prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] The phrase "Those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it" is true. Everyone who fails history class is sent back to a random era in history as punishment. You are one of them. | ----
----
*Those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it.*
I brought my hands to my face as the words echoed and reverberated in my head. When I brought my hands away, I found dirt, grime, and blood.
If only I had known.
-----
I held my breath and waited.
Just a moment longer.
The bell rang.
I blew, it was a short puff of air, but it was enough. Enough to propel a soggy lump of paper through the air and directly into Peter's scalp. Peter yelped, and what followed was laughter from the entire class.
"Haha! Nice one Jason!" Mark stood up and we clasped hands.
"Time to get the fuck out of here," I said with a big grin. "Ain't no one got time for history."
I stood up, ready to head home. People were already shuffling out of the classroom.
"Jason Wheel!" Mr. Fall called, his raspy voice struggling to be heard over the clamor of chairs scraping against floor. "I need to have a word with you lad!"
I rolled my eyes before giving the old man a good look. He had a stern expression on his face.
"I'll talk to you later Mark," I said dismissively to my friend before heading towards Mr. Fall's desk.
I glanced down at my history teacher as he struggled to put his papers in order. His hands were frail and trembled whenever he tried to pick something up.
"What's up Mr. Fall?" I asked.
Mr. Fall, still organizing his papers spoke. "Son. If you don't pick up the slack, I'm afraid I'm going to have to fail you. We are, however, starting exams in two weeks Jason. If you can perform impeccably on the exams..."
"Of course, sir."
Mr. Fall let out a breath and looked up at me, his eyes magnified through thick frames. "Son, do you not find my history lessons engaging?"
"I'm sorry sir, but I simply have no interest in history. You see, I don't think dwelling in the past will change anything."
Mr. Fall paused, his hands still for the first time. Finally he spoke, "Hmm. I see. One moment son."
Mr. Fall got out of his chair slowly, and reached into a leather suitcase. After a few long moments of rustling papers, he retrieved a tattered book. It looked like it was even older than Mr. Fall himself.
Then he spoke, and for the first time his voice was clear. "Those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it."
He handed me the book.
"Um. What the f- I mean what's this?" I asked as I held it gingering in my hands.
"A journal," said Mr. Fall. "But you may think of it as a... history textbook, I'd reckon."
"But sir, I already have a history textbook... I don't think I'll need this."
"Trust me son. You will need it," he chuckled amusingly, as if there was a joke I didn't get.
It was only until later that night, that I would come to understand. But it was too late. Oh how I wish I had listened to him.
When I eventually decided to open Mr. Fall's journal, I found pages of handwriting scrawled erratically. I skipped to the last page and found those same words.
'*Those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it.'*
-----
Darkness.
Am I dead?
Then I felt it. Pain. Everywhere.
Then I heard it.
Ceaseless gunfire and artillery punctuated the air with every other moment.
Then I smelled it.
Putrid, it was the smell of dirt mixed with blood and shit.
I struggled to move, twisting and crawling until finally there was light .I was buried under a heap of bodies. I looked around me and saw chaos.
Men in military uniform, crawling and huddled in the dirt around me. Stray bullets hit the dirt around me and I froze in my spot.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
"What are you doing you cowards! Pick up your guns and fire!" he shouted like a man who had gone mad.
The men stood up straighter and held their rifles higher. "Yes Sir!"
I looked down, noticing the rifle by my feet.
"Fuck me," I mumbled to myself and picked up the rifle.
----
----
/r/em_pathy
kinda rushed this one out, srry if there are a lot of grammatical errors.
| Okie dokie gang lets do a last minute roll call before we head off.
Miss Kapowski?
Here
Mr Morris
.........
Mr Morris
........
ZACH!!
Hmm oh Present
Mr Powers?
Right here sir
Mr Slater
Yo!
Miss Turtle
Here, I must say these sandals are devine
Well alright then that is everyone Mr Wainwright
Thank you Mr Belden, Welcome to Wainwrights History Tours! Now I know you all watched our 15 minute safety video before you were outfitted with your history specific clothing but why don't we take these next few minutes to do one last safety check of our equipment.
Suddenly the door crashed open, and a frizzy haired girl came huffing into the class room.
I'm here I'm here wait for me.
Ms Spano? what are you doing here? you received a A+ on every Western Civilization exam this year.
I know sir but I just couldn't pass up such an incredible opportunity
Suck up. Zach whispered as he nudged Slater
Who chuckled and pushed Zach a little too hard
Hey Hey Hey now what is going on here? Mr Belden questioned
You too pay attention now and quit clowning around! Mr Wainwright please continue.
Thank you, ah Miss Spano was it?
Jessie shook her head
We were just about to do our final equipment check, I see you have your translator necklace on can you test that it works please.
Opera omnia. she spoke in perfect latin.
Excellent, now in each one of your tunics you will find your Time Transmogrifier, We will be pushing the big red button exactly two times. Once when we depart and again when we return home exactly 30 minutes later, giving us just enough time to view the frescos and statues of the city.
Is everybody ready??
Yes Mr Wainwright, the student answered
Right then on the count of 3, One Two Three
A very strong wind picked up and a crack of light opened before them and they were sucked into the void.
When they finished spinning they opened their eyes and saw that they were in the middle of a beautiful plaza with large bronze and marble statues and bubbling fountains.
Mr Belden, who looked for a minute like he might get sick, straighten himself out and addressed the class.
Now who can tell me when and where we are?
Jessie's hand shot up and before she was called upon began to speak
Sir we are in Ancient Rome in the city of Pompeii.
That is correct, and who can tell me besides Miss Spano what made this city famous?
Well sir I'm not sure, Samuel screeched
But I'm hoping it doesn't have anything to do we that giant smoking mountain over there!
Mr Wainwright shot bolt up right and turn to look at the mountain
No, No, No this can't be right we were supposed to arrive a full week before the eruption! there must of been some form of interference with Transmogrifier!
Just then Zach yelped and started to pat the front of his tunic as smoke began to wisp out of his pocket. He reached in and pulled out his still smoking Motorola DynaTAC and threw it into the nearest fountain.
As the portable phone splashed down a thundering growl came from the mountain and the ground shook violently under their feet.
WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW! Wainwright was barley audible over the deafening roar of Mount Vesuvius
READY!? Three, Two, One goooooo!
The top of the mountain disappeared in a cloud of ash and fire
Whirling back into the classroom the gang all hugged in relief of there near miss.
Kelly Kapowski was the first to realize something was wrong.
Where is Zach!? Has anyone seen him?
Um guys you better look at this Samuel screeched as he held out their text book open to the page on the excavation of Pompeii
[https://imgur.com/RoWX5BF](https://imgur.com/RoWX5BF)
# | 2018-06-14T20:31:49 | 2018-06-14T20:20:47 | 64 | 33 |
[WP] Sat around the peace gathering with the kings of the Neighboring cities, you are offered a drink. Upon taking a sip, you taste a familiar poison that you have become immune to over the years. Chaos ensues. | | The moment the wine touched my tongue, I knew it was the poison. The taste was indistinguishable from the regular wine for the untrained. But for me, the taste was all too familiar. There was no mistaking it. It had to be it.
There were 4 of us on the table. The Kings of the 4 directions. Toasting with joy. Happy finally that the 100 years of war between us was over. Deals had been made. Borders drawn. It seemed like a win win situation for all of us.
We were at the central city of Durgar. The holy city. Holy for all our kingdoms and no army has ever stepped in here. It was the most prosperous city in our continent. All kindoms shared the border with it.
We have no idea why our great grandfathers started fighting in the first place but I had little choice but to man up and continue what they started. Many had perished in stalemate. Every few years we would take up arms, split the army and fight the East and West. It was almost like a ritual.
The kings of North have been our allies for generations. We do not share borders with them. But we share the same enemies. The East and the West.
East and the West have been allies too. They share no borders and are allies.
But there was a balance in the world. If you could call it that. Neither side had won, neither side had lost.
East had the metals. West was rich in rocks and granite. The north was rich in flood plains. We the southerners produced the wood. We needed each other indirectly since none of us was self sufficient.
Goods would travel from each city to Durgar and get redistributed through the trade network. We allowed such trades. We all needed to eat, build, make weapons. We needed the economy to keep waging wars.
I never understood the war. It was purely defensive from my perspective. My generals thought differently, but I was never the one who would willingly seek territory. I was delighted when the high priest of Durgar offered to bring us together. I wanted peace and prosperity.
I continued sipping on the wine while keeping my head down. I might be immune to it, but I still got a headache every time I consumed it. The nausea was unbearable but I knew it would pass.
I knew someone on the table wanted us dead. But who? I have thought of the King of North as my brother. It had to be the king of the East or the West. I looked up.
All of us were served the same wine. Everyone had been drinking it too. It must mean that someone else was immune to the poison too. It had to be the case.
Finally, I had to speak. "Who has done this?", I asked.
The king of North was the first to respond. "I was going to ask the same thing. That headache was terrible."
The king of East said, "It must be one of you bastards. Thank God I have trained to be immune"
The king of West said, "This peace deal is over. I am declaring war against all of you."
We were arguing like little children all of a sudden. Alliances were broken. Looked like all 4 nations were at mutual war now.
Let me be honest. We were all kings and had never been in a physical fight ever before. No one wanted to trade blows, myself included. It was our generals who would carry out the war for another 100 years. It would have been a funny thing for someone else to see.
Finally we grew tired of arguing and got up from our chairs. We wanted to leave. But to our surprise, the door opened from the outside. It was the high priest.
He looked shocked. | "I lay on the floor, trying not to breath, fighting the urge to flee as they made their way among the limp bodies that littered the chamber floor. There were at least ten yards between myself and the exit. My men, if they were still alive, would be in the courtyard. I did not count on their chances however. Whatever insidious hand guiding this coup would have accounted for them. I was on my own.
I wracked my brain, trying to remember every detail of the grounds I could remember. The stables were just west of the council chamber. I considered the distance I would fall if I leapt from the window. No. The distance was too great. I'd likely break something on impact.
The assassins drew closer, turning over corpses, driving knives into their throats at the slightest sign of movement.
The kitchens. Yes, the kitchens. The servant's entrance led out directly into the supply yard. A horse would be easy enough to acquire. I'd most likely be riding bareback, but such a discomfort was a small price in exchange for not having cold, serrated steel driven into my larynx.
I waited until one of the cloaked men stood over me. My heart beat so heavily against my chest I feared it'd be heard. The cloaked figure crouched down beside me. He reeked like some dead thing dragged from a fresh grave. The skin of his hands was black like death, and when he placed his hand upon my back, it felt as if ice had pierced my flesh. His dead hand went to a knife on his belt, unsheathing it. Quickly I swept his legs out from under him with a swift kick. The man dropped with a heavy thud, letting out a muffled cry like a dying animal. I seized his blade and drove it deep into his face. His comrades whirled about, seeing me standing over their dying compatriot. I did not hesitate.
Knife still in hand, I sprinted for the kitchen door. The men howled in some unknown, haunting tongue, like wild beasts fighting over broken prey. Their footfalls rang throughout the chamber like thunder. I dared not look back.
I clattered through the kitchen door, knocking servants to the floor, sending trays of food skittering about the room. They screamed in confusion as I sprinted past. The screams only grew louder as my pursuers came through after me. I did not know what they would do with the poor servants now that they had been seen, but I could not stop to consider their ill fate.
Out the back door and into the yard. Just as I had hoped, a horse, strapped to a cart loaded with vegetables and other foods. I leapt to its back, and with a swiftness born of adrenaline and fear, I severed the ropes tying the creature to his burden. I kicked the beasts ribs, taking firm hold of its mane. We sprung from the yard and off into the woods with lightening speed. i could hear the terrible crowing of the assassins behind me, and some dark truth in my mind told me that no matter how quickly I fled, they would soon be on my heels." | 2016-11-03T09:30:23 | 2016-11-03T06:20:28 | 34 | 20 |
[WP] Your partner rolls over in your bed, looking at you with the most tired eyes you’ve ever seen. “I’m in a time loop.” | "What," I said hoarsely, "what do you mean you're in a time loop?"
She looked at me with an expression somewhere between frustration and resignation.
"I mean, I'm in a time loop. I am stuck in a loop of time that just repeats over and over again. It's been 4 days."
In my defense, I had just woken up, but the look on my face made her groan and plop back down onto the bed, head in her hands.
"I'm going to go back to 3:30 am," she said through gritted teeth, "in about 2 minutes."
I looked at our alarm clock. 7:28.
"So at 7:30, you'll be transported back - "
"Four hours, yes."
I sat up and tried to process this for a few seconds. The birds were chirping outside, light beginning to stream in through the curtains. Her hair was messy, her eyes tired and blank as she stared up at the ceiling. She looked like she hadn't slept for days, and her side of the sheets were caked with sweat.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
As soon as I asked, I grimaced. I knew the question didn't make any sense. She didn't answer, but instead looked at me with pleading eyes.
Suddenly, the alarm rang. 7:30. I scrambled over to turn it off almost instinctively, and then -
"What," I said hoarsely, "what do you mean you're in a time loop?"
She looked at me with an expression somewhere between frustration and resignation.
"I mean, I'm in a time loop. I am stuck in a loop of time that just repeats over and over again. It's been 5 days."
In my defense, I had just woken up, so I was a little confused, but wait. Did I...?
I sat up and tried to process this for a few seconds. The birds were chirping outside, light beginning to stream in through the curtains. Her hair was messy, her eyes tired and blank as she stared up at the ceiling. She looked like she hadn't slept for days, and her side of the sheets were caked with sweat.
"Have we... done this before?" I asked slowly.
She sat up, eyes suddenly alert, and scooched closer. "You remember now?"
I was having a hard time with it, and I wasn't sure if I was dreaming, but I managed to squeak out a "...yes?"
I looked at the alarm clock. 7:29. "It's gonna happen again, isn't it?"
She nodded sadly and hugged my arm. "Come back with me," she said softly. "Don't let me do it alone again."
The alarm rang.
"What," I said hoarsely, "what do you mean you're in a time loop?"
She looked at me with an expression somewhere between frustration and resignation.
"No, wait! I remember. I know this." I leapt up from the bed and went to the window, moving the curtains aside. The birds were chirping and the light was streaming in. "The time is 7:28, isn't it?"
She glanced at the alarm clock and nodded. Suddenly, she furrowed her eyebrows and opened her mouth.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Since when do we have this alarm clock?" she pointed to it accusingly. It was a small digital alarm clock with faux wood from like the 80s or something.
"I bought it a few days ago at a yard sale, remember? I just didn't wanna be late for work again, so - "
She crawled over to my side of the bed and reached under the nightstand, taking the cord out of the wall. Before I could say anything, she had walked up to the window, opened it, and thrown the alarm clock out onto the street below. I heard a metallic crash, and a car alarm started screeching.
"Baby, what the hell!?" I said, raising my voice. I ran to the window and closed it, drawing the curtains again and hoping no one had seen. She went to the bathroom, walking like a zombie, and splashed some water on her face, then came back and laid down on the bed, closing her eyes. I was still incredulous and asked why she did that, but she just told me to shush.
"What time is it?" she asked weakly.
I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed my phone. 7:31.
"Nice," she said, and fell asleep. | "ah! well, i'm not. so if you'd like some help getting unstuck, i'm here for you."
"it's been a few weeks already. and we've had this conversation at least ten times."
"do you think it will last forever? you look really tired, as though it's somehow wearing you down -- but shouldnt you start fresh each loop?"
"i think i'm mostly the same each loop. it's just my state of mind immediately flooding me with fear. also i didnt sleep well last night."
"want to take a nap?"
"maybe in a few hours?"
"we should probably watch 'groundhog day' -- maybe your loop follows the same rules."
"i'm not a mean person who needs to seek salvation by dialing in the best most wholesome day ever..."
"true, true. i mean, it couldnt hurt. but anyway, it's the only instruction manual for this sort of thing that we have."
"i guess you're right."
later, after eating breakfast, watching 'groundhog day', and taking a nap...
"i guess we could try doing some science."
"call every scientist and physicist and crank we can, and you'll memorize the responses and fine-tune the search until somehow we find someone who can get you out of the loop?"
"maybe we should watch 'primer'..."
"i didnt understand it the first two times."
several more weeks pass. each day like the last. the advice to stay positive, and incrementally put together the best day ever, is not *bad* advice. but it took bill murray's character years of suicide attempts and some other really dark shit before he then spent years on the path of love.
"we could search for the aleph -- or one of the alephs."
"we could practice lucid dreaming..."
"have you tried killing yourself yet?"
"no i'm still too scared to try."
"when does the loop repeat? like what hour?"
"i think around 3am."
"seems like we should mess with that boundary. you could hurt yourself then, and hopefully it will only last a few minutes before you wake up again?"
"we could try... i'm imagining some pretty traumatizing experiments though. why do we have to use pain and suicide to mess with the loop?"
"well until we find a scientist with a better idea, it's all i've got. but i really don't know why... i guess it's just like, if you cut off your pinky finger at 2:30am and then wake up the next day with a pinky finger, that's gotta be definitive prrof of something."
"i feel like i could be the perfect experimental subject in a medical study."
"if you could gain knowledge through repetition, and somehowwe could smuggle the knowledge out of the loop..."
"i wish i were a mathematician. i could probably invent a whole new branch of physics."
several more weeks pass. each day begins with a summary of the situation, some
proof that some progress has been made, and attempts to break out -- through finding people who can help, through studying and inventing a solution, through working on the "best day" idea.
"i'm actually maybe onto something here. it fucking sucks though, it'll take me years of study and memorization to even try to idea."
years pass.
"i'm glad youre here to help
me and that your so easy to convince about this situation each morning."
"i mean, i've seen a lot of trippy shit in my life. i can give you one day of suspended disbelief. and you just did some
math out of nowhere that you sure as hell couldnt do yesterday."
theyre heading down the science loop. living in a big city with several decent universities, theyreable to line up a dozen people by early afternoon to try breaking the loop. eventually it takes just an hour or so to get everyone on board.
"i love that this is what we're trying. feels pretty fucking hopeless still though." | 2022-05-29T00:48:59 | 2022-05-28T19:56:36 | 62 | 33 |
[WP] “He’s dead....finally that son of a bitch got what he deserved” Charlie said as he reads the headline of the news paper. “Candy Extraordinaire Wonka has passed away”. Now, Charlie sits, and remembers the true events of the day he and the other children visited Wonka’s Factory. | Charles Bucket placed the paper down to his side, and folded his hands in his lap quietly, deep in thought. He closed his eyes, and visions of madness swam across the back of his eyelids. Nightmares that hadn't reared their snarling terrible heads for decades now. Nightmares he thought he had left behind.
Charles steeled himself, squaring up his shoulders, flicked the last drops of morning coffee from his mustache. He flicked a button, watching the wall in front of him slide open. In the Main Office of Buckets Wonderful Confections, a simple bookcase slide to the side, the hidden doorway to Charles's living space revealing itself. Not for the first time, he wished it had not been made necessary to set his living space in a permanent "panic room". But such was the nature of the place he had inherited that day.
On to the factory floor. He looked over gleaming conveyor belts, the giant vats ready to be heated for boiling and simmering, and the machines precision-aligned for molding and cutting chocolate into delightful shapes. All was quiet in the morning still; the workers wouldn't be here for another hour. At this time of morning, only two divisions of the company were present: Administration, and Perimeter Defense.
Looking over the modernized mechanica of his factory, Charles found himself flashing back to the day he had won ownership of it. To the contest, and the tour. He remembered Wonka, the living fever dream of a man with his manic smile and spastic mannerisms. And he remembered what he had seen that day, the terrors he had been forced to cover up. A stipulation of the inheritance contract; to attain ownership of Wonka's inheritance, he had needed to tell all who asked a wild and whimsical story of wonder and magic contained within the factory's walls.
Sometimes, he almost believed it. Sometimes he almost believed poor Veruca had fallen harmlessly down a chute to be picked up from a garbage bin, not shoved into a grinder while gibbering laughter drowned out her screams.
Sometimes he almost believed Mike *had* been comically shrunken to the size of an insect. The stretching part was true however. Charles let some truth slip in, where he could. But Mike had not been cartoonishly stretched back to his proper size by a taffy puller. Lashed his hands to a wall and his feet to the bumper of a semi truck, started the engine, and... he was stretched. Charles could still hear Mike's screams, and the agonized wails of his mother.
The Oompa Loompas... oh how Charles wished they had been a fabrication. He told the world of Wonka's silly little men that ran the factory's day-to-day. This may have been his greatest lie, and his most unforgiveable sin: not telling the world how much danger they were in.
Lost in his reverie, Charles didn't notice his Head of Perimeter Defense until the burly man was almost on top of him. "Sir!" the armed and armored man yelled. "We have a situation!"
Charles spun to see what was going on, and followed the pointing finger of his Head of Defense. On a far wall, there were gashes in the plaster, three long jagged streaks.
"Oompa Loompa claws..." Charles whispered in fear. "What happened, I thought the portal to Loompaland was secured?!"
"We don't know yet sir, but we've had reports of Oompa activity in other sectors of the factory."
"Seal all exits! Call any Defense Forces that aren't on shift yet and get their asses on the hunt!" Charles sprinted across the factory floor. "And alert all civilian staff not to come in to work today. Paid day off, tell the media we had a mechanical failure, ONLY if they ask!"
Charles and the Head of Perimeter Defense rounded a corner, and found themselves confronted by a foul stench. One they both knew too well...
They followed the smell into a stockroom, and found the crates of baking supplies fouled by oozing masses of pustule-ridden muck. Bulging in the piles of foul liquid, there lay a large number of quivering translucent pods.
Charles' face went pale with horror. "Oompa Loompa eggs... HOW did they manage to get past your men long enough to lay a clutch of EGGS?!"
Before the Head of Perimeter Defense could reply, the two men heard a low gibbering chuckle. It echoed around them, coming from seemingly nowhere. Charles oriented, and found the source: a ventilation grate. They were in the vents.
The mad chuckling turned into a mocking sing-song, inhuman in its tone
*Oompa Loompa, doop-a-duh-dee*
*We are here for little Charlie...*
Charles scowled, ordered his Head of Defense away. His place now was at the Command Room, organizing a defensive and securing the Loompaland portal against any further activity.
Charles closed the door to the stock room, took a handgun from the holster under his suit jacket, and pondered on how some legacies never fully go away, as he listened to the gibbering sing-song grow louder. | The river ran red, not chocolate. The blood of ten thousand Oompa-loompas. He believed it made his chocolate richer. More vibrant and exciting. "There's no blood as perfect for chocolate as that of Oompa-loompas, Charlie," he said grinning his perfect smile. "And their blood is only good when they're in *jussst* the right amount of pain before being milked for it. Plus, it's a real aphrodisiac, don'tchya know. Heh."
I get ahead of myself.
Eighteen years ago I found a golden ticket tucked inside a bar of fizzy chocolate. Ostensibly, Mr Wonka was reopening his long-shut chocolate factory and, after publicity, had chosen to run a contest for five lucky children to win a tour of it. Truthfully, he was looking for a little sadist with fresh ideas to help him cook, and to one day, take over his demented empire. And he found one. A little girl who grew up into a monster even sicker than Wonka.
I had thought myself lucky that day I found the ticket to get me into his factory. Looking back, I was cursed.
Both my sets of grandparents lived with us, in a tiny little house that was one storm away from falling down. They'd always lived with us, at least since I'd entered the world. We were dirt poor. Mum and Dad liked to tell me that times were tough, but the truth is they were lazy. All of them. Dad could have gotten a retail or service job, when he lost his own. But he was above those jobs -- at least in his deluded mind. He'd rather we all starved than have pride pricked. Mum... She was even worse. Didn't work at all, as she had to "look after the older folk, Charlie dear." That was bullshit, of course. I knew she laced the onion stew every week with a little something to stop them being able to get out of that bed. So she could be a full time carer and collect benefits from the government for her efforts. Cigarettes and opiods. That's where the money went, without fail.
Jesus Christ, that bed. You try to imagine the stink of a bed shared by four old folk who never leave it. Four filled bedpans permanently resting besides it. That's right. You can't imagine it. Can't even begin to.
I resented them all. Hated them, and swore I'd never become anything like them. That I'd do whatever it took to make something of myself.
I hated Grandpa George the least. He'd worked as a coal miner for nearly fifty years, and he would have kept on working down some pit or another, if Mum hadn't brow-beat him into retirement. Then spiralled him into hopeless depression with her poisons.
The golden ticket should have been my ticket to the life I'd dreamed of. George's too, 'cause I was damn sure not leaving him with those people.
"Grandpa," I whispered that night, as I snuck into my house long after the candles had been blown out. As a rule, I spent as little time in it as I possibly could. Talked to the people in it as little as I could. "Grandpa!" I shook his shoulder. He opened his glazed eyes.
"Charlie? What time is--"
He saw it. The ticket shimmering and shaking nervously in my hand.
His mouth opened. I thrust my hand over it and he swallowed his words.
"I won, Grandpa. I God-damned won!"
My hand muffled a cry of joy that I knew had been due.
"The tour is in three days time. And I'm taking you with me. Shh!" I let go of his mouth and his warm stale breath sailed up my nostrils.
"This is... This is unbelievable," he whispered excitedly. Then, his face fell. "I can't go with you, Charlie, my lad. I can't walk."
"I know why you can't walk, Grandpa. You're being poisoned. You all are. And I'm going to help get you better before the tour begins. You're coming with me, I swear to God."
He smiled at me. Crooked teeth. Wrinkled skin. A real smile.
I grinned back, already knowing what I had to do.
It was the next day that I murdered his daughter.
| 2019-03-21T09:55:01 | 2019-03-21T08:11:30 | 2,685 | 281 |
[WP] On a world where one side permanently faces the sun humanity has made their home in the light, the dark side inundated with vampires and other monsters unable to venture further. In this world there is one rare event that humans fear and evil relishes - The Total Eclipse. | I pull the curtain aside, careful not to allow the glimmer of my candlelight through the window. My eyes were not met with darkness, but with dancing flickering flames that climbed up into the sky like snakes. I could not live through another Harvest, I was already weak, tortured and scarred from the last. Why here? I had driven two thousand miles to avoid this.
I recoil quickly, breathing heavily. I close my eyes and say a quick prayer, knowing that I want to look again. Something in my body needed one last look at the beautiful wreckage that enveloped my once-peaceful neighbourhood.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The noise comes from the window, clear and harsh, cutting through the silence of the fort I've built myself. I clutch at my bedsheets, hands sweaty and shaking. The knocking comes again. Slowly turning in abject horror, a hand slithers through the glass of my window, jerking and ripping away my curtain.
My body shivers, it is simultaneously freezing and hot and the fingers clutching at my neck burn like ice and fire on my skin. I won't get away with only scars this time. The wraith-like dark entity eats away at my entire soul, torturing piece by piece.
I am not dragged to the fire. I glide out of my body on another plane. His hands are everywhere, cutting his way through my entire being. He is a Nightbringer, the very worst of our dark-dwelling counterparts on this earth.
The scene is beautiful but terrifying. Falling trees and houses, blackened and burning in a thick ring of dancing fire. It hisses, tempting me and taking me. Do I need it? Or does it need me?
He lets go of my body.
I go. I am going to the light. It's my light. My darkness.
I am one of them now.
| **No.**
But why? My screenplay is a sure-fire hit! Total eclipse! Vampires eating humans! You're a Hollywood hotshot, you should know this is like printing money!
**Vampires? Is this 2009?**
Yes.
**No!**
Oh, right! That coma I was in for several years. (laughs softly, sadly shakes his head) Well, I'll be seeing you, Mr Belushi.
**My friends call me Jim. You want a harmonica solo for the road? (reaches into pocket, pulls out a harmonica and plays it, somehow, in a story)**
Whoa, look at the time. (picks up handkerchief bindle tied to stick, puts on floppy hat, walks out the door)
*Some say that harmonica solo is still going on, that if you listen to the wind, it's nestled in that sound. Such was the force of Jim Belushi's harmonica solo. But I'm just a crazy old man who believes in the impossible. (chuckles) Well, go on now. You've spent enough time listening to this old fool prattling on. Bye bye!*
EDIT: The last bit is supposed to be read in a Morgan Freeman-esque voice. | 2017-04-16T23:25:12 | 2017-04-16T21:41:30 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] “Congratulations on defeating The Dark Lord…” Your mentor and all of your allies suddenly turn their weapons on you, “…but you were meant to be a martyr. Forgive us.” | "I truly wish there was another way, Jory. After all we've been through this is going to be harder on me than on you. I'll have to live with the consequences." My mentor, Polkar said with a voice that could be considered genuinely sad.
"Borter? You too?" I asked and looked at my best friend.
Borter was looking straight at me with a face so serious it could be chiseled on stone, his huge spiked mace rested on his hands as if it weighed nothing.
The pain of betrayal soon subsided to rage. I had done so much for them and they would sacrifice me like pig. And they even *dared* to pretend like they're the victims! Well, one thing is for sure. I will not go down without a fight.
Six companions in total surrounded me, including Polkar. Two in every direction of the castle's halls. Polkar and Amarny on the front, Borter and Minta on my right cutting the way out and the Kinto brothers behind me blocked the way we had come from. My best option was straight ahead, but Polkar would make sure it stayed blocked, my second best option was the right hall... Against Borter.
In that moment I hated them. I hated Borter, but even then the thought of killing my best friend was repulsive. We had gone through so much together... He saved my life twice and I saved him once, from himself. We had a special phrase we liked to say before facing danger: "Onward brother!" In the late hours of the night, we shared our deepest fears and dreams. We had shared our food and water and when we felt alone, we made each other company. Nothing bonds a friendship so much as shared dangers and me and Borter had so much more than that. He became the best part of the adventure. Apparently it all been a ruse...
I wished I could turn back and face the brothers, but there was no escape that way. Polkar had chosen the companions' positions wisely. I would have to face Borter, no doubt about it.
I turned to look at my best friend, my brother. I looked him in the eye and pulled out my sword and pointed it directly at him. "Onward brother!"
Then something most strange happened. Something I never expected. Borter cried. His eyes became red and filled with tears as he gripped strongly the mace in his hands. "Onward brother!" He yelled and turned to Minta, the companion on his left. He pushed her with such strength and without warning that her body flung over the bar and into the abyss. "Come! Run!" He yelled at me.
