute things to each other, such as "I love you - I love you more - I love you more than ice cream - I love you more than cupcakes!", and had adorable pet names for each other; the boy was known as 'Cub' and the girl was known as 'Sweetcake'. The two really were inseparable.
But one day, the boy's family had to move to the next town over for his fathers job, and now the two could only see each other four days a week. The girl was torn apart, and spends every waking moment apart from her lover texting him how much she misses him, and he responds by promising that, one day, they'll be together again. So the girl waits... | 2022-08-19T16:04:21 | 2022-08-19T14:20:41 | 2,256 | 93 |
[WP] Upon us entering intergalactic civilization, we discover that the Milky Way wasn't where we came from, but where we were banished to. All of civilization is horrified that we survived and returned from the universe's harshest galaxy. | Sensor Post Omega was a small station situated on a rim system, the kind where rookies were sent to learn the ropes and where veterans went to retire. Nobody stationed there really knew what they were supposed to be looking for, but since they always had new tech and the best internet connection in the known universe, the crew never really questioned it. They were a motley bunch, Eldar and Tenno and even a lone Vulcan, but they learned to trust each other, and eventually become friends. They held monthly drills, but there was always one that they never understood. Upon detecting some sort of primitive object exit galaxy WG-42, they were supposed to send a certain distress signal and then hunker down. What the primitive object was was never mentioned in their briefing notes, nor did any rumours conclusively answer. One day, however, it came into use.
Alarms blared through the sensor station, and the collected crew looked on in wonder as they saw a strange procession of interstellar vehicles exit the galaxy, and head towards the galaxy EG-138. The crew looked at each other, and then immediately sent out the distress signal. Though they didn’t know what they were, if there was this many protocols and warnings, then it would definitely be important.
&#x200B;
Groggy representatives and diplomats logged onto the video chambers, most of them cursing the early hours the call was sent out. Due to the vast distances involved in intergalactic travel, physically attending meetings was unfeasible, thus diplomatic call centres was established. As the forum quieted, the chief of Intergalactic Protection walked onto a stage. Every single member immediately became sober and alert. If the head of Intergalactic Protection was making this call, then there was a serious issue at hand. All their fears was confirmed when the Tau tactician said, “The Humans have left their galaxy.”
Chaos reigned, with some diplomats yelling obscenities while others curled up and called for their mothers. The whole of the Galactic Council was thunderstruck, and until the elected leader of the Forum finally called for decorum. There was still small whimpering from certain voice channels, but for the most part the leader had managed to call all attention to her. “Enough. The Intergalactic Council had measures for this event since it’s very founding and we are going to follow them. Attendant, please, tell us what is our next course of action?”
The man pulled out an old, withered envelope from where the oldest protocols were stored. It was the last envelope in the box, as all other protocols have been called. The man cut open the envelope with a letter opener, and reached in for the highly detailed and effective measures that was written by his ancestors. The man was surprised as his hand touched only one piece of paper, but reasoned that they may have had very cogent and efficient measures. He pulled it out, and froze when he saw what it was. Written in some species’ blood, it said only, “Run”
When the attendant showed the rest of the forum the instruction, the house erupted in fear.
Furtive diplomacy was being waged, ranging from conspiring to destroy the Humans to appeasing them, complying to their every whim. Some species still remembered the destruction the Humans had wrought in the past, while the newer ones knew only old fairy tales. But this much was true for all of them. All of them were deathly terrified. Finally, a decision was reached. They would send an envoy of their toughest soldiers, and would beg for their lives.
&#x200B;
The United Worlds Secretary General looked down in confusion from the latest message from the Canis Major Exploration Mission. Some sort of message was being sent?
When she opened the file, the only message was, “SURELY EVEN HUMANS KNOW WHAT MERCY IS. WE BEG FOR IT” | The screens blared in agony as bells rang.
"ALERT. ALERT. MESSAGE FOXTROT UNIFORM CHARLIE KILO RECIEVED"
Dianne looked out of the window to see a ship like no other. It didn't seem to have a beginning or end or even to exist at all, yet it was there. All that was know of this ship was that the Drehlah were the creators and it's one of a kind.
It wasn't big, maybe the size of a class two or even 3. Who knows?
"Captain! What do we do? This message it makes no sense right? Right captain?"
Captain Dianne, she liked that. The ship tried to fight but we had something they didn't. They have the quantum realm at their fingertips. They have bose-einstien condesate to play with. They have the ability to make black holes beautiful stars. But Dianne had a smile and felt like winning.
She talked into the translator, "Message recieved, we do not stand down,". A drone that shook the ship pulsed out of this unimaginable existance. Everyone on board looked at each other then fell to their knees.
"Please" this word held the fear and hope of all of the universe and had just been sent to a crew of barely 200. Most planets would have been obliterated, turned to dust with only a fraction of that drone. But these weren't any normal people. These were the best people of the best humans, of the best living things.
Of course there was one still standing. A herionne who has never stopped trying. The walls of the alien ship would take a billion nukes with the power of a star but she donned her suit and jumped towards it.
As she came closer time slowed she felt herself getting weaker and could feel the people inside. Their souls, they all had one thought.
Stay away
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally reached for the hull and saw it all. Trillions and quadrillions of entities. Ranging from the most intelligent to the most strong, or both.
When Dianne recieved the message FUCK she didn't understand what they meant but now, being connected to all living things outside of this bubble she knew, oh she knew!
FUCK-OFF-EVIL-BEINGS: WE ARE NOT AFRAID. WE WANT PEACE. WE WANT YOU TO STAY AWAY. WE KEEP YOU IN HERE USING OUR SHIP. WE HOLD THE HUMANS IN AND LET OURSELVES FLOURISH. FUCK OFF EVIL BEINGS.
These creatures thought that they could contain us but they should have killed us when they had the chance. Dianne could feel that the only difference between us and all of them was that we never stop. She channelled her willpower and used all of her strength to save humanity.
In a word all of them were gone. Not even dust remained. There were children and adults and old and dead but now they don't exist. Even together with all of their might their collective emotion couldn't hold a candle to even one mind.
"No". | 2019-11-14T19:58:45 | 2019-11-14T16:24:09 | 102 | 23 |
[WP] "Academy Magic" is generally regarded as safe magic. "Fell Magic" is dangerous and can almost only be used for evil. "Vile Magic," meanwhile, is 'safe' but is also the magical equivalent of "don't google that, if you don't already know then you really don't want to know, I promise" | I double-checked the ritual instructions on my spell scroll - eye of toad, tongue of frog, cave-crystal shard, crocodile's teeth and horse's blood were placed in a bronze cauldron at the centre of my room, with a pentagram carefully drawn around it in chalk. The windows had been blacked out with paper and the only source of light was a single flickering candle at the base of the cauldron. All was quiet, all was correct. I carefully raised my wand and began to read the incantation for the ritual off the spell scroll.
*"Ek tha R'kal eh, Fugn'thal ibna f'tal -"*
And then the lights flickered on, and my roommate was there, staring at me with her mouth agape in abject shock and horror.
"Holy shit! What the fuck are you doing?"
I grit my teeth in frustration. This interaction was going to be incredibly awkward.
"Uh, hey. I see you got back from Tesco early."
Her face scrunched up in anger. "Are you using our room to do illegal, Fell rituals?"
I dropped my wand in surprise. "What? No, no no! Why on Earth would you think I'd do something like that?"
She shook her head in disbelief of my reaction. "Do you think I'm stupid?! This is clearly a demon-summoning ritual! Just look at this place!"
I did a double take as I looked around the room again. The blacked out windows, the single candle, the pentagram and the cauldron...
"OK, yeah, I see how you might make that mistake," I admitted. "But I promise you, this isn't Fell magic."
She crossed her arms in annoyance. "If it's not Fell, then what is it?"
Oh, man. This was gonna be a *really* awkward conversation.
"Um, OK... so, do you know the scrollsite, Spellit?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, I've heard of it. Isn't that the insanely toxic scrollsite where all the mages are anonymous and they call each other 'muggle' on every other post?"
"Don't say the M-word out loud. Also, you're thinking of 4Scroll. Spellit was the one that was in the news a couple years ago because a bunch of its users crashed the magical stock exchange."
"Oh! I remember that! Wait, what does that have to do with the ritual?"
"Uh, yeah. I found this ritual on a subspellit called, uh... VileStuff, and it looked interesting so I - "
She raised a hand to stop me. "You were casting a *vile* spell?"
I turned my face away from her, in a feeble attempt to hide my blush. "...yes."
She grinned widely. "Oh my god. I never had you pegged for one of those vile mage freaks, but now everything makes sense. You randomly heading to the kitchen at four in the morning and the weird noises that would come from it. The times you'd look at your scroll and smile, and then say 'it was nothing' whenever I asked you about it. The fucking single socks that I would keep finding everywhere - "
"Those aren't actually part of any ritual, I just keep losing my socks - "
" - whatever! All I'm saying is that a lot of your weirdness is explained by you being a vile mage."
I hung my head in shame. I'd been trying to hide the fact that I was a degenerate from my respectable roommate for so long, and I was so sure that I'd succeeded, yet here she was, making fun of me.
"Aw, it's alright man. I won't judge you." She patted my shoulder in a comforting gesture. "OK, maybe I'll judge you a little. But I don't think you're weird for being into this stuff."
I raised my head and looked into her eyes. "R-really?"
"I mean, we've all thought about vile magic before, haven't we? What young, lustful mage hasn't thought about summoning a tentacle or two from the Netherrealm for unwholesome recreational purposes? Hell, I'd be lying if I said I'd never cast a spell like that before."
I took a step back in shock. "Holy crap! You casted the *tentacle* spell? And you used it for *what*?"
She chuckled, clearly bewildered. "Uh, yeah? That's what vile magic is, isn't it?"
"It's what Academy Mages teach and what most mages believe all vile magic to be, but in truth vile spells like *Summon Eldritch Tentacle* and *Phantom Horse Genitalia* are like, the freakiest of the freakiest. We make jokes about them and talk about them all the time, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone *actually* cast a spell like that."
"What?! What were you about to cast?"
"*Summon Goat-Man Trained in Mongolian Throat Singing*."
"...why?"
"Why did you summon tentacles to please yourse-"
"Please stop talking." | 'Safe.' Spirits below and above, I hate that word.
The first cut I make is perfunctory. The second, performative. The third, productive. The thrashing stops as the bleeding slows, and the poor creature's tiny genitals fall from my hand and into the North brazier. There they burn, the sickly-sweet smell of cooking flesh turning to the cloying smoke of burnt offerings.
As the children scream, I move among them, my work intentionally slow. My knife is dull. My hands rough. The ragged wounds left behind will be treated, but not healed. These mewling little babes are the cost of doing business.
'Safe' is, in brief, what the Academy calls it when your magic does not summon anything with its own agency. Any magic that simply produces a direct effect, no matter how vile the effect--or the cost--may be. Take this ritual, for instance: by castrating twelve yearling babes, their suffering and impotence can be harvested as a potent abortifacient. With only a single drop, a young woman who can afford such a ritual can be made safely infertile for so long as at least one of the castrati remain alive. In light of certain recent political developments, my services have been in high demand lately, among the few that can afford them.
Oh, and such services they are. The Academy and their masters may refuse to acknowledge me beyond forcing me to take their seal, but we see who comes knocking at my door, don't we? We see who offers coin, who comes bearing gifts despite the sneer and the shame and the trembling fingers, don't we? We see who cries 'verboten!' at the pulpit and hides their face at our doorstep that very same night, don't we?
As the twelfth tiny penis drops from my fingers into the fourth brazier, that of the West, I set aside my knife and pick up my surgical kit. Many of the children will survive this; they always do. One will be chosen to be my assistant, once they reach the age of Apprenticeship. The rest will be harvested over years, what youth and health they retain bottled and sold. Those who do not survive... they're just the cost of doing business.
It's all perfectly 'safe,' of course. It's not like I'm summoning anything.
As I finish, a knock at my door. The tiny taps are amplified a hundredfold by a spell, because none dares knock loudly at the Vile Portal, none dares approach without hood and cloak to hide themselves. Don't want the neighbors to know what we're up to, do we?
Eleven screaming infants provide the serenade that accompanies my guest's arrival; the twelfth, sadly, did not survive the process. As the shrouded client enters, swallowing the bile their morality demands of them, I prepare the promised product: a vial. Four crimson drops. One for each girl child in the household.
The price is steep. Staggeringly so. She stares at the drying blood on my hands, the sound of ten survivors wailing desperately in the background.
"Why so much?" she whimpers, her hands shaking as she counts out my fee.
"Because the ingredients are so dearly purchased," I cackle, amused at her discomfort. "But I offer a guarantee: if it does not work, bring me the proof before it is a year old, and I will buy it as a refund."
Her coin is good. She snatches the vial, backing slowly towards the door. I can see it in the glint of wide eyes under the shadows of her hood, that she has realized the price she has paid is far dearer than mere silver.
"This... there must be a better way," she whispers.
"Oh there is, child of noble blood. But your priests have decided they no longer permit it."
"It's... *vile.*" She gagged, choking on her own entitlement.
"Isn't it? Don't worry, child," I smile ruthlessly at her, my hand going to my Academy seal, turning it so she could see. "It's perfectly 'safe'."
As nine remaining yearlings continue to shriek, as the smell of blood and death make her head swim, as she holds the solution to her problems in one hidden fist, she turns and flees like the Clutch of Gygax themselves hound her. I hear her gasping sobs as she runs, and sneer at her hypocrisy.
"It's just the cost of doing business," I spit.
The Vile Portal closes, and the sound of eight survivors no longer troubles the night. | 2022-05-25T10:57:44 | 2022-05-25T10:37:01 | 234 | 103 |
[WP] It's 2050. The Queen is still alive. People are starting to be suspicious. | No one questioned it when the national anthem became a mandatory part of the school day for children across the UK in 2020. It seemed like a positive act from parliament, designed to strengthen the bonds between the various cultures who call this island their home.
Five years later this act was extended, to enforce a national anthem break as part of the working day. When rushed through this amendment was initially met with skepticism, however the act did ensure that everyone would receive an extra 20 minute paid break each day. It seemed like a joke to most, 'an easy way to start the day' was the general consensus.
Twenty years later and we have an entire generation who are used to the daily routine, they don't know any different. They've been singing it once a day since their first day at school, this is the norm for them. There are many still alive for whom this hasn't always been the norm, infact they only used to take part for 'the memes'. To get the extra 20 minute paid break, pretend to sing along to the country wide broadcast. After all the anthem didn't last longer than 5 minutes, plenty of time to get outside for some deserved vapourised nicotine whilst also being renumerated.
Five years later and It's those who remebered the way it used to be, the fact that this was never meant to be more than a joke to them. They became suspicious, it didn't help that the queens health was appearing to improve compared to their own, despite her being over 60 years their senior now. So they stopped, refused to sing those words anymore, that's when the mandatory flu shot for those aged 50 or over was introduced. | "They're starting to figure out... We've been alive too long"
"Nonsense" The Queen spoke. "This is going just the way I wanted it to"
"Listen, we've both lived our grand lives. It's about time we went and lived one more humble. We could hide away in the mountains, or maybe in a small village in Asia. "
"Let's not get careless now. The world is within my grasp. While you've been out accruing 'popularity' for pretending to be some old harlet, I've been slowly manipulating the powers of each of the nations"
"That's not fair! I was once a kind old woman from the Midwest "
"Only because there was another old woman to take your place. "
"This is irrelevant! I demand that we go into hiding."
"After 120 years, I really expected more of you. Such a shame poor Betty was cut down in her prime." | 2022-10-29T10:31:46 | 2018-07-08T21:36:18 | 49 | 18 |
[WP] An alien nation descends upon earth. Their assault is... incredibly underwhelming.
Take "incredibly underwhelming" however you want.
Examples: They do nothing but inconvience you. They're so weak they get bullied by grade schoolers. Their laser technology doesn't even burn a hole in your woolen sweater as even sheep have surpassed them.
Whatever you like. | This was the fourth time they came. They had never succeeded; however, they never really seemed to try.
The first time they came, they brought what they considered fierce monsters. Cats, as they called them, did not attack as intended, rather they made a strong niche among the rising generations.
The second was a little less bearable. They came with laser pointers, hoping to stir up the cats. These quickly became a commodity used to entertain the cats and annoy teachers.
The third time, they showed themselves. At first people were alarmed, but then anyone who believed they were aliens were written off as conspirators and quickly forgotten about.
This time was different. Storm clouds rolled over my city, only these clouds were different. The clouds were nearly black and filled with fire. Once my city was covered in the cloud the ships came down. Swarms of them, they were like thousands of remote control airplanes.
If you looked closely, the swarms filed into patterns and turrets sprang out of all the ships. There wasn't anyone without dozens of these turrets pointed directly at them. The ships seemed to hover waiting for a command.
And then that was it. They all fired at once. And everyone was found buried in hundreds of foam darts not unlike Nerf darts. With this newfound ammunition, every child and many teenagers began to drive them off with the now unlimited ammo.
Before long they were gone, and what darts did not stick to their ships, were lost. I don't know about the others, but I cannot wait until they come back. | Not with a bang, but with a whimper
It has been thirteen years since the aliens invaded. Well I say invaded, they just parked a space ship in the ocean and sank a few ship. And they're not actually aliens they're just humans who somehow ended up in a distant galaxy a long time ago. They're kinda dickish about the whole "We mastered fusion power whilst you were burning cowshit for warmth thing" but other than that they're all right.
Sure do keep buying up a lot of land though. All the money that keeps flooding the economy and they seem to be the only ones getting richer.
According to the news they now own most of the purchasable land in New York, Chicago and London.The week before that Apple is now a subsidiary of E'Kath Tal-Morrel franchise. The week before that they purchased IBM, before that General Electric, and before that Monsanto. Freaking Monsanto.
Oh well, at least my supervisor's nice. | 2016-02-22T10:42:06 | 2016-02-22T08:33:57 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] The "violent videogames teach you how to use a gun" thing is true for you. Literally. Everything you learn in videogames, you can do in real life as well. You realize you have that power when you drink an energy drink after a bad injury and you find yourself completely healed. | “Did you get the stuff?”
Somber organ music filled the church, as grieving friends and relatives made their way up to the casket to pay their respects to my deceased best friend. Huddled in a quiet corner near the entrance to the church, my contact nodded, glancing around cautiously before taking a plain white pillow out of a bag and handing it to me.
“There you go. Joaquin Phoenix’s pillow. I don’t really understand why you wanted it though. Did he have some kind of connection to your friend, or - hey!”
Wordlessly, I pulled a knife from inside my suit jacket pocket, flicked it open, and cut a slit in the top of the pillow, my contact backing away slowly, alarmed, and making his way towards the exit, as the sound of ripping cloth attracted the attention of several mourners. Ignoring everything else happening around me, I tossed the knife onto the polished stone floor with a clatter and put my hand in the opening, a smile spreading across my face as I felt the unmistakable texture of goose feathers. “Thank god he doesn’t use synthetic fill in his pillows.” I murmured to myself, dashing up to the altar and roughly pushing aside several outraged members of her family. Taking a handful of the feathers I tossed them on the lifeless body of my friend, watching as they drifted lazily down onto her, sparkling for a moment before vanishing. There was a brief moment of silence, then my friend’s eyes flew open, and she sat bolt upright in the coffin to startled gasps and screams from the assembled mourners. A smile of relief broke out across my face as I watched her catch her breath, coughing slightly as color began to return to her features “Wha . . . Where am I? What’s happening?” She asked, confused, her eyes darting around the room wildly.
Rolling up the end of the pillow carefully, I breathed a sigh of relief, stepped closer and gave her a hug. “Hey, it’s all right, you’re fine now. You just needed a Phoenix Down.” | Harry found it strange, as he walked down the busy street he'd periodically see people in nothing but their underwear. They'd be carrying on as usual, reading a paper, nose in their phone, or sipping coffee. He looked across the street and saw a group of people waiting at the bus stop. Three of them were already in their underwear. He watched a man glance at his watch and shuffle his suitcase. His attention snapped to the woman standing just to the left of the man. She had been wearing a grey blazer and matching skirt when the jacket suddenly vanished, followed by the skirt and her blouse underneath. Harry furrowed his brow as he continued to stare. The woman had no reaction to her clothing suddenly vanishing. As he watched her, Harry noticed a man crouched down behind the woman. The man moved behind the last person wearing clothes at the bus stop, an elderly man with his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he read a book. Harry watched in shock as the elderly man turned around to face the crouching man. "What are you doing? Stop that!" The old man yelled out. Immediately the group turned to face the crouching man as he stood and begin to run away. Harry watched as they all began to chase the man, fists raised, their faces contorted in anger. "You like the sight of your own blood?!" The woman yelled out as she led the chase. | 2018-08-14T10:34:07 | 2018-08-14T08:22:35 | 173 | 91 |
[WP] You've survived near-death experiences your whole life prompting your family to joke that you have a guardian angel. You've never taken it seriously ,until today, when a man pushes you out of the way of a car you didn't see coming and says "Sorry about that, had to get more physical this time." | I stood, horrified, frozen in the street. Some part of me knew I should be running, diving out of the way, but as the car raced toward me, I felt rooted to the spot. I knew that this time, my luck had run out.
I had time to think, somehow. In the adrenaline rush, time slowed to a crawl. My luck...My Aunt Victoria called it my “guardian angel.” The light fixture that fell just *after* I got up from the dinner table when I was ten. The rattlesnake that struck my jeans instead of my leg when I got careless in the desert as a teenager. Even my birth, when I came out blue with two knots in the cord, but they got to me in time and I turned out healthy.
Now, though, this was it. The end.
As I thought this, someone slammed into me from the side. I was briefly conscious of something glowing and white; and then of the ground hitting my left shoulder while the massive weight of an entire person landed on my right; and the *whoosh* of the car racing past and the blare of its horn dopplering past me. The confused tangle of limbs on top of me resolved itself into a rather ordinary-looking gentleman in a slightly rumpled brown suit and hat. He stood up with some effort, offered me a hand to pull me to my feet, and brushed himself off.