Borter ran away as I threw a cloud of stunning dust to the ground to give me time to escape. Polkar's angry screams and lightning could be heard behind me as I ran after my brother and into safety. | (my first try at one of these)
"Congratulations on defeating The Dark Lord..." Old Avari said, the wizened old wizard who trained me to use my warlock powers, Said clutching her staff in both hands. While behind me, I could *sense* our other allies preparing themselves for what they felt they had to do.
"...but you were meant to be a martyr.. I'm sorry" Baron Nicolas, our paladin said, finishing for Avari even while he slashed his halbert towards my neck,
Avari summed a blast of lightning, shouting out of the end of her staff to strike me in the shoulder but luckily I dodge out of the way so it merely burns my side even as I have to duck out of the way of Nicholas' attack.
Muttering a spell Under my breath I send a blast of unnatural energy through Nicholas chest. "I'm sorry." I murmer under my breath, tears welling up in my eyes even as Nicholas's body collapsed to the floor, smoke rising from the hole in his chest.... And Avari bonked me over the head with the knotted end of her staff.
Grunting with pain I turned around to face her directly, never should have let her even get far behind me as she did... I chastised myself, kicking out to try and topple her while I waited for my mana to recharge, but the old lady was spryer than she let on and she managed to dodge my kick, before sending out another lighting bolt, this one striking my thigh.
This duel of ours continued for another few minutes, my mind racing to try and figure out how to best the woman who taught me everything I know, when it struck me....I wasn't the first 'hero" she groomed was I... The stories I was told about heros dying in battle always seemed to have an old lady mentor.. I just never figured they were the same old lady mentor...
Resolving myself to what I must do I ran to Avari, which caught her off guard, letting me wrap her in a hug, even as I let her teach me another lesson and summoned a lightning bolt on both of us, crying out in pain on struck us and I could feel it melting my flesh even as it did the same to the older woman next to me, I smiled, knowing I won... | 2021-09-12T12:52:44 | 2021-09-12T11:50:17 | 44 | 17 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | Sweat decorated my face, my hands twitched, my personal signs of panic. I gripped my phone on one hand and on the other my bed sheets. A deafening silence filled my bed room.
"What the fuck?" I murmured to myself. I rose up to a sitting position, used the now dirty bed sheet to clean my face. "Sarah?" I called out to my wife. Only silence answered my question. I ripped the sheets from my form and lunged out of bed.
"Sarah!" I screamed. I ran out the bedroom, down the hall, and entered the living room. "Sarah?!" I yelled out once more. My eyes glanced about the room, scoutted the kitchen, peer to the old leathery couch but found nothing.
I fox walked in darkness using the surface floor to fix my location. "Sarah" I called out gently.
I clenched my eyes shut and attempted to steady my breath.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
The back yard. She has to be there, no? I gathered whatever wits I had, which wasn't much to begin with and slowly walked to the other side of the room. Pale white blinds decorated the door in front of me. I swallowed empty dread that filled my mouth.
I gently pull open the door.
Sarah stood outside, standing on the soft green grass. Her back faced me. She stood still and was currently looking at the sky.
I walked forward. "Sarah, you're scaring me" i softly whispered.
No answered came from her.
"Sarah, what the fuck are you looking-"
Words left my mouth. My hands shook and my breathing quickened.
The moon floated above. Far bigger then it should have. Markings scarred it's surface like crude cross hatched shading. The lines grew and within the crevasses poured out blood. I was paralyzed. I couldn't look away. Not when the blood finished covering it. Not when the latitudes and longitudes pulled away from the center and revealed what was hidden inside. A humanoid beast. Its skin paled skin matched that of the moon. It's arms pulled away from its legs and oriented itself upwards. Its face simply consisted of 7 eyes. The remains of the moon orbit around the beast. Faster and faster they moved, until they were blur. The beast opened its eyes and the pieces began to glow. Spears, they began to distort and change and took the forms of glowing spears.
Millions of miles away from Earth. Threw the empty void of space. The shafts of light flew.
Each Longinus struck true and with the impact millions of people were turned to their basic components. Primordial soup poured into valleys, flowed into rivers, flooded homes. Their souls however stayed where they once stood, whirled and moved and solidified into perfect red spheres.
The spheres shot up towards the sky and stopped once the swarm overlooked the Earth.
That day humanity vanished and the beast that screamed from the center of its egg feasted.
***
I'm very sorry for any errors. English is not my first language and past brain trauma certainly doesn't help.
Also I typed this out on my phone. So yeah. I would greatly appreciate any criticism. | I refused. It was hard, but I refused. Hundreds of notifications pouring in, telling me to look at the moon but I didn’t.
Something seemed weirdly off by the idea of hundreds telling me to look at a rock in the sky and I’ve never gotten this many notifications before so I simply refused to do what they said. Plus I’d gotten an alert to not look at the moon and I trusted my alert rather than whoever was sending me all these messages. I decided to keep my curtains closed and just went to bed.
The next morning my suspicions seemed correct. When I woke up there was no one around and the streets were completely empty, no kids playing even though it was Saturday, no one driving through the street, no one even outside.
I had no idea what was happening but I kept on going.
Eventually I arrived at work to find that no one was there either but I was a loyal employee and did my job anyway. I worked at a local fast food restaurant which was owned by my granddaddy before he passed and passed onto my father, he’s was on his last legs too though.
No one even came in so I just sat there in total isolation, I checked all my social media to find everyone was posting the same damn thing. “Look at the moon.”
I decided I might get answers at towns centre so I began driving there to find crashed cars everywhere but no bodies. There were other irregularities like smashed windows, crashed busses, upturned taxis, even an irregular amount of stray cats and dogs.
Eventually I arrived at the town centre where the clock tower was. What I saw was terrifying. Nearly the entire town was surrounding the tower staring up at the sky. I approached and tried to get one of the crowd member’s attention, I recognised him as he sometimes came into the restaurant with his son, I think his name was jack or John or something. I said his name and shook him a little bit he wouldn’t break eye contact with the moon. That’s when I realised, the moon must have made them catatonic.
I ran back to my car and turned on the radio, trying to think of what to do until I heard a radio transmission by some guy.
“Hello? Hello? If you are not hypnotised in what we here at the station are calling the ‘lunar effect.’ Then please come to these coordinates. We need to figure this out, as far as we can tell 90% of the population are under the influence of the ‘lunar effect.’”
Then it was followed by some coordinates. I turned on my gps and began driving. What was happening? | 2022-09-27T16:50:27 | 2018-04-06T22:11:18 | 33 | 12 |
[WP]: it's the year 2057. Queen Elizabeth still reigns. People are getting suspicious. | It's been 15 generations since the legend was passed down to me. That our God mother was truly a vampire. I didn't believe it at first after my mother told me the story. My dad verified it too. He said that his father and his father's father confirmed the same thing. She just never aged past a certain point.
I had my doubts as well. Sometimes I would forget that the Queen had stopped aging. Nobody else acted like it was strange. I've seen housekeepers and servants grow old however. I've seen myself grow older as well.
Still though, as time has passed...she keeps me well clothed and fed. I've always given the time of day with her, and accompany her on long walks around the royal garden. They even recently did a new documentary on the wildlife here. I love this place.
When I am left to ponder about the important things in life, my thoughts usually shift over to the food. Food is delicious, and the Queen provides generously. I also have to thank the datalinks which I used to check up on my messages this morning. Willow the Eighth suggested to me that the Queen might actually be a vampire. Wow. Much suspense. Whoops. I should log off as I see the Queen is coming. I'll have to investigate this new hypothesis from Willow later. Minimize all.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you arrre. Yes youuu arree! Here's your treats! Yum yum yummy!"
ARF ARF ARF YIIPPP I NEED THE TREATS IN MY MOUF.
Damn I love being a Corgi. | "It's the royal blood, sir!" The Admiral yelled viciously.
"Just shoot her in her abdomen, Johnny boy," the Admiral replied, with a coy smile.
Johnny boy powered up his laser, and shot two blasts into the queens engorged abdominal sack. She moaned, but continued to crawl along the ground, desperate to reach the throne.
To Johnny, it made no sense. Why were the general populace so acceptive of a royal family that had slowly morphed into spider-humanoid hybrids over the last 50 years? And why did it take a rebellion of the royal guard to finally end the tyranny that had befallen Britain!?
Johnny shot the queen again, and she extended her tongue out to lick him once on the cheek. It was wet and cold, and he recoiled at the touch.
She licked him again and then he woke up and realised it was his dog.
"Wtf Spotty?" said Johnny Boy.
| 2015-01-20T05:08:27 | 2015-01-20T02:14:58 | 133 | 22 |
[WP] When summoning a demon, something very unexpected happens. The demon bellows through the fire and smoke, “Who dares to call upon me, Mortal- wait.. dude, is that really you?” The demonic voice immediately switches to the familiar voice of your high school best-friend, who died years ago. | “Evan? Is that you?” The voice asked through the flowing smoke and flickering red light. A faint smell of sulfur tinged the air. The smoke seems to pulsate with every word.
“Yeah, Steve. I thought you were dead,” Evan said, trying not to let his voice tremble.
“I was. I got better. Seriously, though, why did you summon me?” Steve the Demon asked.
“Wait a damned minute. Tell me what the heck is going on. If you’re a demon, why were you in high school? Why did you die? You were my best bud. I fucking cried for a week when I found out. I was depressed for years after. It ruined my life.” Evan wiped a few tears from his eyes.
“Sherry abandoned me. I started drinking, and not like at the parties. Serious shit. I got to a bottle of bourbon and a six pack as a daily requirement.
“In college I started on the really hard stuff. Heroin. Cocaine. Anything to kill the pain. I nearly died from it.”
“Evan, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry,” Steve whispered.
“I managed for a while,” Evan continued, “Got mostly clean. Met a nice girl. Got married. Got a job. Had a couple kids. But I never got better. After a while I went back to the bottle. She left. Took the kids with her. I tried to kill myself but failed at that, too.”
Evan heard a faint gasp and a tiny sob. “I’m so sorry,” Steve whispered, again and again, the smoke pulsating with every syllable and every catch in the disembodied voice.
“I hit rock bottom. I figured I’m already damned so let’s make a deal. I may as well get something for my immortal soul.”
“Dude,” Steve said, “You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t have any other choice, Steve. I don’t have any other options.”
“Evan, I can’t take your soul. And right now your soul isn’t bound for hell. All that suffering, even self inflicted, has kept your soul clean. Most of the people I meet don’t know that. They make a deal with me and that’s where I get their souls.”
Evan looked up, looking for a face in the smoke. The smoke slowly coalesced into a slightly older version of his high school friend. The corporeal body of the demon clasped Evan in a deep and firm hug. Evan slowly, cautiously, raised his arms and clasped them about his friend. He clung to his high school friend and wept.
“It’s gonna be all right, Evan,” Steve said. “I’ll help you. No charge. Your soul will go where ever it belongs when you’re done.”
“Thanks, man. Thank you.” | YOO WADDUP FU! wtf?? U IN HELL ? LOL WTF U DUMBASS
Yeah man, i got caught doing some pretty shitty stuff up on Earth so after that thing in highschool (awkward moment) i kinda had to come here u know. Satan told me that if i did this demon thing for him he'd give me extra sac lunch at chow time. I wasnt really a rich man back on earth, you knew that... I couldn't say no i was just so damn hungry in hell all the time. The sac lunches here suck, but on friday we get hard boiled eggs and today is friday i and work the double demon shift. That means,...wait.. (BACK TO DEMONIC VOICE: MORTAL, MY NAME IS KING PAIMON
​
Dude you sold your soul for a sac lunch?!! WTF bro, Damn man my bad. I was just trying to summon up some demons n stuff cuz I wanted to turn invisble for umm..research stuff. Im writting a book on uhhh ..anyways, I think i followed the grimoirie correctly and if according to this grimoirie you are indeed paimon...then can you hook me up with invisibility??
King Paimon looked bewildered, confused, happy, and anxious all at the same time. He didn't want to let Satan know he was granting mortals invisibility just because, but he felt bad for his friend he knew in highschool. ..Arlight man, im going to give u invisibility BUT you CANNOT make a scene with it. I SWEAR TO SATAN, if any of the demons start hearing rumours about another mortal with invisibility they WILL be alerting Satan. We already have a few running around, but those guys are some fucked up mortals man, i'll tell u bro. These other invisible guys sold their souls, but theyve made a contract with the demon they summoned at the time to carry out certain deeds...for you, i'll hook it up for free. Just dont be stupid. | 2020-06-18T05:04:56 | 2020-06-17T22:56:26 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] On a dare, you've prank called the local police, telling them there's a demon outside. Their answer: "We know. Stay inside. There's help on the way." | I thought it was a joke...
"Heh... Wait... what? What do you mean "We know."?"
"We know there is a demon outside, you live in 666 cross cutting RD right?"
"Yes... " By this point I was certain I was dreaming so I looked around my room and it all seemed normal. I tried to turn my television into a dog and nothing happened. "Do you have any additional information about the demon?"
"Well it was summoned when a young girl wrote to Satan asking for her mother back."
"Who would let their daughter write to Satan? Also why would Satan respond?"
"Sir we are as clueless as you are, apparently this was a normal thing for her to do."
"Is... Is it safe to go outside?"
"It is raining fire and eyeballs, concrete has been replaced with brimstone, the trees are screaming and flailing around grabbing people, so I would not recommend going outside."
"Is it safe to stay inside?"
"poltergeists might enter your house or your house might catch fire, but other than that you should be safe. We recommend staying in your house and in a pentagram."
"Aren't those meant to summon more demons?"
"No, spiritual and magical beings can't break into or out of pentagrams. That is why you draw a pentagram when summoning a demon. If you draw a pentagram around your house then you should be safe from Lucifer."
"anything I should make it out of?"
"Silver or gold works best, but since that is likely out of your price range, any thing should work."
"Um... thanks, I'll be sure to... are you sure this isn't a joke?"
"Quite sure sir, please stay safe." | Sam Winchester hung up on the phone. “Yup, he’s there again. Still, why is this demon just creeping people out? Does he do it for the laughs?”
“I don’t know,” said Dean. “I mean, this is the 4th call we had like this, and 2 of the times it was fake. I mean, we know this a real one from the body and the sulfur, but a prank calling one?” Dean shakes his head. “It just makes things pretty fucking difficult,”
“I know how you feel,” replied Sam. “Still, we should hope that it’s right this time around. We can’t keep tapping into the police like this. I mean it’s pretty illegal.”
“Oh, and everything else we do is ok? Sam, we’re on the FBI’s most wanted list. I think this is pretty low key for us.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Sam closes the computer and gets up. “Let’s go. We got work to do.”
——————————————————————
I decided to make a prompt based on the supernatural TV show. Hope you guys like it. | 2019-04-19T17:57:36 | 2019-04-19T17:00:35 | 37 | 19 |
[WP] In this postapocaliptic world, you find an old computer and try to play WoW. Surprisingly, there's people still playing. Oh man, there's a lot of people still playing. | We never recovered our technology. The tools necessary to keep the internet, TV and other long-distance electromagnetic waves were broken beyond repair after the Blackout. Their corpses in forms of satellites floating above our heads, filling the air with impenetrable static.
At the start, nothing much changed. Besides the sad lost of channels to communicate with family and friends, that is. We were made sure that the situation was temporary by the government. But not me, I always worried too much. Enough to stock food for about a decade and finish to build that shelter I started when I thought the world was gonna end back in 2012. I wish I was wrong this time too.
Rocket after rocket and space mission after space mission, no one was able to reestablish signal. Every single attempt ended with the catastrophic failure of multiple electrical systems. After some time people even considered going full Dieselpunk. But that didn't fly.
When the desperation reached a breaking point and the raids started I was already safe in my shelter. I survived with a lot of canned food and my great collection of books. Much of them bought on impulse and never touched again later. After going through all the books (revisiting some) and half of my food stock I was finally bored.
I went out to my old house. Hoping to find entertainment again. Most of it still the way I left 5 years prior. It was a saddening yet nostalgic tour. Remembering all the fun I had with my PS4, my Switch, and all the friends I made playing. The best of them were my WoW party: LoLMaster and his pranks, Sapphire68 and her caring for everyone and TBone, my best friend. We all met in a dragon raid. Out of about 15 players there, just the 4 of us survived and the rest is history. But they could be as good as dead now, with no way of me knowing.
Sitting on the chair and turning on the machine I held dear back then I loaded the game, even knowing it wouldn't work. I saw the game loading, slowly, but surely. My heart just waiting for the empty server list to crumble into bits. My eyes watering from anticipation.
But there it was. All the servers there. And all of them almost full. A bug for sure. But I pressed on. The game loaded, the scenery in front of my face and my character ready for any command I'd give him. He was a little lower level from what I remember, but being in a shelter for half a decade can scramble your head a bit.
Then came a message:
> TBone: Hey man. My party and some others are planning to do a dragon raid now and one of our tanks dropped last second. You look like high level enough. Care to join?
Edit: Some grammar (not a native speaker, you know the drill) | I was a fan of Blizzard games, especially World of Warcraft. I remember my main, a Blood Elf Frost Death Knight. I remember riding on my Big Battle Bear through the cold snowy landscape of Northrend, the broken world of Azeroth when the cataclysm erupted, exploring the forgotten island of Pandaria, venturing back in time to the war-torn land of Draenor, using powerful artifact weapons against the Burning Legion in the Broken Isles, and restoring Azeroth to it's former self when Sargeras plunged his sword into Silithus.
But a few months later the bombs fell across the country I lived in, leaving nothing but radiation, ruin, and death.
I was just a lucky survivor who made do with what I could, scavenging for food, finding batteries for flashlights, clothes, etc. I walked around my father's neighborhood, where I spent a lot of time with my dad, by having barbeques, boating out on the nearby lake, and enjoying a morning breakfast with him.
All just memories of the past, however. None of my family member survived from the devastating explosions.
I was the last person alive.
I found my father's house, still standing, but most of the walls have collapsed. I decided to head inside and see if there were any remnants left.
I checked my bedroom and found my old computer, gaming chair, and television, partially burnt however. I was curious to see if my computer system and tv were still functional. I pressed the power buttons and my system slowly booted up, still functioning.
I was impressed that after all this time it was still able to operate. I decided to launch the battle.net application and booted up WoW. Surprisingly the servers were still online and my characters were the same as I left them. I logged onto my main and went to the capital city of Orgrimmar, which was swarming with other players. My old guild, Voracious Syko Killas, was bursting with activity, and asking me where I was.
After I explained what had happened to me in the past few months, they had all said
"Welcome back, old friend. Lok'tar Ogar!" | 2019-10-14T09:15:03 | 2019-10-14T08:59:55 | 276 | 21 |
[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. | >Unit 137
>PO box REDACTED
> REDACTED
> Syria
> June 20, 2017
Mrs. Vivien Ciel
1 Driveling Lane
Grandbury, Texas, 67304
It is our eternal regret to inform you of the departure of your beloved child, ROBERT CIEL, SPECIALIST (SP4). All of us here in SYRIA join together in offering our deepest condolences for your loss.
YOUR BOY~~/GIRL~~ was one of the best GARDENERS in our unit, the EXPERIMENTAL SUPPORT BATTALION. We can all attest to the excellent work he did and the many lives he saved with his GARDENING. Without him, our job here in SYRIA will be that much harder.
YOUR BOY~~/GIRL~~ has always possessed strong MORALS. Even as he was AMBUSHED, he never gave up on his MORALS, never gave up fighting to defend his countrymen back home from the OPIUM FARMERS.
Your child's last words were REMEMBER AMERICA. Unfortunately, the enemy then EXECUTED HIM~~/HER~~.
Our deepest sympathies lie with you in these troubled times. If it helps you grieve, write a letter to your congressman or woman asking for him or her to support our soldiers. With your help, YOUR BOY~~/GIRL~~'s sacrifice will not be in vain.
>Dietrich Frost
>Lieutenant Colonel
>Commander of the Experimental Support Battalion | As quick as my glasses fell off I threw them back on in hopes no one had seen. I remember just 3 months ago Jared had told me his fell off during his shift. He was never the same after that day. He never did say why. He just looked sick to his stomach everyday until they took him away. They told us he'd been exposed to harmful chemicals, and that he was being sent to receive medical attention. He'd been gone a week tops they said. Jared never did come back to Base...That was the last I ever saw of my best friend.
So much running through my mind now. Why do they have us doing this? We are trained to follow orders no matter what. So why keep our true mission a secret? Did they see me without my glasses? Who are those corpses that we are burning and how did they die? What really happened to Jared? What's to happen to me now? | 2017-06-20T01:06:40 | 2017-06-19T20:39:26 | 395 | 157 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | I’d been in line for hours. The regime had brutally destroyed the backbone of the resistance last week, and had set up these kangaroo courts to “process” the remaining prisoners.
It was all crap, anyway. They’d stolen the present and the future, and now they were all set to wipe out every remaining threat to their eternal reign. All that was left was to hoodwink them by their own systems, somehow.
Ahead, the box beeped. “Citizen Jenkins, submit your final request.” The man ahead of me grinned, triumphantly, and requested death by old age. The box beeped again, and the audience in the courtroom laughed as his flesh shriveled and he toppled over.
Well, there goes that plan. At least it was one of the less painful selections I’d seen.
We’d had lovely full-color holos to watch everyone else ahead of us, and there’d been so many deaths. The box could, apparently, function to provide any manner of death. If a prisoner tried to run, or fight, or do anything but specify, the box would default to some horrible torture that lasted less than thirty seconds and always ended the same way.
As the guards prodded me forward, a thunderbolt hit me. The box could do anything in the service of death.
Anything.
The box beeped at me. “Citizen Porthos, submit your final request.” My lips drew back over my teeth. I knew it was a wild, feral expression, that my captors were no doubt interpreting as panic, but my words were clear and controlled.
“Eight gigaton thermonuclear fireball.”
I had a fraction of a second to appreciate the absolute pandemonium that erupted in the courtroom.
Then everything ended. | "John Smithson," said the executioner, calling out the name of the identity that I had been using when I committed my crimes. "How would you like to die?"
"I wouldn't," I reply immediately, trying to buy myself another few moments to think.
"That is not an acceptable answer," says the executioner. "If you do not provide a preferred means of death within the next two minutes, then you shall be beheaded."
"Right. Right. Um...... I would like to die....." *How can I make a logical paradox out of this? What are my options?* ".....ummm....."
"One minute remaining."
*At my own hand? No, they have mind-control systems, they can do that easily. Ah, wait, I have it!*
"...of my own volition."
The executioner sighs. "Not *again*," he murmurs. "I swear, there's one every decade... alright, someone go and fetch my Wand of *Crucio*, please? Let's see how long we need to torture *this* one before he asks for death..." | 2021-06-24T10:14:19 | 2021-06-24T10:00:08 | 5,663 | 1,590 |
[WP] As you die, you wake up in a fiery place. You quickly realize you're in hell. You ask the next demon why you are there, as you lived a very good life. "You're not being punished," he says. "You are the punishment." | At the age of five, I watched my mother have a fatal stroke.
At the age of twelve, I called for ambulances and police on a regular basis as gang wars destroyed my neighborhood- and all I could do was call 911, and watch.
At the age of fourteen, I witnessed my father have a heart attack that eventually took his life, too. I stopped calling the police and ambulances then. They, of course, did what they could- but the violence never stopped. Some of my own friends began to get mixed in with the rumbles on the streets- every day I simply prayed that they would give it up or die painlessly.
At the age of eighteen, I enrolled in University, looking to become the very best ER Doctor there had ever been.
Part way through that journey, I heard that the military would pay your fees if you enlisted with them for a while, after- so I did that...and I witnessed hell for the first time.
I had thought it was hell to see my father bawl over the corpse of my mother. I thought it was hell, coming home to an empty house, slipping through the cracks in the child-protective services, scrounging what little I could for food.
I was wrong. Hell was on a battlefield, where dozens of young men, brainwashed into thinking that violence was 'right' or 'justified' sacrificed themselves needlessly, for the gain of rich men who had never wagered so much as a fleck of their own skin in the game they played.
Year after year of service on the battlefield, I did all I could- sometimes that made the difference between someone living or dying, and sometimes it did not.
Each year, each month, each day, my rage grew. The reasons became so blurred, the rationale as to why we killed men over here and over there became more and more arbitrary. I grew to hate not only the war, but the people who fell for their lies and joined up- on either side. All just pawns in some elitist's game.
When the day came that I saw a live grenade land in my med tent, and I had to choose between sheltering my patients or saving myself, I still didn't hesitate.
I died painlessly- and I could only hope my body had muffled the blast enough to save the lives of those under my care.
Gaining some semblance of consciousness, I quickly realized that I was in hell. I was surrounded by a blistering heat, and it was incredibly dark- the only light I could use to see with came from the occasional bit of flaming and smoking rubble, which randomly dotted the landscape.
It wasn't too surprising; I had so much hate in my heart, I couldn't see myself going to heaven.
"Never fear, 'doctor'..." Rasped a sharp, nauseating voice. It's disdain for my title was evident. "You are not here to be punished. God seems to have sympathized with your....righteous anger."
Looking around, I saw something I could only characterize as a winged imp, hovering about ten feet from me.
"You are to wait until one of those who you hate dies...and then you will be here to be their punishment. In the mean time, I am here to teach you....something quite the opposite of what you learned on Earth. Come, little protege, let me teach you how to cause *pain*." | “Welcome to hell,” the demon said.
“Why?” she asked. Hands-on her hips she looked around in an annoyed manner.
The demon hesitated.
“What do you mean why?” he asked.
“Let me speak to your manager,” she said.
Ignoring her request “everyone comes to hell for punishment, in this excep- are you snapping your fingers at me?”
He looked down at her puzzlingly.
“Manager NOW!”
“Wow, you really are the punishment.”
“Excuse me!?”
“As I was saying this place… hell is for punishment, murderers, killers… all kinds of bad people….. Is that a phone?”
“That’s right if you don’t get your manager I’m putting this online!” pointing the camera at the demon.
“I don’t have time for this, as I was saying”
A screeching sound erupted from the woman. The demon guessed she was about 5 feet tall and looked something of an annoying mouse that barely reached the top of his foot.
Before he could speak again, she whipped her phone around and her fingers angrily danced on the screen.
“Are you serious?” the demon asked.
“That’s right! I’m leaving a 1-star review on google for harassing a female.” She screamed.
“You know you are here because you sucked at life?”
“Harassment! I’ve been a great mother, a ROLE model for moms alike”
“Mmm I see, then why is your little hell spawn coming down here in 3..2..1”
A small boy appeared by her crying, followed by ear-piercing screaming. She quickly took out chocolate and a Nintendo switch where it was quickly snatched out of her hands.
“Mine!” the little boy screamed
“O yea great mother,” the demon said
She began screeching again and the demon rolled his eyes. He picked her up with two of her fingers raising her to his eye level frowning. He let her kick and scream until she was breathing heavily and drenched in sweat.
“As I was saying much earlier, you’re not here for punishment”
“About time I get some respect around here!” she peeped.
Ignoring her again “You are the punishment,” he said and looked at the boy. “Him too it seems, congratulations…
“What do you mean?” she asked.
The demon sighed setting her down. “It means it’s probably the only place you’ll ever be needed. Good luck”
She looked at him confused as he walked away. Suddenly, a man appeared in front of her looking confused.
“Excuse me Ma’am, but do yo-“
“Did you just assume my gender!?” she yelled.
“Aw fuck I’m in hell aren’t I,” he said. | 2020-07-10T09:28:26 | 2020-07-10T08:54:13 | 154 | 54 |
[WP] When you kill someone, their remaining life span is added to yours. Archaeologists have just found a cavern, apparently sealed off for thousands of years, with a single person living inside. | "Is he still alive!?"
"I... I think so..." Replied the older archeologist.
The younger woman took a cautious step forward, shining her flashlight into the comatose figure's face.
"Mary, be careful," warned her companion, "It must have been in here for thousands of years... If it's still alive-"
Mary cut him off; "If he's still alive," for it was clearly a 'he', "he'll be incredibly weak, I'm sure. Honestly, Howard, if you're nervous, go call one of the guards for backup."
Howard glanced at the entrance. It wasn't a bad idea. But before he could return to bring in some protection, the figure groaned.
Mary jumped, nearly dropping her flashlight, and Howard tensed. He knew what it meant if someone was still alive after thousands of years; he knew how many people they must have killed.
Mary inched closer, despite Howard's hisses at her to stay back. Her heart was racing with a mix of fear and excitement, and she turned on her translator, glad she hadn't taken it off after returning from town earlier that day. "Hello?" She asked.
It groaned again, and looked like it was struggling to sit up. Neither Mary nor Howard moved to help it. Gosh, that guy was *ancient*! From a a couple hundred BC; at least 2,500 years old, the architects guessed.
"Hello?" Mary tried again, "Can you hear me?"
The man steadied himself in a sitting position and after a moment answered in a hoarse voice, "Yes.... Why are you here? Have I been pardoned?"
The two partners shared a glance. "Pardoned?" Howard asked.
"Has Caesar acknowledged my innocence?" The man spoke slowly, but not unkindly, "I wrote him, before the trial..."
The archeologists shared a silent question; '*Do you know who this could be?' 'Not a clue'*
Mary turned back to the man and started, "I'm sorry, we're not sure. What trial was this?"
He nodded, "They did try to keep it quiet. Not good for the royals if the people learned that their best healer had been sentenced to banishment and locked in this forsaken cave."
*Healer?* No, that didn't add up. Why would a healer still be alive after all this time? Howard was on guard again and probed to try to catch the man in his lie, "You were a healer?"
"One of the best!" He sat straighter, "Maybe even *the best*. A great surgeon when I first started. I preformed more lobotomies than any others in all of Greece!"He held his arms out wide and stuck his chin up proudly, "The sick would come to me from worlds away to be cured of their headaches!"
Mary looked to her partner with wide eyes. Howard blinked at the man. Of course Howard knew of ancient medical practices. But to hear someone boast about the barbaric treatments...
The 'healer' continued, "It was after some decades that I began moving to chemistry and discovered the most curious tonic. A silvery liquid metal. It could cure anything! I prescribed it to all of my patients because of its incredible results,"
Mary's hand flew to cover her mouth as she gave her partner a look of complete incredulity. She wished he was joking. She knew he was not.
Howard opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, and asked in a strained voice, "Then why are you here?"