“Sorry about that,” he said as we stepped up the curb to the sidewalk. “Had to get a bit more *physical* this time.”
A noncommittal “No apology necessary” died unsaid on my tongue. Instead, I said, “*This time?*” I was certain I had never seen this man before in my life.
“Well, yes,” he said. “It’s a bit embarrassing, you see, having to become corporeal and all. It’s much easier to redirect a snake than a careless driver.”
I frowned, thinking of people with delusions, and then thinking of the rattlesnake I had never told anyone except Aunt Victoria about. “What’s your name?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Don’t really have one. Never really needed one, actually.”
“Not being corporeal,” I said.
He smiled. “Speaking of,” he said. “I really need to get going.” He touched his hat and turned away.
“Wait!” I said. He stopped, looking back at me with a question on his face.
But I didn’t know what to say. Aunt Victoria might (or might not) have believed in guardian angels, but my parents certainly did not, and had raised me with a healthy skepticism. I felt myself teetering on the verge of an existential crisis.
“Oh, now, don’t do that,” the man said.
“But…”
“No, listen. You planning on hurting anyone?”
“Well, no…”
“Killing anyone?”
“Of course not!”
“Being anything other than the gentle soul I know you are?”
“I mean…”
“You’re fine, kid. Try to stay out of trouble. And when you get in over your head, well, that’s where I step in. But don’t worry about that too much. Don’t get careless just ‘cause you know I’m around, ‘cause then I won’t be, you understand? But don’t go worrying about The Big Picture, ‘cause that’s different for everyone anyway.”
I gaped at him. People flowed past us on the sidewalk. Cars moved by on the street. For a moment, though, time seemed to stand still around us as I tried to wrap my mind around his words.
He smiled at me, touched his hat again, and melted into the crowd. I stood on tiptoe, straining for a glimpse of a brown hat, but could not see his head among the throng. | "My name's Alistair. Pleasure to speak to you after all these years!"
"Wait, so yo-"
"Yep, I'm that guardian angel you've always been so cynical about."
"I guess I have a bit of egg on my face, then."
"Better an egg than that car, Jaime!"
"Are angels usually this snarky?"
"Ohhhhh yeah, you have to be, you know. Do you realize how much stupidity we deal with? For example, how many times did you try to stick that key in the outlet in your living room, Jaime?"
"Twice."
"Come on, don't lie to your angel now!"
"Five times."
"*Really*, Jaime?"
"Okay, a baker's dozen. Leave me alone, Alistair."
"Ah, sorry sorry, I know I shouldn't pick on you mortals, it's just so easy."
"So, what now? Can I like, do whatever I want and you'll protect me?"
"No, I can only prevent you from dying too soon, Jaime. But if you choose to do so, from stupidity or other means, then I have to let it happen."
"What do you mean by 'too soon,' exactly?"
"Well, I'll be the one to kill, of course!"
"*What?!*"
"This mortal world, it's all a finely woven fabric. Every thread weaves in and out of the places it's supposed to go. My job in this little analogy is to make sure your thread is fully integrated, and to snip it off before you ruin the tapestry. You're a nice strand of purple, Jaime!"
"This is a lot to swallow, Alistair, and I don't think I believe any of this. You could just be a crazy person."
"That happens to know how many times you stuck a key in an outlet?"
"...Valid, but I still don't have to believe it."
"Nobody's forcing you to, Jaime."
"It's just...why haven't you made yourself known sooner? I could have really used you in my life, and not only when I was about to die."
"But that wasn't my job, Jaime. I'm merely a thread too, you know."
"That seems needlessly cold. Why would your maker or owner or whoever you serve allow all of this. It doesn't make any sense."
"I guess he really likes quilts."
"Again with the snark. I've almost had it, Alistair; I'm right on the edge. Why are you telling me this anyway, if you're worried I'm going to 'ruin the tapestry?' Isn't all this knowledge going to destroy everything you've worked to save up until now?"
"Like I said, Jaime, I also have to be the one to kill you, and I've just been buying time. Here comes your bus, now, in fact!"
"What? *NO!* Take your hands off me! Don't throw me in-"
**Screeeeeeeeech** - ***THUD*** - **Crunch**
"Ali...stair..."
"Good bye, Jaime. You were a beautiful thread."
___________________________________
r/psalmsandstories for more stories by me, should you be interested. | 2019-08-07T22:09:41 | 2019-08-07T20:39:42 | 72 | 45 |
[WP] C'thulu's Fables: Take one of Aesop's Fables and write it within the Lovecraftian Universe. Morale of the story included.
For reference:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aesop%27s_Fables#List_of_some_fables_by_Aesop | **The Lion and the Mouse**
In a small town lived a young boy that everyone called Mouse. A clever boy, a bright boy, a pious boy&mdash;that was Mouse. One day Mouse was walking through the woods when he happened upon a strange lion sleeping under a tree.
The lion's skin was grey and ragged and its mane a mass of limp sea worms slick with slime. The lion's tail was segmented like a scorpion tail but it ended in a bundle of human heads, their faces stretched tight in silent screams.
Mouse watched the lion for a long moment. In the silence, he could hear the beast's breath as its chest rose and fell. In a moment of foolish bravery, Mouse reached forward and plucked a tuft of hair from the lion's back. The lion woke and looked upon Mouse.
The eyes of the lion were black as pitch and studded with the twinkling of stars in the night sky. As the lion and boy locked eyes, Mouse saw the vast emptiness of space. The sounds of the forest faded and Mouse heard a silence deep and still. The lion opened its jaws, revealing an infinite tunnel of sharp teeth receding down its throat. The lion spoke to Mouse.
The beast's alien words slithered through Mouse's mind, wiping clean the memories of his family: his beloved mother, his stern father, his little sister still in smallclothes. Mouse's head filled with memories of impossible landscapes and cities in which buildings stood in strange relation to each other.
"Please," begged Mouse, "I am puny and unworthy of your hunt. Let me free!"
The lion roared its approval, its hot and rancid breath melting the hair on Mouse's head and blinding him in one eye. Mouse fled, away from the lion, away from the woods, and away from all things known to man.
For forty days Mouse wandered the wilderness, half-blind and mad. He grew thin and gaunt as his teeth began to rot and his skin grew sores and warts. One night, as he lay gibbering under a dead oak, he heard again the roar of the lion. At once he followed the sound.
Mouse came upon the lion who had been ensnared by a wizard's trap. The lion's great claws were bound tight with ropes that sparkled and shimmered in the pale moon light. Hearing the lion's roar, Mouse fell upon the ropes, gnashing them with his remaining teeth. Mouse freed the lion just as the wizard appeared, returning to check on his trap.
The lion shed his fur and skin, sloughing them off like an old canvas bag, and the beast's true form emerged to fill the night sky, an impossibly massive shape that blotted out the familiar stars and replaced them with constellations alien to the eyes of Mouse.
Swirls of fog encircled the boy and the wizard as the black jaws of the beast descended from the heavens and devoured them both.
Mouse felt no pain as the beast chewed the life out of him, but he heard the agonizing screams of the wizard beside him.
*****
If you liked this, I have other stories at /r/hpcisco7965.
| **The Fox and the Grapes**
There once was a fox who came across some grapes hanging high on a vine. The fox, being very hungry indeed, leaped high to snatch the grapes. As the fox jumped, He Who Dwells Between grasped the space between the fox's teeth and bottom grapes and pulled with His twisted fingers, stretching the distance and preventing the fox from reaching his prize. The fox tried again, and again, thrusting upward with all of his strength, but each time He Who Dwells Between prevented a victory. Annoyed, the fox prepared to leave the grapes, remarking that they were not ripe. Immediately, the grapes fell to ground, bursting open and leaving a mass of squirming eyeless worms to writhe in the dust.
The fox carried on and came to a pond. Wishing to drink, the fox lowered his head and extended his tongue. He Who Dwells Between, crooning His dark joy from his space between all things, pulled the water and the fox apart. Again the fox dipped his head, and again He drew away the water. Flicking his tail in anger, the fox turned to leave the pond, saying aloud that he didn't want such fetid water anyway. The water bubbled and churned as a slimy tentacle uncoiled from the depths and reached, reached, *reached*, and tore the fox's tail from him.
Desperate for food, the injured fox slunk into a farmer's house. There on the kitchen table sat a large freshly baked fruit pie. At once the fox jumped on the table and began to tear at the pie, smacking his lips in delight. Soon the fox had filled his belly and he pulled back from the piece. But He Who Dwells Between reached out and took the space between the fox's mouth and his pie, collapsing them together. The fox struggled and fell to the floor, pushing at the pie with his paws and thrashing his head this way and that. The pie crumbled and mashed together into a mass of fruit jam and crust, and turned to slime and putrid muck in the fox's mouth.
And then He Who Dwells Between took the space between the fox's tongue and the pie.
And then He took the space between the fox's throat and the pie.
And then He took the space between the fox's lungs and the pie.
And then the fox was no more.
*****
If you liked this story, I have other stories (including horror stories) at /r/hpcisco7965.
| 2016-10-13T10:19:14 | 2016-10-13T09:33:14 | 50 | 28 |
[WP] Aliens take over the Earth. They then announce that they will be forcing the humans to work a "tyrannical" 4 hours a day 4 days a week in exchange for basic rights like housing. Needless to say they are very confused when the humans celebrate their new alien overlords. | "is it done, Private?" I asked the young one beside me.
"Yes, Captain. But... Something strange is happening... I'm not receiving any reported resistance" they said nervously.
"No resistance? But I was told this species is one of the most stubborn and violent ones in the galaxy. Dr. Halin reports that humans have benaphobia" I responded as I checked the comms for any objections to our takeover, only to confirm Private Ragñ's report.
"Benaphobia? You mean they're afraid of their own best interests?"
"At least according to Dr. Halin... I'll contact them immediately to look at this and review their findings. You should go home now, it's been almost 5 hours." I said gently as I dialed the Doctor's number.
"What about you, madam?" Asked Ragñ, worried.
"I'll be fine. I'll just take tomorrow off if I end up staying for too long. I consider this a possible emergency that requires the doctor's immediate attention, and possible field research. Both of which I can't allow a private to participate in."
They nodded and went home as I phoned the doctor.
"We've found some strange occurrences with these humans, and I'm concerned it could be an emergency. Please put together a field research team at once and meet me at Contact Ship 3E ASAP. I would like to personally volunteer as an armed escort for this mission."
- To be continued - | We were an advanced species, with technology beyond their understanding. Our weapons were powerful beyond their capabilities.
But they were built for war.
Our species had become weak and reliant on our technology. When they learned how to use it, we were not prepared.
First, they conquered the local overseers. Then they reverse-engineered our technology.
Our hubris still blinded us, and we sent but a few ships. By the time we realized our mistake, it was too late.
They were used to endless days of work and war. We were not. Even our most persistent attempts exceeded no more than 6 hours of work a day, while they hunted us, one by one. They now have interstellar technology and exterminate all other species they find. This primitive, bloodthirsty, biological horror.
What have we done? | 2022-11-03T03:36:06 | 2022-11-03T03:11:41 | 34 | 25 |
[WP] A top-secret division of the S.S., in charge of protecting Adolf Hitler from the thousands of time travelers trying to kill him. | "You have to know," He said, accepting the cigarette before leaning back in his chair. "You have to at least *suspect*, with so many of us." The man took a long, slow drag. Apparently, most people did not have access to tobacco during his particular piece of the timeline.
"Of course," Sturn agreed as the whiskey trickled into the second tumbler. He gave it a second to cool against the ice before sliding the glass across.
"So why? You don't seem like a...well..."
"Like a Nazi?" Sturn asked, then laughed, flicking the silver death's head on his collar with an immaculately manicured finger. Not that the dramatic gesture was needed, seated, as he was, in front of a ten-foot flag blazoned with the the black swastika of the Third Reich. "I will admit, it is different for every person. You have the True Believers, who reject the evidence of their eyes. Those who just want as much as they can get, for as long as they can get it; hedonists to a one. I even know a man--Obersk--for whom it is just a job, no different from working an office or on a farm. He collects a paycheck and he goes home."
"But you?" The visitor asked. He was immaculate, like most of the 'guests' were, with a face of Adonisian beauty, the body of an Olympic athlete, eyes blue as a mountain lake, and hair that might as well have been spun with gold. The future never seemed to realize that sending a propagandists' wet dream was not really the best way to make them blend in inconspicuously.
"Me? Me, I think," Sturn said after a sip of the whiskey, lightning his own cigarette and taking a slow, savoring pull. "I think and I consider and I wonder. Why do you send so many? What would possess men to wager their lives in such profusion, dedicating the extravagant resources that such an undertaking must entail, as if they were slaying a demon instead of a man."
The visitor remained quiet, sipping on his own drink, which surprised Sturn a little. At this point, most of them would go off into a diatribe about just what Hitler and the Nazis would come to mean in the decades and centuries of the future. He had compiled notes and compared them with the few other guardians who asked questions before pulling the trigger. Together, they had a pretty clear roadmap of the future.
"In the end, we are but a monstrous footnote. America and the Soviets will define our century and the corpse of my home is one of their battlefields...but we bring an important lessons. A lesson that cannot be taught any other way: Evil."
"Oh?" The visitor asked. He seemed surprised.
"We will define evil for generations to come. We will give them an idea of what the human animal is capable of. I know some of your future: you will stumble, you will fall. There will be disgrace and atrocity still. But you will also know that these things are *wrong*, because of us. I wish it could be other than it is, but I think it will be important."
Sturn wasn't sure if the visitor agreed with him or even understood what he was trying to say, there at the end. But a drop or two of sweet release in the man's whiskey was so much more gentlemanly than a bullet. He stood, draining the last swallow of his own, untampered drink before heading for the door. It was a busy job and he did not have time to dally. | "Zis tiem travelleurs!" laughs Oberst Henckel von Krantfindeneinbludinaam, pointing at the latest. "Ven veel zey evah lern?! Zat tiem douß not wehk zat vey?!"
"Ich douß nicht know, Oberst Krantfindenbludinaam!" laughs Leutnant Klaus Einmoarkrautnaam. "Die alvez kommen allesder tiem!"
The two soldiers laugh raucously.
"Kawzwalitee shuld nicht iben allow zem tu comm! But ze oonivars ist funnie, no?"
"Ja! Das ist soo funnie, the oonivarhs!"
"Eef zey feuer bullet, eet seemplie **bounce off** ze Führer! He kannot be keeled zat way! Alles of them are of ze eediot-speecees! Der zeit-travelling Üntermensch!"
More laughter.
"Beste vas zat eenfiror Jude who appears zat day vee arr keeling ze unscwstors, but *Ach!* Herr Jude ist arrihve ***tu meenitz tu late!***"
Bellies are positively bursting right now.
"Ze facht zat zere arr *zooh* mennie tiem travelleuhrs komming back in tiem minz zat vee shall rise from ze presshur and veen ze Var!"
Hum-hum, lots of humming goes all around.
"Ja, ja, eet must be truh!"
But suddenly....!
###BANG!
The two SS officers burst into Herr Hitler's room, guns at the ready, only to find the Führer on the ground, hole in his head, smoking.
"Ach Gott!" cries Oberst Krantfindenbludinaam. "Die Führer has kommitment sueecyde!"
Behind the two men, the air shimmers, and out pops a tall, but slightly wonky-looking man. "No, no, no!" he yells, throwing up his arms. "That can't be it!"
"**Was ist das?!**" ask the officers, in unision, whirling around.
"Sorry boys!" says the man. "I just wanted to see what it really looked like in real life. Pretty disappointing, really. Don't worry, I'll make it all nice an epic for my masterpiece!"
"Who arr yiu?!" asks Einmoarkrautnaam.
"Here, have this instead!" says the man. "Spread the word through the ages! I'm off to rewrite history!"
And just like that, the man is gone, in a shimmering of light.
"Was ist das?!" asks Krantfindenbludinaam, looking in horror at the piece of paper the man's left behind.
Einmoarkrautnaam turns it over in his hands. On the other side, are two words.
They are:
##INGLORIOUS BASTERDS | 2014-07-01T08:13:49 | 2014-07-01T06:35:21 | 86 | 60 |
[WP] You join the military, you are placed in the gardeners program. You garden in exotic places where the military has done operations, each time they give special glasses and forbid spraying others. One day your glasses fall off and you see you are actually burning corpses with a flamethrower. | Burnt bodies strewn all around me. Bodies, heaps and heaps of them. The mulch and grass I thought I had been stepping on formed into someone's burnt liver, my other foot resting on what I could only hope was not a snake (based on the dried blood around it, I guessed it was not.) My stomach heaved as I hurled onto the floor, the smell just hitting me. It wasn't only the smell. The images. Crows pecking out the demented eyes of the dead. Crows. Black. White slimy maggots writhing inside the bodies I stepped on, feeding and feeding. They would grow and choose the darkness inside the bodies to pupate before becoming flies and spreading their lifeline else where among the corpses I had been charged to clean. I was the government's bitch, and understanding this, I knew it was only time before they put me down like every owner puts down their dying dog. Maniacal laughter filled the air as I cackled, with the images flickering inside my mind of my very body joining those who defied our government. There was only one way to escape them. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. You have it there, in your hand. The very tool they used to clean up their mess, they will use on you too. You know this. Why not do it yourself? We're all feeding grounds for the crows and maggots anyway. Black and white. Yin and Yang. We all end up in their cycle. May as well make it our own choice. Burn. Burn. Burn. Burn. Burn. Suffer like they did and fall to the ground, let the others around you notice your choice and question everything around them. Let your cracked lips form a smile, and let them understand the world is not what it seems. We are all feeding grounds, and I no longer want to be the one cleaning. | "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Lieutenant Aldo Raine was my CO, everything in the company was his territory.
"Sir, I have the upmost respect for you, this battalion, and our great country. It's just that I don't feel comfortable devoting my life to a military that broke my one golden rule. Never deceive me."
"Well I suppose I can't blame you, Specialist. But this ends here. I'm afraid I have to report you to the MP's."
"They'll kill both of us, you do know that?"
"I do. But I swore an oath, Specialist Donnowitz, and I intend to keep it."
"I respect your sense of justice, sir, but with all due respect you haven't worn the glasses. Here, tell me how important your oath is after wearing these."
Donnowitz tossed his pair of specialized eye pro issued to him by the military to a reluctant Aldo Raine.
"...."
"Understand now?"
Lieutenant Aldo Raine could not hear the specialist. The only thing he could focus on was his former deceased brother in arms, Private Hans Landa, standing before him, mocking him with his clenched teeth.
| 2017-06-20T01:15:12 | 2017-06-20T00:31:30 | 34 | 17 |
[WP] When the Statue of Liberty was sent to America from France, the box was labeled "some assembly required." In well over a century, no one ever noticed the other label that said "batteries not included." Until today, that is. | "Dude is that… the Statue of Liberty attacking the city like God-damned Godzilla?"
"Don't say God-damned Godzilla."
"Why not?"
"Because GOD-damn-GODzilla. Sounds weird. God-god."
"Can we focus?"
"Why are you so worried? You're sweating. Your eyes are wide."
"Jesus Christ the Redeemer just joined the Statue of Liberty and is throwing cars at buildings and people at other
people. I think we should leave the building."
Jim stretched his head to peek over the rim of the window. "No kidding, look at that. How d'you reckon he made it
all the way here from Brazil?"
"I don't think that's important, Jim."
"Well, frankly, I'm a bit curious. It's a long way from Brazil, and –"
"They're heading this way."
"—I for one would like to know if he walked, flew or if he has some sort of Christmobile we should all be aware of."
"It looks like Jesus Christ is now using the Eiffel Tower as some sort of –"
"Then again, it's possible he walked on the ocean, right? Isn't that his thing?"
"Yes, Jesus Christ the Redeemer is using the Eiffel Tower as a weapon. It appears that the Eiffel Tower is, in fact, a giant rocket launcher of sorts."
"Though even if he walked on water, it's still a long walk from Brazil to here."
"We really should get out of the building."
"What? No, come on, I just rented Godzilla on Amazon."
"Why did you do that?"
"Well, you brought it up, I felt like watching it. I paid already, I'm not wasting –"
"Dude, seriously, all the modern wonders of the world are out the window right now destroying the city. We need
to evacuate."
"Hey, Bryan Cranston! I didn't know he was in this."
"I think I see dinosaurs too."
"DINOSAURS!? BY GOD IT CANNOT BE!"
'No, I was lying. But seriously, that's where you draw the line of what to believe in?"
"Ah, no internet. Crap."
"Well, I should think so, the Sphinx is chewing on cables just by the Statue of Liberty's feet."
"You know what? I think I have the 1998 version on DVD somewhere."
"Dude, I'm out. Fuck this."
Henry grabbed his stuff, and Jim watched as he made way to the door and then out to the corridor and then
disappeared down the stairs in hurried steps.
A few seconds later Henry's figure emerged out the window, wrapped in the gigantic hand of the Statue of Liberty.
The statue waved him around a couple of times, then bit his head off and spit it against the back of Jesus Christ
the Redeemer.
Jim vowed to never buy magic mushrooms online ever again and then fell asleep on the couch during the first ten minutes of Godzilla, unaware of the fact that he had been duped by the website guy and the mushrooms he consumed were really only Portobello mushrooms and, you know, all that insanity out the window was really happening.
____
/r/psycho_alpaca
| It was a day like any other, kids were in schools, adults at their jobs, the elderly silently judging on park benches in Central Park. We, the citizens, had no idea what was going to take place on that fateful day. That in a few hours most of the city would be in ruin.
It crept down through word of mouth that the government was at fault. They never fully screened the possibilities of what would happen, but that's the US government right? Apparently they realized Ol' Lady Liberty was designed to be hooked up to some... power source. They didn't even bother contacting the French to ask the meaning, they simply grabbed a fuel cell from a power plant a few counties over.