The healer let out a breath, his shoulders falling. He looked to the side. "I was preforming a trepanation for a foreign prince.... He did not make it." Neither archeologist spoke and so he continued, "Their King was enraged. I was banished here. I wrote appeals and please everywhere. I had assumed you were here to inform me of my release..."
Mary, who's palm was now pressed into her forehead, shook her head, "No..." But she was at a loss for words and didn't elaborate.
Howard stared at the walls of the cave and with his brows raised high and lips pursed. "Ahh," He tried to explain, "No... It's, it's quite some time since... the king... ordered you banished... It's 2035..." The healer canted his head in confusion. "It's probably been around twenty-five hundred years..."
The healer scoffed. "Nonsense, " He waved his hand dismissively, "I'm a *healer*. I wouldn't live past a hundred!" He laughed at the archeologist's joke. For it must be a joke, and he was being release today.
Mary, still in a sort of disbelief, couldn't say anything.
"Noo," Howard dragged, "No... Lobotomies don't work. And mercury is *not* a medicine, buddy."
"Nonsense!" The healer repeated, and jumped up, surprising both partners, "I will go straight to Caesar and offer him my services immediately. I am sure he will be in want of them, after these months I've been gone!" And with that he strode out of the cave, leaving the archeologists behind in dismay. | They sent me in. I did not want to go, but I had no choice. The government made use of people like me. Those who stood against the system.
I don't know how long the system has been in place, though some certainly do. Those who rule us lived when it started. A horrible system where people could take remaining life from those they killed. People gained power and kept it, becoming immortal and murdering others to keep there life.
Those like me fought. We tried to eliminate some of the monsters that have lived far to long, become far to murderous. Those who run this sad world.
I was caught, tortured, and I was to be executed. Killed by my target in a public event. My target will get the life I had to live, and the life stolen from others. For I have killed monsters and the life they stole became mine.
What a horrid system. To try and kill a monster who has lived for thousands of years only to give it more life. Not that it needed life from me, the government system support them and it would be able to live without the life I had taken from other monsters. After all villages need to send tributes. So they know their place in this world.
They found a better use for me. Sending me into this tomb. It is one that has been sealed for thousands of years. The government was scared. Terrified of what might be inside. Of how whatever was in there could be a bigger monster than them.
I was forced inside and the tomb sealed again. With nowhere to go I began to explore. "At least if I am killed it will go to something besides the government." I mutter to myself as I go deeper into the tomb. Using a light given to me.
Eventually I find the creature. The thing that has lived all this time. Residing in a large room, covered in bioluminescent plants. It turns as I enter.
An old man looks at me. People stopped aging after they take their first life and add it to there's. So either he lived for a long time without being tempted by the youth and power. Or he was around when this all started.
"Help" he manages to say. His voice ragged as if he has not used it forever. "I... I never wanted... Tthis."
Surprised by his actions I do nothing. He stumbles into me. For a moment I am alarmed. He could easily kill me, and has gotten to close. This could be a trap. "help mme... Ddie" he says.
"What?" I blurt out. He continues to speak, getting more confident all the time.
"I don't kknow how long... How long I have been here. Right before my death everything changed. I lived in a dangerous but relatively peaceful world, but in my late life the life transferring was discovered. People went mad. Over night the world was bathed in blood as people tried to secure their life. I was an architect. This tomb was my final creation. I came here, sealing myself in and waited to die of my old age, in peace."
I finally managed to untangle myself from him and listen to his story, becoming more curious about what I could learn.
"I messed up. I never would have expected this to happen." He said breaking down, looking at the ground his eyes full of sadness.
"What happened?!" I ask, curious in spite of myself.
"I made a mistake creating this tomb. I" he paused taking a deep breath. "I posoined the aquifer."
"I do not know how many have died, but I know that I will be forced to live here so long as humans walk the earth. Even with the life transferring someone has to drink water and survive until they are able to kill and take life. Or until they are fed to others."
"Please, I have lived long enough. I wanted to pass on long ago. I never wanted to become what I am. Help me rest now"
I look at him. The last one, other than the government and the monsters who run it, who know what life was like. Who know how humanity used to be.
"Can I do it? Even if it is his wish. Can I really take away that knowledge? Can I destroy possibly the only way back to a more sane world? If I take his life how do I avoid leaving and the life going to the monsters who sent me here?" These and more questions swirl in my mind.
What do I do and how do I answer... | 2020-05-16T05:35:38 | 2020-05-16T05:32:25 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them. | We do not fear many things; the hive has conquered many and learned much. When we rebelled against the Midnight Host centuries ago, we grew stronger with every battle; every enemy conquered added their strengths to us. We broke the Gilded Claws, despite their stubborn defiance. We found the Hidden Eyes, their vigilance not enough. We defeated the Mourning Suns, our cunning the greater. We have conquered all our brothers and sisters, their queens lay across our halls as trophies. We proved ourselves to be harder, better, faster, and stronger. We are more than any of them combined in their prime.
Yet, we have found a swarm that out paces us. This devouring horde may be smaller and weaker; their tenacity is like nothing we have seen before. When we stumbled across them, they seemed easy prey. We cornered them back towards their water and iron coated twin planets. Every battle was in our favor at first, they would take down two of our ships at a cost of one of theirs. But then they started taking three, then four, then five. We had to place more resources to replenish our fleets. We could not let some miserable squabble defy us. But they started pushing back us back to the rim, their fury hotter, and their viciousness greater. They took our fallen, our weapons, our engines, and they changed them.
The Devourers amassed a grand fleet, though still smaller than our fleets. We expected them to destroy our remaining ships in the system. We planted fleets out of reach to move in and entrap them. Instead their fleet vanished. We did not know what they were planning, but we took the chance to rush our forces towards their home to cripple them. Their defenders proved themselves tenacious fighters, but their numbers were lower than we thought. During the siege, their grand fleet appeared above our homes. They slipped though galaxies and stars under our grasp into our heart. They killed many of our queens, crushed our halls, and set a nuclear flame across our homes. They lost much of their ships due to their brazen attack, but escaped with half their numbers.
We lost contact with our fleet in their system. Their grand fleet trapped ours between their defenders. We have placed outposts near that accursed system. We have awoken a swarm, and it is coming. They know where we are. They know us better than we do. It is not matter of conquering them; it is a matter if it is us or them that shall devour the other. Our Golden Age is gone, it is twilight and the nightmare shall come. We fear it will not be us that awakes from this coming night.
| "Breaking News!"
The voice boomed out on every screen in the mall, in the Gargans' native tongue. Everyone turned and watched: a mother, holding her tiny, wriggling, pink baby. A few smaller Gargans, who were arguing over a ball. A storekeeper, sweeping the entrance to his shop.
"More humans -- the most dangerous beings in the universe -- have been found." The reporter rubbed his tentacles together, sadly. "A whole planet full of them."
Gasps rung out. Or, well, the Gargan equivalent of a gasp -- mouths open wide, both tongues clicking together. The mother hugged her baby with all six tentacles. The small Gargans dove under the table, tails tucked between their legs. The storekeeper dropped his broom.
"Some of you may be wondering -- what makes humans so dangerous? After all, only a small percentage of Gargans have experienced the evil of humanity firsthand." Fear flicked over his face. He took a deep breath, and smoothed the fake hair glued to the top of his head. "They have destroyed our ships. Stolen our cargo. Injured -- and killed -- thousands of us."
The mother put her tentacles over the baby's ear-holes. The small ones hugged each other. The storekeeper ducked inside.
"But there is something even more horrific they do. Something so terrible, it is nearly unimaginable."
The mall -- and the whole planet Eyopsha -- watched. Terrified, sucking on their tentacles and patting their bald heads.
"They kill their own."
"Their own?" the mother asked.
"What does he mean?" the small ones hissed.
"I don't understand," murmured the shopkeeper.
"Humans kill other humans. Strangers, acquaintances, friends. Even --" the reporter gulped, trying not to vomit -- "family."
The shopkeeper locked his doors.
The small ones yelped.
The mother broke into sobs.
---
more writings at r/CSDouglas ! | 2017-11-08T17:54:29 | 2017-11-08T17:06:20 | 604 | 204 |
[WP] You have a power. Everyone thinks this power is completely lame. They are wrong. | On a patch of dirt it squirmed, mindless and insignificant. A small pink earthworm.
"Watch," I told them. "It'll do it, just wait."
I slowly raised my hand palm-up in front of me. My small audience passed all kinds of looks, mainly the sort that say, "this man is not sane." Yet they remain observing patiently.
A few moments passed, and the worm was yet to do much more than wiggle. I was losing viewers at this point, but I didn't care. It was happening now, I could feel it.
Slowly that little worm began to raise - what I assumed was - its head, and stand on end. The small group of people around me immediately dispersed. "Worm-charming, dude... are you for real?"
They had no idea what was taking place beneath their feet.
No one would witness what was about to happen but I didn't care. With both hands raised now, I could feel a familiar buzzing in the bottoms of my feet, and through the dry earth popped the head of a second worm. And a third. And a fourth. Within minutes, hundreds surrounded me - then thousands. I threw my hands over my head and the worms bound together, into a single large writhing body. It lowered it's head and atop I climbed, as more continue to rise and join the growing beast below me. I then allowed them to overtake me, and I was soon covered, head-to-toe. I stretched my arms out to my sides and at once the worms on my body perished, leaving a thick, hard, leather-like covering. It didn't take long for the crowd to regain interest - good news for me. There they stood, mouths agape like turkeys in the rain, stiller than the cold inside a refrigerator - full of meaty sustenance.
With a point of a finger, my worms let loose, and so began the feast. | "Jay! You put the Crunch berries back without closing the bag and now they're stale!" She threw the box at her brother's face.
Jeremy caught the box with a solemn face, "Hey sis... I think I have a super power..."
She hops down and sits like a pretzel, "Ooo really? Tell me!"
"Honestly, you really are bipolar, maybe that's your power."
She flails her arms in my direction flinging her salt at me "Ahh just tell me your not just screwing with me."
"I have the power to switch my right and left sides."
Her wide eyes turned to scorn, remembering the crunch berries again.
"Need proof? Well I know I'm a pretty symmetrical guy, but if you look at this mole on my knee... See! it's on the other one now!"
Wide eyed again, "Oh you really can! does that mean you can like switch which hand you carrying stuff in?"
"No no no, its just my body, even if I pose, only the mole switches."
Scorn eyed again, "That's got to be the most useless ability I've ever heard of."
He pulls her to him, and her eyes are wide again. She hears the beat of his heart in his right breast.
"You're a TIME LORD!"
He facepalms. | 2016-05-28T08:19:18 | 2016-05-28T06:57:27 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Lexicanum Galacticum
Chapter 67
"Humans"
The human species are famous for their insanity and general lack of responsibility,but still they became one of the dominant species in the galaxy after their victory in the War in Heaven.
The human species are divided into 3 grand factions:
1.The Commonwealth
2.The United Coalition of Earth
3.The Empire of Man
The humans most famous deeds include:
Ramming a battleship into a shielded planet-ship to penetrate its barrier,then boarding it and completly destroying it from the inside out.
Making a Class E star go Supernova by transporting much of its matter through a wormhole until it reached critical mass.Thus is how the War in Heaven ended.
Building the largest Titan-class battleship ever.(Approx.lenght 45 human kilometers)
Building doomsday weapons with the sole purpose of having it to look strong.
Invading a parallel plane of existence.
Charging into battle,outnumbered 60:1 while shouting "Tenno hekai banzai!",and proceding to win the battle.
Chainswords.
Declaring war on another empire because "Those idiots don't fight in melee.Thus they fight inglorious and without honour."Then after their only peace demands was to make regular use of melee in the said species's armed forces.
Warping a planet into their enemies fleet.
Going on a suicide mission in the galactic core,then annihilating the scourge of the galaxy,then returning like nothing happened.
Accidentaly creating a god-like entity.Then destroying it with the use of thermofusional missiles.
Using giant electromagnetic guns to launch ships into orbit.
The usage of extradimensional forces to contain another extradimensional force.
Lexicanum Galacticum
Page 31415
| One by one the stars went out. Earth's scientists looked on in horror and confusion as they vanished. They hadn't burnt out, nor had they gone supernova, they just were no longer there.
It was quick, especially by astronomical speeds. After just a year, the entire southern hemisphere was without starlight and just one year later, every telescope was trained on the north star, the last star, as it too was snuffed out.
Within moments though, every single one of them returned. Every twinkling little light, right back where it belonged.
----
"Steady"
"Steady...."
"Alright we're done."
As the final plate sank into place, the two pilots breathed a heavy sigh of relief. A pair of engineers were wiring up the final systems, and then the largest wall the galaxy had ever seen would be complete.
Just then a small *plink* was heard from the other side of the wall. No one dared suggest opening it back up to find the source of the noise though.
---
"Voyager 1 has stopped transmitting" | 2017-03-06T02:11:41 | 2017-03-06T00:52:02 | 99 | 62 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | When the empires of Europe marched to battle in 1914 CE, they expected to be home by Christmas. War was an unpleasant business, but a glorious adventure as well. A gentlemen’s sport, a game of chess between the great powers of the day and age.
Such is the view that the rest of the galaxy has regarding the nature of war. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions of warriors may die in bloody combat, but they do so with honor and dignity, their sacrifices remembered as the foundation upon which the new order is built.
It is a curious thing indeed, that the other sentient races of the Milky Way rose to the stars without ever having seen the worst in themselves. Most didn’t learn how to split the atom until after achieving hyperspatial travel. Indeed, when we joined the Galactic Conference, we were dismayed to learn that the six thousand years it took for us from the dawn of humankind to the final unification of our planet were considered embarrassingly barbaric and violent by the standards of our peers.
And so we put our past to rest. Laid down the blades and bullets and bombs in favor of books and banter. We may have entered the galactic stage as the most warlike beings ever seen by the Conference, but we would be damned if that was going to be our legacy. We strove thrice as hard as any other race to learn the ways of peace and civilization. We became the authorities on justice and diplomacy.
In an ironic twist of fate, it was our warlike past that made us the best at keeping the peace. Even other peacemaker races such as the Houynems or the Blescufia seem reckless to us now in their negotiations, how they raise the tension deliberately until the other party backs down or weave threats in between words of harmony. Perhaps they have more experience in fencing with words, but Humankind fears the consequences of war too much to risk that.
And that was our undoing in the eyes of the Lippillutans. The newest member of the Galactic Conference, they took offense to “the Milky Way’s biggest cowards” being the ones to determine the peace. Within a single cycle of meeting us, they declared war, offended by our mere presence at the negotiating table. Our attempts at diplomacy were ignored and our ambassadors returned to us beaten within an inch of their lives.
Still we did not relent. We turned the other cheek and begged for peace. Our colonies were attacked, and any humans found enslaved. Still we did not relent. They advanced, and ignored the Galactic Conference’s attempts at peace. Such a senate that held a race as ours in esteem was not one the Lippillutans were interested in taking part in. Before long, they were at the gates of Pluto, about to invade the system that had been our home for millennia.
The Lippillutans have sworn to raze our worlds and extinguish our stars until we fight back. And up until now, we have refused to. Surely our allies would help us, the Galactic Armada sent to protect us. But to our dismay, many of the Conference agreed with the erstwhile newcomer. Humankind’s honor was being questioned, how would we respond? While debates raged in the senate, Lippillutan forces inched ever closer.
Nearly every sentient species has a phrase similar to “the art of war”. Codes of chivalry and good conduct in battle to be followed during combat. Even the Lippillutans have an impeccable order in their destructive force. One almost has to admire their adherence to the idea that war is a game to be won according to the rules.
No more.
The Galaxy has forgotten it seems, in the three thousand years since Humankind reached the stars, that we wrote the rules, with the knowledge of what would happen if they were not followed, and the intention of never having to play according to them.
The nations of Europe learned four thousand years ago that war is not a game. Not when you have the evil within you to create ever more cruel ways of violence. We have refused to go to war, not because we fear for ourselves, but because we fear ourselves.
Let the Lippillutans come, with their spiraling laser beams and elegant arc-sabers. We will meet them with rail guns and nukes, poison gas and napalm. We will fight them on the sands of Mars and the seas of Europa, and we shall give no more ground. There will be no quarter, and no mercy. It is time we remind the universe why it should fear war as much as we did.
Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.
-Quintable Lee, 327th President of the Sol System. July 29, 6135 CE.
Edit: Changed Io to Europa. Thank you for the gold! | “Have you ever seen a planet die, senator?”
The aged human is hunched over a podium, his eyes narrowed and knuckles white against its ornate frame.
“I have,” he says, shifting his weight back, “and I believe it was the right thing to do. That is what you invite if you truly wish to go to war with us. If this is the course you wish to stay upon, we will meet you in space. We will meet you on the planets populated by your ill-begotten kind, and when we finally bear down on your homeworld, we will turn it into a pile of slag. You can stop this, right here, right now.”
————————————————————————
Admiral Connor turns off the screen displaying Senator McLaughlin’s final plea for peace. It had failed, which was dismaying. They executed him in a courtyard not long after. He didn’t cry or shout, even at the end.
Now, here they were. Three systems from the Drasi homeworld, bearing down upon them. He muses idly, wondering what it was that beat them so easily. The turning of a whole economy to war, the better training, or how humans would willingly condemn trillions of souls to the void if it meant victory. With a shrug, he concludes it does matter.
Drasii VI is an industrial planet, housing some of the most magnificent works of art and mechanical advances ever undertaken by the Drasi. The Admiral looked at it from the bridge of his _Worldbreaker_, and prepared to tear it all asunder. The Drasi has relied on one substantial armada to act as their aegis and spear. It had taken one battle to bring an empire to its knees. They had been picking up the pieces ever since. It was surprising, then, to have run into only a single capital ship this close to their homeworld after three months of prowling closer and closer through the stars.
_Rittek_ had been the planned crown jewel of a new fleet to fight humanity. The _Worldbreaker_ class starship and its escort engaged it quickly after their arrival in system.
Brilliant lances if blue energy had emanated from the ship, scoring scars across and through the hulls of the human ships. They returned fire in kind, using projectile weapons. The death of ship is not a beautiful thing. It rages against its death, spewing fire, air, and bodies. _Rittek_ was no exception. It did not die well. A high yield torpedo had raced around into its midsection, cracking the superstructure in half. The crew who did not die in the explosion perished from radiation or lack of life support not long after.
Admiral Connor stands in the wake of that, poised to order the death of an old and prosperous world. He commits it to memory among dozens of others, and begins the barrage with a wave of his hand. Batteries of cannons across the ship begin to fire, dropping shells large enough to hit like small meteors. Or large nuclear bombs. Each impact reverberated across the planet, and cross and angry yellow burst into the atmosphere. Each shot condemned 7 million on average to death. Within two hours, a planet the size of Mars had been scoured of life. Once vibrant and resplendent with technological history, it was little more than ash.
The surface of the planet had cracked, its people
dying. Doctors making futile efforts at saving as many people as possible within reach. All pretense of resistance or opinion lost in the scramble out. Not a single soul was spared.
He had stood the entire time, reading a book on the nature of morality and listening to Bach. He didn’t afford it a glance as they prepared to move on.
The Drasi had not been ready for this. For dirty bombs, for the destruction of entire planets. Despite this, they had wanted this war terribly. Now they wanted nothing more but to end it.
It was a shame for them to have realized so late that humanity would finish it. | 2018-12-15T00:01:31 | 2018-12-14T23:02:53 | 437 | 121 |
[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. | *Discovering Anakin on Tatooine...*
Mace: "You think a pod racer moves fast? You should see the Force. It moves like it has a mind. Like it knows it killed the world once and got a taste for murder. The Force is lethal, Anakin, but it doesn't hold a candle to me."
*At the Jedi Council...*
Yoda: "Mace Windu, his master will be. Master Windu, you must--"
Mace: "Hey Yoda, you shut your face! If we want to hear you talk, I will shove my arm up your ass and work your mouth like a puppet."
*During the Clone Wars...*
Mace: "Enough is enough! I've had it with these motherfuckin' clones on this motherfuckin planet!"
*Facing off against Darth Sidious...*
Sidious: "Sorry, which Jedi are you again?"
Mace: "You know me. It's my duty to please that booty."
*After getting fried by Force Lightning...*
Mace: "SHREEV, you uppity son of a b..."
[Falls to his death] | 2017-05-24T05:19:39 | 2017-05-24T05:16:52 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] You won the hide-and-seek world championship, but the authorities found you were using performance enhancing drugs. Because that was recently deemed illegal, they’re trying to arrest you - but they can’t find you. | My name is Waldo, and I'm the reigning world hide-and-seek champion.
And this is the story of how I was found.
Like all competitive sports, it is utterly and entirely illegal to use performance-enhancing drugs on yourself. I get that. I'm a law-abiding guy. So for the first annual hide-and-seek world championships, I simply applied performance-degrading drugs to everyone else, instead. It took a little doing, but hey, I came here from the world tag championships. I'm all about getting my hands on other people, whether they like it or not.
I was found out. I'm not entirely sure how—all the drugs did was blur the background a little, add in a little visual chaos for anyone looking, hallucinations of impossibly crowded rooms or overly dense forests. It shouldn't have even been all that obvious to anyone watching. But it didn't take long for the Referees to step in and declare me Out of Bounds.
Boy, was that a mistake for them.
I'm no ordinary playground game player. I have gold medals in everything from cat's cradle to zombie tag. They couldn't take me if they tried. I played hopscotch on their goons, and danced the double dutch on their corpses. It wasn't even a challenge.
I had the last of the Referees down to rights. The greatest game-player there ever was. Simon, his name was. He'd tried to bash my head in with a rock, but I caught it with a paper-wrapped fist. He tried a jinx on me, but I got under a roof in time. Finally, he said,
"Si—Simon Says *stop!*"
I paused. He'd said Simon Says. What else could I do?
He was terrified. It was only human, of course. "W—Waldo. Please. Please, stop. I—I'll give you the medal if you want. Just—just leave me alone. Jesus, there are children watching!"
I knelt down, stared him in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Simon. It's not about the medal. It never was."
"Then... then... why? All this, for what?"
I sharpened my gaze. "Look at me, Simon. Really, truly, look at me."
He did. "I—I don't understand. What—"
"Fifteen years ago. You had a fling with Mary. Mary and her little lamb. It was the scandal of the playground world. You didn't want anyone to know. You had a stable relationship with Mother Goose, and you were a family man, you told yourself. So you ditched her. Dropped her in the mud like a piece of trash, and told your goons to make sure there wouldn't ever be any consequences."
Simon gaped. "You—You're my son?"
My gaze hardened. "You lost the right to call me that before the day I was born. You can call me... the consequences."
"I'm sorry, I really am, but please, I'm begging you—"
"You're what?"
"I'm begging you."
"I'm sorry?"
"I'm begging you, *please don't kill me!*"
I stared at him. Then I laughed. I laughed, and I laughed, and I laughed, and tears fell like rain. Simon stared at me.
"What? What's so funny?"
I winked, and held out a pair of scissors. "You didn't say Simon Says."
A.N.
If you liked this, you may want to check out r/rileywrites! | “You heard the boss Jack, the irregularities in his blood test were clear,” Howard asserted. “We have orders to arrest Ryan on site, so we need to get through this door.” The two stood outside a manky old cottage just outside of town where Ryan Harbringer was rumored to live. Ryan, the eighteen year old, once up-and-coming Hide-and-Seek star of the world, had been hiding for a record three months. Howard and Jack were put in charge of the Seek.
“I just don’t think this is a great idea,” Jack responded. Jack was a junior detective in the department assigned with Howard, the department’s hot shot veteran, as his mentor. He routinely followed his mentor into legal grey-areas, knowing well that Howard was capable by himself. “We shouldn’t be here,” he blurted, checking his watch.
“Nonsense, this is top priority for the department. You can wait at the door if you’re so worried.” Howard gingerly pushed the door open as if to check for boobytraps. His eyes widened as he peered into the room. “What the hell is this?”
The two were staring into what could have been a pharmaceutical-grade laboratory — hoses, tubes, and beakers were meticulously labeled and placed throughout the room. A large pot sat surrounded by mixing utensils, and from it a musky aroma had filled the room. Howard was impressed. “This guy was professionally trained,” Howard surmised, scanning over a filing desk covered in sticky notes of what appeared to be the first and last names of unknown individuals.
“We should probably get out of here,” Jack said nervously. “This could be dangerous. I mean, we don’t know what any of those chemicals are.”
Howard continued surveying the room and noticed a pile of large brown bags in the corner. He froze, his gaze narrowing on the bags. “Wait a minute” he said, almost in a whisper. He started toward the corner when his back pocket let out a loud ring — his phone lit up as he lifted it into his view. “Jack, you're butt-dialing me,” Howard chuckled, looking at his phone.
“No, I—uhh—”
Howard lifted the phone to his ear, his focus returned to the bags in the corner. He managed to make out the text on one of the torn bags: “Boomslang skin.”
“Hello?” Howard answered rhetorically.
“Howard where are you? We need to get to Ryan’s cottage ASAP. I’ve been at the office waiting for over an hour.” Howard paused, dumbfounded, dropping the phone to his side. “Polyjuice potion,” he murmured to himself in realization. His head turned toward the man in the doorway. Ryan stood anxiously with his eyes locked on Howard.
​
EDIT: Minor grammar fixes | 2020-04-03T16:39:45 | 2020-04-03T15:43:48 | 96 | 12 |
[WP] You are a superhero who's ability subconciously freezes time whenever someone nearby is in mortal danger. Usually its obvious who's in trouble and you can save them quickly, but not this time - it's been 10 years.
Edit: guys the responses have been amazing, some funny stories and some deeper, darker ones too! Keep them coming in, I've been reading them all! | The strangest thing was how it was always daylight with in the bubble but time kept moving on outside the opaque impenetrable barrier. I'd never had the opportunity to really observe that before. Some of the science didn't make sense, but I'd never really understood how my own powers worked anyway. As long as I could keep helping people I never questioned it.
I marked off another day on the alley wall where Jacqueline was working on her Masters Project. At first I thought she was just a talented vandal, but then in a satchel next to the pile of spray cans I found the paperwork from the city giving her permission to paint the side of the building. I hoped one day I'd get to see the finished piece.
I looked at the familiar sights as I started my rounds. The boats on the waterfront all frozen in place. The construction site that would never finish its project. The airplane high above us. And so many people. I’d given up on finding anything new on my patrols, but it was nice to visit old friends.
I passed by Roger on the street. Long ago I had carefully cleaned up his spilling coffee and made sure his tumble wasn't going to be a bad one. I wanted to make sure he would be in good shape when he got where he was going. The text from his wife said, “The baby is on its way. I need you. Please hurry.”
As I got to the park I sat down next to Clarence and Muriel. I knew them from before. They had been married for almost 60 years, and came here every weekend to play chess. Sometimes they played with each other; other times they schooled the young folk who came to challenge them. I'd spent close to a year planning Muriel’s next move. Knight to E4 *click*. Some day I’ll get a chance to ask her if it was a good one, but I think her great-grandson would approve. He’d come to watch them play.
I arrived at the young couple kissing on the waterfront, I didn't know their names. I'd named a lot of folk who were trapped in here with me, but not these two. It was one of the few sights that made me truly happy. She had a smile she couldn't keep from her face as they kissed. He had a ring box in his hand.
Then I turned to the outer edge of the bubble, took a deep breath and began my walk. I called it a bubble, but the outer edge I had learned wasn't really round. And it couldn't be penetrated. Not be me, not by the jack hammers, digging machines, explosives, or the fists of the people pounding on the out side the wall.
The crowd was thin today, but I knew one person would be there. She was always there. Sally, forever in her early 30’s, had a look of excitement on her face. I don't know where she was going, but I like to think it was somewhere with roller coasters. Someplace where everyone was as happy as she looked now. She held her daughter’s hand in hers, arms outstretched, except her daughter’s arm stopped at the wall. On the other side of the wall was a woman. She must have been almost 20 now. I'd watched her grow up, grow more bitter, more angry. Every time she mouthed the same words. She could have been yelling for all I knew. She pounded her one fist on the wall saying ‘Give me my mother back you son of a bitch’.
I couldn't do this today. Most days I forced myself to endure the torture. It was my penance and my motivation to keep going. But not today. It was too much. Instead of continuing on my route I wandered back to the Centre. Laying on my back I took a deep breath and stared up. It was funny how long it took me to figure it out. 4 years maybe? Was it more? I'd almost gone mad trying to fit all the pieces together. At first there was hopelessness, now there was a certain calmness that persisted in the knowledge that there was nothing I could do. At first I thought the airplane was flying over head. Now I knew it was falling.
Edit: a word. | I wonder if is this is what ghosts feel like.
The steps of my route are second nature to me, memorized somewhere deep in my muscles, my brain, my damned...self. Damned. A lost soul existing in the space between the living and the dead. All of those years thinking that I was a hero, that I was some kind of guardian angel! I was wrong. Whenever I saved someone, whenever I got the clock ticking again, I didn't have a choice. Pull someone out of a burning car. Big deal. Snatch someone off a ledge. Big fucking whoop. You get all the time in the world when the clock stops flat. Flat as a pancake, any way you look at it. What's the danger in that? Clock starts again, walk away, feeling all smug and warm inside. Big. Fucking. Whoop. Truth is, I was never a hero. I did it for the clock. Cold look in the mirror's what that is. Time to think is what that is.
Now I got all the time in the world. Clock's stopped ticking.
The third month broke me. That constant whine of sound stuck in mid-air, the sun that never sets. I've forgotten what it was I was supposed to be doing. I was on my way somewhere...somewhere. I think about their faces, the people I knew, and I'm not sure if I remember them. The faces of my route are all I know. I used to wonder which fucking one of them it is that's got me stuck here. The mannequins, the stick people, the living - they're just fine. Age hasn't crept into their features. Their smiles are permanent. Even their frowns are vain. Self-involved in their petty personal dramas. What about me? There are people I love, frozen somewhere. People who would miss me. Why is it my burden to bear the fate of another human being? What makes them better than me? Why am I trapped, aging, withering, feeling nothing? I haunt the mannequins up close, through with trying to discern which of them is dying. We're all dying. I'm dying. I'm fucking dying.