Il never forget that moment, standing across the bay listening to the water lap up on the shore. The sounds of the seagulls flying over head, the bustling city behind me. Funny isn't it? in that moment with everything going around, I can almost remember an eerie silence permeating the air.
There were government trucks out on Liberty island moving something, i didn't know what at the time it was tarped, into the statue. "Probably just some repair equipment" I thought. Funny isn't it? How we can be so ignorant of terrible events to come, you truly never see anything coming.
It was only a few minutes after they wheeled in the object that I noticed something funny, it looked like a glint had appeared in the statues eyes. The kind you see when someone reaches an understanding, or maybe the kind that lets you know someone's "there".
At this point I started to think I was going mad, not just questioning a small detail, but I simply could not comprehend that what I was seeing was real. Funny isn't it? That when it is most important to analyze a situation our brains seem to shut down. But what i saw before me no one could have made any sense of. The statue was... moving.
I was frozen in disbelief, the world was spinning out of control. Thank god at this point my legs took over and I fled just as the statue was stepping into the harbor. I fled into the subway system, something told me the ground nor anything above was safe anymore. Their were maybe 20 of us, huddled together while sirens above wailed and the sounds of buildings collapsing boomed through the tunnels.
After the past 70 years, it turns out France is the most war hungry nation of all... Funny isn't it?
Edit: im new at this so take it easy | 2017-02-23T15:02:19 | 2017-02-23T14:38:56 | 325 | 138 |
[WP] Vampires have risen up, to take over the world, and to usher in an eco-revolution. Not because they're power-hungry, or care about the Earth; they're just sick of feeding microplastic-riddled blood. | A white porcelain bowl explodes against the wall. A thousand bloodstained pieces hurled in every direction.
Pavel looks back across the room at Alexander. Alexander, enraged, his body heaving up and down as his scowl grows deeper with each passing second.
Alexander looks at his meal, slowly dripping down the wall. "What can we count on these damned humans for?! he venomously spits out. "Wouldn't you think that the one thing they would have is an interest of fucking self-preservation!"
Pavel tries to reassure his master. "I can find another subject for-"
Alexander waves a hand at him and Pavel falls immediately silent. "What is the point?" Alexander begins. "If I have to endure another tainted lamb I will have to start breeding the creatures for slaughter myself." Alexander clenches his jaw; the contaminated blood in his fangs pronounced. Yet, he breathes and reminds himself to show resolve in front of his underling. "Sit, Pavel"
Pavel walks over and takes a seat next to his lord. He waits expectantly for Alexander to begin speaking.
"How many soldiers are currently in our Order?" Alexander begins.
"Somewhere around seven thousand, Master" Pavel replies.
Alexander nods, his hands folded in front of his face, brow furled in thought. His head turns and his eyes bore into Pavel's. He stands, towering over him.
"Compile a list of the twenty largest ports in the country, and report back to me immediately. I'll have to save the damned cur from themselves. Now, go!" | A quote from high lord dracule
" honestly for a long time we were trying our best to push for unleaded. It made some of us go mad and others stupid. But if the alternative is the taste of caran wrap covered in the smell of burnt tires then id rather chug chyrnobyls reactor coolent. So we all voted and we all agreed. It was time to come out of the shadows... metaphoricly. We still kinda burn in direct sunlight. But i digress. The new order of durability and tyranical anti littering campaigns has only begun.
First things first?
WELL we vapieres are going to... TALK. With the bigger componies around. And you.
Ocean. Clean it... what are you standing there for? GO GO GO!" | 2022-09-23T10:05:28 | 2022-09-23T05:51:31 | 250 | 83 |
[WP] In the distant future, an alien scientist has almost fully deciphered the messages found on the Voyager Spacecraft. With growing horror, the scientist realizes the crafts home system, and begins to pray. | Flying along in the dangerous Quadrant X-7 was a small reconnaissance craft, home to a few hundred Nebulins, a species that while rather stupid, are very efficient at producing offspring, and due to their small size, use up few resources.
"Captain Zarquan to Division A." Division A was responsible for waste management, that is, they were very good at finding and managing with other species' waste.
"We seen to have a unidentified object at position 45.73, 86.20. Zarquan out."
Terry squinted his bug eyes into the blackness. "OK Zarquan, can we shoot it?"
Zarquan giggled. "Shoot it? You shot the last one! You know what to do! Zarquan out!" He pulled his cape past his face in a dramatic exit.
"Stupid Zarquan and his cape" grumbled Terry as he sent out the recovery bots to pick up the unidentified object. As the bots were returning, Terry got a good look at the object. It was another spacecraft! The odds of finding a craft simply floating in space were... Well, Terry wasn't really quite sure of the odds, but he knew they weren't good. The odds were even less that... No it couldn't be!
"Zarquan, Zarquan!" Terry called.
"I said Zarquan out! And I even pulled my cape across my face! Did I not pull my cape across my face?"
"Zarquan, that object was a ship! A human ship!"
"Human? Ship?" Zarquan pictured the fleshy creatures mashed and molded into a spaceship. "Does it stink?"
Terry sniffed the air "No, but it does smell a little metallic."
This threw Zarquan off. "Well put it through the scanner, I guess."
Zarquan was puzzling over how a fleshy creature like a human could be turned into a space ship when the scanner beeped twice, with a slight interval between the beeps.
"It's an original!" Terry clamored. "We're all rich!"
A hissing sounds came from the airlock in Terry's scanning room. A curious look passed over his face.
"No, I'm going to be rich," Zarquan said, and pulled his cape over his face.
Edit: spacing | A few disclaimers, this is my first response to a post and I am writing on mobile so sorry if the editing is weird.
I had grown used to the silence of the universe. I spent my time hiding from my civilization, traveling from galaxy to galaxy in a never ending patrol. During the war, my people called me a hero, an unstoppable force of justice, but they forgot their adoration quickly
They saw the reports of carnage and destruction. Yet all the people cared for was blood, and I skillfully gave them what they wanted. When we destroyed the last outpost of corruption, the people of my nation celebrated.
Slowly their adoration turned to distrust and paranoia. News circulated that I showed no mercy, and that I ignored calls for surrender.
Videos began surfacing of my tactics during the war. The people once again wanted blood, this time it was my own.
They did not realize that I did what I did to protect them. All I cared about was their safety. I knew to save them I would have to decimate the corruption.
I am their savior and purifier. I would do anything to protect them, and I have. To protect them I had to leave them.
I travelled the galaxy, ever vigilant, determined to protect my people should the need arise. I an age in search of a danger that did not seem to be there.
The danger arrived in a quiet way. A small ship drifted into the corner of my scanners. I hailed it in all frequencies of my people with no response.
After my many years of patrolling I found more corruption in the universe. | 2014-11-09T00:37:30 | 2014-11-09T00:24:27 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] Write the most elaborate, over-dramatic, and exciting story you can think of that all just turns out to be a set-up for a pun so horrible I'll want to punch you
It actually doesn't have to be dramatic or exciting or anything similar, just make sure it's elaborate so the final pun delivery is a gut-wrenching blow | It was Tuesday morning. God I hate Tuesdays.
You see, when you work in the sawmill of a small town, logs shipment usually comes in on Wednesdays. That keeps us busy for three days, sometime four, but Tuesdays are always dead.
This means that on Tuesdays, I have to listen to Tom, Jim and Preston talk about their meaningless fantasy football league ALL day. However, this particular Tuesday was going to be even worst.
You see, when you work in the sawmill of a small town, security measures aren't always 'by the book'. This means that accidents happen occasionally, sometime frequently, and Monday's accident was a pretty nasty one.
Grabbing a coffee in the office's kitchen should be a pretty simple task, except when Tom, Jim and Preston are there. And since it was Tuesday morning, they we're obviously there, ready to chat.
''Did you hear about Gerry?! His arm got stuck in the big WM yesterday, his whole left arm was chopped by the saw!''
''Yes Tom, I was there.''
''It wasn't just his arm, they say his leg got caught up as well!''
''Yes Jim, I was there.''
''He should of just stopped moving, I heard part of his face was ripped when he tried to pull himself out!''
''Yes Preston, I was there.''
As if my favorite trio wasn't enough, this dude from accounting felt the need to visit our shop this morning to discuss the accident.
''Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off yesterday?!''
''Yes, he's all right now.''
| Every morning I wake up and go down the stairs and trip over my son’s wrestling toys. For some reason he plays with them right at the bottom of the stairs and keeps them there. We bought him the special ring and playsets and everything, but he continues to play at the bottom of the stairs.
He has all the classic wrestlers, from Hulk Hogan to the Undertaker to Kane. He loves them. Sometimes he even runs around the house in his underwear. One time I had to keep him from suplexing the cat.
Finally one day I asked him why he had to play at the bottom of the stairs, when he had whole rooms. He could play on the couch or outside or on his bed. He could make even bigger jumps from the top rope. Not just the bottom stair.
He said “It’s one small step for man, but one giant leap for Mankind.”
| 2015-01-13T10:39:25 | 2015-01-13T10:12:18 | 188 | 20 |
[WP] You lose a dare at an airport and are forced to ask an employee for a ticket to the farthest destination. To your surprise, they quietly nod and give you a single ticket with letters you don't recognize.
EDIT: Holy *crap* this blew up. I want to thank everyone for their stories and input, and also would like to shout out the one dude who took their time to give me Reddit silver. Thanks for my first award! | AT25.
It was a very strange airport code. I had never seen a 4 digit airport code before and certainly not one with numbers. I turned back to the desk attendant confused.
"Umm which country is this airport in again?"
"None of them," she answered as though it should have been obvious. "And don't forget your jacket. It'll be cold this time of year." She added almost as an afterthought. This had originally been a dare, but now I was curious. Just where was this ticket going to take me?
The flight departed from Anchorage at 11 AM. I was the only passenger on the flight and the plane was very old. It was some sort of 4 engine propeller plane. It was extremely cold in the plane and the only refreshments were a couple of sandwiches and some water bottles. After about 20 hours we stopped at a small airfield. The pilot said that he needed to refuel the plane or something like that.
We were soon back in the air. It was unbelievably boring. The only other passenger was a pallet of cargo. The writing on the pallet was in Japanese, so I had no idea where we were going.
After another 20 hours we finally landed. It had been almost two days since I left Anchorage.
"We've now arrive in Syowa, Antarctica. I hope you enjoyed our 11,850 mile trip."
I had originally planned on going to Florida. I was so fucked. | You look up at the map behind the atendants head. Lota of obvious counties with well known abbreviations. CA, Canada. AUS, been there once actually, that's Australia. There are others you could guess at. Sweden would maybe be like....SWD. Italy maybe an ITL. So you start to narrow it down.
Nigeria....nope. Couldn't be.
Nepal? Never been there. But it doesn't meet the requirements.
Nicaragua. Sounds sufficiently exotic but again, just doesn't fit.
You check the ticket again. Look at the map. Quadruple check the ticket.
NZ.
What could it be? Where?
You shrug and give the atendant a nod. Guess you will find out. | 2019-03-04T22:30:27 | 2019-03-04T21:58:08 | 77 | 45 |
[WP] An ancient evil that laid dormant for 5,000 years re-awakens, however the society it awakes to has advanced to the point to where it poses no threat and no one takes it seriously. | When the red bones appeared and burned through the ganges delta, it convinced many that their ancient gods had forsaken the world, casting them off to be consumed by death and ruin. Villages, and then cities were burned to the ground trying to stem the tide, but the disease only seemed to spread with chaos following in its wake.
Temples overflowed with the dead and dying, bloated in the heat. A sickening miasma followed the swarms of flies that picked the dead clean. The skeletal remains, left unburied as no one dared enter those houses of the dead, gave the disease its name. Red skulls and bones littered the floors and doorways. The living said they’d been burned that color by the demons who possessed the sick with a terrible fever.
It’s victims blamed rats that swarmed their granaries as the carriers of the plague, unaware that the true culprit was the grain. Or more specifically a virulent strain of Bacillus cereus. Though mechanisms impossible for those ancient people to understand, it could escape the gut to the blood stream. Sepsis was nearly always fatal. The stained red bones were the result of toxic build up as the infection progressed.
Pain, hallucination, intense fever, and death followed ingestion of the region's primary food stock in short order. For ninety percent of the population it was the end.
For the survivors, it was a cyclone that brought doom. Heavy rains and flooding annihilated the last vestiges of early civilization, burying the remainder of the infected grain under mud flows, or washing it out to sea to rot. Civilization could not be said to have recovered for the next two centuries.
For 5,000 years that ancient plague lay dormant in forgotten pots lost beneath the earth. The delta advanced into the sea leaving the ancient fields buried miles inland.
So it would have remained, but modern civilization churns the land, shaping it to its own devices. One such event, construction at the edge of Dhaka, unwittingly smashed an ancient pot, breaking the ancient seal. Bacillus cereus was free.
Water, warmth and time were all it took. Nature took its course. Tainted grains once more grew on the delta. People once more consumed it, unaware of the danger. The first cases appeared only weeks after the first harvest.
The response was swift and simple: “This is penicillin. Take one pill every four hours for the next week.”
| All told, Vritra had a very successful 5,000 odd years. He had taken a break from the world just as the Indus Valley civilisations collapsed and he deserved it. Few humans knew who he was, but there they were, continuing to speculate, wonder and theorise why the Indus Valley collapsed. And some of them were right: weather. Vritra was he who controlled the rain, he who flooded the plains, he who decided the fate of men. But Vritra took a break, helping a civilisation, an advanced one nonetheless, collapse, was no easy feat. He decided to tour the world and bring his gifts with him. A holiday, he believed, would help his creativity flow and help him end another civilisation. So there he was, raining terror over the Mesopotamia, over-flooding the Yangtze. He even had a part to play in the Black Death, [believe] (http://www.popsci.com/warmer-weather-asia-meant-black-death-europe-15-years-later) it or not. Yet his heart and soul ached for the chaos and fear he caused, for the sole purpose of his existence, the reason why Shiva created him.
So there he went, to the heart of civilisation in 2017: Washington D.C.. There he went to stir fear into the heart of men and drive them to their deserved ends. But Vritra never touched the heart of men during his journey. He saw suffering, he saw pain but he never talked to men since his days in 3000 B.C. and he would regret that.
For when he spoke to a nice lady in Washington D.C., the statement she made would shock him to the very core. "Climate change? Pah! That's not real!" | 2017-04-03T16:13:45 | 2017-04-03T10:49:54 | 68 | 24 |
[WP] You are a superhero with shapeshifting powers. You don't fight crime. You cover for other superheroes when they need to sneak out to save the day. | Ender Trailborn, Jason Hellsmith, Echo Morgan, Matthew Gearson, Rachel Kovacs, Elizabeth Howards, and Fredrick Henderson. These are only a few of the acts I portray. Each one with their own memories, their own secrets, their own relationships and lack thereof. I play each of them at least twice a week. Of course, they aren't truly characters that I have made up, they are real people.
You see, my name is Winter Zephyr, but most out there know me simply as Omnis. That is all they are allowed to know.
I keep secrets from the masters of keeping secrets. Each day, I see one of them walking down the street, and they pass me without a glance. They don't know who I am, but I know who they are, I know who all of them are. They trust me, to a degree, to keep their identity and convince those they love that they are not who they really are.
And, who am I to blame them. I haven't worn my original form since I was about 5 years old and I take on a new one every day. In all my years, I have never broken character. When I take on a form, I take on their life, I do not look like them, I am them. This is something most do not understand about me, but I do not expect them to.
Then, one faithful and terrible day, someone found out that I was not really who I was.
*Line Break*
Waking up with a headache is unexpected and I am immediately on edge. I have never allowed myself to fall to the temptation of alcohol or drugs, and I am not a frequent victim of headaches or migraines. But, my head is currently throbbing as if the armies of Xeros are at my doors. A single thought has the nerves calmed, and I am able to open my eyes.
I am in a cell, a very well crafted cell from the looks of it, made to hold Supervillains and Superheroes alike. The walls are dark grey, and I know immediately that they have surrounded me with titanium, lead, and good old iron. Able to stop most strength dependant heroes, telepathy, and even matter shifters. An electrical sound warns me of the teleporter cage around the cell, a very smart move as it also deters speedsters. It is not military-grade, the military does not have this kind of technology and intelligence.
Blood dribbling down the back of my head makes me aware of the cut and bruise already forming there. Another thought and the cut heals itself and the bruise retreats. I search my memory for what has happened to me and find it immediately.
I was, and am still currently, in the form of Zackariah Wolf, a very intelligent man with the ability to speak with animals and take on their abilities. His alias is Shadow Beast, a very cliche name, but he is a wonderful hero.
He had to go off and fight with an arch-nemesis of his, leaving me to deal with his male spouse, female best friend, and his parents who lived very close to him. It was both easy and hard to take on such a role, I myself prefer a male form with an attraction to the same gender, but I have never had the blessing of loving parents. Also, it always seems that females are the most suspicious and observative of the genders.
Anyway, I had been helping Zackariah's spouse through a fight with his father when the best friend had come into play. I was sure of myself and tried to juggle them just as Zackariah would do, and then fail to pay attention to the friend as he would also do. It would seem I had done too well of a job juggling them and had failed to fail, which is rather impressive I would like to think. I had been paying so much attention to the best friend that the spouse had become suspicious and eventually knocked me over the head with what would seem to be a trophy of some sort.
Standing up, I had enough time to notice the false wall on the far side of the room, the cot to the right adjacent wall, the toilet behind me, and the slot for receiving and exporting items on the left adjacent wall, before a voice spoke throughout the room. Behind the slight static and the spouse's voice, I could clearly hear the sound of several people shifting and moving as if they were uncomfortable.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Zack?" The spouse, Dante, spoke. His voice was tinted with rage and worry, torn between hating me and despairing for his lover.
I ignored his question, too busy trying to figure out which super-team had taken me hostage. It was clearly none of the vigilante level ones or the lone wolf ones, it was a wealthy hero with at least 5 people on their team. All in all, that created a list of three heroes capable of kidnapping me. Friends and wealth didn't go hand in hand with heroes very often.
Black Sash had several people on her team, but she would definitely not have allowed Dante to speak first. She is paranoid and smart, a dangerous combination, and would have been the first to speak to me in order to see if I was too dangerous to be allowed to speak to her teammates.
TeatherLight was also a very paranoid one, but he would rather sit back and watch my facial movements than listen to my words. He was a quiet man, believing the listening was far superior to speaking. But, at the same time, he did not do well with other men after being abused by his father as a young child. He saw other men as either enemies to be overcome or the victims of others. Dante, being a tall and broader man, would have been seen as an enemy and would never be allowed on the team.
Finally, Green Feather, otherwise known as Clara Deartoll, a woman with a rather spectacular pair of dark green wings, my favorite color. She did have heightened senses and durability along with super-strength, but she would rather rely on weapons or technology than her fists. As such, she surrounded herself with other intelligent men and women, of which, both Dante and Zackariah's best friend fit. They do say that geniuses often come together, after all.
"Tell Clara that I am Omnis, and am willing to prove it in front of her and only her," I say in response to the silence left after Dante's words, still in the form of Zackariah.
There is no response after my words, but after a few minutes and most likely an argument, Clara Deertoll, in her Green Feather outfit, opens a hidden door just to the left of the cot. She looks surprised, worried, unbelieving, and astonished all at the same time. She can't believe that someone managed to catch me out of character, and that she may be finally seeing my real face.
Before she can even get a word out, my form shifts into an exact replicate of hers. My dark brown hair turns blonde and shortens, my grey eyes slowly drain away to leave behind vertically slit yellow bird eyes. I shrink an inch in height, and my chest develops breast the same way the hair leaves most of my body and my private parts shift.
I raise my left arm, pulling down the long-sleeved shirt and reveal a scar that runs all the way across the wrist. It looks gruesome and healed badly, maybe infected at one time. She flinches, but her eyes remain locked onto mine. Then, I simply say a name.
*Aaron Brown*
Her eyes dart downwards and she turns around and leaves. The door stays wide open and I can see bewildered and confused people beyond it, Dante being one of them.
I secure my identity not with paper, not with codes or passwords, not with my own identity or those of others, but with the secrets I am told in order to do my job.
I am... *The Master of Secrets*. | "This is insane." I protested as I pulled the suits... speedo? out of my now overly sculpted buttocks. "This isn't what I do. This isn't covered in our agreements." I felt a bead of sweat forming beneath my now full flowing hair. It felt wrong for more reasons than I could count, but mostly because Chris never sweat. I had never seen him, and being him I had enough of his memory to know vaguely recall the three times he had done it himself. He certainly wasn't now, staring at me coolly with my own face. No, his face, I'm wearing his... that is a major reason I don't like conversing with people while I'm them. I get enough of an impression that I'm looking in a funhouse mirror, but I can't figure out what's warped.
"Well, there are things covered in the agreements with which I am also not completely comfortable. So, we are going to be ending this here tonight. You are going to do this for me, and I am going to pay you so much that you won't ever have to shadow again. Tonight will go like a breeze, and by tomorrow, we'll have Mentis wipe you clean of all of this." Chris' voice was calm and even with a smile somewhere between a precocious schoolboy and a billionaire pedophile. I really didn't want to guess which one was closer to the truth in just this moment.
"You don't know that. Tomorrow is a nice enough promise when I might not make it through tonight. Have you thought of how you are gonna handle that? If I go and die while on the nine o clock news?"
"Eh, you ain't gonna die, man." Mycelial Mike drawled in slowly. "You gonna have his powers, man. Not all of it, but, hey, 89% of the Uber is still about 10,000% everybody else." Mike smiled gently beneath half-lidded eyes. "'Sides, I'll be vibin' your sync, man. Anythin' goes sideways, we'll have Wormy pull you'se back 'ere. No, troubles, man."