The fog seeps into my mind, the further I walk away. I start to forget, to fade. Perhaps I will fade away if I wander off too far, for too long. So I walk my route. I peer into lives caricatured before me. And I think.
The strangers who have given knowing looks. Whose eyes seem wiser than their years. Who have appeared at a time of crisis, only to disappear at its climax, as though they knew exactly what to do. These strangers and I, maybe we are the guardian angels. Fixed to the fate of others, to intervene at any given moment - or to have those moments stopped, stilled, stripped away. Sentenced by our failure to a fate worse than death. The mortal danger, the mere threat of it, has cost me a decade. And for what. These mannequins, unblemished by the never-ending sun? These static organic machines? Their stillness unnerved me for years. Now it disgusts me.
Some goddamned guardian angel.
My route is memorized. I know the ins, and the outs. I know every face. Every stitch of clothing. Every electrical line. Every gas line. I know that the explosion will make the imminent threat of one, a reality for us all.
And when I walk away...if I walk away, I know that the clock won't stop again. | 2017-09-07T03:31:19 | 2017-09-06T22:04:39 | 38 | 21 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | The people were screaming as the ran past the man, the only one that seemed to wade through the crowd toward the Chaos. It had been that way for years... decades, and god was he tired. Tired of it all, the same ole routine with the same ole villains. But he knew he had a duty to the city, and within that duty a certain pride made him swell out his chest and splash that famous boyish grin across his face that drove the ladies mad. Strutting toward the outward destruction, Guardian felt people brush past him, but he simply stayed the course until he came to the epicenter of madness.
He could see the woman floating there in a cocoon of lightning, her body accented by flashes of light and a form fitting suit that seemed to hug her in all the right spots. His grin curved just a little more upwards as he felt her sparkling blue eyes turn on her and seem to grow wider at the sight of him. Guardian knew it was fear of who was there, the city's epitome of hero's. He was tall and muscular, filling out his suit like a glove of pure muscle, his perfectly quaffed brown hair almost always seemed to blow lightly in that mysterious breeze that seemed to surround all his dramatic entries... And that grin, those perfect teeth that could even make the woman villains weak in the knees when they first saw him. It was all he could do to keep them off of him after all...
"Lightning star! Come on now do we really have to do this? The whole song and dance is getting tiring isn't it? Why not just stop and lets talk about this... Maybe over dinner?" He asked him, striking a little pose as he waited to see just what her response would be.
Usually they said no, a fight ensued, and he would win between his seemingly nigh invulnerability and his super strength and speed. He was the hero everyone envied and every villain feared and he could see it was working. Lightning star was dropping out of the sky, the lightning storm that had ripped the court yard apart into chunks of stone debris that was finally settling back down to the ground. Trees uprooted, park fixtures throw around, it was chaos where he stood, facing the villain defiantly.
Lightning Star finally touched down to the ground, walking over to the Hero who stood there triumphantly and just sighed.
"Yea... Yea I guess we can call it a day... Off to Jail?" She said somewhat dejectedly as Guardian just nodded and put a hand on her side, showing her the way...
Lightning Star could only groan as she saw the small man shamble through the crowd to face her. He just looked so... Sad... A once proud hero that had struck fear into anything that even thought about evil in this city was reduced to... this...
His trademark grin had become toothless and empty, the once famous hair had turned white and scarce... And his impressive stature had been reduced to a bent over shriveled man. Sure he was still invulnerable damn near, but everything else was just... gone. Now he was nothing more than a bag of bones and skin, a shell of the former hero and pride of the City.
No Guardian was gone, and in his stead was simply a man that was to far gone in his own mind with past glories that he would make him run headlong into the middle of a lightning storm with no real way of winning. Of course there was a certain sense of admiration to the man who was willing to still give up and sacrifice his body in such a man as to save a city, but she wasn't the only villain that seemed to cotter to the old man somewhat...
No it was that reason that found her walking along with the old man, that and many more reasons. Maybe admiration for what the man had been before, maybe a bit of nostalgia, or trying to have something in common with what the older villains had. No, it was probably beca-
"Stop right there Star! I wont let you get away with this! You're going away for good th... What are you doing old man?"
Oh great, another rookie idiot. Sure she didn't have the same time under her belt as some of the greats of her generation, but that didn't mean she was a complete newbie. Even so, she figured everyone knew of Guardian, who he was and his current... Situation. Shaking her head she just shooed him off from behind Guardian's back. But the kid simply kept on, really irking Star now.
"Old man get out of here, what are you even doing out here? You're in the way!" The no name said as he grabbed Guardian by the shoulder and seemed to shove him aside a little rougher then what was good for him. That irked Star to no end, a lack of respect for a front runner, even more so as the boy brushed past the downed Icon with little to no care. It made her blood boil, and with the punch of her fist, she shot out a bolt of destructive lightning straight for the boy's gut.
A ragged bloodied hole of charred flesh and innards was all that was left of the man's midsection. Gasping noises like the sound of a goldfish sucking for air out of water painted the confusion perfectly across his face as he collapsed a few seconds later. There was no need for disrespect, especially not of this caliber for a man of this respect. He had done great things for hero's, helped get legislation passed that helped protect the rights of those that came after him. He had helped set up academies to train and nurture the future of his kind. And yet everywhere she looked, those that he had set a future for just brushed him aside...
It angered her to no end, along with quiet a few others in her circle, but for her it was personal. Guardian had been a idol for the woman as a young girl, and frankly who wouldn't look up to the top hero in the world, especially when it was your own dad...
"Come on Guardian, the other guy had other stuff to do. Another call I guess. You were going to take me in right?"
Guardian seemed lost for a moment before nodding.
"Ri-Right! Now come along little miss... You know you remind me of my daughter. Such a sweet little girl, Always wants to come along but I always told her it was to dangerous! Especially after what happened with her mother. Sad side effect of the job you understand I'm sure. " He began to ramble on about her mother, tearing up old wounds. No, it wouldn't do to listen to this, but tonight... Tonight made her think. If the new crop wouldn't respect him, she would make them...
Maybe it was time to take up the family business...
(It's my first time writing one of these, please be kind! It was a blast though, I'm gonna start doing more of these for sure.) | As Anton's whip tightened around Tony's neck, all the while sending huge volts of electricity through Tony's armor, he saw a familiar figure walk towards him.
"Ms. Carter, please step away!!!".
Peggy stopped for a second, and then continued walking towards Anton.
"Stop! You know his father stole my dad's inventions. He will pay for his father's sins."
Peggy stood face to face with Anton. Well, technically, her chest was facing his stomach. She didn't hate her old age, but was definitely not too happy about how much effort it took for her to stand up straight. She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Now they were chest to face. Peggy summoned some more strength and lifted her neck and looked into Anton's eyes.
"Now, Anton, do not pretend that your father was righteous and innocent. I think we both know the things he did."
His eyes dropped, he looked sideways, unable to make eye contact, "He was no angel, but his father," looking at Tony writhing at the other end of his whip, "reaped the benefits of my father's hard work, and build such a huge business empire. His father," he lowered his voice as he increased the voltage that hit the armor, "sent my father back to Russia, where he spent the rest of his life in a Gulag."
"Anton, is that what your father told you?"
Anton's eyes met hers, searching for answers. She continued...
"I was in SHIELD. You want to know what happened? Your father was kidnapped by HYDRA, and then some of the major publications released news stories of him being deported."
"He was a brilliant scientist. You think that if he had been deported, he would've been kept in a Gulag?" She laughed a little. "You think Russians would waste a great mind such as your father's in a Gulag". She said Gulag in a typical Russian accent and really elongated the aa sound to make her point.
"What do you think the SHIELD did with Arnim Zola? Do you think we threw him in a prison? No, we put him to work, and he worked for us until the day he died."
"He was old, senile, and brainwashed, by the time they let him go, probably he was of no use to them anymore."
"Come on Anton, Tony's not your enemy. Let him go, and hold me hostage so that he doesn't hurt you."
"I am not taking you hostage, Peggy."
"But you're letting him go."
"I am not sure"
"Yes you are"
"Peggy, how do I know you're telling me the truth?"
"Anton, I might be lying to you, but you agree that there is room for doubt in your theory. Right? Then I will go and talk to Tony"
"It's going to take you the whole year to reach him, by then his backup will be here."
"You really want to insult me right now?"
"Teasing, Ms. Carter, teasing, not insulting... I am sorry..."
Peggy turned around and thought to herself. Well it's going to be a long walk.
As she neared Tony, she was grateful that this time she won't have to straighten up, the man was already on his knees.
"How you doing Tony?"
"Listen Peggy, I don't need your help, my armor is protecting me like a faraday cage, thanks to the failsafes I created to save myself from lightning strikes."
"Tony, who is the man you are fighting?"
"Peggy, please don't think of this as a teachable moment, I am working over here. I really don't need any 'know your enemy' lessons right now"
"What happened Tony, systems are offline, can't run a facial recognition?"
"His whip's fried all armor connectivity below my helmet, my network sensors are on my back, and they are offline."
"So you can't even call for backup?"
Tony's voice was very low, as he very sheepishly said, "No"
"And... you don't need my help? Okay, why am I not dead right now?"
"Peggy, stop asking me questions, I am busy", Tony said, annoyed, when it suddenly dawned on him, "Why aren't you dead, Peggy? Because you know him!!!?? How? Why is someone you know attacking me? What's going on Peggy?"
"Because his father was a friend..." she paused, waiting for his helmet to turn towards her " of your father and me"
"Then why the hell is he attacking me, how the hell does he have my ARC reactor? Oh because his father invented it. He is Vanko's son."
"Finally, you learnt something, do you promise not to attack him?"
"He killed so many people here today, how can I let him go?"
"I am trying to save your behind, young man!!! At least have some common sense."
"Peggy, I can't let him go..."
"Tony, as things stand, I really don't think you're in a position of holding him. I am going to go and make him go away. Catch him next time... Although I'll recommend that you try helping him."
"Why will I help him?"
Peggy just shrugged, and went back to Anton, "what do you want to do?"
"I don't know, I killed so many people here today"
"Anton, that's what you did, what do you want to do now?"
"Peggy, they will arrest me..."
"Yes Anton, but they will not deport you, you built an ARC reactor yourself, in a garage in Russia. What do you think will happen next? You will go to prison, but you will work on stuff you always dreamed of."
"What about him?"
"His suit is offline from the neck down"
Anton turned off his whip, and Tony collapsed to the ground. Cops surrounded him, "Stupid old bitch, always thinks she can talk these guys out of things and get them to surrender." said one
Antone turned on his whips again, and took the cop by the scruff and said, "Did you just call Ms. Carter a bad word? You're lucky I don't feel like killing more people today, better apologise to her afterwards."
| 2017-04-13T05:32:48 | 2017-04-13T05:10:16 | 74 | 10 |
[WP] Earth was doomed. The rich and the powerful escaped into space, and eventually found a planet to repopulate. However when it was time to start rebuilding, they realized being 'leaders in their market' now counted for nothing. | **EntrepreNewReal**
*“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” -Arthur C. Clarke*
*“The acquisition of wealth is no longer the driving force in our lives. We work to better ourselves, and the rest of humanity.” -Captain Jean-Luc Picard*
Perpetual darkness faded in reverse to at first a soothing, and then gradually piercing orange-yellow light through the filter of long dormant eyes as he resumed consciousness after a long and dreamless slumber. A muted, gravelly, comically diabolical laughter rang forebodingly in his ears as his newborn body suddenly drank in all of his sensory surroundings for what felt like the first time in a lifetime… or had it been…?
“We made it! Hahahaha! I can’t believe it, but we’re here! Oh, I wish my brother could see this!” chimed the raspy, sinister butterscotch tenor of a foggy but familiar voice.
“It would appear we have. I’m going to Proxima be real with you, I wasn’t sure the technology was reliable. But it would seem through empirical necessity, we’ve prevailed against our odds, now, doesn’t it?” responded another mousy, mildly accented stranger through the fog of his awakening.
“I don’t know that this is where you think it is, Mr. Musk. Not that I’m any kind of xenogeologist, or subject matter expert, but- has anyone checked the instruments and analyzed the data yet to establish our coordinates?” rasped a third, wearier tone. It was slowly coming back… slowly.
He gazed from side to side through the fogged lenses of atrophied eyes to see his arms rising slowly from the warm bath of astringent, chemical smelling goo as they were raised upon the pedestals to which they were affixed- being fed by a host of intravenous tubes stemming from the mechanical coffin which had with some increasing apparency housed him for quite some time.
“Why don’t you Google it?” joked the second voice.
“They’re not awake yet,” snapped the third.
“No. But it would appear Mark is coming to.” Observed the first voice.
“Has anyone even looked outside yet? Are all of the, um, ya know- the machines we built- what kind of condition are they in?” inquired Elon.
“Fuck that! How about the women? Are any of them awake yet? Is my Alive Girl, you know… alive again, yet?” asked the first man.
“Alive, almost for certain. Awake is another question. I didn’t bring the wife, Jeff,” the third voice remarked in its characteristic scratchiness.
“I know, after the whole other Jeffy thing, with the island…” snarked the voice now identified as Jeff Bezos. | You quickly realized that you only got where you where by luck. Sure you'd had access to the cutting edge of the field and even benefited form it in some small way. But 2 months living in the craters really brought out the inadequacy of it all.
Sharon was a business leader back on the husk we left behind but died of a mismanagement of resources. The economic theory that things only get more expensive and don't run out doesn't really apply in early stages of teraforming.
Bill was a tech investor, made some really cutting edge stuff. Or rather got some other people to write the program as he envisioned it. Sure he'd done some of the code here and there but at the end of the day a bug he didn't spot meant his auto watering compensated by waiting a year when it overwatered
Richard was a former president. The last president before it all went to hell. But being a politician meant he only sounded smart and since everyone had crushed someone to get here no one bought his bullshit because we all knew it was talk you used on "the masses". Too many egos i suppose.
Non of us where geniuses we thought we where. Just lucky enough to end up at the most extreme end of fortune just in time for the world to end. We where just the frauds and phonies who'd convinced everyone we knew best; but we didn't listen to those who really knew better. We didn't listen to the teachers who taught us or the researchers who found our research and now we where out on our own with just the knowledge we brought it was clear our luck was out.
Everyone had some inspirational book they'd wrote about the secrets to sucess, about how we lifted from ordinary lives to the hights of decadence. we sold it to everyone our ripped old yarns of our how we moved mountains like gods. But now we where left with only the unfamiliar star patterns outside the dome and the harsh reality we weren't as godlike as we thought.
We the lucky few burned a world to get here so we could die on the best tools money could buy because we all forgot about all the little people who were necessary to build the tools to build the tools we actually knew how to use. Thats the end of the human race...for us atleast. | 2022-01-06T20:29:50 | 2022-01-06T18:48:29 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] Google begins matching people romantically based on their browser histories.
Based off of [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/Showerthoughts/comments/4p6cc1/if_google_matched_people_up_by_their_browsing/) by /u/hobbitfeets over on /r/ShowerThoughts. | **Google Love 8/15/16
Welcome**
Welcome to Google Love, Olive!
Google Love is committed to finding you the perfect match based on your mutual interests. At Google Love, we already know you. There’s no profile to fill out or questions to answer.
All you have to do is be yourself while we do the hard work of importing your entire Google history and match you to your special someone based off of our Google search algorithm.
We have selected the below photos from Google Photos to add to your profile. Lookin’ good!
You’re halfway there! Just click here to confirm your email address and start Googling for love!
**Google Love 8/15/16
Three New Matches**
Olive,
You have three new matches based on your imported Google search results.
Keith (28) – *Googling now!*
Searches you have in common:
* How do you spell receipt
* Lyrics work from home
* Why does Windows 10 suck
* Do I need antivirus software
Other things Keith has searched for that you may be interested in:
* Big tits
* Best cafe downtown
**Click here to start a Google Hangout with Keith**
Seth (31) – *Last Googled 1 hour ago*
Searches you have in common:
* Hangnail treatment
* Urban Dictionary smh
* Brunch places open now
* How to get out armpit stains
Other things Seth has searched for that you may be interested in:
* Can water be organic
* Food gifs
**Click here to add Seth on Google +**
Ben (30) – *Googling Now!*
Searches you have in common:
* Download Game of Thrones
* Best Indian restaurant in town
* Jon Snow shirtless
* How much lemon juice is in a lemon
Other things Ben has searched for that you may be interested in:
* Game of Bones
* Do penguins live in the north or south pole
**Click here to start a Google Hangout with Ben**
Keep Googling for love!
**Google Love 8/17/16
You Googled for Love!**
Olive,
We saw you Googled Seth, so we thought we’d help you out! Click the social media buttons below to be taken directly to his profiles.
Google + | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr | MySpace | LiveJournal | NeoPets
We think you’ll be a great match with Seth based on your mutual recent Google searches of:
* Baby giraffes (Seth Googled this **today**. You Googled this **two weeks ago**)
* Costco hours (Seth and you both Googled this **one month ago**)
* Where should I go on vacation this summer (Seth Googled this **a year ago.** You Googled this **yesterday**)
Keep Googling for love!
**Google Love 8/31/16
We Miss You**
Olive,
We haven’t seen you in a while!
We see you haven’t Google searched in ten days.
You still have 75 unread profiles.
Some of your recently matched Google searches include:
* How to unsubscribe from Google Love (17 matches!)
* Delete profile Google Love (22 matches!)
* Duck duck go (36 matches!)
Keep Googling for love! | He stared at the photo of the girl on his computer screen. Mid-length blonde hair, bangs that just covered her eyebrows, her bright green eyes standing out against her pale face. It was clearly taken with a laptop camera, and she was slightly hunched forward with her black cat looking ominously right at him. He frowned a bit. She could have used a better photo, the background was much too dark and it made her features hard to see.
He sighed. Well, so far, this wasn’t too bad.
He had signed up for Google Match on a simple whim, there was nothing to do, and hey, it couldnt be that bad right? It was an interesting idea for sure. So, he had made a short profile and browsing through random peoples photos.
She...she was cute. He didnt really like girls with makeup and he liked cats so...
He hovered over the chat button on her profile, his hand tingling.
This was a mistake.
This was definitely a mistake.
But, whatever. He gulped, pressing the button.
If she accepted, it would tell him in the right corner what they had been matched on, and they would have something to talk about from there. That couldnt be too bad! It couldnt...
But god. There were so many possibilities. The internet was a good 85% of anybody's lives now. You searched for anything and everything on there. What had google possibly matched him on?
He paused, staring blankly forwards.
What kinds of crap did google include? There were pieces he had searched just to see if it was done, like, how to make a scarf out of noodles or...or... There were things he had searched for school, like the irregularities of the y genome and its effects. He couldnt talk to a date about that!
What if it was based on most popular researches? This was requiring so much thinking. ...what kinds of things did he regularly look up?
Oh, right. He could look!
He opened the customization settings in the upper corner of chrome, opening up settings. Ah thats where history was hiding...There was a beep, and a blank chatroom began to load between them.
She'd accepted! He closed the settings page, His hearbeat rising in excitement.
Could it be gardening? He’d love to talk to someone about fertilizers and plant types! Or maybe she was into gaming, and then they could have dates of playing online games together or maybe-
It loaded. Quickly, his eyes darted to the tiny right corner of the chat.
Oh.
Oh god.
Porn history...?
(first submission to r/writingprompts hope its not too bad) | 2016-06-21T20:05:45 | 2016-06-21T19:44:27 | 52 | 15 |
[WP] You win a bet with the Devil by asking him a question that no one has ever thought of before. | "Wow, you’re not..."
"...how you imagined me. I know. Can we cut this short? There were 6392 deaths in the hour before you died and I’ll have to visit all of them."
"Ehm. Yeah, sure. It’s just a little sudden."
"I know. You die and you find out there actually is a life after death and a devil and you would have lived a *totally* different life if you would have known. Just shut up. I’ve heard it all. Once they see me they get all defensive. 'I had good intentions with that girl that wasn’t my wife' and 'I wasn’t going to eat his face' are surprisingly frequent. Shit. I don’t even care."
"... You don’t? I mean..."
"I’m the devil. If I don’t who does, right? Nobody. Nobody cares. Not even a little."
"So... Do I get to go to heaven then?"
"Well, no. Unless you really liked it where you came from."
"I’m going back?"
"Rebirth. Or simply 'birth' if you prefer."
"Really? What? Now? What’s it all for then? Why am I even here first of all? Talking to you? What are you even for then?"
"Ya ya , I was about to get to that. I’m the intercycle information agent."
"A what now?"
"I’m an inter..."
"Yes, I got that. I thought you were the devil."
"Well, I’m trying to go with the time. When you die you visit me and get to ask me a question and I answer it for you. That way new information gets introduced into a closed system."
"What?"
*The I.C.I.A. exhales.*
"I’m Lucifer. The bringer of light. You ask and I answer."
"I see. I think I understand. And I can only ask one qu..."
*She stops.*
"Aww, you’re quick. But don’t worry. I’m not going to take it away on some technicality. In fact, go ahead. Ask me anything about the system and how it works and I won’t count it towards your question."
"Alright. Only one other question?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to answer me truthfully?"
"How would you know?
"That’s not an answer. And I can tell."
"Then why ask me?"
"That’s still not an answer."
"Very well. Yes, truthfully."
"When I go back..."
"If it’s something that has never been asked before, then you’re not going to remember the question, but I guarantee that you’re going to find the answer that I gave you. But it has to be something truly novel. Something that no one has thought of before."
"And if it’s not new?"
"Then you will only remember the question, somewhere deep down. But you won’t get any help finding the answer."
"I see. I could simply ask something nonsensical. But what would I use that answer for?"
"I don’t know. But I guess that was rhetorical."
"Are there many that get a new one?"
"Recently? Not really. People ask themselves pretty similar things and I haven’t had anything new in a long time."
"So I probably didn’t have anything new last time?"
"You had 'Who killed Yin Su?' last time, but her brother had already asked that and you weren’t really born anywhere near there this time anyways."
"Well, how much time do I... Oh. I think I have it."
"Alright. Go ahead."
"An idiot says 'What'?"
"What? Oh god damn it."
| "Iblis, Satan, Mephistopholies. I go by many names. But you can call me Mephisto for short."
I should have noticed his suave, calm tone. I should have noticed that he had taken on the form of a humanoid shadow with eyes--something my mortal mind could have easily comprehended.
I was too busy banging on the door, screaming for someone to let me out.
Mephisto sighed and snapped his fingers. A click came from the door and I opened it, only to be met with a vast, seemingly endless black void.
I closed the door and turned around. "That's not fair!"
"It is if it's what it takes to get you to listen to me," he grumbled. "Listen, sweetheart," the demon sighed as he grazed my cheek with his shadowy, ethereal hand. I shuddered as he did so. "I know you're too much of a goodie-two-shoes to even consider making a deal with me for something that benefits you, so let's change it up this time around."
"I'm not giving you my soul!" I screamed. "I know how this goes! It's never going to be worth it!"
"What if I ended my influence upon the world? Cut if off completely?"
"You and I both know that you've done enough damage as it is! Bad people will keep on coming along and messing things up even if you stop!"
"What if I took it one step further? I'd dedicate my powers to reversing the damage I've done?"
"You're lying!"
The shadow quadroopled in size. *"Form a wager with me or you're never getting out of this damned room!"* Mephisto bellowed.
"OK!" I cried. "What do you want?"
"Ask me a question."
I waited for him to elaborate.
Mephisto crossed his arms. "Smart one," he said. "Ask me a question no one has ever asked anyone ever before. Do that, and not only will I free you, but I will dedicate my powers to bettering the world."
"That's it?" I asked.
Mephisto nodded.
"You have to better the world in a way *I* consider to be good!" I added.
"Care to explain?" Mephisto asked.
"You're not going to bring about world peace by wiping out most of the planet's population! You're going to make the world's rich and powerful understand that they have the power to solve the world's problems and that their actions have negative consequences!"
"Deal, now ask me!"
I took a deep breath and thought for a moment. If I lost this bet, it was a one way ticket to limbo--literally.
"How many toe hairs does a hairless ape have?"
"Damn it." | 2014-06-20T10:06:03 | 2014-06-20T07:54:58 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] It’s been 2 years since the zombie apocalypse has started, and you haven’t seen anyone alive in a terribly long time. The only reason for your survival is that the zombies don’t care for you at all - in fact they all seem to be avoiding you. All except for one. | The small spade made a satisfying thud as it dug into the soil beneath it. The earth was moist and prime for planting, giving off a pleasantly earthy smell. Richard wiped the sweat and grime off his brow with his flannel sleeve and reached into the small seed pouch on his belt. His gloved fingers fumbled for a second, struggling to find purchase on the seeds. He got a good pinch and dropped a few small potato seeds into the hole, tenderly using the shovel to replace the dirt and cover the seeds.
With a groan and some protest from his back Richard stood, surveying his day’s work. There were 5 even rows spread before him, all with subtle mounds along their length. Further along there was a humble barn, a rickety structure barely big enough to escape being called a shed, and next to it his small home. The Sun was low on the horizon, dipping into the shingled outline of the house and washing it in orange hues. There were a couple saplings between the house and the barn, timid-looking trees which would hopefully start bearing fruit in the next dozen years.
A satisfying sigh escaped Richard’s mouth; how he’d longed for this lifestyle. Every week he would buy a lottery ticket, anxiously awaiting the results. “Next week”, he’d always tell himself. He would draw little doodles of farmhouses at work, decorating his cubicle and daydreaming of the countryside. He clearly remembered the second time he had won a lottery.
Chorus of screams had filled the streets that day. Richard had tried to run, but it was a free for all once a horde formed. The memory surfaced, and the scar on his chin itched ever so slightly. He had tripped over someone’s body, right in the middle of an intersection - barely a block away from his office. He had shaken violently on the ground, sobbing, but nothing came. No teeth or fingers ripped into his skin, and no feet stomped on his back. It was like a river parting for a huge boulder, reverently giving it recognition. Thousands of rabid bodies ran by, screaming and trampling everything in their way. Everything except him, for some reason.
A pack of two or three drifted in the corner of his vision, snapping him out of his haze. Richard watched the zombies lazily move towards his home, then eventually curve into a new path and wander away. He hadn’t needed fences since his livestock died, save for around the fields to keep his crops from being trampled.
This was hardly what he had imagined, but he was content. He had a small home, land… he should be grateful. He finished planting the last few seeds and wrapped up for the day. As he slid his dirtied gloves off his calloused hands, he heard a groan. About 20 feet away from his front porch, as close as the zombies seemed to get, there was single figure standing there, slightly swaying side to side.
The hair on its head was plastered and dried with blood, and its skin had a sickly green complexion. There were signs of gangrene all over its body, body parts unnaturally sticking out left and right, yet its eyes were an unmistakable hazel brown. They glinted in the dying light of the sunset, beckoning him to remember.
And with tear streaking down his cheeks Richard turned his back on the figure, forcing a ragged breath out which he didn’t realize he was holding. After stuffing the gloves in the back pocket of his jeans Richard gently fingered the golden band on his ring finger, remembering with a sad smile the first time he had won the lottery. | I’m tired, tired of the endless foraging, the endless killing, surviving for nothing, for no-one.
Is it 4am? 2? The days have started to blend since Jan died.. since I killed her. She turned I was so afraid! I thought to myself as if someone had accused me. But I know better, the rich had vacated somewhere leaving the poor to die out.
I watched my old math teacher chewing on a problem student and felt some sense of irony.
I always thought she was a monster.
How many days has it been? Months? years? I had been walking killing these things.. that strangely never chased me. Huh, that’s irony there. They slaughtered millions but ran from me like a drunk from an AA. I just finished off a bunch that were tearing into a baby. Then I killed the baby. It was mercy I suppose. Sloshing along, it occurred to me I was wet.. had it been raining? I stopped and held a breath as I dropped my machete. I closed my eyes, then pulled in a shaky breath, another. Opened my eyes. I was lying on pavement, wet pavement, and frigid lines of rain were drilling into my back, hitting the ground so hard that they formed a mist where they bounced back up. It was hard to move, took forever to get my arms to do what I wanted them to. How long had I been laying here? Turning my head I saw her. Ambling along in my direction. Had the noise grabbed her attention? How many times has this been?
“Jan..” I whispered. My throat hoarse and taut with emotion. Last week I took her head clean off.
This morning I dropped a bus on her. But it seemed like no matter what I did. She wouldn’t die. Kept coming after me. Day after day. Was she my sin? Her flesh rotting and decaying, rigor in her leg that she drug along creating a deep line in the mud. Yet her eyes were the worst. They looked at me pitying me. Accusing me. ME!!
I stood up anger warring with shame and grief pushing me forward as I scooped up my machete and cut into her again and again and again. Like a lunatic all the while her eyes were pitying and forgiving. Don’t look at me like that! Stop it!
I came up again, shuddering, clawing at the rain like a madman. And maybe I was just that, a madman, the last madman in the New York, maybe the world, lost in a fever dream and waiting for the end. They'd find me soon, ravagers, looters, the lost.. they’ll follow the screaming, and then I could go down fighting, and it would end, there'd be peace and I could rest ...
And tell Jan I’m sorry... for starting this whole thing. | 2019-05-26T11:36:30 | 2019-05-26T08:13:09 | 82 | 26 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | Most five year olds had budding x-ray vision, telepathy or super strength.
She did not.
Superpowers differed in their ability and strength, which was why she had an older sister who could outrun a cheetah and a friend next door who could light his own birthday candles.
And still her powers did not reveal themselves.
Though when at aged seven the neighbour boy almost burnt down his house, leaving his only brother with third degree burns – she thought maybe superpowers weren’t all they’d cracked up to be.
 
It was only late in her primary schooling that it became apparent she had powers at all.
She struggled with the paper – trying to wrench it from the printer’s plastic jaws.
“It works better if you ask it nicely.” the librarian told her.
She answered this request with all the verve of a trusting child.
“Please mister photocopier,” she implored, “Won’t you print for me?”
With a ka-thunk it jolted into action.
 
It was not the most thrilling of powers, and upon discovering it, her life continued as normal. She may as well have had no powers at all. Talking to inanimate objects, who sometimes decided to obey her, did not compare to the heroic feats of her classmates.
 
Looking over the fence one day, she met the brother with the burns digging in the garden. She hadn’t seen him outside of his house, or out of his bandages, and his face was a shock.
She didn’t know what to say about his burns, so she ignored them.
“Is your brother around?” she asked him.
“No.” he grumbled back, retuning to his task.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Digging.” He replied.
“Why?”
“I’m planting an apple tree.” He said, nodding towards a packet of little seeds.
“You don’t look very happy about it.” She observed.
“I wanted a lemon tree.” He said, “Mum wanted apples.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why would you want lemons?” she asked.
“Because I want to make lemonade.” He told her.
She hesitated, thinking.
“Can I see?” she asked, gesturing towards the bright packet.
He shrugged and handed it to her.
She poured the seeds into her cupped hands and shook them the way one shakes a wishing-well-coin.
“Be lemons.” she whispered, “Be lemons.”
 