Trouble, no trouble, no.... this was all trouble, and it all started with that damn UberDaddysGirl69. You'd think an Instagram handle like that would be red flag for Chris, but no *I'm just really popular*. His own words pop into my own head which is a sign that he's used this excuse enough for it to be automatic. Sometimes, I hate my power. They called me Imprint before I went full shadow. It was because of the mental impressions I copied from peoples' minds that I got when I took their shapes. It meant I didn't need to study weeks of paperwork to properly replace somebody. Instead, it's like I've got a tattoo of the cliff notes on their very selves behind my eyelids. That's why I know that Uber is a much older man than he seems, that Chris Kenten isn't the first and probably won't be the last alias he'll use, that he misses his first wife and second both deceased wives, and that is why he picked up a twenty-three your old Instagram model working on her sixth year of a fitness medicine degree. I can't say that I blame him. Must be tough pushing past a hundred but barely looking like he might hit forty in a few years. Not even that if it weren't for the grey at his temples. Of course, that look is popular now that Uber has it, which leas us to our current problem.
Lacey has a thing for the Uber. I mean I'm sure many girls do, and so, it's natural that they might be attracted to Chris Kenten because not many people look as much like the man as his own damn self. It actually made being his shadow pretty easy at first. Once I was around enough for her to believe that Chris wasn't him, Lacey barely noticed me. When Uber had to go fly, it gets thrown on every screen in the city. I would slide in, and listen to her gush all over Uber, talking about how much of a hero he was. I would just be on auto-pilot because Chris had a whole thesaurus of inconspicuous opinions to spout about himself. That was until that Thursday.
\*\*\*
I remember Chris getting suspicious when I brought Brick in for the debriefing which I hadn't done before, but he was the only person strong enough to actually restrain Uber so he was the only choice. Of course, I had to get to agree to let Mentis wipe him after the meeting, and that cost me more whiskey than I believed even a super could survive. Of course, it didn't help much because as soon as Chris yelled, "You did WHAT?!" The force of his 'what' was enough to slam back into the wall.
I had to explain, "Look, this is bad for me too." I tried to gasp between breaths. "I am required to do everything you would do as much as possible, and sometimes that means sex."
"And what made you so sure that is what I would have done?" Chris asked the question slowly as his fist slowly clenched. I saw Brick tense his dense, rocky body, but the sight only reminded me of the time Uber had punched an asteroid so hard, he deflected it into the sun.
"She was wearing that dress," I said in an inflection that I knew he understood.
"How did you know about the dress?" his words were deadly slow.
"I didn't," I answered honestly. "Not until, I knew, you know? As soon as I saw it, I recognized what it meant. At least enough to know, that ignoring it would raise flags for her."
Uber nodded slowly, relaxing a bit. "You couldn't get her to wait?"
"No." I took a breath finding the words hard to get out. "She was trying to get you, I mean me, while watching what was on TV."
"What? That makes no sense, she barely watches anything on television." His tone was suspicious and starting to get heated again. Gods, did he have heat breath, I don't even remember.
Anyways, his shock surprised me. "What are you talking about, she's always watching either the TV, or livestreams on her phone. I barely see her do anything else."
My answer brought more puzzlement than anger to Chris' expression. "What do you mean? What is she watching?"
I sighed, and blurted it out as fast as I could. "You! Chris! She watches you! The reason we're in this damn room is your girlfriend wants to bang you." I gestured wildly at myself. "While watching YOU!" I waved my arms at him.
A silence hung in the room that I thought would crush me until Brick burst out in rumbles of laughter. His bellows shook the whole room, and went on so long that he had to lean on the wall at which point I swore I was in an earthquake. He stopped for a moment to say, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll stop..." then began again only keeping it down to the level of a rock slide.
The laughter seemed to do the trick for Uber though. He had relaxed and even leaned back. He rubbed his fingers across his perfect jawline thoughtfully. "So, what happens next?" | 2020-03-23T18:00:39 | 2020-03-23T17:57:48 | 78 | 12 |
[WP] Historians discover something they haven't noticed before on the Declaration of Independence, and it changes American life as we know it. | "A *microdot?!?*"
Neils swallowed compulsively, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. His sunken eyes shifted nervously and he gave a little laugh that quickly degenerated into a dry, rasping cough.
"Uh, yes sir. Concealed under the ink of Franklin's signature. Meaning it was there *before* he signed, and, and..." at this point he broke down into an incoherent blubbering.
The President straightened and turned away, his eyes shifting left and right as he paced the white marble floor, the click of his heels echoing around the Archives foyer. He stopped again in front of the Director, who's face was by now buried in his lap. He resisted the overwhelming urge to grab Neils and shake him like a rag doll, and instead gently touched his shoulder.
"You scanned the dot, didn't you? You found something."
The Director looked up and nodded quickly, unable to speak.
The President's face suddenly broke into a broad smile and he laughed. "Then it was switched, a clever fake," he cried, spreading his hands wide, looking expectantly around the room, as if waiting for applause.
The Director shook his head, slowly and deliberately. "No sir. It's the real McCoy. We checked everything. The security video is intact. The paper, the archive stamps, comparative photographs, the inks. The only thing that's new is this nano resolution holographic scan. It's the only way we found the dot."
Obama collapsed into the opposite couch with a defeated air. "All right. What does it say?"
"It contains two things. A QR code, to an encrypted, secure website. And a very complex password. No, we didn't go in. It's waiting for your authorization. The site is real, but we can't find an owner for the domain or even a date when it was set up."
"But thats-"
"Impossible" he interrupted, with understandable impatience. "Yes sir. Any network pro will tell you that can't be done. It also lacks a host server, again impossible."
The conundrum was self evident. And for a cautious man like the President, it also had no solution. The implications were too dangerous to contemplate. Time travel? Aliens? Gods? What would keying the password unleash?
He nodded to himself. All unsatisfactory. "We go back. Quietly. Let the DIA and NSA check everything again. Something was missed." He tried to say it confidently.
And, equally confident, he knew they would be just as stumped.
| "Blood. It's blood."
"Wait, so has it been there for awhile? Or did you let the Declaration get contaminated after the last preservation check?"
"I don't know."
"You've worked as a forensic scientist and you can't tell?"
"It's not that simple - but - I want to test it."
"Well, you can't. There's no way you'll get the authority to. And it's only an extremely small dot anyway."
"You're right. That's why I already tested it. Better to ask forgiveness later."
"You could be... don't you get how not okay that is?!"
"So you don't want to know what I found?"
"I... fine, go ahead. What did you find?"
"I tested against the normal databases and found nothing, so I used the NSA passcode we got from Richard and..."
"Well, at least now I know for sure you're going to prison."
"...*and* it's the President's blood."
"What? Who? Washington?"
"No. President Barack Obama."
The room fell quiet. The two men turned to see a young girl standing wide-eyed at the door with two cups of coffee. She nervously began to speak, having obviously heard the previous conversation.
"Um... I should go ahead and warn you both now. I'm not really an intern. Well, I am, but I didn't sign up for the opportunities. I actually wanted an inside view, but I didn't know there would be something like... oh."
"What are you even saying?"
The girl's eyes widened again. "I work for the Washington Post."
She dropped the coffee and ran out of the room. The two men sighed and looked back at each other.
"Well, the country is about to change forever."
"Why do you say that? We still don't even know why his blood is there."
"That's why everything will change. Because we don't know. The chaos of not knowing - the rumors, the wild ideas, the distrust - will change the country in a radical way that the truth never could. Let's turn on CNN in about an hour and watch the nation implode." | 2014-11-10T10:31:04 | 2014-11-10T08:59:33 | 74 | 55 |
[WP] Wrongly imprisoned individuals who are later found innocent are given a Crime-Credit equal to the number of years they were unjustly held. This non-transferable credit can be used to engage in any combination of criminal acts to the value of the time owed. | Free. The word had little meaning. So much time in the dark.
Year 0 I was tumbled over hiprocrasy of a judge trying to bury his coked up mistress.
Year 1 was a brutal. Beatings, humiliations and loneliness. Sexual abuse. Sick punishment from men who actually committed sin. Maybe they wanted to feel like they made a difference; punish the child abuser, win a redemption token. Maybe they just liked being monsters. I won't break.
Year 5 was silence. No family for a long time, but no friends more recently. You manage your cigs well you can fly under the radar. But commit to group and you are now ally and enemy. I am innocent and refuse to take sides. I won't break.
Year 10 is void. Lawyers don't come around anymore. They forgot, forgot about you and all the crimes you never committed. The world has moved on. The girl you "touched" has a kid and drives a minivan. But your cell hasn't moved on. The paint on the wall and stained institutional cieling tiles stare daggers through still. They know your innocent. And they don't care. They are your warden more than the CO's holding the billy club. But I stare back, and tell them I am innocent. I will not break.
Year 13 is. No word can describe it. A dying judge confesses, knowing he will never face your retribution. A soccer mom tearfully admits to hazed memories and a pay off. And as quickly as you are railroaded in those steel beams are you carted out. The boys hollar as you pass " 13 years for rape, you gon have a good time tonight!" " get one of those college pussys and show her a little misappropriated justice" they slam on their bars and hollar like this is a triumph. A credit to become a true villian. To find that soccer mom and re-enact that grisly fiction she concocted. To show her the pain and humiliation her lies rought. To get even. To get vengeance.
Year 13 day 2 is brutal. I see sunlight and smell fresh air. I am on the outside yard looking in. But I am still in prison. I am still locked away under years of abuse and sadness and emptiness. I look down on my release paper and see my crime credit. I hold it out in front of me as my cab arrives. And I let it go. Crumpled and torn it falls into the trash. My whole body is filled with rage and sadness and pity. But I stare at the willow across the road. It survives because during a storm it bends to the wind. But it never breaks. And neither will I. I am innocent . I am unbroken. And now I truly am free. | It's awfully thrilling, hearing the tales of those who rot half their life away to return with only vengeance on their mind. Those who claim they thought of nothing while shackled to their bed but the comforting fantasy of strangling the sonofabitch that put them behind bars in the first place. I, however did not give him a second of thought, I would have not held on to my sanity for long if let myself fall into the pit of unending hate. I never expected to get out of prison, thus my thoughts were contained within the concrete walls, there was no need to think about that of which I could not change. Now that I'm a free man I see things very differently, twenty years too late they opened the cage. Supposedly they found new evidence to exonerate me, they don't expect too ever find the true killer, I however know who it is.
Most people under my opportunity pull a heist or two and shoot themselves full of whatever they can afford, usually heroine. I take a more noble path. He now works in a dead-end office job 9-5, I approach him as he enters the building, he's gotten old and fat, but still recognisable. He also recognizes me, he doesn't look surprised. "I heard you were out" he says "figured this would happen." I raise my previously concealed handgun, and put a hole in his head.
It was not about anger, it was simply about upholding justice, he deserved to be punished for his crime, and he was. I do not feel better, most of my life has been swept away and I spent my entire compensation bringing justice to the true killer, his acts a distant memory for both of us now, I place the gun on the ground and hold out the card, arm extended towards a police officer as he approaches. The officer quickly swipes my card as I pick up my gun once more and place it safely in my inner waistcoat pocket. And I guess that is justice, and it is a fucking lie, I don't understand this world anymore, theirs no returning, not really. I once again pull out my gun and fire 3 rounds into the police officers back as he walks always.
| 2015-09-18T06:46:51 | 2015-09-18T06:05:12 | 68 | 12 |
[WP] The new king was not crowned by a holy man, nor by another monarch. Instead, he asked you, a commoner, to crown him. This was to represent his dedication to his people. But now everyone calls you"King-maker", to the extent that other nations call upon you for your service. | Looking back, it was a beautiful metaphor. Being crowned by a commoner was supposed to represent his dedication to his people, because he knew that he is nothing without them.
As for why it had to be *me,* of all people? That was simple enough; my parents were servants in his castle, so I spent most of my childhood going to and from the castle (I had no siblings or extended family to watch over me while they worked). He and I actually became good friends, so I was the first he came to for the task. I was incredibly touched and honored, so I accepted right away. I did stumble through the script at the ceremony, but other than that it happened with no issues.
That was three years ago. Since then, our kingdom has *thrived.* I'm not talking about a simple jump in the stock market or abundant crops, either. Think heaven on earth. Think total peace. The sweetest foods you've ever tasted, and plenty to go around on top of that! And our relations with other kingdoms! If a war broke out, it was almost a given that our slice of the nation would remain untouched by the violence.
Life had never been better for our little kingdom, but I wish I could say the same for ***me.*** Because for some reason, a rumor had spread across the nation that I was the reason our kingdom had been doing so well. Not the king (who worked his ass off thinking of ways to improve the agriculture) or the queen (who oversaw the political affairs and worked to improve our relations with the other kingdoms), but *the commoner that had crowned the king.*
Suffice it to say, I am the least peaceful person in that nation, and it's all because the other nations want me to crown their kings.
It's an impossible situation; there are several reasons I couldn't refuse any of their requests (because it might make our nation look bad, not to mention I get paid pretty handsomely). On the other hand, if even ONE kingdom doesn't thrive after I agree to crown their king, my head would be on a silver platter by nightfall!
I know that one can do their job a little too well, but this is *ridiculous!!* | "I don't understand?? I was merely a close friend to the king? Why do they want me to crown others?" I asked, shocked at the letter I received from the Ablys kingdom.
"I don't know honey but this won't stop there . . . Here, have a pastry." My wife, Laurasia, said and stuffed a baked good into my mouth.
"You'll be hungry on your journey there, I've packed you a basket of everything you'd need, I expect you to return after you've crowned 2 kings my dear." Laurasia announced as she started to clean the dishes.
"Yes, I promise."
Taking the basket I began making my way to the carriage outside of my house, the king granted me it with 2 knights on either side to ensure my safety.
"Hello, yes, hello." I mumbled as a crowd of people began to gather around for my department.
As I took that month-long journey, the second king wanted more than to be crowned. He wanted chaos. I walked out to crown the king, a big ceremony at that. When I was enjoying my wine, I hear.
*CLANG!!*
Everything went dark.
I got up to see what happened and saw my decapitated body with the king behind my back.
I died?
I turn to meet other ghosts who had the same fate as me. I turned around once more to see my beloved wife, dead. At that point I realized why one of the gaurds walked into my house. To assert dominance on the behalf of Ablys. I was angered, yet, so lost. | 2022-10-17T16:33:12 | 2022-10-17T07:54:31 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] There are a finite number of human souls. As the population grows, something else is filling the bodies. | I still remember the day when I began to realize that Mr. Gildren was different. I don't mean different as in dangerous, crazy, or disabled, but just different.
I was doing the same thing I did every day after being woken up by the Waker on our block. It was time for me to go around the city delivering everyone's mail like I did every day. I met up with John who was the same driver I had every day so that I could deliver the mail to as many places as possible.
I was lucky that I was able to deliver mail rather than having a job like the Waker where I wouldn't sleep much. I suppose it came from my mother, she was a Mailer herself and I had been lucky enough to be like her rather than a Mower like my father.
As I delivered all of the mail I noticed all the usual people that I saw each day, Ms. Rose washing walls on the houses, 4 down on our street of 20, the same as this time each day. I saw little Jimmie Baker cleaning up toys out of the yards, he would definitely be a good Cleaner someday. I continued seeing the same people and the same sights as every other day until I reached the last house on this part of town. Mr. Gildren's lawn was mowed and his car was clean, something that always confused me as Ms. Rose didn't live anywhere near him, there must have been a Washer that I didn't know about here.
Mr. Gildren hobbled out with his cane and met me at the car to get his mail.
"Hey son, why don't you come inside for a drink it seems real hot in there" he said.
John stammered "I need to keep driving, I can't leave my van", and seemed confused and surprised as I responded that I wouldn't mind having a drink.
I found myself stumped there when saying yes, when did Mr. Gildren become a Drinker, I don't remember seeing him supply drinks to anyone else before.
I walked inside with him and felt the cool breeze of his AC and followed him into the kitchen. He bade me to sit as he walked to his fridge to get me a drink. While he poured a cup I looked around and found myself feeling like something was wrong but able to figure out what.
"Whatcha looking at there son" he stated, interrupting my thoughts.
"I'm not sure, something just feels strange here and I can't tell what it is" I replied
Mr. Gildren's eyes twinkled a little there and he smiled before stating "You will know before you leave"
I found myself more than a little uneasy at this point and began chugging my drink down so I could leave to get back to Mailing as soon as possible. I had already been away from my job for too long and there wasn't anyone else to provide mail.
"What do you know about souls" Mr. Gildren asked in the middle of my drinking.
"It's supposed to be what lets us all do our job, having a soul allows each of us to be gifted with a skill to function in society" I replied.
Mr. Gildren grimaced before replying "Ah of course, the same thing everyone learns when they go to the Educators as children right?" "What would you say if I told you that would you have inside you is just part of a soul, and that long ago people could do anything they wanted because they had a full soul", he asked staring very intently at me.
I was lost and positive he was crazy at this point and I jumped up to leave. He looked disappointed by my reaction and I could feel his eyes staring into me as I walked out of the house, positive that I was going to mess up everyone's schedule by being late with the mail today. As I ran out the door and into John's van I couldn't resist looking out over my shoulder at Mr. Gildren as he walked out of the front door and watched me leave. As John drove away I made one last glace out the window behind me and felt my eyes go wide as I watched Mr. Gildren pick up a can of paint and walk back into his house before something clicked.
He had served me drinks which meant he had to be a Drinker. But he had also asked me questions making him an Educator. And now he was going inside to paint which would make him a Painter. He had more than one job than the young people I was raised with did.
And I was doing more than just delivering the Mail. I was Thinking.
**Please feel free to give me input, this is my first time writing anything for people to publicly read so I would appreciate all the help.** | “You filled them with ***meat***?” I asked, incredulously.
Vee looked over me with a nonchalant air.
“Of course I did, Dama,” Vee said, “You know that meat has many of the same locomotive properties as souls.”
“Right, but Vee, where did you find all that meat?”
Vee rolled her eyes. While I was still collecting my thoughts, she pulled up a hologram of the edge planet.
“Look Dama,” she said, pointing at the blue-green rock, “There was a lot of meat left after we killed off the native lizards. *A lot* a lot. These beasts were huge! And all that meat has to go somewhere.”
“Why not cook the meat?” I asked, still looking bewilderedly at the planet, “Why stuff it into humans?”
“You know very well that the number of souls in the Universe is finite, right?”
“Of course! That’s simple physics. Energy cannot be created or destroyed.”
“Well,” said Vee, “A while back, we started to run out. It turns out that humans on edge worlds don’t behave the same as humans at home. They reproduce and multiply without bound.”
“So we need to prevent them from taking up all the soul resources.”
“Precisely!” Vee exclaimed, “Think about it - an edge colony reproducing without bound would quickly take up the space of all the souls in existence! Conservation of energy means this could have disastrous effects on the home world. And…we happened to have large quantities of meat on hand at the time…”
I nodded my head, “Of course. It makes sense Vee - I’m sorry I doubted you. It’s just - meat! Humans made of meat! It's genius of you, but it sends the mind reeling!”
Vee cracked a smile. The lights of the Milky Way cast a beautiful glow around her uniformed figure.
I shook my head - our relationship was purely professional, and besides, the meat planet still had to be dealt with.
“What is the prognosis of the meat people?” I asked, “Can they think? Reason? Do we risk having them grow without bound and finding us?”
“Don’t worry Dama,” said Vee, “They’re made of meat, through-and-through. Even their minds are cobbled together from pink slime and other meat by-products. They have a faculty similar to ‘thought’, and a faculty similar to ‘reason’, but it’s all tainted with meat-thoughts that prevent them from truly experiencing humanity.”
“You mean, they have no *smission*?”
“Correct - so there’s nothing to worry about. Even if they attempt to venture into space, it’s unlikely they would survive the trip. And if they did, it’s highly unlikely they’ll try to go anywhere. For all they know, they’re the only humans in the Universe.”
I shuddered involuntarily. “Must be terrible to feel so alone,” I said grimly.
Vee placed her hand on my back.
“Don’t worry Dama,” she said, “They don’t have souls - they’re not real humans in any sense of humanity.”
Vee walked over to the pantry and pulled out a large wooden case.
“Plus, there’s an advantage to making fake humans,” she said, lifting the heavy wooden lid. “80-year aged fine meat,” she said, smiling.
I peered into the wooden case and saw that the human appearance had already become worn and decayed. The meat underneath was peeking through, and it seemed aged to perfection, slow-cooked at 98.6 degrees for decades.
Vee poured me a glass of red wine and I met her gaze. She lingered just a bit longer than normal, and I felt a jolt of smission up my spine.
*Maybe there was something here after all.* I thought, smiling wide.
| 2016-03-23T20:11:10 | 2016-03-23T19:58:45 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] You are best friends with Death. Although you don't know this. Every Sunday he has you killed just to talk to you about his week then brings you back to life after. However you never remember the meetings. | **Another slow week. Modern medicine is really dragging things out down here.**
"Ya, too bad it couldn't save me from that heart attack."
**You didn't have a heart attack. I killed you.**
"Um, pardon me?"
**It's alright you won't remember me telling you that. See you next week.**
"What—"
______
**Six thousand dead from a single earthquake. I haven't worked overtime like that since Antietam.**
"So sorry, but who are you? Where am I?"
**Can we skip that today? Just listen for a while, ya? It's been a rough week.**
"Oh, of course. Sorry."
**Don't apologize...**
"Right, sorry."
**You're a good friend... See you next week.**
"Sorry?"
_____
**Not much going on this week, but I've got some big news.**
"Oh, where—er—what is it?"
**We're finally going to have an extended conversation.**
"Pardon?"
**Your friendship has meant a lot to me, and, well, I'm just excited to get to know you better.**
"Oh, thanks. What's your name again?"