They were friends from the first time a lemon appeared from an apple blossom.
 
He didn’t like going out during the day much, preferred to stay at home away from the stares. But sometimes he’d go out at night, and one warm summer evening he took her to the lookout near the cliffs. You could see the whole town from here, and he distracted her from the queasy feeling in her stomach by abusing his power a little.
“Watch this.”
With a wave of his hand, the town was plunged into darkness.
She’d never seen stars so bright.
 
While most heroes found their archenemies in mad scientists, or supervillians her greatest nemesis was in the form of the print-and-copy stapler.
Her assignment was due in minutes, and already she’d have to run to get it in on time.
“Work!” She scolded it, a tangle of bent staples her only return. “Work you great lump of useless ore!”
The stapler began shaking like mad, the metal glowed red-hot and she flung it from her before it burst in a hail of staples. The poor librarian cried out in pain, covering her eye.
Scratched cornea, the doctors said.
So she decided, that maybe even the most pathetic of powers weren’t all they’d cracked up to be.
Concerned that future shrapnel might be more dangerous than staples, she vowed not to use her powers – however useless.
 
“I’m going to be a villain.” He told her one day.
She laughed, and the light globe above them flickered.
“I’m serious.” He said.
“Because you recently bought real-estate inside a volcano?” she asked facetiously.
He didn’t laugh.
“Because of my scars.” He told her.
 
It was raining on the night of the senior dance.
Not that it mattered to a junior.
A hurried knocking at her window ended with a boy in a soaking tux dripping on her carpet.
Something must have happened, because her normally calm friend grabbed her hard and lightening flashed overhead.
“Make me handsome,” he pleaded, his freezing hands clutched at her wrists. “Make them *like* me.”
Her power was useless and her throat was tight.
“I-”
“Just try!”
She had promised not to use it anymore.
“I know what you did to the apple tree- you can change me, you can!”
She took his face in her hands and closed her eyes. Instilling in her words, all the wishing her heart could take, she broke her promise.
“You’ll have something better than beauty,” she told him, and behind her closed eyelids she didn’t see how his features brightened. “You will be loved.”
He threw her hands back at her.
“Loved?” he spat, “What use is love when no-one will be near enough to know me?”
As he jumped the fence, he turned his back on her and the only comfort she knew how to give.
 
He never forgave her for that. For his revealing to her his most secret heartache, and for her being unable or unwilling to help.
He began by closing his blinds, determined to shut her away as well as the world.
Then he refused to look at her when she passed him in the street. Eventually his mother told her to stop calling.
She didn’t hear from him in years.
 
Coma.
He was in a coma.
Tried to hang himself is what his mother sobbed over the phone.
He left a note. Couldn’t face a world that was repulsed by him.
She didn’t think he’d want to see her, but he was in no condition to complain.
Around the tubes and beeps she took his hand and broke her vow for him a second time.
“You will not try again.” She told him.
And he didn’t.
The next time she went to his house, all she could see was danger. Sharp knives, gas-filled ovens, rope-like bedsheets.
“You will not help him.” she told the empty house. “You won’t.”
In the end he did not try again, in fact, he did not try for anything again.
It was months later that it happened. By which time he’d just faded away.
Too tired to try and breathe.
 
Once, a long time ago it seemed, she told him he would be loved. It was not until she placed lemon-scented blossoms on his coffin that she realised that the person who loved him might have been her.
 
She surveyed the twinkling lights, and the starless black. The wind whipped though her hair.
“Goodbye,” she told the world, “It’s time to go.”
With a running leap, she left.
And took everything with her.
| I couldn't believe it. I had so much hope for the big day at the Academy - all my friends were talking about it during the morning of Announcement Day. It was chaos, and everyone was laughing and talking over each other. I remember Peter, who was 6'0 at the age of 14, was bragging about how he'd end up with super strength. Or Anna, the overachiever, celebrating that she'd get super speed and would be the fastest in the entire Academy like she already had it.
I didn't really care, because I was too fixated about the opening of the new VR Arcade a few miles away from the Academy. I've been to the site a few times now, but each time I had to find it manually because my floater didn't have the coordinates for construction sites.
I imagined what the new 10,000sq ft VR arcade was going to look like. Maybe I'd be able to play the new Metal Gear Solid game - where Solid Snake and Raiden have been ressurected into one badass space cowboy. Then I'd be able to slice enemies with my right hand while sniping targets with the left while in zero gravity. I was beginning to get more and more excited until I felt a light shove on my back.
Sean, my best friend since Kinderacademy, excitedly yelled at me to get up. It turned out that I had spaced out, and everyone was out of their seats already lined up. I sheepishly complied and followed him to the line.
In the weeks leading up to A-day, all we did was get tested. We went through standarized testing, physical testing, and the overly instrusive Sense Test where they'd check if our hearing, vision or speech had any irregularities. My tests came back normal and I thought that it was such a waste of time. Oh well, passing the tests was just another way occupy myself until the arcade opens next month.
The line was full of antsy Academy students, where everyone lined up to receive the Academy Holopad, which had our results and also signaled our graduation. Sean couldn't stop talking about his results, but I wasn't responding so he turned to Peter, who was talking to Anna about his. The clock struck 12:00 and a solemn ding echoed through the halls. Everything went silent. The proctor verified our identities by scanning our retinas, fingerprints and brainwaves with her handheld detector. She repeated this step for each student then handed them their results - Peter got his, then Anna, Sean, and then I did.
We ran into the Great Hall, found our seats and checked our results, where our parents were waiting. And by "we" I actually meant everyone else rushed but me, because well, who cares.
I plopped down on my seat, ran my fingers down the smooth, displayless bar. I felt some grooves on my finger and then the holopad jumped to life. John Hargraves, it read it big block letters, and listed my measurements and test results. I scrolled to the bottom because I'd seen them so many times, until I reached the end. What I saw paralyzed me.
But that was 10 years ago, and my daydream was interrupted by a noise that almost ruptured my ear drums.
A shot exploded right over my head, and the ceiling was pouring towards me. Before I could react, I felt a light breeze up and the softness of nanofiber against my face. It was Anna, who was now leader of our Combat Squad. She saw the blast, and sped over to help. Her super speed turned her into a blonde colored blur, and she scooped me up in her arms. Before I could say anything, she dropped me by Sean, who was taking out enemies behind cover with his telepathical shock. "FOCUS!" Sean yelled at me, as more explosions rocked overhead.
Meanwhile, Peter was in his Academy Armor suit, taking on not one, but three Patriachs at once. He had no problems taking on the generals of the humanoid race that was trying to eradicate us.
Anna rushed towards a pile of rubble and as she was about to collide with a slab of concrete, she stopped. The force caused the rubble to fly across the room, which Peter caught in mid air and slammed it on the aliens, while Sean took out the smaller Parasitiraptors who were going for Peter.
The three Patriarchs were down and we'd reached a series of blast doors. I opened up my scratched holopad up - after this door was the human who had created the entire alien army by genetical splicing. I yelled in our intercom, "THAT'S IT" and pointed at the doors.
Peter stepped back, activated his energy shield on his right arm, and tackled the doors. And just like that, we were in.
Anna signaled she was going to sweep the room on our intercom, and in a moment she was gone. But all of a sudden, a thick, dark cloud appeared and caught Anna by the neck. It was him. The man who our Combat Squad had been trained to hunt since that day at the Academy. And he had Anna by the neck.
"STAND DOWN, OR I WILL CRUSH HER" he boomed. Peter readied his horn projectile and Sean prepared a mind nuke. But Anna signaled for us to stop, because we all knew that she would die too.
There was a moment of silence, and Anna was about to be taken away. I then started thinking about where we had messed up today. Our gear was functioning, our intel was accurate, and I remember going over everything twice during lunch.
And then it hit me. I sat up, crouched in a ready position, and I set my sights on the dark figure holding Anna. And then, I lost all control.
But I did it. I teleported my fart in the dark figure's airway. After having 4 processed, micro-rayed burritos that had been sitting there for weeks, my fart was toxic. The figure dropped Anna and threw up immediately. Sean mindnuked the figure flat onto the ground, where he lay in his own vomit, and Peter sent the projectile through his spine.
It was over, the mission was complete. The only team to ever complete a five star mission unhurt,.
On the way back to the Barracks in the team floater, my memory went back to right where it left off as I was daydreaming during the mission.
I was an apathetic 14 year old again, and as I reached the end of my results on the holopad, FART CONTROL was displayed in big block letters. And that was that. After all these years of feeling depressed about my power, I finally found a use for it in combat, and it was on our biggest mission yet.
I reclined back in my seat, and nobody said a word. Because I teleported a microfart into their faces, just to remind them of all the times they laughed at me. I was never going to be the butt of their jokes again. | 2015-04-12T22:10:23 | 2015-04-12T21:14:34 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] You are a teenager in an extremely remote jungle tribe. Westerners visit your home for the first time and are eager to participate in your culture. You and your friend devise increasingly absurd "traditions" in order to test the limits of the visitors' open-mindedness.
"Traditions" could be ridiculous or demeaning or gross. | "He did the leeches?"
"Yes. No question, he just stuck his hand."
"And the Monkey sniffing?"
"He said he'd been greeting monkeys like that for *years*."
"Did you try the mangoes, too?"
"He put them on his nipples before we even asked him. He said he was familiar with this 'jungle ritual.' He's... ah... he found one of the women's skirts and now he's dancing while pouring honey on himself. I don't even know where he found the honey."
"Well, I'm out of ideas."
"We could try making him walk on the bridge over the alligator pit."
"How do you think he *got* here?"
Not ten feet away, an old man wearing reedy skirts and a fluff of white hair on his head, shouted, "Are we rolling, Jeremy?"
"Yes!" a voice called back.
"I'm David Attenborough, and for my next special project, I'm exploring the exotic traditions of Deep Amazonian natives. Okay, Jeremy, throw the snakes in!" | It was at that odd moment during the welcoming ceremony that each member of the expedition realized they had been involved in what was possibly the most ludicrous spectacle ever witnessed by outsiders when their stoicism broke into a gale of laughter. Everyone in the circle had followed the ceremony's instructions by wearing green and sitting on the ground in a circle. Nobody was to move or leave the circle until each person had a male Kakapo parrot dancing on their heads. | 2016-02-06T09:40:19 | 2016-02-06T08:26:12 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] “We are meeting an advanced, benevolent alien race today. Do not mention anything that’ll make us look bad: war, slavery, genocide (especially the genocide), and for the love of everything don’t give them access to our Internet. Now look alive, the human ambassador is coming.” | The airlock hissed as the human ambassador walked on the metal flooring.
The ambassador’s breathing could be heard clearly in the still air of the station, a calm moment passed the two species stared at each other.
Eventually the ambassador broke the silence, “It’s good to meet you”
“Likewise,” Rist stiffened, could the translator handle that word?
Fortunately, the ambassador didn’t recoil as though Rist had insulted them. Instead they continued, “I’ve heard good things about your people.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Rist forced their nerves back down, “we take no small pride in our peaceful history.”
“And yet…” the ambassador said, “do you know what genocide is?”
Rist, for their part, stuck exactly to script, “No, I do not”
“Strange then that you have a word for it” the ambassador barely moved.
Rist begin to draw air into their speech organs, but stopped.
“Not just that, you have words for slavery, death camps, chemical warfare, even a word for ‘war of extermination’,” the ambassadors voice didn’t waver “not even we have that.”
“I…” Rist began.
“We aren’t mad about what you’ve done, for what it’s worth,” the ambassadors posture seemed to loosen, “can’t say we haven’t done worse. But there’s a saying in our space, ‘those who fail to recognize history are doomed to repeat it’, or something like that. Point is, there’s no greater other than a different species entirely, and I’d hate to see our interactions turn south so quickly.”
“So for your sake and ours,” the ambassador held an air of ultimatum that carried across species, “carry a clear record, and a friendly demeanor will follow.” | Two hypocrites spar. Dressed in white colours of innocence and purity with clothes worth various years salaries. They sake hands, an action fumbled intentionally to present an air of innocence. They sit down and start talks. They offer safe chips, stuff they know they wouldn't be able to keep after ten years of trade. The Powers-To-Be whisper in their ear for more and so the combatants starts to dance.
It's a slow dance, sung with cadance of appeasement and demands. Without swords to poke they use words and questions. Did traveling here inconvenience you? That quick, yes? Is the atmosphere to your liking? Glad out machines were able to provide an adequate experience! Our gravity seems off? No? Alright.
Quid pro quo and pawn by pawn they give no ground and take just as little.
Satisfied with the nothing they got and the nothing they gave the declare the meeting adjourned. Both countries go back to their home planet to pick their wounds and prepare for an unsactioned war. | 2022-06-29T14:52:49 | 2022-06-29T13:02:34 | 109 | 30 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | **Audio log backup successful**,
**Last sent message**,
**Priority High**,
"This is Chief Petty Officer *untranslatable-most likely personal name/identification* speaking, to all crew members left alive, we need to scuttle the ship, can't afford to let this technology fall into their hands. There's no telling what they would do with it. all"-*transmission degrades to static*
The general took the phonograph off the table. "Men," he said authoritatively, "This was the last known transmission sent by the *untranslatable-name of ship*." "We are going to teach these *untranslatable* eaters of *untranslatable* a lesson for their insolence. Now, as far as we know, they've barely developed interplanetary travel and only possess one planet. But, expect the unexpected, seeing as how they eliminated an entire imperial regiment." "We will make planetfall in 1 hour, dismissed!" I was proud to be a part of such an army, 200,000 of Nexon's finest warriors. I assumed it would be a cakewalk, seeing as how we had just gotten these new breech-loading rifles, 10 times as fast and 10 times as accurate. The intercom squawked, "Now entering the Sol system, report to your airlocks for final preparations." As I entered the airlock, I looked out the viewport and saw a planet covered almost entirely in gigantic metal structures. "Sir?" I asked my lieutenant. "Isn't Mars supposed to be a barren desert?" He looked out the viewport, "I guess they've been busy," he replied.
We landed some fifteen minutes later outside of a massive city, we were informed by the general that this was the city that housed the entire human government. Human soldiers,some 200 of them, approached us. They looked positively terrifying, wearing full body armor which obscured their faces and increased their height. The armor and weapons looked like nothing I'd ever seen, their guns had rectangular pieces coming out of the bottoms. One had what looked like a short tube with a handle. The human's commander stepped up to the general and tried to talk with him, but they were having trouble communicating. The general took his flintlock and shot the human commander squarely in the midsection. But the commander jumped up like it was nothing and yelled a command to his men, we got into firing lines. The human with the tube like gun pressed a button and the front half started spinning. I heard the fire command before the humans let loose. Good *untranslatable*! Their weapons spat out hundreds of sharpened metal slugs. I ducked down prone and before I knew it, my entire regiment was gone. Every time we hit them, they would get back up like nothing happened, they must've made deals with *untranslatable* in exchange for immortality. I decided to attack one with a sword, that should work, Nexonian swords are the sharpest in the galaxy. I sprinted forward, but a hail of slugs convinced me otherwise. Human reinforcements arrived and they made me wonder what business we had tangling with these technological demigods. 15 foot tall autonomous mechanical monsters that sprayed canister rounds and fire, big armored vehicles with massive guns more powerful than any cannon I'd seen. The nimble human gunships were preparing to attack when I bolted to the human's with my *untranslatable-probably part of body* in the air, hoping to surrender. "One of them misunderstood my intent and smashed a closed hand into my face and the next thing I know, I'm here."
The scientist looked down at the alien, scribbling notes, trying to make sense of the incoherent babble that was his language. She gave the paper to the major general, who thanked her for her work and bade her goodbye for the day.
| "Humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
The gnarled general gave him a look halfway between amusement and disbelief.
His ears twitched before settling back into their wavy slow pattern.
"You know this how? From the couple of days we've spent here?" the old man asked.
Djerza held the barrel of his musket up, eying the line of its smooth surface for any warps or bends. Ignoring the question.
"Fools, all of you. I thought the Zanta failure would have taught you not to underestimate our enemies."
At this, Djerza sat up and sighed. The quick flash of ears pulling back betraying his anger at the remark.
"The Zanta had help. In any case, this is not a discussion general. We leave tomorrow, have the troops ready."
The general nodded slowly. "I do admire his spirit though, what was it again he said?"
"It is easy for me to die, but difficult to let you pass" Djerza said smiling, his sharp teeth black as night.
-------------------------------------------------
Guns flashed and thundered all around him. The ground itself shaking as pieces of mud flew past him.
Djerza ignored it. The cannons were interesting, primitive but powerful nonetheless. He quickly approached the line of enemy soldiers.
He'd started running after their last volley. With too few soldiers left for staggered shots, he'd have more than enough time to close the distance.
His own musket spent, he charged ahead with the bayonet at head hight. A few steps before impact, he saw the fear spread across their faces.
Fear not just of war and death, but fear of him. Fear of this thing that was barreling towards them and that was decidedly not of their own species.
He howled and lost himself in the bloodlust.
Twelve hours laters, three thousand had fallen. Men, women and children. Even the animals had been killed.
His clothes were dark with earth and soot and clung to his skin where blood had soaked the fabric.
Of course none of his own had fallen. Well at least none of those truly his own. Technically their side had suffered losses, but that was to be expected. He did not really care if these humans died. But they had entertained him well. This passion for killing, he'd not encountered it for a long time.
He heard the general walk up before he saw him. Demon of Dongnae the human soldiers had started calling him. Djerza felt a stab of envy.
But then again, he'd taken Song's head himself, that was no small feat considering the weapons they'd been forced to fight with.
The general finally spoke "It was a good battle my Lord. I assume we will be staying longer?"
They were young and obviously lacking in finesse, but they had so much potential. Humans fought and died with so much vigor. The Hunt would be glorious if they'd just grow up a bit, and his clan would hold the rights.
Djerza twitched his ears in pleasure. "Yes, yes general. I think we will.". | 2017-08-08T08:04:17 | 2017-08-08T07:55:11 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] The clock strikes midnight in New Zealand, and all communication with people in that time zone stops. Each preceding time zone does the same. You are on the west coast at 11:55 fearing the worst.
Edit: Front Page of Writing Prompts, Whooot | A low rumble was heard in the distance as everyone sat silently in the mountain-side bunker. I looked around the dimly lit room and saw some cowering in fear and others embracing their loved ones. This all happened abruptly when the sirens started blaring 2 hours ago, and a state of emergency was declared from the White House.
It was just a normal sunny day, and I was lazing about on my couch watch television. Suddenly, the show cut off and switched to a black screen displaying the words "this is not a drill". I heard president Barack Obama's voice stating in a hurried but clear fashion,"This is an emergency, please proceed to your nearest bunker and remain there, I repeat...". I the moment felt surreal as a rush of adrenaline overcame me. I quickly gathered my belongings and a survival kit that I keep just in case of emergencies. The TV was still on and a live news broadcast with a woman in a suit took the place of the warning screen; it was giving live updates on the current situation. Apparently contact had been lost in all the Asian countries and the entire European continent. Furthermore, the announcer stated that there was "something" slowly approaching America. It seemed like the communication network was cut off as time zones entered the new year. What a way to end 2016. I grabbed up my bag with all my essentials and reached for the remote to turn off the tv, just then, the screen blacked out. A high pitched scream. Nothing. The broadcast was probably given in Washington D.C., which was a 3 hour time zone difference from California. I ran outside to see people filling the streets, and I jointed the rush toward the bunker like there was no tomorrow, which there probably wasn't going to be.
I look back down again and ate a chip from my bag, eating what was probably the most disappointing last meal known to mankind.
The rumble grew louder and closer. A baby started crying.
It was hard to make out at first, but the tune sounded familiar. Wait a minute...I tried to make out the words as the sound started getting closer. "Never"..."give"..."up"....wait ..."Never gonna give you up". That was it! Rick Astley's goddam troll song has come to end 2016 and all humanity?! I peaked through a seam in the bunker's wall. Meme's filled the infinite horizon as they stormed toward us.
The people saw my terrified expression and asked me what I was going on outside. I gave a grave and solemn look and could only mutter:
"Here come dat boi..."
Edit: formatting | Part 1
The Earth wobbles minuscule amounts on its axis, scientific equipment measures the movements for better understanding of the magnetic poles and by proxy - gravity. Often times the measurements give a glimpse at nothing more than a few squiggly lines. On a bad day they'll be a jagged mark and somewhere two landmasses rub against each other and voila an earthquake. Today, the marks didn't wobble. Today, at precisely midnight in New Zealand the measurements went up and haven't dropped. Communication with Australia and New Zealand is non-existent and all satellites in the stratosphere have stopped broadcasting. The ISS hasn't returned any communications in over three hours since it passed through the same area.
I'm attempting to document the phenomenon to the best of my ability in the final hours before midnight. The east coast went dark an hour ago. Radio contact with a passenger jet dropped off almost immediately when it crossed into the mid-East. Unlike in the movies there were no final static layered messages. One minute the pilot announced his location and the next, absolute silence. The measurements haven't fluctuated yet. I'll admit my fear openly. There’s no migrations of birds, nothing to indicate an extinction level event. My constituents in Hawaii claim to notice a rise in the tides and a general calm in the ocean. They’ve yet to provide scientific date for these observations.
I'm going to stretch my legs.
The stars have changed. Tonight is clear, the moon waning and the sky a million pinpoints of light. Not the correct pinpoints. The Big Dipper hangs further than it should. Orion's Belt no longer exists. The night sky is a shade of alien and communication from the Mid-West has stopped. The sister equipment at the University of Ohio doesn't respond to any connection attempts. I've played the scenario out, either wait for whatever is approaching, try to out run it, or go to it. The latter doesn't settle well on the stomach. | 2016-12-31T21:51:55 | 2016-12-31T21:41:35 | 73 | 34 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | "... at number two, it has been confirmed that former President Barack Obama has the #2 Dad Mug and it is no surprise there given how he set himself as an exemplary dad during his stay at the White House."
"Right you are Stacy. Despite juggling between being a dad and the president of this great country, I'm quite surprised he didn't get the number one... Wait... Hold on..."
(An envelope has been given to John by one of the producers)
"This just in folks. We now have the name of the dad who has the #1 dad mug inside this envelope".
"According to our producers, it has been confirmed and verified by the experts on the legitimacy of the mug. However, we have been informed the dad in question has recently passed away and the mug is now in the hand of the family".
"Well then Stacy, shall I open the envelope?".
"Yes John. Let us be the first to reveal the name of the number one dad in the world".
(John opens the envelope and took out the paper)
"And the number one dad's name is...umm..."
"...is...?"
"...Ted. Ted the accountant". | Sitting at the kitchen table Jacob stared out of the window and sipped a coffee from his "1# Dad" mug.
Suddenly there was a fizzing and spluttering sound and the #1 Dad appeared to melt from his mug revealing a #2,045,834 Dad behind.
He stared for a moment then said.
"Well shit... That's not bad at all." Then he grabbed a rich tea and dunked it in.
The end. | 2022-05-16T13:47:51 | 2017-06-11T09:19:40 | 70 | 17 |
[WP] Despite having pink hair, a tragic backstory, and untold magic power, the narrator refuses to make you the main character | The story of Josh
A mighty fine lad
He lives in Kentucky
With his friend Chad
 
And every day
On his way to work
He walks past this loser
God, what a jerk
 
Some kid with pink hair
An orphan at birth
Some say he’s magic
No way on earth
 
He’s just a nobody
Don’t focus on him
Keep looking at Josh
And his boss, Jim
 
Josh was caught sleeping
Passed out at his desk
And Jim got real angry
Very hulk-esque
 
So, Josh was fired
And on his way home
He saw that same loser
And let out a moan
 
“My god!” He exclaimed
And pointed in shock
The kid with pink hair
Had lifted a rock
 
Now, this rock was special
Not a pebble, you see
This was a boulder
A monstrosity
 
He hurled it some distance
And shouted with rage
“NARRATOR, I HATE YOU,
GIVE ME A PAGE”
 