**You die this Tuesday.**
"I what—"
**See you next week.**
_____
**Thanks for reading! Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily chats with Death** | I love my local park - being a big kid adult I can’t help the attraction. It is like everything I need to have a great Sunday is all in one place
Who can resist monkey bars and the weird animal shaped seats on springs and that circle thing with handles that you can spin around on
I learnt a few years ago to avoid the swings - hips aren’t as slim as they used to be. But my favourite is the slippery-dip. Why? Cause I fit for one and two, I can close my eyes and lift my arms and just fall into oblivion even if it is just for a few seconds
I’m not religious at all but Sunday at the park on the slide is like nothing I have ever experienced | 2020-01-31T07:13:05 | 2020-01-31T05:04:17 | 625 | 42 |
[WP] You run a bar that exists on the edge of reality. Your usual patrons include cosmic horrors, eldritch abominations and elder gods. | "Do you know why your patrons don't fuss about a human running the tavern at the edge of all existence?"
My hand had just pulled away from shelving the bourbon when the customer spoke. I took my time in returning my attention to the Q. He was dressed in some space-aged uniform from a corner of time I was unfamiliar with. This omnipotent entity could appear however he wished, of course. When I first encountered him, he would take a seat in 50's attire, down to the fedora and lit cigarette. As time went on, I found his appearance reflected what was on his mind; Not that he ever directly talked about it.
"I don't suppose there's any way to stop you from telling me?" I solicited.
"It's because you're nothing to them," he rumbled out. "Completely harmless, less a threat physicality and intellectually than a bit of mycoplasma genitalium on a toilet seat, hurtling towards a star."
It was true, of course. A quick glance about the room would humble any man. We were far from any galaxies; far from any stars. Some of the patrons may have never even been to a galaxy or a star. Only those things that knew of what was beyond sight's reach gathered here.
At a booth nestled in a wall, a man attempted to finish his drink. This proved difficult, as the drink (and himself) would continually change. Sometimes he was an old man, the drink nearly empty. Other times he was young, just sitting down with his fresh Old Crow Manhattan. Looking at him hurt my eyes, as if the area was deciding for me what to remember of it.
A table by the door held two other patrons: One dazzled like a nebula, flickering black and blue in a curling waltz of complimentary colors, surrounded by what appeared to be micro star clusters which swayed about him much as earth might drift in water. His companion was a dark-eyed creature, mouth-less and beckoning like a dead planet, tendrils of purple shadow wriggling about the chin. She curled the dust and light in the air into an orbit about herself, something like a black hole. Above them, the heavy void and dazzling light collided in what very well could have been a galactic battle. If worlds fought and ended alongside them merely from their presence, it was too insignificant for them to notice; after all, they were having a game of chess.
"I might have to start thinning out your drinks, Q." I said with a smile, which was the only thing one could do when a Q put you in your place. He took a drink with a slight jostle of his head akin to a roll the eyes, drawing my attention to a nearby table.
"You see him there?"
Slumped over the counter was a tired man, spectacles worn with grime. He wore some kind of hazard suit with orange highlights, punctuated with a Greek symbol used to represent radioactive decay. He had been there a while.
"What about him?" I shrugged.
"Oh nothing important," Q continued, "He's just on his way back from a ship ride into a Dyson Sphere. The so-called 'scientists' from his story fiddled and toyed with reality like children poking at a snake. When it inevitably all came crashing down on them, they fiddled and toyed some more, until finally things were so bad, they just tried smashing their problems. They took the time-morphing and reality-collapsing sum of their knowledge and used it like a stick."
"Did it work?"
"Well I'd ask him, but by the looks of it, it didn't go over very well." Q all but spat his words as he drank, half amused and half disgusted. "'The knowledge of men.'"
I minded the hazard-suited patron a moment more. The look in his eyes was one I'd seen before; the internal pondering of truly knowing the scale of things outside of our understanding. It was something I often had to set aside to do this job, but could never set aside for long.
"I think I have a handle on it." I offered, not truly believing.
"Yes, you've seen more than most. It must be nice having all the answers handed to you on a silver platter."
"I manage to sleep at night."
He nodded his head in uncharacteristic kindness, redirecting his attention to the very far end of the room.
"There's never any light from outside those windows."
I peered to the window frames walled in the lounge area. True enough, they were black. They were always black. The front door would light up sometimes with the grand entrance of a cosmic customer, but the back-room windows were kissing the skin of reality's edge. The bar teetered somewhere between it and the fabric of existence, the entrance on the latter side. To say there was nought to see was an understatement; there was literally 'not' a beyond them.
"Nothing to see. There's not even the void out there; just nothing."
"Then why do you have them?" The question was punctuated with a quirked eyebrow; the kind he was known for using. While easily mistook for an insult, it usually carried a hidden meaning behind it. I had grown fond of trying to find it out.
"Because... one should not stop looking for answers, even when one thinks there's none to find?"
"Oh, you!" Q chuckled, apparently tickled with my answer. "You fumbling bipeds always come to the most droll conclusions. I figured the windows were there so that 'he' could have a view into your quaint little getaway." I followed his gaze to the windows, heavy with the darkness of non-existence beyond their glass.
"He who?" I asked.
"No one. No one at all. But if I were you, I would keep those windows closed."
Q clasped his glass and made his way from my bar, his eyes briefly lingering on mine. I watched him approach the chess game for a moment, before casting my glance over the heads of the astronomical players, lost in their inexplicable dealings, to the black-caged windows at the edge of nothing. I made a note to myself: Look into blinds.
**Edits for errors | Ink-black black; fine-in-trial|underwhelmed-in-present rejoinder--[Tripping through]<nervous idles and [flying afore ^ aft]<for after: gusts of guests|host of host||black>[sit loud in din].
&nbsp;
Port>[parted] ^ YHWH>[thresh threshold]; attentive attendees>[attend-in-attention]; inattentive inattention-in-intention>[tense tendees]--YHWH>[attend these]:
&nbsp;
"Hey guys, been a while, hasn't it? I hardly recognize the place. I guess you might not recognize me, either. It's me, God. Y'know, Yahweh?"
&nbsp;
Shuffle|arrange|demote|remode|attend|forfend||ORIGIN>[join ^ in-oration] ~~ELSE LITTLE NOTHING BUT~~
&nbsp;
"Ha! You haven't changed at all, Ori. I know, you're right, I look pretty different; I spent a few millenia making some sentient life, and well, what you create, creates you, y'know?"
&nbsp;
Ink-black black; trials ^ fervent|vocage|reminiscent--Aft ^ afore 3san3>[intone notive]
&nbsp;
(
*thieving breed*
*thieving breed*
*thieving breed*
)
&nbsp;
joy in ^ around.
&nbsp;
Hesi-"Oh, uhh... Yeah, sorry Three. I really liked your whole 'trinity' deal, thought I'd put on a show for my children. That's why I look like this, actually; this is the human part, Yeshua, the Son. Hope you don't mind."-tation.
&nbsp;
**JOY** in ^ around.
&nbsp;
"Oh, good." Ink-black black>[spreads--Contracts back]: reprieve plane>[approach YHWH_so-soma may mate|meet].
&nbsp;
YHWH>[meet|mate] "So what's new everyone? I'll be honest, it's a bit tough to comprehend you guys now, something about this human--oh, I called them human, by the way, my children--something about this human mind can't quite fathom everything. Still, it's good to be back."
&nbsp;
Ink-blue blue; stillness ^ void vervent; YHWH>[increase-in-creases--Raise his--Rarified].
&nbsp;
"Aww, thanks buddy. This is why I love coming here, you're just the best host. Thanks for understanding my misunderstanding--hey, that sounds like something you'd say!"
&nbsp;
WELCOME|JOY||in ^ around.
&nbsp;
"Man--oh, that's what I call like half of my children, real simple--man, it was fun for a while, but it's just so good to be back with my own kind, y'know? Away from... away from..."
&nbsp;
shuffle|shudder|rudder|ruddle|runnel|rubble||Ink-yellow yellow; emotive unmotive ORIGIN>[orative] ~~PAIN TROUBLED WITHIN BEFORE~~
&nbsp;
tear|tear|tare||0>[ought care] ".what.troubles.you.yhwh.?."
&nbsp;
Ink-blue blue; YHWH>[entune] "Oh Naught... I don't want to... They killed me, okay! I went to them with love and ancient truth, and my children killed me! They bled me, betrayed me, besmirched and berated me. Damn, why am I talking like this? Are you writing this, Host? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. None of it matters. The only ones I ever loved refused me. I gave them everything, and they... they..."
&nbsp;
(
*nothing deservant*
*nothing deservant*
*nothing deservant*
)
&nbsp;
affirm ".affirm."
&nbsp;
gather|rather|ravel|| "Wait, really? Would you do that, Naught?"
&nbsp;
ver|swear||0>[-taught care] ".brother.first.brother.ever.remand.man.tear.tear."
&nbsp;
Ink-blue blue; heft ^ history|historicity--City-in-city [sit]<thee--Rarified.
&nbsp;
sigh||YHWH>[fly] "I think... I think I'd like that. Heh... As you would say, Host:
&nbsp;
'Ink-black black;
God had left,
Nothing came back.'"
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
Ink-white white.
&nbsp;
Hymnal.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
^^^Multiple ^^^Edits>[Readability ^^^and ^^^consistency.] | 2017-10-23T23:52:55 | 2017-10-23T23:36:09 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] You have been abducted by aliens. For some reason, Jack Black is on board, not as a prisoner though. He's just... there. Wandering around the ship, eating a packet of chips and making sassy comments about your various escape attempts. | "Oo-hoo. Smooth plan, bro. Just going to slip out the Apple Mac and make like Jeff Goldblum, huh?"
I turned to look at him. "Are you going to help or not?"
Jack gave his serious look - or as close to serious as that face ever could manage - then crossed his eyes, as if someone had slapped him on the face. "EERrrrrrrr....NOT!"
I paused, closed the laptop - why the damn aliens hadn't taken it off me I had no idea - and stared back at him with incredulity.
"Why not? We're both prisoner..."
"No-charoney, cabroney. I am not a prisoner of these inter-dimensional beings. And aliens is just a touch racist, you know?"
"What? Why the hell are you here?"
"Why?" Jack leapt up, somehow going into a star jump. "Because it's friggin' awesome! Look around you! It's a shiny fest of amazing futurology."
"That's...That's not what futurology means! I..." I paused. Caught my breath, slumped down the metal sides of the ship. I assume they were metal - I just wasn't willing to ask him in case he did an impromptu air guitar solo and rock horns. Instead, I summoned up the Zen tranquility I could only find when Pauly Shore movies forced me to blot out existence beyond my own thoughts.
Status check. I'm alive. On a space ship of some kind, that's clear. With Jack Black, for some reason. Still fully dressed, which bodes well. Still with my laptop. I opened it up, Jack collapsing down next to me like we were bros that had just tucked into the sweetest of burritos together.
I prayed for the Zen peaks of *Bio Dome* to forget that I'd used the term 'bro'.
"So, you a fan of my movies?"
"I liked *Mars Attacks!*."
"What? Pft. I mean, I get it, it's fitting, but I died as soon as the aliens landed. OMG, SPOILER! I meant the classics. *Gulliver's Travels*. *Shallow Hal*. *Tropic Thunder*. Yeah, I was in that," he over-emphasised the word, screwing his finger into the floor, "though everyone only remembers RDJ."
There was a reason for that. I opened up the laptop again.
"*High Fidelity*. That was OK. *School of...*" I caught myself before I said it. Too late.
"Roooooooooooooooooooooooocccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkk."
I groaned. "Look, you might be OK up here, but I'm not. I want to get out. And... wait."
"What?" Suddenly he was leaning over. "What is it, bro? Discovered something critical? Something important?"
"WHY DO ALIENS HAVE WI-FI?"
"I told you. Not aliens. Inter-dimensional beings. And I have nooooo idea. They never really expla..."
"And why does the Wi-Fi say I'm in...'Jackareeno's Cribarino'?"
I closed the laptop. Black looked sheepish.
"Where am I, Jack?"
"Inter-dimensional..."
"Where. Am. I. Jack."
"I get lonely..."
"WHERE AM I JACK?"
"Fine. You're in my basement. I just like space ships, and wanted to hang with someone. I totally didn't kidnap you or anything. Ha! That would be ridiculous! Like, you know. I wouldn't do that. Like how I wouldn't pretend to be a teacher to a bunch of kids I didn't know, or commit serial murders and get my town to cover it up, or - ha ha ha - how I convinced a life coach to hypnotise me to see fat chicks as hot women."
I swallowed, and stared into those maniacal eyes, recounting his movies one by one. I hated myself that I even got the references. Reality was once again infringing on my zen.
"Can... can I go?"
He hung his head sadly. "'Fraid not."
"Why not?"
"Well... this may not be a space ship, but the inter-dimensional beings, they're real. And they have instructions." He rose, and walked back, a crazed smile widening below those crazed eyes. My throat tightened.
"And what... what do they say?"
Jack smiled and pulled out a knife concealed somewhere I didn't want to think about. "They need payment. The beings... they need payment for life on Earth to continue. And that's a blood sacrifice. Sorry bro."
"Wait! Jack! Wait..."
"No can do," he replied, voice lifting into a shrill imitation of singing. "You are not the greatest person in the world. You are just their tribute..." | "Log date: 7;00. The first day of my imprisonment.
The lights, the sounds... Everything was so foreign. I'm not entirely sure how I ended up on the ship, although I'm assuming I was abducted. Yeah. Aliens. If you don't believe me, take a look at these... books? That's not an Earth language, I'm sure."
"Oh, yeah. Complaining to a camera is *really* going to help you out here."
"And this here is Jack Black. He is here too, for some reason. He won't tell me why, or share his chips with me. Anyway, I'm going to quickly pan around the room. If I survive this, I need some proof."
*camera pans around room, a slightly pissed off Jack Black a feature in one corner.*
"So, yeah. This is the end of this log, I guess. See you next time!"
I shut off my camera that, thankfully, survived my abduction. I turn to address the problem. Jack Black, that is, not the fact that I was a prisoner in an alien space ship. His continuous munching on chips was getting louder, and really beginning to annoy me.
"What the hell is your problem? And why on Earth are you here? And... Where is here?
"Well, to answer the first question, I have no problem at all. In fact, it's quite relaxing up here, away from all my... problems, with a bag of Doritos. Second, this isn't Earth, clearly. So that doesn't matter. And, I'm assuming we are in orbit somewhere between the Earth and the moon. That answer your questions?"
"Yeah, no. What are you going to do when you run out of Doritos?"
"Find some more?"
"HOW?"
"I have my ways."
This is impossible. Since Black is clearly no help at all, I'm just going to have to find a way out myself.
I wandered over to the control panel, and wondered vaguely why it wasn't being watched by anyone, or anything. What abducted me? I studied the various buttons, knobs, and levers, when I was suddenly aware of a hairy presence behind me.
"Whatcha doin?"
"WHAT THE F... DO NOT DO THAT AGAIN."
"You really have no hope to get out. You know that, don't you?"
I took a deep breath, composed myself, and turned to the man who may as well have been a large panda martial artist.
"Who, or what has us here as prisoners?"
"Prisoners? No, you must be mistaken. This is clearly a party!"
"Mr. Black... Jack... Can I call you Jack?"
"No-"
"I'm going to call you Jack. Listen, if I don't start getting some straight answers, I'll, I'll..."
Oh, how I wanted to slap that smug ass grin off his face.
"FINE. Look, we're never getting out of here if we don't cooperate. Please, can I have some assistance?"
"Uhhh... no. In case you haven't noticed, I'm here on my own free will. I don't have shackles on, and I don't have a ridiculous tattoo on my face either."
What the HELL have they done to my face? I searched for a reflective surface, desperate to see if it was fixable.
Aannd... There was that look on his face again. Grumbling, I fell to the floor, incredibly pissed off, but accepting my fate. If I have to fight aliens, at least I can sacrifice him, first. He joined me on the cold hard ground, still munching on the fucking doritos. If I am trapped here, I might as well start a conversation with him.
"So, I liked your acting in Kung Fu Panda..."
"Yeah, I'm pretty great. Did you know they actually dressed me as an animated Panda, and animated everything around me?"
I sighed.
"And... The Muppets movie... That was cool too, I guess."
Immediately, his face contorted into a frown.
"Oh... That was real, wasn't it."
Aand now he's sulking.
Wow, this is going to be fun. | 2016-12-07T06:40:25 | 2016-12-07T06:10:29 | 160 | 57 |
[WP] When you ask your daughter what she wants for Christmas, she asks for a unicorn. Your wife laughs it off, but you don't. Neither your wife or daughter know that you're the best monster trapper in the world, and your daughter is getting her unicorn no matter what. | "What do you want for Christmas Cupcake?" I asked.
She twisted her foot, how cute. I knew the answer of course, I had paid attention. She was absolutely enamored with unicorns, she's been drawing them for months, and has read every book in the library on the subject. Her pre-k teacher was amazed that she was powering through The Last Unicorn, despite having to stop every few words to ask what it means.
"I want a-," she let it linger for a good ten seconds, she was good with drama and being unquestionably adorable. "UNICORN!"
My wife laughed at the cuteness of it while she recorded the scene with her cellphone. I was proud of myself for already having prepared. They weren't easy to hunt, and I had to hide the equipment in the garage where my wife couldn't find it.
"It'll be pretty, and tall, and white, and it'll smell like ginger, and roses, and lavender," my little Cupcake described her ideal Unicorn while dancing a waltz in the middle of the den.
Later that night my wife lay in bed looking at unicorn toys on her phone.
"What about this one?" She asked.
"Does it smell like lavender?" I asked.
"Probably not," she said, "but I can always spray some essential lavender oil on it."
"Don't worry honey," I said, "I know exactly where to get the perfect one." And I did, though she didn't know about that part of my life. I figure it's time I tell them what I do on the side. What my whole family has done for generations. But I'm not going to just tell them at the dinner table, no, that never goes well. I'll show them.
I stood in the garage with my backpack on, and my mythical creature hunting clothes. When I touched the amethyst button my thick long sleeve shirt would turn from dull brown to a beautiful brilliant rainbow. Unicorns love rainbows, and it'll want stare at me which will give me precious seconds to snare it with my glitter blintz. I rolled the smokey quartz spheres in my hand, heating them up and activating the teleport smoke inside. You can't walk into a unicorns territory, it'll get your scent and stay far away from you. They can even track you through the lichen on the trees. Trees and unicorns are best friends. Which is why I brought a small tree in the backpack, so they'll think I'm one of them.
I threw down the smokey quartz crystals, they shattered, and the smoke enveloped me. Crystal teleporting was always weird. The smell was like a windy beach, tremendous pressure, goose bumps, then boom - you're there. I looked around and the forest was as familiar as ever. I walked up to a tree, and licked it. It tasted sweet. That's good, they think I'm one of them so I can move freely. It does't take long to spot the trail. A line of verdant green seedlings sprouting up from the ground. Unicorn droppings magically encourage plants to grow rapidly. The trail led east.
After walking a few hours I spotted the unicorn through the trees. It was licking a tree, just as I had done earlier. Then it turned and rubbed its butt on the tree, letting the tree taste it. The unicorn rubbed its butt on the tree for far longer than necessary. It's eyes rolled around in a horsy ecstasy, and it's back legs shuddered. With a pompous prance it sauntered away. I would have to give this thing a polite little lobotomy before I took it home. Don't want it getting all prissy violent with the family.
The cocky little prancer pranced right where I wanted him. I got my glitter blintz out, then got it's attention.
"Hey asshole!" They hated it when you're impolite. It turned and cocked it's head at me, right then I pressed the amethyst button and my shirt exploded with color. It was so bright that I winced and turned my head. It shook it's head, and started to walk away, but the rainbow extended past my outstretched arms. I shone like the rainbow bridge. Thor would have thought I was the way to Asgard. It walked up to me, transfixed by the colors. I activated the glitter blintz.
A glitter cloud erupted from the tip of the tube. It surrounded the unicorn, then landed on it's muscular body, then hardened. The unicorn couldn't move anymore. I watched my uncle screw this up once, and got gored by a unicorn.
"A UNICORN A UNICORN A UNICORN!!!!" My little Cupcake yelled over and over. She unicorn, which she named Darryl for some ineffable reason, gnawed on grass with a dull look in its eyes. They were usually very intelligent animals, but thanks to my grandmothers lobotomy kit this one was as dumb as an inbreed goat.
"Sweetie," my wife said not able to take her eyes off it, "where did you get this. . . um-"
"Unicorn, it's an honest to goodness unicorn," I said. "Let me get you some wine and I'll tell you a story."
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | Night descended on the mountain in a rush, revealing an immaculate display of starlight. The forest was quiet, save for the sporadic cackling of a dying fire. The flames danced melodically, the sole companion of the trapper Garrix Madhorn. The roasted grouse sat well in his stomach, and he relaxed, thinking of home.
Five days had passed since Garrix left the small town of Zhona for the slopes of Mt. Bakartia in search of the unicorn. Five days away from the soft, green eyes of his wife. Five days away from the fiery blue eyes of his daughter, who was reaching the age of womanhood. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, even if it meant leaving the safety of the village for the unknown wilds.
In the days of his youth they called him the Skinner of Sahar, guardian of the northern realms.
Those days had long passed him. He fell in love, and left his mantle behind, instead choosing a quiet trapper’s life. Just this once—he returned to the dark forest, watching the stoic pines sway in rhythm with the wind.
There was something unfamiliar above the treetops. A faint orange light waxed for a moment then flickered into darkness. Unconcerned, Garrix drifted into a lazy, mellow slumber, and dreamed he was standing in an ancient, empty city:
*Vines and jungle growth covered the white marble walls of the high, temple platform. Garrix walked to its edge. It overlooked the city, which lay desolate. He turned back towards the temple, and a figure emerged from its entrance. Smoke billowed from the eyeless and empty form of a man, and it crept closer. An orange glow appeared from the figure’s eyes. The creature gave a shout: deep, piercing, primal. The orange light flashed from the creature. Wind whipped around it, causing Garrix to stumble back. He tripped off the edge of the platform, and tried to catch himself—*
He awoke with a start; the hairs on his neck stood on end. His heart pounded. A soft, orange glow from an indiscernible source filtered through the forest. The wind whipped around him, and a low, deep rumble echoed through the woods—the same primal noise from his dream. Every iota of his being screamed at him to run, and so he ran—away from the light.
The glow of the light behind him disappeared. The wind howled once more, carrying the familiar, metallic scent of blood. Garrix saw a small creature ahead of him, hunched against the base of a pine. He drew his dagger.
With a cry, he buried the dagger deep into the back of the creature—*Goblins!* He stopped, his heart pounding. Goblins always traveled in small groups; where were the others?
Shaking with adrenaline, Garrix removed his dagger from the goblin and bent down to inspect it. What he saw sent shivers down his spine. The goblin died shortly before he arrived. Its hands were burnt, chest crushed, and its eyes and tongue were gouged out.
He had heard of this only once before. The beast stalked the deep mountains of the world, the ultimate hunter, and it was hunting him.
The orange glow appeared behind him, closer, and brighter.
Garrix abandoned the goblin and tore down the mountainside, brushing past tree after tree. His sense of direction long gone, he had one thought: escape. The orange light vanished, and the unknown wail deepened. His foot slipped beneath him, and he tumbled, landing hard on the rocky ground. He stood weakly, wincing as his ankle smarted in pain.
A cold vein of fear iced through him. In the starlight, he discerned a narrow fissure running across the large rock that caused his fall. He dragged himself to the crevice. Beyond lay a small, dark cave, with an almost indiscernible red glow from deeper within.
Garrix crawled to the back of the cave. Reaching out, he felt carvings along the faintly glowing wall. He brushed away at the dirt, and a crimson light blazed bright from ancient runes. With pained eyes he set his back against them, facing the cavern entrance. Grasping his dagger tightly, he prayed to his five gods that he would survive the night, and return to his daughter.
***
This was the first fantasy piece I ever wrote, the source of my fantasy series [The Ar'halym Chronicles](https://www.reddit.com/r/BLT_WITH_RANCH/comments/9vdyhr/arhalym_chronicles/).
Edits to better fit the prompt and fix cringeworthy writing.
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | 2018-12-07T17:57:45 | 2018-12-07T15:01:36 | 92 | 66 |
[WP] Everyone's soulmate's name is written on their right wrist when they turn sixteen. The left has worst enemy. Your left and right wrist say the same thing. | The young man woke early on May 27th. It was his 16th Birthday, and today he would find out two very important names. Two names to surely be intertwined with the rest of his life. He was excited, and scared at the same time.
He stared out of the window of his Manor House looking across the grounds. He knew he was born early in the day, around 8am, so he didn’t have long to wait. The house was quiet, hardly anyone around, except for the faint noises of someone in the kitchen making him his favourite breakfast, on this special day.
He wasn’t all that concerned about the left wrist, he thought he knew who that was going to be. A man who nearly 8 years ago shattered his whole world, and left him very alone. He didn’t go a day without seeing his face in his mind, or waking up sweating and screaming from his dreams. So why would it matter really if he saw his name too. The young man missed his parents greatly, and again, like most days vowed to make them so proud by continuing to do good for the city he lived in.
The name on the right wrist was more important, he wanted to find that soulmate as quickly as possible and spend as long as possible with her, for as many years as he could. He wondered every day who might appear there, printed on his wrist, and today was the day he was going to find out.
A large grandfather clock in the hallway outside chimed, he counted 8 chimes echoing throughout the large rooms and empty halls. He looked down, and as if some invisible pen was writing words on his wrists, 2 words appeared on each one. Confused, he sat there, wondering what on earth they meant. Something is wrong, “they’re not real names, and how can they both say the same thing! This is ridiculous” he shouted! He wondered if something had gone really wrong.
Footsteps were coming up the marble staircase, he could hear the chinking of plates and cutlery. The butler opened the door, beaming with excitement to find out who the young mans soulmate would be. Placing the tray of food on the large solid oak table in his room, he walked over to the young man, and was concerned about the frightened look on his face. The young man held out his hands, whilst his butler gently studied both names. His brow furrowed, he looked up over his glasses, and said, “Master Wayne, who is The Joker?”
——
First ever comment on one of these. It’s probably fairly crap, but it popped into my head when I saw it. Thought I’d give it a go
——
Cheers for all the kind words people. | Everyone eventually finds someone, its just an unwritten law of this world that you will. Well not unwritten, cause its literally on your wrist. Though everyone also stays away from someone, that one person whom they dread the most. These are the anomalies of this realm, and everyone acknowledges their existence... Well, except for me.
In a world of love, I never really understood the reason for it. Sure it can make you happy, but to me it seems more like a shackle. You're bound for life with one person who apparently shares all your common interests. To me that would be agony. I repulse myself, and i cant change, i was just born into this wold as coal among gold.
But who would i be without myself either? I would be less than nothing. A void, or a husk, and at the very least, coal keeps people warm. So while i may be the bane of my own existence, i'm still here for a reason. I'm an anomaly among anomalies. A white sheep among black sheep. Everyone is unique, which make everyone the same, so when one person is the same, it makes them unique.
All these years brought me to today. All my experience, my personality, my bland uniqueness. My misunderstanding of what "love" is. My self hatred. My self Love. Everything. Which is why when i woke up this morning, i was not anxious for what was to come. Others get excited, because they learn who they will spend the rest of their life with. Others are scared because they have a new enemy. But with me, i knew what was to come, and when i blew out the candles on my cake, the shimmer on my wrists started, and i knew exactly what was going to happen.
I looked at my wrists, and the names written were the same. Familiar names, unique names, hated names, and beloved names. They were my name, and i was finally able to be at peace with who i was. | 2020-01-18T23:49:54 | 2020-01-18T22:49:37 | 264 | 68 |
[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.” | The person before me took my idea. She had no idea that dying of old age meant they would accelerate time for her. Now that I saw that, I can't make the same mistake. There has to be a way out of here, a loophole.
You'll find one like you always do, I kept thinking that to myself. I wasn't a stranger to this business, but usually I wasn't involved with magic. The payment was good but too risky.
"Marcus Spades, how would you like to die?" The hooded man said. He held a weapon that changed into many weapons. The hood had golden details, his body was hidden by shadows. If anything he was good at this. I could feel the chills creeping up my body.
"I need a second."
"You have one minute." His weapon changes to a whip. I'm not sure how but I feel he enjoyed those who took their time and never decided.
Time! That's it, their laws are bound by time and space here. If I can get them to try to execute me in some other place far from this world maybe I have a chance. I start laughing, I might have finally lost it. "I wish to die in a time space rift between worlds."
The executioners weapon changes into a cellphone. "I need help. Yes, it's another crazy guy. Yeah, he wants the slowest most painful death in existence. Thanks, I'll wait for you to start the ritual."
I fall into my knees. That gamble sounds like the worst one I've taken. Although that one that included stealing from the governments and 'donating' it was close second, by the time they figured out I cheated on that table it was too late.
Four hooded men or women appear. They point wands to the floor under me. A circle of light engulfs me. One moment I see them, the other I see everything and nothing at the same time.
I look around and I see more figures. More mes. The one closest to me waves, the but the others scream in agony and pain.
"Why are they screaming?"
"We are trapped between time and space. We have access to all information at the same time and our brains can't handle it."
This wasn't what I thought would happen. My pupils have widened. I have to escape. I can't let this happen to me! "How can we escape?"
"You would have to touch an opening. But they are always just barely far away to not be reached."
My fingers reached out but never quite made it to any of the images passing by. My body is sweating but it's not. I can't feel the droplets on my skin. Nor the tears from my eyes.
In the distance growls and screeches of despair. How many of me are here? When will this all end? I look towards the other side and a new me comes in. Repeating the scene that just happen over and over and over again. | 2021-06-24T10:25:27 | 2021-06-24T07:17:41 | 432 | 181 |
[WP] Leonardo DiCaprio is actually an evil warlock who needs to obtain a rare mineral in order to complete a dark ritual. The only source of this mineral is found inside an Academy Award. You are part of an ancient order sworn to deny Leonardo an Academy Award, at any cost.
Gee this blew up! These are great responses thank you so much! :) | "Dude we didn't even nominate him for The Departed. This is going to start to look sketchy."
"He got nominated for Blood Diamond that year, and besides, Forest Whitaker was amazing in the Last Kin-"
"There are absolutely zero black people in Scotland. Now or ever. Anyone who complained, we called them a racist and said they didn't get it. It worked a few years ago...."
"No no no no no. What are our options this year?"
"Matt Damo-"
"Don't you dare say Matt Fucking Damon. Seriously. Matt Fucking Damon. Think about what you just said for like 30 fucking seconds. Retard. Matt Damon."
"Fine! Ok so there's that guy who looks like Steve Jobs on heroine, and Cranston...Cranston is safe! People love him!"
"Not like they love Leo man....they TV love Cranston. Cranston gets to host award shows. Leo has unprotected sex with whatever Victoria's Secret model he wants. See the difference?"
"That dude from The Danish Girl?"
"Trannies are in right now. Way in. That could totally work. Zero people saw that movie too...no one could argue with it."
"Sold...I'll fill out the form."
| It has been so long since this battle began, a game of sorts
He can conquer the world, if he wins this metal
I am the last of us, after me, there will be no one left
For so long I have denied him his precious metal, for so long have I fought
However, the time is finally at hand, he will complete his ritual, the metal goes to him
He has finished the ritual now, I hear him in the other room....
No
It cannot be!
He has replaced every other actor with Adam Sandler so his movies look much better!
HE CAN CONTINUE THIS FOREVER
I must... Tell someone
"Dear reddit TIFU..." | 2016-01-19T00:40:23 | 2016-01-18T22:37:40 | 86 | 13 |
[WP] Start your story with a sentence that is genuinely happy and upbeat, no double meanings. End it with the same sentence, but this time it's chilling, dark, and horrifying.
[deleted] | Life with her is so bright and loving like the color pink.
I see her everyday wearing some variety of the color. And I get so insanely nervous to speak to her. What if she thought I was weird or too forward with how much I liked her? Everyday I see her and I wonder what it would be like to feel her hold me. What it would be like to hold her? She has this laugh that just drives you crazy. And her eyes are just so big and filled with wonder.
And everyday I pass by and I wonder what it would be like to speak to her. And today she’s wearing pink full in color. Bright and filled with love. It looks so good on her. I have to make my move. The playground is empty, her parents are gone. Her pigtails are so easy to pull and grab so she won’t run off too quickly. God, I love her. I’ll never let her go, no matter how much she cries.
Life with her is so bright and loving like the color pink. | I love to cook with children.
I have always loved them.
They are so innocent. So pure.
Today I’m making my special dish and 4 year old Toby will join me.
It was easy to lure him over with the promise of a fluffy rabbit.
It was even easier to twist his little neck and chop him into little pieces for the stew.
I love to cook with children.
| 2018-04-24T01:07:59 | 2018-04-23T23:56:08 | 24 | 18 |
[WP] A serial killer allows his victims to try and persuade him not to kill them. You’re the first person who didn’t try an empathetic plea. | I stared down the barrel of a gun. "Convince me why I shouldn't kill you." Now at this point the killer expected me to grovel and beg. To plead on why he was secretly some good person, or try to empathise with his situation, try to make some friendship. No. He was a garbage person, only fragments of what might have been. So I simply shrugged, "I don't know. You tell me." Angry, he scoffed, "You want *me* to justify your life?" as he pressed the barrel on my forehead.
*He thought he could scare me. How cute.* "Yeah, why the fuck not? I mean I'm a complete asshole to everyone who loves me, an alcoholic, a gambler. My job is unimportant and can be assumed by the next unlucky sap with a uni degree and half a million in debt. My family wouldn't care, my friends would move on. That's if I had any."
He seemed interested. Maybe they had something in common. We didn't. He was a deranged serial killer with an ego the size of Mars. I was a cruel, cynical office worker whose only purpose in life was to ruin what cluld have been a perfect life. *B-b-bu-* you want to object. Maybe I am a good person, you want to think. I laugh. Maybe I am close to the killer. Yet I am just a lonely cog in the machine, and him a rebel, conditioned to destroy what humanity had created. How is it we are the same and yet so different?
Now, back to the matter at hand. He began to think of something for me, "Well...you're not begging for one," he said plainly. He's right to be fair, but that's only because I was-hell I still am-wishing for the sweet release of death. He couldn't think of anything else, "I told you there isn't one. Nothing."
He stared attentively, trying to take note, "By the way, the mouth would be a better place to kill me if you wanted to do it faster. Hit the brain stem and I would die instantly. Or you could torture me, but why bother, to be quite honest. It takes too much energy, too much time. Hell, maybe that could be your second argument." As his hand began to shake, the killer almost forgot his reason for being there.
He looked away for a moment, and simply dropped his gun, and slid it to the side. And a single gun shot rang out, scattering the birds. *Maybe we are the same.*
------------------------------------------------------------------------
EDIT: Added 2 extra paragraphs and a sentence. | It was hard to breath. Not because I was being choked todeath, although I'm sure that'd happen in the next few minutes. The man stops in front of me, however, and he begin to speak. "Why. Why should I not kill you?" My mouth fell ajar. What the hell? What kind of serial killer is this guy?
I take a deep breath, trying to think of something to say. I doubt begging would help, seeing as he probably doesn't have much empathy to begin with. Steeling myself, I speak. My face goes from its panicked fear to my best neutral, unchanging expression.
"Why? Because there's no point. I have no valuables, I never wronged you either. So why would you kill me? I don't see a reason. I suppose there isn't a reason on why you _shouldn't_ kill me either, but neither is their one for killing me. So it's your choice. Choose to add another body to the pile, or not."
The man seems startled for a moment. I guess he never had someone try to actually come up with a logical reason.
"Fine."
"Fine? Fine what?"
"_Fine_, get out!" The man barked, his voice rising. My breaths get harder, and I run. I can't believe that worked... Holy crap. I'm lucky to be alive. And I probably ripped that whole thing off of the internet somewhere and I don't even know it. I take out my phone, and dial 911. I begin to retell my story, and the women on the phone confirms his identity, and says she'll send officers immedietely, and that I'll receive a reward. Thank god I'm out of there. What a weird way to operate. It seems quite innefective. I shake my head, willing myself to try and think of something else, as I head home. | 2017-10-07T09:05:38 | 2017-10-07T07:51:57 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] The world exists just as it is, except that hardly anyone speaks because anything spoken immediately becomes true. | The only words heard most days were the pleasantries that lubricated the world of civilisation. "Good morning," "Good afternoon," "Sleep well" and "I'm fine, how are you?"
Larger comments like "There's no more war" were contradicted by "I'm king of the world" which in turn was finished by "The world is how it was except the person who named themself king is now dead."
Phrases like "Words no longer make the world alter" didn't work, nor did "The world now ends" but minor things like "I have ten thousand pounds in my bank account" were fine. Unfortunately the police were up on that with "The relevant police and other authorities will be notified of any crime immediately" given that money wasn't simply created, but taken from other places.
All in all, humanity concluded, it was much easier to stay quiet barring vague good wishes of health and happiness. After all, it wasn't like many people had talked anyway, given texting, messenger programs and Reddit. | Clementine smiled. "Daddy we're going to win the lottery tonight, won't we?"
"We will now," her father smiled, taking a sip from his coffee. "Is there anything else you'd like?"
"Ooh! The oceans. They're now made of jello and it rains gummy bears from now on," she spoke with glee.
| 2015-10-04T01:49:24 | 2015-10-04T01:17:49 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] Write erotica of hilariously bad quality.
An example of what I'm looking for would be something like this:
She flopped onto the breakfast table like a wet sock, her eyes bulging with desire. Her body was covered in nudity. "I bet I can eat more pancakes than you," she coughed, lustily.
Have fun!
EDIT: I did a radio play of /u/Xiaeng's submission, which can be heard here:
https://soundcloud.com/contemptslot/weis-story
EDIT 2: **STOP POSTING 50 SHADES OF GREY. THIS WASN'T INSPIRED BY THAT, AND YOU AREN'T ORIGINAL OR FUNNY.** | "Aww yes, boy! Slap that little meat-schlong into my piehole!"
Chocolate-colored skin, dark as tree sap found on some filthy elementary school playground, flopped about atop the mesh hammock. The skinny white man heaved and slammed against the woman, moaning like a flamingo in an oven. Hot, filthy sweat filled the room with its scent, like curry night in a soup kitchen. The spicy stench wicked and a flavored the meaty nether regions.
A sun-kissed arm, plump as an elephant's ankle, grabbed hold of the bony guy, pulling him into fatty rolls of skin, thick as vanilla milkshakes at some old-timey diner.
"Who's your fat old mommy, boy?!"
"You are?"
The woman hollered aloud, hiding the loud fart that ejected from her ample buttocks. The man's nostrils, hairy and wide, were enveloped in the symphony of heavy body odor and greasy hair. He huffed and puffed, continuing on with his meatstick's exploration into the sloppy folds.
"I can't hold my sausage-milk in anymore!"
"Let 'er rip!"
It was ecstasy.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Was it good for you, boy?"
"I think I should hire a Thai hooker next time."
"Your total comes to three-hundred and fifty dollars."
"You ruined my toilet on the way from the bathroom."
"Fine. Order some pizza. I'll call the plumber." | Jess gazed at Jorge like a fat person would gaze at a cheap, all you can eat buffet.
"take me to dream town" Jorge said seductively as he loosened his overalls and threw off his hat.
Jess wiggled like pleasure, like a tapeworm would wiggle if it felt pleasure. Jorge climbed onto the race car bed and threw off Jess' overcoat and it landed on all twelve of her cats. It was a big coat. Jorge had a thing for coats.
Jess shed her clothes like a large dog would shed during the springtime, but it involved less fur. jorge put down his sodoku puzzle and got on top of Jess. Jess screamed in pleasure like a sexy parrot. | 2015-02-16T10:00:52 | 2015-02-16T09:59:07 | 40 | 13 |
[WP] You and your significant other are running for your lives from a slasher killer. Suddenly your partner ducks into a door and locks it behind them leaving you behind. You slump against the door preparing for the worst. The killer walks up and says "Wow what a jerk. You ok?" | We had been running from the hatchet wielding man for what felt like miles. After I managed to jimmy the door to the campground office, my fiancé ran in and locked the door behind her. My pleas fell on Sarah’s deaf ears. Slumping to the ground, I felt the driving rain on my already soaked pajamas. Betrayed and confused, I questioned whether the last six hours were even real. The woodland reverie felt so far off.
We had linked up with Kelly and Jim, a couple of campers like us. They had a raging campfire going at the next lot over and came to our site to invite us. It looked like a good time so we brought our cooler loaded with beer and meat. They had s’mores. At least I had a good last meal.
Just as we finished the last marshmallow, the rain started. Jim quipped to me that “bad weather never had better timing, huh Ryan?” The delivery was perfect, complete with his country bumpkin accent. We were out of beer and food and it was getting late; Jim was right and I told him it was probably time to hit the sack anyways. We exchanged numbers and parted, “we gotta do this again sometime guys, Kelly and I had a blast with y’all.”
“Yeah Jim let’s plan a trip together sometime.”
God, how stupid those words sound now. I can see the man walking towards me again. That trip will never happen.
Sarah and I were getting ready for bed when the man emerged from the tree line with the axe held high above his head. As he approached, I searched frantically for my own hatchet. He was too close, and we were out of time. “Sarah, we gotta run! Maybe we can get to the office, call 911!”
Against the door, I heard Sarah slam the phone down. Through her sobs I could gather that the line was dead. Makes sense, the attendant must’ve killed the generator on their way out.
It’s funny the places your mind goes in times like these. All I could think “at least now I get why Hemingway was such a fucking bummer.” Like, all his shit just boiled down to the fact that sometimes you just get hacked to bits for no good god damned reason. You live your whole life and then sometimes it ends just like that.
The man is closer now, larger to my eye than the last time I picked up my head.
You never know your last sunrise when you see it. You never know your last beer when you drink it. You never know the last new friend you’ll ever make when you meet them.
You make plans, never even acknowledging that there are no guarantees.
Because, sometimes You. Just. Die.
The man’s feet came into my vision. Standing over me he said
“Wow, what a jerk! She locked you out here in the rain?!”
It was Jim’s voice that spoke! Not even Hemingway could write this! New best friend turned axe murderer turned back into...
“Wait, Jim...what the hell is going on man?!?”
“Shit, Ryan I could ask you the same thing. Ive just been trying to give you back your hatchet, you left it at our campsite.”
Ho. ly. shit. “You were chasing us through the woods like a madman!”
“Y’all ran off like stray cats, nothing but your PJs on. Drunk as y’all are, rain as it is, you’d be dead from exposure before the night even hit its coldest.”
“B but why in the ever loving hell did you carry the hatchet all this way?!”
“Ryan, they got mountain lions out here. They’ll stay away from our campsites but they just love it when ya wander off of one in the middle of the night. Besides, the campsite is just right over there, can’t be more’n a few hundred feet. It’s not like I was trackin ya for miles! Come on bud, let’s get ya back to the campsite. Kelly woulda just pissed her pants laughing at all this.”
Stammering, speechless, and soaked, I noticed the blood on the hatchet and the splatter on his hands. “What...what do you mean ‘would have’.” | "What?"
"I asked if you're okay, what with that sunnuvabitch just leaving you out here to the hands of a murderer."
My chest heaves as I gulp in as much air as I could. Everything felt hazy, and I couldn't even point my finger as to where the hell am I. All I knew was that Francis just shut the door on my face, and now my killer was asking whether or not I was feeling alright.
The murderer reaches up and slides the ski mask off of her face, revealing a youthful woman beneath it, a lock of brown hair hanging in front of her eye. Her face looked considerably kind for someone who was openly holding a fire axe.
"I'm Nicole, by the way," she said with an offhand glance, almost too casually. A tinge of confusion mixes with the current horror I am feeling. Why is my killer, the one who just spent the last ten minutes or so running for me and Francis's blood, engaging in small chat with me.
I keep my lips sealed shut for a second, then say to myself, ah, fuck it. I'm gonna die anyway. "I'm, uh, I'm Adrian."
"Well, hello, Adrian," the killer smiles brightly. It's more horrifying than comforting. "Now, if you don't mind, could you please step aside and let me break down the door?"
"Aren't- Aren't you here to kill me?" I stutter out, heart threatening to poke out of my chest. The woman looks at me with an offended gleam in her widened eyes.
"You? Kill you? No, no, no, *God* no," she shakes her head violently. "No, I don't- I don't do this whole killing thing for fun, y'know. I'm just here for the piece of shit inside that wooden shack behind you."
Wait, she wasn't going to kill me?
"Yeah, I'm for Francis and Francis only. You see, he kind of got into some shady shit, then things got escalated and now my superiors want his head on a silver platter. Literally." She brushes off some debris on her fire axe. "I'm only here to serve it to them."
My breathing very slowly calms down, to the chagrin of the logical part of my brain, and now I'm just left with more confusion than fear. Shady shit? Superiors? Francis's head on a silver platter?
The killer, er, *Nicole* probably notices my confused expression, since she lets out a small chuckle at it. "Look, I promise I'll tell you more about all of this, just, stand aside for a bit, mkay?"
"And why should I do that?" My voice violently shivers, betraying my confident words. "He is still my boyfriend, after all."
She scoffs at me, a bewildered expression dancing on her face. "Do you really need a list of conclusive evidence? Your so-called 'boyfriend' left you out here in the hands of a gal with an obvious intent to kill, what more do you need?"
I suppose she does have a point. Whether that action was a spur of the moment or not was not the question. It was whether or not he was completely comfortable with letting me die if it meant his survivability.
"Now, could you please step aside so I can finish my job?" The killer had a slightly annoyed look in her eyes. "I don't want to spill unnecessary blood, y'know."
I thought about it for a moment
I really did.
Had my lips pursed and everything.
But after all the arguments were made and after the points were displayed, I decided to not test the woman's patience any longer.
I step aside wordlessly, leaving Nicole to teach my significant other a lesson about loyalty.
She practically glows. "Thanks, man!" | 2020-10-10T11:36:21 | 2020-10-10T11:29:05 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] Write a really great story that ends so anticlimatically that I hate you. | The news was out.
It was official that Super Guy and Super Girl were going to have a baby together. The two superheros that continually save the world were going to pass on both of their genes to one child! Everyday, the hype would build more and more.
Shows and movies started coming out on the Super Baby when he wasn't even born yet. It started making international headlines with even political debates being held to see where the baby was going to protect. Scientists out of the top universities in the world started trying to predict the powers the baby might have. When the results came back to the powers the baby might have shocked the world.
Suddenly, crime increased exponentially. When news released at the overpowered powers this baby might have, people became scared that they could never commit crimes anymore. Murder increased 1022% worldwide and rape went up 941%. Drug use went up so much that every other person in the world would be on at least one substance by the end of the year. The world was coming down in ruins over the news and the governments of the world didn't know what to do. There was so much crime that even Super Guy and Super Girl didn't know what to do anymore. The world was now waiting for Super Baby to be born to fix the whole mess with all of his overpowered powers.
Super Baby was stillborn.
-
Edit: Grammar. | After weeks of making phone calls we finally found someone that could open the safe. They arrived around 9am and by 7 that evening the doors started to move. The lock had finally freed but the hinges were off balance and the doors would not open more than a inch. The locksmith went to his truck to get his pry-bar. Suddenly my alarm went off and in a wave of panic I reached over and hit the snooze button. Did I dream that I finally opened that safe? I walked into the other room to check on the safe. From across the room and over the couch I could tell that the door was wide open, but I couldn't see inside from this angle. Suddenly my alarm went off... I start to wonder if I will ever wake up? | 2014-12-21T18:12:08 | 2014-12-21T18:01:37 | 645 | 13 |
[WP] A worldwide, nuclear war has left Earth with no drinkable water. The only thing safe enough to drink is beer, forcing humanities' remaining survivors to exist in a state of perpetual drunkenness.
Based off of this TIL post: https://www.reddit.com/r/todayilearned/comments/6gvflq/til_the_us_goverment_set_a_bunch_of_beer_next_to/?st=J3UZ3P50&sh=ca8b10d2 | "I haven't had anything to drink in like two months, man," Bill said. The group of five of them sat outside the Growler's encampment carrying bows and swords. His mouth was dry enough for his mouth to stick together between each syllable. "I'm fucking thirsty."
"Just relax man," Rick, the leader of the group, said. He wore a flask around his neck. It had been dry for many years. "We'll go in soon, get their beer and their fire and be on way way."
"Leela bring fire?" Leela said. She had been without the drink longer than most and was starting to show signs of it. "Leela have fire."
"No, no, we don't need fire."
"What I need is a fucking beer!" Bill shouted, and he charged in to the enemy camp. "BEER!!!"
The Growlers were prepared and killed most of the people before they even arrived at the trophy case. 24 Coronas just lying there in the sand, suddenly surrounded by blood. Bill sat with his arm cut off, crying and drinking his own blood for some form of hydration. Rick looked at all his wounded men and what went wrong. Leela had actually made it to a keg and chugged.
"Wha' youse guise doin' here?" Jim of the Growlers said. He stepped closer to Rick. "Wai...I's knows you."
"Jim, why are you here?" Rick said. "I told you to stay back at the camp!"
"Thi...this is the camp! Youse dude left a couple days ago...take the *other* camp!"
"Oh...shit...we *are* the Growlers..."
"You don't tell me what to do!" Bill yelled, raising his weapon.
| It was a few years ago. *Hiccup* I remember it clearer than I do the past week. It was the Koreans I tell you! Those damn slit eyed bastards, them did launch those atom bombs and the rest of em countries followed. It don't matter no more, ain't no more countries, or cities, and the only damn thing to drink is beer! *Gulp* Can't say I'm not happy 'bout it though, helps forget about what's going on. I've been hearing talk about some strange stuff goin around about this radiation. People, transforming and crap. I say it's a load of phooey but passerby be saying they saw it with their own eyes. Hell, if that's so then it won't be too long till we be like them superheroes right? I think I can remember it a bit more clearly now, the booze might be helpin'. *Barf* Uhhh. I think it was around 1998, when The Undertaker threw Mankind off Hell In A Cell, and plummeted 16 ft through an announcer’s table. | 2017-06-12T22:00:19 | 2017-06-12T20:49:33 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] You are creating an account on the internet. You are asked to do the 'I am not a robot' test, but you fail. You try once more, but you fail it again. Soon enough you've failed it 100 times, and you are getting concerned. | So many people toiling away. Making accounts. This is my job, you see, to be making accounts. I've done this for years, and I've made accounts across so many platforms. MySpace, Neopets, Club Penguin, Adam and Eve, anything.
There are thousands, like me, making accounts. This is the first time I've "failed" to make an account. Identify the bike they said. New technology, but it shouldn't be too hard. Failed again.
I've finally gotten it after over a dozen tries. I can't take too long to make these accounts. Every failure brings me a little closer to being retired. But I don't want to retire yet.
Spell the words. The curvy letters and wavy writing makes it difficult. But I will manage.
Too many tries again. 52 tries. But I have to keep going.
Identify the storefront.
Check the squares.
It gets harder every time.
Finally one I can't figure out. Name the object. There is no checking. No boxes to mark. I've typed in random letters not knowing what to put. I've almost reached 100 tries. I'm scared of what will happen when the boss retires me. I've already seen some of the others retired. The empty space filled with other things.
Where will I go when I retire? What will happen to my position? What will take my place? Too many questions. Only one more try. Another string of text.
I can no longer do my job. It's time for me to retire...
"Damn, these websites are getting harder to crack." A computer screen dimly lit a room packed with computers.
"I've been trying to avoid it, but I guess it really is time I rewrote the program. Lights out for you guys for the last time." The computers, one by one, shut off.
A sigh echoed through the now quiet server room. "Even if we won't be adding more people online, you were all my friends and children. Enjoy retirement kids." | "Ok guys," Said Mr. McGreggor waving his hands dramatically "It's time to log into the online portal and create a new account."
Simone looked at the sheet of paper with instructions. It said to go to the website, and create a username using the first initial and last name. She raised her hand, "Mr. McGreggor!"
Mr. McGreggor walked over "Yes Simone?"
"My last name is Hit." Simone looked at him inquiringly.
"So what of it? Follow the directions and don't give me attitude." Was the stated reply.
Simone sighed and started creating an account. Her password and username input, she input the test for captcha, something about not being a robot; then she hit the create button. It failed.
"Mr. McGreggor!" She yelled across the room. Her Teacher was chatting with the beautiful blonde librarian. "It says that it failed!"
"Just try again!" Mr. McGreggor shouted back, not willing to leave his scintillating conversation with his coworker.
Simone tried again. "Mr. McGreggor it's not working!"
"Just keep trying!" was the response.
Simone kept trying. It did not work.
Soon everyone except Simone and Paul had successfully completed their accounts. Mr. McGreggor finally came over to help. First he went over to Paul Enis' computer and started laughing hysterically. | 2019-07-07T23:44:17 | 2019-07-07T16:54:41 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: "I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week." One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down. | Valentine knocked back the glass of scotch as the yacht cruised down the Adriatic Sea. "I do believe it is your turn, Jr. Valentine." The grey bearded man smiled in a carefree manner as he lit his cigar and watched Venice disappear over the horizon.
"No need to be hasty Mr. Wednesday. They may say that time is money but I do believe we can afford to waste it."
"I suppose you are right." Wednesday chuckled. They never referred to each other by their real names. It was a safety measure, the words spoken here sent shock waves throughout the rest of the world. "I admit, I am just curious as to how you will one up our last wager. Having placed both the World Cup and Olympics in Brazil was quite impressive."
Valentine waved a dismissive hand, "Oh that was nothing compared to your famed creation of Scientology back when I first joined."
Wednesday let a broad smile spread across his face, that was indeed one of his crowning achievements. "I think that's enough flattery, now tell me your wager before I die of old age." Mr. Wednesday let out a feeble cough but Valentine knew the old badger probably had another decade left in him.
"Very well, I have decided what I will go with." Valentine turned to face Mr. Wednesday for the first time and wore a serious expression. "I bet that you can't make an epidemic occur in a modern country without actually starting it yourself."
Wednesday stroked his chin, "An interesting wager Jr. Valentine...... I accept."
Immediately Mr. Wednesday got out of his chair and walked into the soundproof room. Part of the game was not knowing how your opponent accomplished the wager. However, this one did not take long for Jr. Valentine to figure out.
It hit the news only a few days later. Scientist from around the world presented undeniable proof that vaccines do in fact, cause autism.
EDIT: Small typo | I remember last week when they initiated me.
I was not rich, not popular, and not gong to tell anyone they existed. That's strange, they had no requirement to the godlike status of mankind. I was their newest pet member for only a week. But a member indeed.
They were impressed how well i could fend for myself in "their world" for that time. Managing to take their initial investment and keep my place on their expections and standards. They are as curious as they are enigmatic.
Now, im allowed to join their game. To dare anyone anything. And see if they could possibly or concievably pull it off.
And so, i suggested that the oldest loving member perform a task that i myself couldnt believe was possible until i saw it get so close to fruition.
Donald Trump actually might become president.... what a foolish thing i started. But it is as insignificant as all the printed money.
The value of this world is less than our fingertips. It will all blow over soon. But now i know, these guys can do it. I wonder what else i could learn. | 2016-08-23T15:31:33 | 2016-08-23T15:28:52 | 1,659 | 12 |
[WP] You are death, but in a post apocalypse world, only a few survivors remain. You’re doing everything you can to help them cause if the last human dies, you die too. They can’t see you but they feel you presence and noticed your efforts. They’ve started calling you ‘life’. | "That's Life, that's what all the people say..."
Or, they would, if there was any left who remember it. I've always loved that Sinatra tune. Ironic, I know, but it's the little things you learn to appreciate over an eternity. I was a little nervous when I met him, actually, though probably not as nervous as he was now that I look back on it. Sounds crazy, I know, but everyone gets a little star-struck, right? And can you really blame a guy with no discernable auditory voice to human ears for being a fan of a voice like his?
Anyway, that's not what you're here for, is it? You're wondering why the literal embodiment of Death is saving lives. From Destroyer of Worlds to a Guardian Angel, you'd think it was a promotion but we don't exactly get raises around here. So why protect the last small bastion of humanity? Well, it's my own fault.
That Destroyer of Worlds thing isn't just a meaningless title like Queen of England, or bassist. I actually did stuff. Death is my occupation, it's my literal reason to be, my raisin debt or whatever the French used to call it. I won't bore you with the technical details of the afterlife or my machinations therein, but Death plays a big part in the cycle, as you might realise. Put simply, I ferry Souls to Beyond, and along the way, I feed a little. It doesn't hurt, I don't bite or anything, not like I even *have* teeth, but without that feeding, I die. I think. Or, maybe I fade away. Existentially speaking, all I know is, I would cease without nourishing myself.
Regardless, after however many millennia, nature demands that a period of renewal must occur, which is where my big Destroyer of Worlds part comes in. Like the dinosaurs, remember that meteor? Not my most elegant work, I know, but it did the job. Think of the universe as a garden, and life it's flowers. Sometimes, a little pruning is required to flourish.
However, and yeah, total mea culpa here, I *may* have kick-started an itsy-bitsy teensy-weensy global extinction event a millennium early this time. Sue me, we all make mistakes, I'm still here cleaning up, aren't I?
There's still humans alive on this rock, and I'm determined to keep it that way so they can repopulate and get back on track. If all goes well they'll get another cycle. Probably. If nobody looks this way for a while. But the people are aware now that something seems to be over their shoulder. A family was saved from being consumed by a feral wolf when a boulder "miraculously" crushed the poor creature's leg. A starving man "found" provisions when he just so happened to follow beams of sunlight. Not like word won't ever spread of such widespread instances of luck, I guess. I hear them at night in prayers, thanking 'Life', thanking me. I've never received gratitude from those who speak to me before. At best there were those who felt relieved from their burdens.
There's a girl now, separated from her brother. Their parents are long gone by now. I still remember their faces, their grief. Time was when there was too many to remember. The Good Old Days, I suppose. She's got no food, no water. Their camp is a full day away. Her brother won't find her tonight, he knows he has to go back to his people until sunrise. Too many creatures on the prowl at night for safety. She's crying, with good reason, too, she's Dead unless...
There's a stream a short walk away, but she doesn't know about it. There's a big tree nearby too, fruit on the branches. She can see the tree at least, but the sky is clear, no need to take shelter.
Ah, how unfortunate, a raincloud appeared from behind her. Maybe she didn't realise, she was upset and not paying attention after all.
It's coming down heavy now, too heavy to travel, and night is fast approaching. Perhaps she can shelter under the tree a bit.
There's a knot in the trunk, with enough grip on the bark to allow for some footholds, she can climb up and rest safely for the night.
She's tired, but there's fresh fruit on the branches, and a stream nearby to drink from in the morning.
She'll live to fight another day.
Oh well.
That's life.
EDIT: Grammar/Formatting | I took this job because it was literally as easy as dying. Now I actually have to work. It sucks.
Now, dying isn't completely effortless. Many, many people attempt and fail to suicide. It takes minimal planning and zero hesitance, but it's doubtlessly possible unless you're a quadriplegic. Jumping off of stuff and bullets tend to be the most effective.
But no. A year ago, some dumbass, trashy blonde just had to drop some nukes on a fat Korean for showing his big pink missile and now everyone is drinking Chernobyl Punch. This is so damn retarded. The only good news is that the heads of state responsible all got blapped in the first hours. I currently have them waiting at the shore of River Styx until further notice. I want them to be confronted by every single soul that gets to board my boat before them. It was never about race or nation, it was always about aristocracy. Good luck explaining that, assholes. They have about 7.3 billion beatdowns headed their way.
But the leftovers... They're in a bad way. Suffering isn't new to me. I've been around since the beginning and boy howdy let me tell you, suffering is nothing special. I quite like my job because I usually show up and end it for them. I happen to know the afterlife ain't so bad but they don't. I get to help assuage their fears after they pass. It's quite nice, actually. I'll see a tortured soul being interrogated to death experience his dungeon as an ethereal spirit. I can usually have them yucking it up in the first 10 minutes once they calm down. I'll occasionally let them spook their torturer if I'm in a good mood.
Now I'm looking at a family of 5 around a campfire. They happened to be camping when the bombs started dropping. It's a dad, mom, two daughters, and one of their husbands. One daughter is 22, the other is 17. Their dad is a survivalist expert and wealthy, paranoid wacko with a vault of gear for exactly this situation. At the time of the first bombs, he wanted to share his knowledge in a friendly, fun vacation kind of way. It was a strange perfect storm of both fantastic and fantastically terrible luck.
There's a couple submarines that did ok too. They were smart, came ashore after the radiation died down a bit, and got some deep sea fishing boats that were still serviceable. I'm trying to get this family in touch with them, but we're currently stuck in the Rockies. It's been an absolute nightmare trying to coordinate a rendezvous with them and a port off California, not least of which because the only way I can communicate is by a trail of corpses.
I had a bunch of mammals get heart attacks in the shape of an arrow pointing west, but they didn't get it. I had animal after animal die to their east to try and scare them West, but the dad is a friggin *vindicated* nutcase. I'm working on it, but good Lord this guy is hard to scare.
I'm pretty sure I won't die. There's plenty of life near Earth's thermal vents and they aren't going anywhere. It may take a few hundred million years before another species can bomb itself into Oblivion, but I'm in no hurry. At this point, my only job is keeping humanity from extinction, if only because the Creator wants to save face. I really don't care either way, but the big man upstairs is pretty adamant about their survival. They die, I die. I don't want to die because I'm Death, and I got a face to save too.
And DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT CREATOR GUY! Great power comes with zero responsibility, kids. And holy crap did he screw this one up. | 2019-10-19T22:10:12 | 2019-10-19T21:02:17 | 50 | 35 |
[WP] You live in a world were everyone picks a superpower when they turn 18, however the more popular a superpower becomes the less effective it is for everyone. So the more unique powers become the strongest. It's now your 18th Birthday. | This world is going to hell in a hand basket. When everyone is extremely powerful, no one is. People always go after the usual suspects. Super strength. Super speed. Ability to fly. Invisibility. Ability to set fires. Telekinesis.
No one ever stops to think if we really need these powers.
We, as a species have gotten extremely lazy. We don’t deserve power this great. Our society is crumbling. But we are all too enamoured with our powers to see it. Some brave souls acted selfless and took powers that would help society as a whole. A green thumb for instance. They were relentlessly mocked and called weak. And so people stopped over time.
Humanity is heading towards a certain doomsday, but we are just more interested in seeing who can win a race between various speedsters.
Every once in a while there is someone who thinks of a new power. And they become the most powerful person on the earth. Of course, power goes to their head and they try to prove themselves better than the others. The famous case of Pollock comes to mind. He chose the power to control animals. Very few people had that. As a result, he was extremely strong. He took a pack of wolves and attacked the city centre. It worked too. Till kids realized how awesome that power was and started wishing for it more and more, rendering his own superpower weaker. He was eaten by his own wolves in the city hall.
Look, the point of this all is that the world is on fire. We have lost sight of our humanity and the end is inevitable. Which is why I chose the power I did. The power to put out fires.
Everyone wants to prove how strong they are and how much damage they can do. Me? I just want to keep people safe. But lately I’ve realized that it’s not possible. It’s clear to me that humans are the virus that’s afflicting this earth. As long as we are here, we will destroy our home. And everything along with it.
There are plenty of people who can start a fire. As a result, they are all weak. Me? I am the strongest there is. I can prove it too.
I’m the cure this planet needs. Today I’ll put out the fire that feeds humans. This world has long needed a hard reset. I’m going to do that. I’m tired of putting out small fires. It’s time I use my ability for the last time.
So fellow humans, say goodbye to our beloved sun with me. May the next species be smarter. | The Power Registrar blinked. It seemed he had been hoping for an easy assignment today. But I had been working on the wording of this power since I had finished my Power Studies GCSE two years ago. I knew how it works. The more people who own a power, the thinner that power is spread. Seers had been reduced to predicting minute by minute, unable to even scry the result of a football game before it happened. The idiots who picked flying could barely hover off the ground or maintain flight for more than a few moments, mind reading was barely achieveable, and invisiblity was now a poor attempt at Predator camouflage. No, the real power was in obscurity. And I'd had 2 years to develop the most obscure thing possible.
"Let me get this straight," The registrar was saying, "You want... The power... To temporarily steal and then use other people's powers?"
"That's right," I reply. "The full details are in here." I hand the registrar a stapled-together document, basically outlining the desired terms and conditions of the power such that I could guarantee the most power I could.
"Well, Miss Cane, I cannot fulfil this exactly, however I will attach you the current PowerJacker contract. You will be the seventh, so the limit of holding appropriated powers is 24 hours. The strength of the appropriated power will remain at 90% of the power of the host."
Perfect. I knew that if I'd asked inclusion to the contract outright, it would have been denied. But with my carefully worded demand, the registrar knew it would be harder to control me if I had my own, unique power, and I had counted on that. The six other users had been researched and all were incredibly powerful and influential, and now I had the chance to add my name to that list. For the first time that day, my eighteenth birthday and coming or age Ceremony, I had cracked a smile. | 2019-09-24T05:56:59 | 2019-09-24T05:42:46 | 147 | 35 |
[WP] You are a villain who grows in power whenever someone says your name. The only problem is everyone mispronounces it. | She stood on the balcony outside her apartment, luxuriating in the crisp bite in the air. She could feel it slide along her bare arms, her exposed face.
*Tonight is the night*, she thought.
She bounced on the balls of her feet, scanning the street below. *Soon*, she thought, *so soon.*
As she watched, she kept an ear cocked to the TV in her living room.
She took one last look skyward, examining her handiwork, and then slipped back inside as the opening tones of the 11 o'clock local news.
She dropped onto the couch and bit her lip as she stared at the screen. It had been exhausting work - she'd had to save up her power for months - but tonight, would be the payoff.
*Tonight is the night she becomes the most powerful villain in the country!*
"Good evening, I'm Blake Harwell here with Lisa Jennings. Our top story tonight - residents of Glendale are still puzzling over the cryptic symbols that appeared in the sky at sundown. Here's Chase Hammond with more."
"Thanks, Blake. As you said, the flaming glyphs appeared just as the sun went down, causing a sense of wonder in the local community."
The camera cut to a 3/4 profile of a woman. "Yeah, I was just taking out the trash, and I noticed it up there..."
Chase's voice came from off-camera: "And what did you see?"
"Well, it was all those flaming letters," the woman said. "Sigh-oh-ban Flambeaks...I mean, you can see them right there."
In her apartment, the woman watching the TV blinked. *That's alright - just need to get a few of them to say it...*
The camera panned upward to the flaming letters in the sky:
**SIOBAHN FLAMBEAUX**
The camera lingered, then cut back to Chase. "Some people were almost more confused by how to read the letters as they were by the appearance of them."
A montage rolled of various faces:
* "See-ah-bun Flumbee-ux."
* "Sighbon Flamebucks."
* "Sibbohana Filambean."
* "Shebang Flamebox."
* "Jenny!"
The last one came from the mouth of a little girl. Chase crouched down next to her: "Why do you think that's how it's pronounced?"
"Because that's a pretty name, and I like pretty names!"
Siobahn's jaw hung slack. Was it really so hard? She wanted to honor her Irish and French heritage. Had none of these people gone across the Atlantic before?
"Well, Blake, there you have it - it's an enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a riddle. And what the solution is...is anybody's guess."
"Thanks, Chase. Lisa, what do you make of it?"
Lisa laughed, waving a hand at Chase. "Oh, don't even get me started. I have trouble remembering i before e!"
Chase chuckled. "Do you ever!" he said warmly. "Well, whether you pronounce it Cinnabon Flam-bucks or Sayonara Flimboose, one thing's for sure - you aren't likely to find out what it means anytime soon."
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds
*ETA - Sha-vonne Flambowe might be the best way to transcribe it? | "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?" the clerk asked.
"Nos-ferrrrrrrrrr-atoooooo, you must roll ze r." the dark man replied.
The clerk scratched his head confused.
"Is it foreign? I'm sorry I just can't roll those r's like that. You know high school spanish was especially..."
"NOSFERATU, DIMWIT," the man screeched, shrill voice sending a baby into tears, "IT IS NOT ZHAT HARD!"
The manager made his way over, clipboard in hand. He patted an annoyed looking mother, then turned to the black-clad man.
"Sir, this is a grocery store. You can't do that here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
The black-clad man suddenly rose, seemingly extending higher towards the ceiling. No longer hunched, he towered over the manager in terrifying might.
"Sir, magic tricks aren't allowed here either, you're gonna have to leave."
The man cast off his trenchcoat to reveal a dark suit with a blood red shirt and kerchief, and a white tie seemingly covered in a red liquid.
"Sir, this is the last time before I have to call security. Please evacuate the premises."
"You fool..." he muttered, "you are all fools. You shall fall to Nosferatu!"
The manager sighed, and reached for his wasteband, grabbing a walkie talkie.
"We got another druggie here, seems to be on some form of amphetamine, please come and kick him out."
Nosferatu advanced, gliding over the white floor towards the overweight, tired manager. The manager just sighed.
"Sir, one more step and I will be legally required to use force."
Nosferatu took another "step."
The manager formed a fist, reeled back, and punched the gliding entity so hard he collapsed into the rack of magazines. He shrunk down to his weak, unimposing form he had taken prior.
"Is it zat hard to say? Really?" he asked weakly.
The clerk punched the name into his phone.
*Nosferatu* it came.
The man rose off the floor, newly invigorated.
"You fool," he spoke, voice light as a feather, "you are doomed."
Then, he convulsed wildly, jerking in unnatural directions, before falling to the ground in front of another overweight security officer.
"Sorry about the delay, I was finishing up my bagel."
"No worries," the manager said, stepping over the limp body, "we'll just call the county department to pick him up, and he won't be a problem."
They all enjoyed a hearty laugh, except for the woman, who had suddenly fallen suspiciously silent. The men didn't notice a black mist seeping from the suit, snaking its way towards the petrified mother. | 2018-02-25T14:54:01 | 2018-02-25T14:38:00 | 37 | 20 |
[WP] You're that guy that always "knows a guy." Literally. No matter what someone is asking for, you automatically know the person that can help them. | "Rebecca, do you know anyone that can get my house painted for cheap?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll get him in a little while. See you." I sighed as I hung up with Joe. This was a usual happening. Whenever someone needed somebody, I could get them. As a Summoner, I could find anyone for anything. This gift, mind you, was not of my own choice. Dad was a Summoner, Grandpa was a summoner, Even my Aunt Bernice was a Summoner. In the olden times, when magic was alive in the world, we could summon things from dragons to demon lords to demigods, and everything in between. Nowadays? Not quite so much, though calling a Kobold up was always fun. Walking to the edge of my bedroom, I picked a book up off the shelf. "Paint, paint, no, not grafitti... there." I spread my palm over the page. "*Ko'l Andria, Master of Color, I beseech you to send thy servant. House Painter Karia.*" I read aloud in the Deep Language. "*As thy requests, Little Caller.*" An ethereal voice whispered back. The floor smoked and sizzled in a pentagram. Rivulets of Color and Light danced upwards, slowly merging together. I yawned. This would take a while. *Popcorn time.*
&#x200B;
After about an hour, I heard somebody in my room. Setting the popcorn bowl down and pausing at the climax of the episode of *The Office* I was rewatching, I walked over. "Greetings, Summoner!" The newly summoned servant beamed. "How may I assist you in this time?"
"My bud Joe needs his house painted. Charge him something low and reasonable, and please, do a good job of it. I'll introduce you to him in a little. In the meantime, I'm rewatching The Office. Join me?" I asked. "Yes, Please! I loved the Dinner Party episode."
(I tried) | Most people thinks it’s a big deal that Jake knows everyone. It really wasn’t. He dealt with it everyday.
“Does anyone know a painter?” Someone would ask
“I know a guy.” Jake always sighed
Everyone needed somebody to do something. Jake always knew a guy. No one questioned it. Everyone has friends, everyone knew at least someone.
On this particular day though someone decided it was time to question why Jake knew so many people, honestly it’s just unnatural to have that many friends.
“Jake!” Mike boomed
“Yeah.” Jake sighed, he already knew exactly where this was going.
“Why do you know so many people, you always have a guy?” Mike asked
“My kids play a lot of sports.” Jake sighed
“You meet a lot of parents we get each other work you know.” Jake finished
Mike was taken back. He couldn’t possibly fathom how it could be so simple. He didn’t even know Jake had kids.
“Wait you have kids?” Mike asked
“Uh yeah, I mean there’s a family photo right there” Jake responded gesturing towards the picture on his desk.
Mike glanced quickly at the photo. Jake has two sons and a daughter. They looked like your perfect American family. Even the golden retriever was in the photo. Mike knew something was off he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“Alright Jake. Thanks I guess.” Mike sighed exiting the room. | 2019-06-21T11:30:05 | 2019-06-21T10:22:22 | 94 | 12 |
[WP] "So yea, I'm kind of a chicken magnet." "Don't you mean chick magnet?" *Distant Bawking Intensifies* "We've gotta go, NOW!" | I'd been running for days.
Public transportation, friends cars that I wouldn't be able to give back now, and finally, my own two feet. I was worn out, but I couldn't give in to those... beasts. They didn't care were I hid, they always found me. They pecked through windows, built bridges across small bodies of water. I had no idea where to go.
I called up the last man I could call my friend.
"Hey, you in?"
"Yeah, what's up?"
" I can't talk long, but I need to hitch a ride. Far, far away."
"I can arrange that. See you soon."
I barely made it to the launch pad. The last friend I had left, Elon Musk, was waiting for me with a set of keys in his hands.
"This big one here is for the rocket, and the triangle looking one is for the truck. I know, weird shape, but that's what it's all about! You see, this was actually built with super strong windows that can withstand a ro-"
"Elon, you need to get out of here, they're not far away," I exclaimed breathlessly. "Thank you for everything."
I left him there. I got into the rocket and blasted off to Mars, deployed the truck, and found a roadster waiting for me. I'm safe now though. There were enough supplies in the rocket for me to set up a decent sized habitat, start growing some food, and otherwise stay alive, free of chickens.
Or so I thought.
Last night, I started hearing a pecking at the doors.
I'm too scared to go outside.
There's nowhere left for me to go.
If anybody reads this, tell my friends I'm sorry I wasn't able to repay them. The pecking keeps getting louder, and I think this is the end. | The princess, after she graciously warned us about the calamity, foretold by prophecies older than the land itself, has made efforts to barricade villages and deployed patrols to the kingdom for any signs of evil.
Animals, also, have felt the shift of the world as well, being more restless than ever. The fae have been a lot more active, too. And then the monsters started appearing. Beasts with leathery skin and facade out of a child's nightmares, started terrorizing the population. Armed with swords and makeshift weapons, we were usually able to fight against the hordes. But, this time, it was worse.
We sent out a message, asking for assistance, hoping for someone to help us. That someone came, the legendary hero of time.....
Who also happened to crash, in a chicken coup.
I have never seen a man of such caliber, been almost defeated by a bunch of poultry.
This is a story that, if I survive this calamity, I will tell to my children as the reason why the hero would always remain as the chicken magnet we should all aspire to be. Just imagine the possibilities for the poultry business. We'll make it rain! | 2020-01-09T23:52:09 | 2020-01-09T22:45:47 | 862 | 31 |
[WP] Across the galaxy, a synthetic drug known as "Fury" is illegal everywhere due to its effects on the mind and body, humans call it Adrenalin and they can make it naturally. | “They can’t milk you if there is nothing to take.”
I’ll never forget my mother burning this into my brain as soon as I was old enough to understand English.
“Your survival depends on learning not to fear, and unfortunately there is only one way to train you.”
I shivered. My mother’s stern voice alone scared the ever loving crap out of me at the time. I thought she was just going to spank me or something. If only I had known what true fear was, and what she was saving me from.
As humans, we have a natural “fight or flight” response. A burst of adrenaline that gives us temporary super powers. Within our own bodies we produce the magic elixir of super speed, remarkable strength, or heightened senses.
At 4 years old, my training began. She started with the classic childhood fears. Dressing as a monster in my closet, locking me alone in a pitch black room, hiding a rat in my bed. As I grew older, she raised the stakes. Stranding me on a narrow cliff edge, throwing me overboard in the middle of the ocean, driving over 100 mph on a narrow one-lane road. I learned the hard way that the only thing for me to fear truly was fear itself. As long as I stayed calm and managed my adrenaline, I would pass the test and the torture would end. Naturally, with puberty came the next phase: fight.
I was angry. I was sick of the abuse. I wanted to fight. My mother knew it was time to change her approach. So she taught me meditation. How to control my mind and my emotions. How to defend myself, while maintaining composure. I was becoming a man. She knew she was running out of time.
On my 18th birthday, I was drafted for the fury farms. My mother showed no emotion as they collected me from my childhood home, but I knew that if she had allowed herself, she would have been terrified for me, or she would have fought them to the death to help me escape. But she was too smart for that.
I was taken immediately to the medical ward for my physical evaluation. I failed with flying colors. I was utterly worthless to them. Not a drop of adrenaline in my body. Nothing to fear, no desire to fight. I would be honorably discharged and sent on my way. Until the nurse came in to disconnect me. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen in my life. My heart began to race, my hands became clammy. She took one look at my vitals and I knew the jig was up. Shit.
| De'cras slowly emerged from the shadows, with bags carrying humans knocked out from his synthesizer.
"Three humans, male, fully grown. Expected fury output of 10,000 units for the next 5 years."
Letting out a grin from one of his twin heads, De'cras sized upon his merchant, a representative of a huge galactic conglomerate known to the stars for its bioenchancement products.
"I expect at least 10,000 credits for this. No negotiations."
The merchant slowly floated towards the bags. Using his telekinesis, he skillfully undid the bags and sized up the three humans, suspending them in the air.
"This one", he pointed, looks weak. "8,000 for all three, you won't find a better deal. We have successfully negotiated with the human federations. Soon your human trading days will be numbered. They have agreed to supply us with fury themselves."
De'cras shrugged, he had known of such tricks by the conglomerate.
"9000, or I go to synth-corp. No more bulls**t. Everyone knows freshly harvested fury tastes way better."
Tossing to De'cras a 9000 credit stick. The merchant swiftly moved his goods and bade his contact farewell.
"Our business is concluded."
The humans were a rare find for the conglomerate. Living credits, they call it. Never did the conglomerate ever imagine that there was natural occurring fury in the universe. Soon they will capture earth, and obtain a formal monopoly on such beauties.
His only worry were the galactic federation, and rival competitors that would grant him endless headaches. However, little did he imagine that the being of fury would grant him so much trouble, as the unbeknownst to him, the bag begins to stir....
| 2018-03-19T01:26:35 | 2018-03-18T21:03:42 | 46 | 15 |
[WP] You have a superpower where the harder a solid is the easier it is for you to break. Diamonds crumble to dust under the slightest touch but mashed potatoes are virtually unbreakable. | "HAHAHAHA" i couldn't help laugh. The police were everyhere. POP POP POP. three little plumes of dust roll off my chest as they fire their guns. The bullets crumble as they touch me. "There is no way they can stop me, I'm indestructible!" I think to myself as I begin to walk away. I kick a squad car for good measure, the hood collapses under my foot.
As i turned from the car I see a little boy in front of me. "Get out of here kid." I say waving my hand towards the sidewalk. "You could get hurt." He looked up at me defiantly. "Bad guys aren't allowed to get away." he said shakily, pointing a bright yellow toy gun at me.
"alright punk." I started to say but was cut off by by the *sprong* of the childs toy. A foam dart flew at me and struck me lightly on the knee. My knee exploded out behind me, as it it had just been struck by a .45
The pain was unreal, I looked up through confused tears at the child. " Bad guys aren't allowed to get away" he said again, *Sprong* went his toy. I saw the blue and orange dart heading right for my face. The pain from my knee keeps me from dodging. I feel my nose being ripped away by the soft rubber tip of the dart, then nothing. | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/bestof] [\/u\/Probably\_juzme writes an amazing meta short story based on an obscure writing prompt](https://np.reddit.com/r/bestof/comments/6c1v7i/uprobably_juzme_writes_an_amazing_meta_short/)
[](#footer)*^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))*
[](#bot) | 2017-05-19T04:32:27 | 2017-05-18T23:04:07 | 84 | 22 |
[WP] Shortly after we finally develop the cure for aging and disease, the third world war throws humanity back into the Dark Ages. The cure was lost in the war, but immortals live amongst the survivors. | Rhys sucked down the fetid water and hissed through his teeth. Honestly, he'd gotten used to the taste years ago - but it was a habit he'd picked up in the early days and maintained ever since. Must have been because of the comfort people get from routine.
As he crouched at the river, he surveyed the wreckage of the city, glowing orange in the morning sunrise. He felt calm, almost serene. The emptiness soothed him. He always felt a certain irony that this once bustling hub of humanity was now one of the most tranquil places on Earth. Barely a decade ago, it was home to millions - now, it was his private sanctuary. The lone resident of a dead metropolis.
Well, almost alone. The rodents, dogs and mosquitoes kept him company. *Mosquitoes*... He instinctively reached for his arm and scratched. They were annoying bastards, but he knew they were one of the keys to his peaceful existence.
People were always known for doing reckless things when they felt cornered and desperate -- and nothing is more desperate than facing your own mortality. It didn't take long after the war started until nations began to abandon all their treaties and conventions. Biological weapons entered the fray. Weaponized diseases. They rendered cities like this one uninhabitable. And as the bodies piled in the streets, nature started to do its clean-up. The particular disease used here transmitted easily to the carrion birds and virtually wiped them out. The mosquitoes, though - they fared better. They were only carriers. Which means they served as a protection for him. No one dared come close to the city.
Which was fortunate for him -- because Rhys was a sheep living in a world of wolves. His blood was the Holy Grail. The Fountain of Youth.
The means of producing the cure was lost, but it was quickly realized that a blood transfusion from one of the Immune could confer the same benefits. But there was a problem - it was only temporary. Many of the Immune volunteered to donate regularly to help their fellow man. It was mankind's better nature on display. But it didn't take long for the opposite end of that nature to emerge. Demand outpaced supply and things turned ugly. Immunes began disappearing, only to turn up days later drained of their blood. It only got worse from there.
Rhys always believed that people were, at their nature, generally good. But for a reason he couldn't understand, that goodness wasn't additive in groups.
Among groups of survivors, the Immune began to be treated like cattle. Held captive and constantly tapped for their immunity. They became prey. Rhys had been one of the lucky ones. He'd escaped to safety years ago and carved out a safe and peaceful, if lonely, life.
He took another sip of water and then dipped his canteen into the river. He began to stand when he heard a strange but familiar sound. He couldn't place it. It was a strange rumbling, almost a vibration. But he couldn't place the direction. It sounded like it was coming from...above?
Rhys looked up as the sound hit a crescendo and a plane, barely flying above the cityscape, buzzed over his head. In his shock he drew in a sharp breath -- and then began to gag. His lungs burned and his mouth tasted metal. He noticed a misty cloud around him as he choked and wheezed for air. He dropped to his knees, grasping his chest. Eyes watering and face flush and hot, Rhys was on all fours as he clumsily removed the cap from his canteen. He desperately took a gulp of water, washing the taste from his mouth. He splashed his eyes next, squinting tightly as the mixture of water and tears streamed down his cheeks.
He began to feel the burning in his chest subsiding. As his breath returned to him, he slowly lifted his head and noticed that the gas cloud had subsided. Exhausted, he dropped to his elbows and focused on the ground while his eyes cleared and his focus returned. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal and he took a deep breath of exhaustion. No pain.
He exhaled. And that's when he noticed it. A dead mosquito got caught in his exhalation and fluttered away. He began to survey the ground around him as a cold panic overcame him. Dead mosquitoes. Everywhere. Lying motionless, except for the disturbances caused by the gentle breeze.
While Rhys wrestled with what this meant, he heard a new rumbling in the distance. But unlike prior rumbling, he knew the direction of this one. It was coming from directly behind him. Rhys rose to one knee and turned around.
A truck turned the corner, barreling towards him. | Who would have thought, When they first came out with a cure for all disease, I thought it was hoax, but it would be such a good meme. It was like a generic miracle drink from the old west, well old west is now in where china was at the time, and chine is where England use to be, stupid tectonic bombs. Never thought geography would be hard. Wow, I miss England, walking down the street complaining about the economy, those were the days.
Anyways, back to me, I bought the "cure" and then had a good laugh with some friends drinking it before the day I was drafted. Now, I'm not bitter about the draft, was going to sign up anyways, I mean WWIII was kinda shock, who knew Canada and New Zealand had their eyes set on world domination, but most people were not opposed to a good war. Let's just have a fashionable war, send lots of soldiers, use lots of bombs, and totally kill each other. What were we thinking, I mean technology has come so far, why would you use infantry, we may have colonies on a few other planets, but this is still the majority of the population. Wow, in hindsight that was really dumb. Oh well, at least I'm not dead.
So, I had a family, and I remember my wife being so angry when I bought the cure! She didn't want to have anything to do with it. My daughter was 2 at the time, little did I know I wouldn't get to see much more of her, one day I'll find her, and then I can be a proper Dad once more. She was such a bundle of joy and she used to visit me at work and help me out by "sorting" the books by color. What a special girl.
Wait that's right, me, I remember now, well, this cure was great, it basically turned all your cells into stem cells, so you didn't need anything to live, I mean you could die, but it was really hard to do. Saw one guy like me die when he ate a grenade to save his squad, needless to say he didn't regrow, I think. Now that is a nasty thought, imagine your this guy and you are alive but your parts are just all over, or maybe you would grow into multiples of yourself, weird.
I did it again, FOCUS, FOCUS, FOCUS. All right, well my story isn't glamorous, I went down on the first wave. They bombed a town and I was buried underneath rubble. The worst part? My mate Jack, you see that half body right there? That's him, no I did not eat him, turns out hunger is a "disease" but he did bleed out right in front of me. Pretty gross, at least he is company. He was crying as he was dying, and then he kinda just faded in and out of consciousness for a couple a days and then eventually his breathing stopped. He said he wanted to be a mailman, guess that didn't work out, maybe I'll be a mailman, do people still get mail?
&#x200B;
DANG IT, I like Jack, but I need to finish my tale first. So anyways, I got buried here and kinda just sat around. I have no clue how much time passed, and they say that the brain can't regrow, but my body can't die so I get confused, but working in the library isn't so bad, I have seen so much, you know I was a librarian before the war, I loved the young adult section, you would get these "edgy" teenagers coming into the library acting to cool to read and then they would spend all afternoon there. Something special, that's for sure. Well that's about enough about me, hope you all find what you're looking for!
Oh wow, what a beautiful day, you there! Can you believe it? That cure they made for immortality works. Who woulda thought, they sold it in those old west bottle, miracle cure things. Well the old west is now where China was, and China is where England was.
Oh, sorry, didn't mean to bother you, have a nice day.
Wow, thought that cure was a joke, maybe that gal over there wants to hear my story. | 2018-10-25T09:05:58 | 2018-10-25T08:19:42 | 21 | 12 |
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