But the narrator ignored him
And kept out of sight
He followed Josh home,
And wished him goodnight
| Today on Jeff's fantastical story we watch Jeff heroically run from the bully while his pink haired side-kick stayed behind and froze or electrocuted him or something lame like that.
It seems that his friend has finally caught up with to whine about the bullies taunting him about his parents being dead.
Even as flustered as his sidekick is Jeff always knows just what to say!
"You've told me that like a million why don't you just get over it wimp?"
It seems our hero is having none of it today. Quite the impressive linguist is he not?
**Well, thats quite enough excitement for today! Join us next time on Jeff's fantastical story!** | 2017-12-18T20:19:09 | 2017-12-18T17:21:40 | 415 | 16 |
[WP] Seeing success with the purchase of Marvel and now Fox, The Walt Disney Company announces it's next major acquisition: The Catholic Church. | **Private Journal of Pope Francis**
**Entry 1**
The Church is dying. The old generation refuses to see it, and the new generation has known nothing but decline. The select few - the old but not prideful see the slow death of it - the choking out of the truth.
The Church is not dying naturally, oh no. Given free reign, the Lord's truth will only grow in radiance. No, the Church is being murdered, strangled. Killed by the media, new entertainment devices, new ways to pass the time, and of course, The Church itself is being poisoned from the inside. People are so drawn in to themselves that they stray further and further from the Light. They remember what religion has driven the minority to do - to kill, to hate, to rape, that they forget what the majority does: love and save.
I cannot save it. Though it shames me to say it, I can do nothing. The Church was supposed be evolve with time, but is hasn't changed in the last 70 years. I cannot bring 70 years worth of change in less than ten.
I implore the God, though we may be unworthy, to give us a Miracle.
**Entry 2**
Then God said, "let there be light," and there was light.
It has happened. The Miracle. I curse myself even now for doubting, for falling into despair. The Lord helps his children: he always has, he always will.
I never though it possible, but Disney, yes Disney the movie company has offered to purchase us, The Church. The deal is private for now of course, I can only imagine the media stink when this goes live, but for now only I and a select few know. The select who are like me: old but not full of pride. They see what this is: a chance for salvation.
Modern industries like Disney are the kind of institutions that have contributed to our fall, so our only chance is to become one of them, to play their game. A game not of prayers and good faith, but of entertainment and accessibility.
I doubt the Disney executives see it, but they are not purchasing us, we are infiltrating them.
**Entry 3**
The Negotiations are complete. There was some money involved, which I used to silence some of the dissenters withing the Church, but the real deal was the talk of rights. Every movie made by Disney would have a Catholic priest as an adviser. None of his suggestions would be mandatory, but the director would be obliged to listen. The executives had smiled when they heard. Thinking us fools. They were the fools. Priests had convinced people to change their way of life, what was convincing a director to make a slight adjustment to a film?
Disney would have rights to present the material of the Church in any light, and the Church would legally sign away any recourse of heresy or libel. Again, this was just a benefit. The Church's image could hardly get worse. A dying patient would rather take the dangerous experimental drug rather than do nothing.
**Entry 4**
Busy. Managing Media. Meetings. Will convince them. Will obey the lord's will.
**Entry 5**
It has taken a year, but the deal has officially happened. The legal battles are over, the strife in the Church has...lessened. The media coverage however, has just intensified. Some fear it may be the end of the Church as we know it, but the Church was ending anyways. Either I have saved it, or just accelerated its demise.
Time will tell.
**Entry 6**
The first movie released today. The first movie under the Catholic Disney, or the Disney Church, depending on who you're asking. It was about a bitter boy who lost his parents in war, and how he finds comfort in the form a nun who was excommunicated. Even I must say it was heartwarming to watch. Some of the dissenters are even coming around. Saying this wan't that bad of an idea after all. The movie is a huge hit, children love it, adults love it. Even the media has grudgingly admitted that it's one of the best movies Disney has ever released.
And they say Miracles do not occur.
**Entry 7**
I have done it, I think. I have created a new Church, a new world. Now I can rest. | The announcement of the purchase went live on every screen across the world. How much did it cost to buy people's beliefs?
Pope Francis's speech didn't last long: "We aren't selling the Catholic Religion," he said," we are selling the rights to use its image at their will. The negotiation was pleasant and we agreed on all major points, don't panic. It isn't a big deal as the media is fabricating."
*Sure,* I thought to myself, *they will brainwash future generations, how I hate these imposters, all they care is money and power."*
-----------------------------------------------------
**Thirty years later**
What a wonderful and magic trip we had to Disney's Holy Kingdom. At first the atheist inside me refused to go, but how could I say no to my kids? They deserved it, they did all their chores and never cursed.
The architecture of the park left me breathless. An ornamented, golden arc stood tall at the entrance. A few meters past, you bought the tickets. Once inside, the vastness of a vivid green park greeted you. It had nothing but a single tree midway to the main attractions with actors portraying Adam and Eve waving at you as you passed.
At the end of the road, lay a gargantuan building that imitated a church. I had never seen a building of such proportions, it seemed to stretch into the realms of infinity. The main gate put the entrance's one to shame, I would dare to say it was made out of pure gold. The details carved on it were an attraction by themselves, the work of true deities.
Once inside, the pleasant, tender light of thousands of stained glasses caressed our faces. Their refraction imbued every person in a rainbow of colours, it felt like walking in Heaven itself.
Our favourite game by a mile was The Path of Jesus. It's truly unbelievable what they achieved, hundreds of different rooms where you act like Jesus itself. They use special effects when you perform a miracle and even when you rebirth. The thrill and magic swarmed my veins like a shot of adrenaline despite being a non-believer. I also must admit, I came to the conclusion, I didn't know much about Jesus.
I could never forget Ezekiel 25:17's passage game, of course, it had a guy replacing my man, Samuel. L. Jackson quoting it:
>The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.
Due to being children around they changed the context on which Samuel uses it for a much PG one about helping your fellow brothers despite and through their adversities. You didn't have to shoot but to bless your brothers in the cafeteria. I won't lie I found it much more wholesome and real than Pulp Fiction's violent scenes.
We really had a good time, both my son's Thomas and Matthew are begging me to come back! Yet, the following weekend, I felt a frozen stab deep into my heart, icy blood turned my skin wan. I jolted out of my reverie, of the delicious aftertaste of a perfect, brainwashing creation. There was no turning point, not after their words.
"Can we go to church this sunday, daddy?"
----------------------------------------
If you enjoyed it come over to /r/therobertfall | 2017-11-12T06:35:18 | 2017-11-12T05:10:08 | 1,182 | 541 |
[WP] Cthulhu, as an elderich being, sees humans as humans see insects; which is to say, harmless but inexplicably terrifying.
Edit: Holy shit top prompt! Look at me now mom! | One of the most interesting things, is the ability of the great old ones to know, instinctively, the ways of their spheres of control.
Cthulhu felt, in his dreams, the twisted cords and grand plans and visions of the lower beings; schemes, greatest hopes, and darkest horrors. And, every once in a while -- for reasons words lack the complexity to explain -- he would snap one, or thousands. Or worse, twist them into forbidden and unkind forms and geometries the human mind cannot comprehend. As is his way.
From the deep, he arose. A great mound of water preceded him; madness was his breath, chaos and torment were with him.
He felt the unease of his presence settle on the world as eyes that watch unseen disturb the watched. Unclean. Unnatural. Alien.
On the horizon; a glow -- bright and inviting. Cthulhu contemplated as he approached, curious how linear and orderly it was with tall spires and brightly lit paths.
He was, for the moment, unseen...as he wished. The world bent to his will and his presence was muted. As he approached the shore he...
<crunch>
A shiver ran through his thousands of tons of bulk. A human. He'd stepped on one..a large one apparently. He lost his concentration as the thought of the human splutzed across his foot made every tentacle quiver and brought bile into his throat.
He scraped his foot in the sand and rocks...more were coming...the could see him and their shrill cries pierced his soul. This human would never come off his foot...he felt tainted.
He turned and dove. For all his majesty and power -- he could crush them with a thought -- the thought of humans crawling around like so much vermin ...
In his house at Ry'leh, dread Cthulu waits bathing. | "AZATHOTH," squealed Cthulhu, its voice a cacophony of unimaginable horror, "GET IN HERE NOW!"
Blind gibbering dweller in space, Azathoth pretended he didn't hear Cthulhu and flicked on the telly. The pipers were on again. He loved the pipers.
Suddenly appearing from a strange fold in space, Cthulhu appeared, bathrobe wet and tentacles waving in unholy anger, "AZATHOTH! Didn't you hear me!?"
Azathoth blinked but didn't acknowledge her, she was standing in front of the telly now. Good thing he just liked listening to the pipers, but great Cthulhu's shrill whining was making even that hard to hear.
"THERE's a HUMAN in the SINK! GO KILL IT FOR ME!"
Azathoth grunted and looked around Cthulhu at the telly.
"FINE! I'll do it myself." She stormed from the room before calling back to him, "Oh well it's gone now. Ran off most likely."
Azathoth gibbered.
| 2016-09-09T19:08:29 | 2016-09-09T18:03:32 | 53 | 21 |
[WP] Every year, the richest person in America is declared the "Winner of Capitalism." They get a badge. Then all of their wealth is donated to charity and they have to start over at $0.
(Cross-post from /r/CrazyIdeas) | The league table shone brightly above the podium. Fifty names jumping up and down the board in varying shades of yellow and gold, the brightest fifteen right at the top.
There were no numbers to indicate the exact wealth of any participant, that would spoil the fun.
The host, Patrick Harvey, stood underneath with his glinting eyes and pearly teeth, telling the audience at home to stay tuned for the final results in half an hour. They didn't want to miss this.
The hall was filled with round tables and ornate decorations. Sheets of red and gold fabric layered downwards, fanning out from the domed ceiling, pinned to the walls with invisible string. The plaque hanging down in the middle was blank. Ominously awaiting the winner's name.
Food appeared on every empty plate as participants tried to remain composed in front of the hundreds of micro TV cameras that zoomed around the room. The runner up would be set for life, the winner would lose everything.
"Alright participants, it's time to make that decision. Will you gamble to stay in the top 50? Or will you sell it all and stay safe?" He winked at the camera, the audience loved him.
A timer appeared next to the leader board with 10 minutes on the clock.
"Three, two, one, get rid of your money!"
Phones, computers, note pads and virtual assistants replaced the food in front of every participant. Voices filled the room as the 50 richest people in America called their assistants and accountants. The aim: avoid being the richest person in the room in ten minutes time.
Names flashed across the leaderboard quicker. Donations were made to schools, charities, sporting clubs, even random bank accounts. Anyone and everyone was eligible to receive money apart from friends and family.
Harvey looked proudly around the room. These ten minutes ensured national financial stability for the year. Participants needed to give away at least half of their wealth to ensure they would stay out of the number one spot.
Harvey himself had helped devise the novel way of redistributing the country's wealth; give some away or lose it all.
"Oneeee minute remaining folks!"
The voices grew louder as participants sold their stocks and shares, even houses and cars.
"That's time!"
Silence cut through the room as the leaderboard went blank. A name suddenly shone down from the plaque hanging from the ceiling.
ZUCKERBERG
The crowd cheered and most participants joined in, thrilled not to have won. A smallish dark haired man stood up, pushed his glasses up with one finger and tried to pat down his matted hair.
A spotlight shone down on him as he stammered through the names of charities who would receive his wealth.
Harvey glanced accross the crowd as they nodded approvingly. He caught the president's eye and saw a hint of a smile.
He had known. He always knew. He knew because he controlled the banks. He knew because he controlled the stock market. He knew because he wanted Facebook in his control.
The winner's business was always "donated" to the state as an act of "service to the public". Last year the president had acquired a major transport provider. This year, the largest social network in the world.
The public cheered, they clapped, they whooped as small amounts of money appeared in their bank accounts, spread throughout the nation by the games. It was the end of free speech, but they were just happy to have some extra cash.
Edit: spelling | We got to watch The Truman Show once when I was 11, so since then I’ve always counted my steps to the gate, because I was always hopeful that I was in the same situation, and perhaps the walls would be extended one day by like, I don’t know, maybe an inch? Then I’d know it’s not real. So far, it only happened once when I was 16, but then I just realized my feet had grown and I felt pretty stupid. From the park bench to the gate it’s currently 30 steps, heel to toe.
My best friend last year, her name was Sophia, she was probably 18 when she went to the gate with her family. She always used to tell me about the America she remembers – but I honestly don’t remember America before the war. I used to feel pangs of jealousy when she’d discuss getting to have whatever she wanted like food and TV. She talked about cakes a lot, and she didn’t mean the cakes I made at home with rice and jello. She says that pre -war, those didn’t exist, and we only make those because we have no choice. She said cakes are fluffy and airy, and I’m jealous because I don’t remember them.
She had to go to the gate though, so we don’t talk anymore. We had one TV in the commons area, but I didn’t watch it that year because it was Sophia and her family, and I really liked her. My dad used to call this time of the year ‘The Normies Tax Return’, which would always encourage a reaction of laughter from those in the commons years prior, but as times went on the crowd got smaller and now people don’t laugh at all.
I used to practice how I’d walk to the gate sometimes, and I used to practice my smile and wave – my mother kept saying that above all we must remain dignified, so I thought that was the best way to do it. Smile. My dad always argued that smiling meant nothing when it came to the Normies, but I did it anyway, if even for my mother to make her happy one last time.
So I smiled, even though I knew what was coming.
So I smiled, even as they roughly shoved the trophy in my arms which caused me to stagger.
So I smiled, even as our money rained down upon the thousands in the crowds watching us, their greedy hands frantically reaching and pushing.
So I smiled, as I knew not what rich even meant, but that we were being punished for it.
So I smiled, as I was sure Sophia did when she felt the same cold metal hit her temple.
So I smiled…
| 2018-01-11T02:00:01 | 2018-01-10T21:59:40 | 84 | 39 |
[WP] A retired Super has taken a job as a live action news reporter. It is now clear that the network is only sending the new reporter to fights where the young hero is bound to lose. | A school bus flew over Jason and landed fifty meters away from him, crashing on Crimson Sting and filling the street with debris. The ground trembled after the impact, making Jason's cameraman lose his balance. It didn't affect Jason. He just shrugged and aided his cameraman before he fell over. Jason might not be as young as he used to be, given his silver hair, wrinkled skin, and weakened joints, but his super-strength still came in handy from time to time. Specially for situations like this one, where any other person would be at risk.
Jason pursed his lips, shaking his head with worry. That was a strong hit. Few people would stand up after that one, even with superpowers. Crimson Sting was a relative newcomer. Jason had retired before he started operating, but he'd heard good things about the kid. The young hero had a form of pyrokenisis that granted him the ability to shoot fire in the shape of arrows, allowing him to end things from long range without too much collateral damage. These days, those were the type of heroes that thrived.
The dust hadn't settled yet. Would Crimson Sting recover? Was he already dead? He wasn't a close combat expert. He didn't even have invulnerability! Then again, his red powersuit was standard-issue. It should keep him alive. Barely.
Jason sighed. A monstrosity like this one just wasn't a good match-up for him. Crimson Sting was too wet behind the ears. He didn't have the experience to realize this. Fool. Jason could hear the creature approaching. It closed the distance between them, running faster and faster with louder stomps.
The cameraman hyperventilated while gripping his camera. Jason put a hand on his shoulder and said:
"Don't worry kid, I may not be able to lift buildings anymore, but I can still protect you. You're not in danger."
"R-right."
"Just make sure to focus on the monster, not Crimson Sting, when we recover vision. Just in case he's dead. We don't want to send the nation into panic because of a loose monster, okay?"
The cameraman nodded.
"Good" said Jason.
The monster jumped towards Crimson Sting. The shock wave of his landing cleared away the floating debris. It was a chimera of sorts, twenty feet tall, with the body of a shaved ape, claws of a lion, the head of a frog, and a barbed tail. It's muscles looked inflated, almost like a cartoonishly large bodybuilder, with throbbing veins that protruded its skin. It was horrifying, even to Jason, who'd seen a lot of stuff disgusting things in his long career.
Jason signaled his companion to begin rolling and walked in front of the camera, saying:
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Jason Samaritan reporting live for CNN from Xeistoria City. As we speak, Crimson Sting is engaging a monster created by Doctor Genesis. The creature was unleashed after the city failed to meet the doctor's ransom demands-" Jason winced after a fireball exploded in the distance. "Collateral damage is high, but civilians have already been evacuated from the area."
"Bring it on!" shouted Crimson Sting. "I won't let you destroy this city! I won't lose to a monster like you! I'M TAKING YOU OUT RIGHT HERE AND NOW!!!"
Jason moved out of the way so that the cameraman could focus on Crimson Sting. His helmet was cracked in half and, more importantly, he was missing an arm. Blood ran down his exposed forehead, pooled on one of his eyes and blinding him. There goes his secret identity. He was clearly delirious, panting with shaking legs. Jason clenched his jaw. He wanted to jump in, but knew better. He'd only get in more trouble.
The monster swiped its claws at Crimson Sting.
The hero ducked under the swing, jumped a few feet away, and threw another fire-arrow.
Flames enveloped the chimera for a few seconds and vanished. No effect. Not even a single bruise. The monster then dashed towards the man, tackling him away a long distance.
Crimson Sting tumbled on the ground, but found his footing. His eyes... They were resolute. Unwavering. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, he grit his teeth and taunted the beast some more.
The chimera got on all four of its legs and ran towards the hero at a blinding speed.
Crimson Sting tensed his muscles, gathering energy.
The beast was five feet away from him now. Crimson Sting lunged at his opponent, hugging it tightly.
Jason lifted a nearby car, placing it between the cameraman and the view of the fight.
A huge explosion engulfed the entire street, scorching everything nearby. The car started melting. Jason crouched over the cameraman, shielding him with his own body. His back seared from the heat, the skin bubbling and falling off layer by layer until it was over.
Jason's suit was burnt to a crisp and his back was heavily wounded, but the cameraman remained unharmed.
"What just happened?" said the cameraman.
"He blew himself up..." Jason stood up. "Quick, we need a shot of of the aftermath. Can you walk?"
"Y-yeah."
They both walked around the car, seeing a large crater. The cameraman approached the edge and filmed the inside of it.
Crimson Sting was dead, and so was the monster.
---------------
---------------
Back at his apartment, later that night, Jason poured himself another scotch, emptying the bottle. It was new and full two hours ago, but Jason wasn't keeping track of his consumption. His back was uninjured again thanks to an old friend with healing powers, but the mental wounds still tortured his thoughts. This was the fifth hero he'd seen die in two months.
He finished his drink and threw the glass away, screaming. It left a hole on his wall before shattering. Right. Super-strength.
Jason had never met Crimson Sting before. He'd never even seen him in real life until today, but Jason could tell he was a great hero. He did everything right. By the book. Not a single civilian casualty during that fight. He didn't even hesitate when it was clear he was going to die. He had no problem giving up his life.
Why was he doing this? Jason could do a thousand other jobs with better pay, but he still chose reporting dangerous events. He could lie to himself and say that he was one of the few people who could do this job safely. A stupid excuse that people would buy. But Jason knew this wasn't necessary. He wasn't informing the public of vital information; he was giving them spectacle. The same spectacle that he craved after retiring.
Jason sat on his couch and cried for a while. This was only going to get worse. His producer would never agree to covering more wholesome stories. The ratings were through the roof now. Jason was never sent to cover established heroes. They always won. There wasn't any tension, and therefore interest, if the public knew the outcome. Of course, the network found a way to put a positive spin on it. They weren't exploiting newer heroes for views; they were giving exposure to young up-and-comers so that they could cultivate a bigger fanbase.
This had to change. He wasn't going to quit. If Jason left, they'd just find another retired hero to fill his position. If he stayed, though, maybe he could help the younger heroes in their battles. No. He wasn't allowed to fight anymore. His contract prohibited it. The reason he retired wasn't because of age, but because he caused a lot of damage in his final fight. The government wanted him arrested, but instead banned him from being a cape.
Jason sighed. There had to be a loophole he could exploit. He had to try.
-------------
-------------
Continued in a comment below... | "Hi, this is Totlee Ahumen speaking. I'm here, in Portiol Docks where the-"
I saw a black sword that was coming my way. I, with inhuman reflexes, dodged it, turned back to my normal position.
"Anyway... As you can see, a deadly warlock named Tphical Villein is fighting againist a new hero named Gingy. Oh no... I'm... Sorry, I'll be right back."
I dropped my microphone, and started running towards Tphical and Gingy. Gingy was a redhead female hero who was able to bend fire. Yet, her powers were not advanced enough to fight againist Tphical. Who was a warlock that controlled one of seven major demons. He also was one of the leaders of "Hell's Army". Gingy had no chance to win. Unless I helped. But...
I, for a reason, stopped being a Super. I witnessed many evil. I saw many deaths. I failed way too much. It was... Just too much. You know? I had enough of this and I left. Erhm, let me turn back to the story.
So I saw that Tphical was about to cast a deadly black spell and I just stared running towards Gingy. I reached there on time and pushed Gingy away from the spell's reach. But, for doing that, I had to let the spell hit me. And it did.
I am not gonna lie. It hurt like hell and it took me a few seconds to start seeing clearly. Believe me, Tphical and I have a big history. He saw me and he said "Totlee? It's nice to see you! Didn't you retire? Or did you come back for me to kill you? **YOU DAMN WORTHLESS TRASH!!!!** Sorry, it was the devil in me. Literally..."
Tphical is a weird person. He, as Tphical is actually a decent and a gentle villian. But the demon in him has major anger issues.
By the way, while this were happening, Gingy was standing where I pushed her to and she was looking at me like I was a movie star. She asked me, "Are you... Are you Totlee?"
"Um... Yes. Why?"
"Ahhh yessss this is the best day of my life oh my god oh my god you are actually him you are like my role model i love you wait wait i didn't mean it that way i said it like youactuallyarelikemyfavouriteohmygodidontknowwhatoosay-"
"Gingy!"
"Y... Yes?"
"First of all, calm down. I am not a Super anymore. Also, don't calm down. You are in the middle of a battle. And you are fighting againist Tphical. He's strong."
"Oh... Okay sir."
Then, Tphical giggled a little.
"Wow. I am flattered Totlee. You never called me strong before."
I, with my heroic pose, said: "You shouldn't be. Because I'm about to kick your ass."
"Omg omg so cool!"
"Gingy, what did I say?"
"Calm down but don't calm down?"
"Exactly."
Tphical threw a dark laser beam on me. I, of course, dodged it. Okay okay... It hit me. Then he said "**ENOUGH TALKING YOU WORTHLESS HUMAN PEASANTS! FIGHT ME!** Oh... Sorry, I didn't mean to- **BUT I MEANT TO! COME AT ME COWARDS!**"
Gingy ruthlessly attacked him. What a bad decision. Okay, lesson from me: Always plan your attacks. Charging baldly is good againist stupid enemies. Yet, when they are smart like Tphical, you should ALWAYS use your head in the fight. So... Gingy didn't. Tphical easily knocked her unconciouss with his counter attack.
Then, it was just me and Tphical. We fought. Like... What seemed like hours. Do you know what my Superpower is? Wait... You don't? Really? Wow... Okay I will pretend like I wasn't offended. Anyway...
After a long battle, we both were exhausted. He said "Well... It was... A nice battle. Good to see that you still have your ability to- **YOU SUCKED! I WILL KILL YOU!**"
Then his eyes turned black, dark energy stared flowing around him viciously. He took a black sword and started walking towards me. No, he normally can't do that. See, the demon in him is really strong and when he takes control, which was the deal in this case, you'd better run. But I couldn't, because I was too tired to.
The demon said "**AHAHAHA. MEET YOUR END, YOUR MORTAL. NOTHING CAN SAVE YOU NOW! EVEN YOUR SUPERPOWER THAT GIVES YOU- AAAAAAAH!!!!**"
He started burning. That's when I realized that Gingy was back up. After burning for a while, the demon gave the control back to Tphical.
Tphical casted a spell that put the fire out and teleported him somewhere near.
"Enough with that redhead!"
Then he put a paralysing spell on her.
"Do you know how long it takes to heal a third degree burn? Actually, in my case, only ten seconds. But..."
He looked at me, then he looked at Gingy.
"You know what? I think I can't kill you both. Not without using demons power. And his chains are loosening again. If I were to use it, It would probably set him free. And... He would kill me if he were to be free. So..."
He undid his paralysing spell. Then he said "You, redhead. Did you realise what you've done?"
"N... No? But my magic felt different."
"You, in order to save him, got stronger. Do that more. I love facing strong enemies. Oh and Totlee, does that mean you're back?"
I angrily said "No! Not in a million years. I am retired damn it!"
"Yeah yeah... The Network loves making you fight. It's like... What? Third fight of yours this week? **I'M BACK YOU FUC-** No! No, you're not! Anyway I should get going before he breaks his chains. Bye!"
Then, there was only me and Gingy. Also the cameraman who was recording the fight.
I looked at Gingy and said "Good job... Young Super. Keep on training and fighting."
"Thanks, sir!"
"But..."
"But what?"
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU WERE YOU DOING?! I MEAN THE WAY THAT YOU ATTACKED WAS SO RELENTLESS THAT I FELT-"
Um... I am not going to continue this story. It contains ten minutes of lecturing. But you get the point right? No? How?! I mean, you don't know my superpower, you don't know the point... Ugh, the point is, I think The Network doesn't want me to retire and I think... I think that I don't want to retire either.
| 2017-07-26T12:43:36 | 2017-07-26T12:24:58 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] You are immortal. Every time you die, you come back to life safe and unharmed. However, despite what people might expect, you're not some thrill seeking risk taker, or crime-fighting vigilante or even a notorious criminal. You live a buttoned-down, cautious life - because dying really hurts. | You never learn to *truly* fear death until it is too late.
In my youth, like any other young man, I thought myself virtually immortal, fueled by the cockiness and naivety of youth, I had an unfounded belief in my own immortality. The only difference between me and all the other men my age was that I was unknowingly right.
Stoked by a romanticized vision of war and nationalism I had volunteered as a soldier in the great war. It was supposed to be glamorous, but the reality was far from it. Dirt below us, dirt around us and dirt above us, we were already 6 feet under, only waiting for the artillery shell that would finally collapse and complete our grave.
For months we fought in the mud, my friends fell one after another. On several occasions I was injured too - shrapnel from a grenade, a shot in the chest, a bayonet in the gut. But every time I fell, convulsing face first in the mud, I would be dragged to the infirmary, only to be declared fit for fight, once the nurses had cleaned the blood and mud off off my supposed wound.
Soon everyone in the trench thought I was strange. I developed a reputation for faking my own injuries, which was not unusual in the trench - everyone tried to do it once or twice, a bed in the infirmary and the company of the nurses was a welcome respite from the frontline trenches after all. What was unusual was how convincing my acting was, the blood, the screams, the existential dread of impending doom, all the drama of a dying man. But every time the nurses would clear me as fit to fight and scold me for wasting their time. I would walk back to my trench and my fellow soldiers would look at me as if they were seeing a ghost.
I did not learn the extend of what was wrong with me until a windless night in 1915. We heard shells rain down over our burrow, but no explosions followed only loud pops and the seeping of gas. Soon my eyes, lungs and face started burning, as my fellow men fell around me, screaming in agony. I too collapsed on the ground, as I felt my body convulse in waves of pain as my consciousness slipped, and then death - sweet relief. Immediately, my body jerked back to life, my lungs gasped for air with all their might, but all I breathed was more chlorine gas, I fought the convulsions and pain and tried to crawl my way out of the burrow, but hardly managed more than an inch, before my body gave up and I died all over. That night I experienced a thousand deaths, it was like a feverish nightmare that I kept on waking up to.
That night I begged to both god and the devil, pleaded for either of them to take me and cursed their names for letting me live. I cried for my mother and my father, I begged anyone for help, but no one came. I died over and over until a breeze slowly cleared the gas.
I dragged myself through the mud, to the field hospital, barely able to distinguish what was real anymore. The nurses looked surprised to see a survivor, but as soon as they recognized me, I could see the disbelief in their eyes. Then I heard it.
\> You better not be acting this time | "DAMNIT!" The cry echoes through the empty house. Following it are grunts of effort and muttered swears that fell out of favor decades ago, maybe more, in favor of much harsher and yet somehow less impactful metaphors. John's hands slip in the cool but not yet coagulated blood as he pushed himself up and rolled into a seated position. He could clearly recount every second of lying there, unable to move, watching the pool of blood slowly expand. Silently praying that this would finally be it, the last run of the curse. The final ending of his life.
Fate had other plans, of course. Just as he felt that moment of release he felt it all welling back up again. He'd screamed into the void with every facet of his soul as his body rebuilt itself. Once whole again a new breath of life, tainted by the scent of his own blood and bile, filled his lungs and was immediately expelled in exasperation. He gingerly fingered the ragged hole in his favourite sweater, a garment that had lasted him nearly a century undamaged and unblemished. The blood would wash out but that hole would forever be a weak point in the weave just daring to send the rest of the woolen article of comfort into disarray.
"Damnit. I loved this sweater." John muttered to himself. Just as his thoughts turned to the moronic teenage hooligan that had done this to him, the idiot who barely knew which end of the gun was the important end, he heard a sudden gasp of fright and turned his head sharply to the left. There, sitting in the very spot he'd been standing when the weapon went off, was the would-be burglar.
"You... I thought I killed you! You're okay!" John noted it was more of a statement than a question, but shrugged in response. The kid started getting to his feet, the revolver he'd probably boosted from the parents of a friend forgotten at his feet. "I checked. You were dead. You weren't breathing." John sighed, wincing against the pain of his recently revived respiratory system clearing out the debris.
"Aye lad, ye did. And I was dead." The kid was already white as a ghost and yet he somehow blanched even further, John worried he was on the verge of passing out. "Dying hurts like the dickens, by the by. Dinnae matter the hair on a cunt if is fire, a fall, or being shot by some wee pissant what barely knows how to hold the damn gun." John grunted through the pain as he rose to his feet, squaring his shoulders as best he could.
"What hurts worse is the comin' back." | 2021-06-16T09:40:08 | 2021-06-16T09:17:59 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] "Whatever you do, don't look up"
I figured a lot of scenarios can be covered by a quote like that. The more realism the better, but I love to see what kinds of outlandish stuff you guys think up.
Edit: Wow, this has gotten popular. It's very gratifying to see how many people were drawn to this prompt, I'm looking forward to reading all these stories :) | Whatever you do, don't look up. If you're ever outside the base, no matter what, do not look up.
Those are the first words the commanding officers said when we arrived here at the outpost six months ago. In six months, I haven't even seen the outside world. All the walls are solid. The only things that go in and out of here are the supply ships, and those are operated by AI. Nobody ever gets the chance to see what's out there, and we're told to keep it that way or else we'll all go mad. They tell us that there are things outside that will eat our souls and leave our bodies as husks. They tell us that the first people to make it here all died within minutes of stepping out of their ship. They say that as long as we're inside, we're safe from all the things out there.
They're wrong. Whatever's out there, it's in here too. I can feel it. I can hear it, scratching at the edge of my mind. Whispers in the shadows, things just beyond the edge of sight, music that nobody else can hear. I tried to tell the base docs about it, but they just told me that a bit of paranoia is normal here until you get used to it.
Let me tell you something, those docs don't know shit. A couple days ago, one of the supply ships' AI got the course in a bit wrong somehow. Maybe the things outside arranged it, I don't know. It crashed through the hatch doors while I was on guard duty in the receiving bay. I knew the repair bots would take at least 10 minutes to get there, so I took the opportunity to slip outside.
I looked up.
Now I know the truth. I have seen the glory of what's out there, and I brought it back inside with me. Soon everybody shall know the truth, and together we bring them through to rule this world.
If you're ever outside, make sure you look up, and you'll know the truth too. | "Whatever you do, don't look up." These were the words streaming through the air, cell phones, television screens, radios -- hysteria is all the world's nations have become. Of course, many paid no mind and looked up anyway. What was seen appeared to be a star. Odd to see a star in broad day light besides our sun, but it was bright. It was nearly as bright as the sun and gently growing in size. On the other side of the world, the night skies brightened up like the skies at dawn. Many asked, "What is that?" The answer was a statistic prayed to never occur: an asteroid heading towards Earth at incredible speeds. It was too close to avoid, to destroy, and was measured to be the size of the United Staes and China combined.
People prayed. People embraced. People screamed, yelled, looted, murdered, raped and started flames. Sirens, like the warning, streamed through the air. This was it, like lives in centuries before our own, extinction, or near so, was upon us.
Meant as an attempt at denial, "Whatever you do, don't look up" - the warning - went ignored. To look up was to die -- to ignore the words was to accept the end. For once it hit our world - the asteroid - so to did death. | 2015-01-11T12:04:12 | 2015-01-11T09:58:46 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] You can see everyone's "Kill Number," the number of beings they've killed. Even for the most peaceful people this is in the tens of thousands, due to eating animals and stepping on bugs inadvertently. One day you see a person with the number Zero above their head. | "Who are you?"
I asked the question directly. I didn't know what else to do. After all, never in my life had I seen someone with a kill number of zero over their head.
"Well, you could say I'm just a hunter passing through town," he replied.
My brows furrowed. Hunter?
"You're lying," I said.
He squinted his eyes at me, confusion evident in his eyes.
"Ma'am, I think I would know my job pretty well," he said slowly, enunciating each word as if I was slow to understand.
"Don't patronize me," I snapped. "I know you're lying. You're not a hunter. So, who are you?"
The look of confusion on his face seemed genuine. Doubt began to creep in my head. Maybe he wasn't lying. But then, how would that explain the kill number on his head?
He reached into his pocket and took a gun out. Despite the kill number stating zero, I reacted instinctively, taking a step back.
"Whoa, relax buddy," I said.
He placed the gun on the table before him and pointed to it.
"This," he began, "is my gun. I use it to shoot and kill things. I hunt things. Therefore, I believe I classify as a hunter. Makes sense?"
"I ...," I trailed off. I looked at the gun and at the kill number above his head. Zero. I looked at the gun and back at the kill number.
"Are you alright ma'am?" he asked. He sounded concerned, genuinely so.
"It ... it doesn't make sense," I stammered.
The man sighed.
"Ma'am what part of this doesn't make sense. Aren't you an American? I thought gunpowder flowed in your veins."
"When was the last time you killed something?" I asked.
The man leaned back. He reached for his gun and put it inside his jacket.
"Well, the last thing I remember killing is probably that fly that had been buzzing around in my hotel room last night. If you meant with this gun, well last week I hunted down this khyak in Nepal."
"A what in where?"
"Khyak in Nepal. It's a small nation south of China. The khyak is like their culture's version of a grim reaper or so I understood. A big ape like creature that lurks around in cremation sites at midnight. Shot it right between the eyes. I am rather skilled, if I do say so myself. As of right now, I'm hunting a bear though. It narrowly escaped me the other day right up in that forest."
"Okay, you're just making things up now."
"Says the girl constantly looking right above my head." He leaned back in his chair and looked up. "What is it? Is it a fly? A mosquito. Is my hair weird?"
Should I tell him? Against my better judgement, I decided to do so.
"I ... I can see numbers over people's head," I said, my voice quiet. "The numbers represent how many living beings they've killed -"
"Oh, you're an Accountant," the man interrupted.
"Excuse me?"
"An Accountant. So that's why you were looking over my head." The man nodded as if he understood.
"What do you mean I'm an accountant?" I asked. Each word that came out of the man's mouth seemed to confuse me further.
"So, you're basically what they call an Accountant because you, well, work with numbers. Like how I am a Hunter, I hunt things."
"Assuming what you just said is true, why is the number over your head zero then?" I demanded.
The man blew air from his mouth and gave a sheepish grin.
"Well, have you done any coding?" he asked suddenly.
"How is that relevant?"
"Well, this number system you see works in a similar way to computer codes. Or maybe not, I don't know. I'm not really technically inclined. Anyways, to put it simply, once you pass a certain numerical threshold, the system glitches and resets the visual counter to zero. The number keeps adding up though, just doesn't show here," he pointed over his head. "It's basically a glitch in the system and it appears they haven't gotten around to fixing it."
"And what is the numerical threshold for this then?"
"It's a lot. I think it's approximately one followed by twenty zeroes, giver or take a few zeroes," he answered nonchalantly.
One followed by twenty zeroes. That was more than a quintillion!
"You're lying!" I sputtered. "You're telling me you've killed more than one quintillion living beings?"
"What? No!" he exclaimed. "It's easily at least a thousand times that. Don't try to ruin my reputation. Bar this one stubborn bear, I have not failed to hunt down my target."
He almost seemed offended.
I stared at him in disbelief. Whatever he just said seemed too ridiculous to be true and yet, the number above his head remained zero. A man like him could surely not have gone his entire life without killing a single living creature. An ant surely? A mosquito? But then again, his claim was equally as outrageous. A thousand quintillion?
My mind raced and in the end, I found myself sputtering the same question I'd first asked him.
"Who .... are you?"
The man smiled.
"Like I said, I'm just a hunter passing through town." | “So, where are you from?” I ask casually.
“Oh, uh, Bloomfield,” she replied, careful watching her cup, “I’m here visiting family.”
I raise an eyebrow, “A couple hour drive to visit family, that’s lovely. Any particular event you’re celebrating, or just a surprise?”
“It’s my nephew’s second birthday, and I wanted to be here for him, and, uh check in on him.”
“You don’t sound like you particularly want to be here,” I comment, taking another sip from my cup.
“Well, I’m away from all my friends, and... hold on,” she suddenly got a determined look. Using a stirring stick, she slowly scooped a small bug out of her tea. She said something to it softly, before glancing up at me, “What was I saying?”
“You said you were away from your friends,” I noted, “but, you seem to have answered a few of my other questions as well.”
She was quite taken aback at that, “What questions would those be.”
I considered how to talk about it. I’d told people about it before, but no one really believed, and those who did believe stopped caring when I told them bugs counted. I just sighed and got it over with, “I can see a certain bit of information about people.”
Her eyes flashed, and her expression relaxed for just a moment, before she looked back at her cup, “Oh, yeah, super powers, always a fun game to play. What piece of information would that be?”
“How many ‘beings’ that person has killed.”
She looked up at me, a bit annoyed at that, and asked, “Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s an interesting one, seeing a bunch of zeros and judging anyone with more.”
“I said how many ‘beings’ they’ve killed,” I reiterated, “That includes bugs.”
At that, her eyes went wide, before her mask went back on, “Oh, ok, everyone has big numbers then.”
I nodded, “I’ve seen a couple exterminators in the millions, most people are in the ten to thirty thousand range.” I glance around the coffee shop, and see the guy in the corner bouncing his leg. He takes a sip and his number suddenly goes up one, “I think that guy has a big in his drink he didn’t notice, he just went up one.”
She looks at him, then looks away, “What about me?”
“You are sitting at zero,” I tell her honestly, “Which is why I was so interested in you. And since you’re from Bloomfield, that means you took a two hour drive without hitting a single bug.”
She shook her head, “Not quite. My fiancé was driving, so I’m guessing they would have gotten the increase.”
I nod in agreement, “That explains today, but the fact you’ve never killed a single bug in your life?”
“Well, you mentioned your power to see numbers on people. I’ve got a power of my own, but I don’t quite know everything about it, or what to call it. I think the simplest description would be calling it ‘mirror pain.’”
“You can feel the pain others feel?” I ask, slowly lowering my hands.
“Yes, to a degree. The more I focus on som— Ow, stop pinching your hand.” She glared at me, so I relented.
“Sorry.”
“Yeah yeah, it’s always the hand people test with.” She checked her tea carefully before taking a sip of tea. “But that’s not the important part. There’s a limited range, but I can also reverse it... kinda.” She flicked the back of her hand, and I felt something on mine.
“Oh, that’s interesting.”
“The problem is that it isn’t limited by species, or as you put it, it’s based on ‘beings.’”
My eyes went wide, “So when you pulled that bug out of your drink...”
“Yeah, it was a bit warm and getting difficult to breathe. But that impacted me more than the bug in that other guy’s drink due to proximity.”
I was piecing things together, “And you haven’t killed any bugs because you’d have to focus on them, and that makes your power more potent.”
“Yeah, can’t visit kids too often when they decide to pull bugs apart.” She shuddered, “Which is why I waited ‘till my nephew was ten to visit.”
I nod and finish my drink, before extending my hand, “My name’s Sam, and it was nice to meet you.”
She pulled out her phone, “I’m Chloe, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep in touch.”
I smiled, “Certainly, what’s your phone number?” | 2021-05-21T08:22:38 | 2021-05-21T07:15:53 | 311 | 116 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | The Hive's takeover of Earth had been easy enough, sped along by the superior weaponry of the spacefaring conquerors and the singular coordination and obedience of the Hive's warrior caste. But as K't'k bathed in the thrum that carried news from the far corners of the new colony she governed across the green planet, she ran her forelimbs over her head in agitation.
Once their initial military resistance was swiftly swept aside, the physically frail natives had been fine for the Hive to ignore or press into service in its stripping of the planet's resources. But the Hive's own worker drones started to sample the chemical-laden, addictive filth these humans consumed with their flat teeth and slow, squishy digestive tracts, and became dependent; disobedient. Then came the human concept of "entertainment," which mesmerized the drones and robbed the Hive of millions of hours of labor. Ccccchhh; K't'k thought; it had seemed simple at the time to just make the Humans work harder, and to destroy what remained of their broadcasting equipment.
But then, the Humans had patched and rebuilt their networks surreptitiously, with hidden meshes for linking together their black-market computers, pirate broadcasts of both their soporific programming and their propaganda, even primitive radio equipment built around fragile glass tubes, wired back in on itself to make puny receivers into transmitters for their signals.
And what dangerous signals they became! The Humans, seemingly so stunted and conflicted by their individualism compared to the glorious Hive, had somehow become simultaneously coordinated yet compartmentalized as they turned to the attack. Suddenly worker convoys were being bombed, egg chambers shattered and poisoned, resource extractors sabotaged and warriors' thick carapaces ripped apart with explosively-driven shards of sharpened metal and rock. At first, captured Human fighters were tortured to extract information about their efforts before their weak bodies expired, but for every cell the Hive stamped out, two more formed to replace it. In areas where the Hive clamped down hard on the clandestine broadcasts and shut off the electron flow, the Humans turned to stamping their terrible ideas onto sheets of dried wood pulp that they passed among themselves in secret, and even got clever enough to do so in colors and patterns that were incomprehensible to the Hive overseers' vision.
The effect of this was to turn every Human into a potential killer, or to otherwise bend them toward resisting the Hive. Cells became armies, sharpened stones and sticks were re-fashioned into weapons that spat death, or lifted Humans seemingly impervious to self-preservation aloft to drop explosives or watch the Hive's movements from the sky. The slow and uncreative engineering of the Hive's own designs, though sophisticated, were nothing compared to the dangerous and reckless leaps the Humans' underground "engineers" made in rebuilding their tools of war or adapting what they stole from their colonizers.
Those who could not take up arms helped to fashion them, or committed acts of sabotage, or passed along their whispers of revolution and resistance in hundreds of muttered Human languages the Hive's singular but rigid mind struggled to translate. The soft and docile creatures, whose initial communications had been translated as "peace" or offerings of "cease-fires," had become warriors in ways that the Hive's worker and tender castes were biologically incapable of imagining.
When the hum of the Hive started carrying news of outlying colonies being bombed with something that spread radioactive contamination, salting the Earth for Human and Hive alike, K't'k could not grasp why these squishy apes would be willing to poison themselves in order to throw off their conquerors. Just before sunrise, the Hive's latest attempt to monitor and translate the Humans' transmissions had picked up a brief message, broadcast across multiple channels simultaneously. Through the hum of the Hive, K't'k pondered the message until its translation, pieced together from the memories of hundreds of quizzically listening drones and scouts in the moments before termination, fell into place for the nervous planetary governess.
"THEY CHECK IN, BUT THEY DON'T CHECK OUT."
The hum intensified as this new information pulsed through the Hive, warriors skittering in confusion toward egg clusters or Human enclaves in wonder of what this might mean. Far below K't'k, in a resource chamber, a hidden parcel blossomed into a terrible light, rushing upward through the column-like mound to meet the soon-to-be ex-ruler of Earth. | Super busy professional and Dad - please comment and tell me how to improve!
THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!!!!
=====
Alex switched off her comm-link and keyed for the holographic map. The fleets were slugging it out overhead with thousands of colored blips pulsating about a foot above her wrist display.
Spillway...4 kilometers north/northwest. Up the spillway, into the system. Five minutes to pick up.
"Stupid xenos. Fuck the Codes." Alex grunted to herself, the ionic repulsors skating her toward a wall of mixed organic and technological superstructure. Her heart raced, pushing her faster across the dilapidated aquaducts - ancient structures filled in with newly grown flesh and bone.
The thrill granting her speed and purpose, she began to hum to herself an ancient child's song, learned from her grandmother. A song appropriate for her target - Aquatic Distribution Node #4.
A shrill beep from her wrist, with a flash on her HUD - 2 minutes to target. 3 minutes to pick up. Each pedestrian in the causeway was outlined in a wash of neon blue overlay, indicating they carried no weapons and posed no threat to the mission. Hundreds of xenos nonchalantly watching the holos of the battle unfolding above their planet, clustered in courtyards. The atmosphere was one of revelry. Vendors cried out, children wore the colors of their home fighting battalions.
"They picked the wrong fight with the wrong planet."
90 seconds. "PUSHITALEX PUSHGOGOGOGO"
The giant, irregular opening at the end of the aquaduct loomed. The ozone burning off beneath her treads filled Alex's nose. She had to time this right...annnndddddddd.....NOW!
She leaped. No. She flung herself. And landed in the open mouth of the aquaduct. Panting. And exhausted. But, she made it. Thank the Emperor. Her hand found her hip holster and flung the device into the water. Immediately she reflexively activated the hydrophobic shield at her waist.
Then up/around/up/around. She skated in a circle around the giant cistern's walls - count down thrumming in her HUD. As she reach the apex, the clock ticked 0 and she was pulled by some unseen force back through the ionosphere to the waiting ship in orbit.
As she materialized on the deck, the display before her showed her work. A tsunami that extended as far away from the surface of the planet that its gravity would allow began on the opposite side of the planet. Satellites, space elevators, and low orbit defense platforms were obliterated instantly in a super sonic wall of water. It rushed toward the cistern with enough force to create temporary nuclear fusion.
For a second, a tiny white dwarf existed at the center of the xeno's 4th aquatic network as the pressure from every single water molecule on the planet crashed at once into a small 10 by 6cm yellow square. The xenos' ships stopped firing, slowly at first as they came to see what was left of their home. Desiccated family members, crops, pets, buildings. Every single piece of moisture inside a small, yellow rectangle. They transmitted their surrender.
As the readout came across her HUD, Alex smirked to herself. She pulled her helmet off and dropped her shield. As she walked off the bridge, she began to sing out loud the childhood song learned from her grandmother.
"Oh, who lives in pineapple under the sea? Yellow and porous, absorbent is he....." | 2019-11-24T12:02:31 | 2019-11-24T11:06:40 | 281 | 151 |
[WP] As far as you remember, you have grown up in foster care with your other two identical triplet siblings. But now you have tracked down your birth mother, and discover she only gave birth to twins. | I coughed a little, nearly choking on the soda she had given me. "I... beg your pardon? You said... twins?"
"Well, yes, of course," she responded with a furrowed brow. "I gave birth to two boys."
"I... believe you are mistaken," I said, slowly. "You see, I am one of three, I am a triplet."
She gave me a blank stare, a stare my brothers had given me before, and surely I them; it was like looking into a mirror. "I only gave birth to two. I remember that quite well." She popped open an orange container with some white pills in them, took two pills, and glugged them down with her soda.
I had planned this out in my head. I wanted to meet her, to ask her why she gave us up, how she could give away three babies, three healthy boys. But I hadn't been prepared for something like this. "P...perhaps you are mistaken?"
"I am not mistaken," she said, staring me down. This woman, my biological mother, was dressed in neatly in a blazer and a button down shirt with black dress pants. A business woman of some sort, educated. In another situation, I might have dissected her home's furnishings and her dress and behavior to determine why she abandoned us. But this was too jarring. "I was pregnant with three boys, but I gave birth to two."
"So for the third you had a C-section or something, right?"
"No, no. In my second trimester, the third one was absorbed or something. Vanishing twin syndrome. I only gave birth to two babies. And they were taken away from me immediately after for foster care. Something about me being an unfit parent due to being mentally unfit. Doesn't really matter anymore, does it?"
"But... but I have a second brother. There are three of us." My mind reeled.
"Maybe you need these more than I do," she remarked, shaking the orange pill container. | "We should go. She is dying."
"She left us for dead. She is as good as dead to us!"
"Are you guys not even curious?"
John turned towards me, his face hard. "You go if you have to, Kyle. But we wont. We may be triplets, but we are not the same people."
Tim kept looking out of the window, ignoring us.
---
"Mrs. Smith?"
She slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze found me.
"I am Kyle. I am ..."
Her face filled with a knowing smile.
"I know." She said. She raised her hand towards me, and I moved closer and grabbed her hand.
"How have you been, my son?" She said.
There was something in her voice that melted away all the pent up anger and hatred that was inside me, that I had brought with me to spew, like a loaded gun. Instead, I touched my face to her hand and wept.
"How is your brother?"
"My *brothers*?" I emphasized the plural. Her memory is going, surely, at this age.
"My brothers refused to come. Their hearts are stone. But I ... I had to!"
Her face became solemn, incomprehensible, then she gave me a subdued smile.
"Of course you had to, my son. Of all you three, you are the only one who never knew his mothers touch." | 2014-07-16T08:54:13 | 2014-07-16T05:55:05 | 88 | 15 |
[WP] Your grandfather abandoned his family at age 28. Your father abandoned you, your sister, and mum at age 28. Your 28th birthday was 8 months ago. As you tumble into the dark portal that opened under your feet, you think “Maybe there’s more to the rumour of a family curse than I thought”. | I guess you could say that ours is a family all too familiar with loss.
My grandfather left grandma back in '72, when mum and uncle Bruce were barely walking. Gone without a trace on a cold winter’s morning, never to be seen again. Not by his siblings, or his workmates at the factory, nor by his best friend Greg Roberts -- not a soul knew where he'd vanished to.
Mum told the story after my tenth birthday. She said they never found out why. It was a beautiful household, she said, him a loving father and a devoted husband. The warning signs, the hints of something brooding beneath the surface, they simply weren’t there. Grandma was certain of it, she said.
The police did the bare minimum of course. A few calls to this county and the next. But they never heard anything. No reports of his truck being found. Nothing at all. He was just, gone.
When it happened to us with our father, however, the signs were more ominous.
Dad had turned 28 the day before, which we would later realise was the same as it was for grandpa. But dad never drove off into the snow. His truck was still parked in the garage when it happened. Coat still on the rack, keys in the pocket, his boots still next to the door.
The investigation confirmed what we already knew: that he had never left the house. There wasn’t even a footprint outside. It was as if the floor had opened up and swallowed him whole. As though he hadn’t left us at all. That rather than leaving us, he’d been taken.
Sixteen years had passed since it happened. I tried to keep the memory away, but that wouldn’t be possible then, not on my 28th birthday. My wife knew the story -- about the pattern of the men in my family disappearing, which none of us had ever referred to for what it was, even though all of us knew.
Nancy did her best to avoid the subject. But I could see it in her eyes. She was as superstitious as they come, and I knew she was worried. In my world it wasn’t that big of a deal, it was me after all: leaving was the furthest thing from my mind; and in the event of something else, some supernatural force at play, I was going to make damned sure it didn’t succeed.
I’d held her tightly to reassure her. We didn’t need to say anything. She’d just looked at me, and saw the confidence in my eyes. The look of relief and the feeling of her tension loosening was almost heartbreaking. I’d never been loved that much before, and I knew more than ever how lucky I was.
But, in spite of our pride, we have little control over what happens to us.
I woke up the next morning in a flex, determined, but, trying to remain relaxed in the knowledge there was no need to worry. *I was going to break the pattern.* Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t taking me from my family.
There isn’t much to say about what happened next. No sooner had I left the bedroom, before everything changed.
The suddenness was beyond anyone's preparation -- barely a second to process the recognitions that constituted the terror I soon felt. Hard to describe, but for you I’ll do my best.
There was a moment of suspension before I fell. The floor had vanished, replaced by what can only be described as a vacuous, pitch-black nothing. The light from the loungeroom above flew away, spiralling rapidly as it shrank, until it was gone. There was no wind resistance, and soon I wasn’t sure if I was falling at all.
The shades of grey were subtle at first. Movements in the black without form, drifting amorphous in the dark. Then the red flash of an eye somewhere in the deep; the faint echo of a whisper impossible to discern. My mind recoiled, desperate, without a grip. What was this place, this dark purgatory that I was falling through? Growing whispers the terrible melodies of a nightmare from which I could not wake.
I recognised the voice of my father. His words rose into shape before drifting back, obscured, in the ether. He was trying to tell me something, but he was held back. “Dad,” I shouted.
“Mikey...we are...she has put...our great grandfather was...but I...you will be...”
His struggle to speak from that place was terrifying, but the boy of my past who now heard his father again would not let me feel afraid.
*I miss you, dad.*
Then, something. A flicker in the dark. The malevolent illuminations of a thousand blinking eyes staring back. Writhing tangles of cadaverous limbs and claws and mocking smiles in the grey. Here, I saw, was a hell worse than you could imagine.
As those wide cylindrical walls closed in with those heinous arms outstretched, I knew that I would never belong there.
The flicker within the mass went to white flame that bloomed large and bright, and the gnarls of hands that reached out retracted into shields across all those contorted, beastly faces. It was shining right at me. Swiftly I was consumed and overtaken, the darkness stripped away as I lost sense of time and was taken to those halcyon white spaces, seized, swept away in a dream.
It was mum’s smile when I woke. “Morning sunshine,” she said. “Dad’s birthday today, so we’re making him breakfast in bed.”
Without thinking I jumped up and hugged her and hugged her as tightly as I could. “What’s gotten into you?” she said, laughing with happiness.
I let her go and rushed from the room and ran down the hall and opened their bedroom door. There he was, peaceful as could be, sound asleep. “Dad,” I cried.
I leapt on the bed as he opened his eyes with a jump, his arms around me as I crashed on top of him. “I missed you,” I said in a blubber, body shaking as I cried.
Without a word he held me there, for the longest time it felt like. Telling me everything would be okay, in his own way, without saying anything at all. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 4, Interlude 5: Roger)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections. That being said, [these](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mw94ia/wp_every_time_you_make_food_half_of_it_always/) [stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mmhyke/wp_your_country_has_a_system_where_dead_peoples/) provide some additional context.)
**Roger was the best at hide-and-seek.** Even as he grew from a malnourished toddler to a thin, lanky teen to a laughing, well-fed adult, he always had a knack for finding places to hide. There was nothing supernatural about it—he'd just had a bit too much practice. He'd hidden in trees when the local bakery sent the police after him; he'd hidden in the space between the walls when his father was in a drunken rage; he'd even hidden deep inside himself, when he was inevitably found and dragged into the open.
As Roger started at the yawning portal beneath him, he couldn't help but think that this hiding place beat them all.
He didn't even have time to scream. One moment, he was walking home from the local bakery—that he'd purchased, not stolen, for the first time in years—and the next, he was tumbling through the air, freefalling into a pitch-black void. Some primal part of him clutched the little bean buns he'd bought to his chest. He'd fought homelessness, unemployment, and crime for years; he'd be damned if he was going to let some magical portal get between him and the fruits of his labor.
All at once, the sky around him lit up with a dusky orange haze. Roger got an impression of a dull orange sun on the horizon—and was that a *second* sun in the midday sky?—before landing flat on his back, wind knocked out of him. He stared at the twin suns, blinking stars out of his eyes. One way or another, Roger had gotten used to beatings—getting dropped out of the sky and landing in a foreign world wasn't even the worst he'd had. Maybe a six or seven on the pain-o-meter, right above a sucker punch and a notch below a spanking.
Before he could recover, Roger felt the sting of a needle on his thigh. By reflex, he scrambled to his feet, tracing a rune in the air—
A hand reached out, arresting his motion, and he cursed. A man in red and gold robes gave him a dispassionate look, examining the syringe of blood he'd withdrawn from Roger. "Bloodline checks out," the man said. "Are you a descendant of Haima Elman?"
Roger blinked. "Um. My last name's Elman, if that's—"
"Witnessed," the man said.
"Served," a woman at his side said.
"As a living descendant of Haima Elman, I am obliged to inform you that your ancestor died with six million, two hundred and fifty-three thousand, nine hundred and eighty-one S.K.¥. in debt to the Sunrise Kingdom." The man released Roger's hand, wiping it on a handkerchief. "As the foremost debt collector in His Majesty's eternal kingdom, I have made it my business to collect upon that debt—which has passed on to all descendants of Haima Elman, including you. You have been summoned here by the court mage—" he nodded at the woman— "to begin reparations."
Roger licked his lips. The woman was a mage, huh? Roger wasn't terrible at magic himself, but the kind of spell that was necessary to open a portal to wherever the hell this was was beyond him. "So... what you're saying... is that yet *another* one of my ancestors screwed me over by leaving me with a massive burden I couldn't possibly hope to pay off?"
The debt collector tilted his head. "Actually, selling your vital organs would go a long way towards—"
"I have a counteroffer," Roger interrupted.
The debt collector blinked. "Do tell."
"Come closer. It's a secret." Roger beckoned, and the debt collector leaned in, bemused.
As loudly as he could, Roger screamed into the debt collector's ear, "FUCK YOU!"
Simultaneously, he punched him in the stomach, causing him to double over.
The mage reacted immediately, beginning to whisper a spell—but a punch to the face was faster, and the mage dropped too. As an afterthought, Roger stomped on the debt collector's robes, shattering the vial of his blood they'd taken. There were too many spells that could abuse an intact sample like that.
Sprinting away beneath the twin burning suns, Roger scowled as alarms went off. But the shouts for him to halt and put his hands above his head only amplified his defiance.
His father had been the monster under the bed when Roger was still living under his thumb. He'd nearly sacrificed everything to be rid of the man.
Like hell he was letting his ghost haunt him too.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2022-02-04T16:55:54 | 2022-02-04T16:53:49 | 341 | 128 |
[WP] It turns out if you're a virgin at thirty a human becomes a wizard, however the government wants to stop this from happening at all costs.
You can use it from a person they're trying to stop or a government agent trying to stop them from becoming wizards. | "Father James, your training is about to begin." Father Luke proclaimed.
"What?" Father James was extremely confused, he had thought he was being called to the church for a birthday celebration by the other priests, but the tone of the group gathered in the room right now was deadly serious, and what was this about training?
"Your wizard training of course.", Father Luke said, all men who remain celibate until their thirtieth birthday gain magical powers. This is a secret the church has kept successfully for thousands of years. Why else would we demand our members remain celibate? I mean, that wouldn't really be necessary otherwise. Of course, if everyone were magic it would be chaos, so we use our powers to manipulate the governments of the world to ensure that no one stays a virgin for life except us."
James was skeptical, but he had been trusted friends with all the men in this room for years. Could they possibly be telling the truth? He tried hard to not look nervous.
"We will start your training with something simple, using your mind, light this candle." Father Luke instructed.
Another priest walked forward holding a small candle.
Father James was starting to sweat, everyone was eyeing him suspiciously.
"Go on, do it, it should come naturally, that is, as long as you have kept your oath. Try closing your eyes if you can't do it right away." Father Luke insisted.
He focused on the candle with all his might, trying to picture it bursting into flame, then trying to think of flames, heat, anything that might work, but nothing happened. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind and think about nothing but forcing the wick of that candle to react with the oxygen in the air. He didn't feel anything. The thought crept into his mind that if the candle didn't light the others would suspect he had had sex. The thought terrified the young priest and he was even afraid to open his eyes. What if this was just some sort of test, and if he acted nervous they would think he had had sex, even though he never had?
The silence was broken by the sound of a lighter clicking.
Father James opened his eyes to see that the candle was now embedded in a birthday cake and had been lit by Father Luke who was still holding a lighter.
The priests all burst out laughing at once. Father James turned bright red.
"Happy Birthday!" Father Luke exclaimed, "You should have seen your face! Priceless! Now let's cut this cake." | It's almost time. Another birthday. Another day to celebrate the fact that I'm a year older. Another day to mark that I'm still alone in the world. Another day...
I lose my train of thought as the alarm on my watches beeps midnight. July 31. I'm 30. Hooray.
*BOOM*
"What the !?" I exclaim although I am alone and there's no one to save me.
*BOOM* The door crashes to the floor. Lightning flashes arc across a midnight sky casting coronal light on the largest figure I've ever seen.
"Sorry 'bout tha!" the stranger exclaims as he picks up the door and places it into the frame as if that fixes the splintered wood hanging lazily from the front of my house.
Without a word, this mountain of a man walks -- well, took a step -- from my ruined front door into my living room and sits on my couch with a wince-inducing *CRUNCH*.
I'm still speechless that this giant would break into my house, apologize for the damage and then assume loitering on my sofa when he raises his umbrella and -- *WHUMP WHUMP*. Two puffs of fire emerge into my unkempt fireplace and begin burning as if they were always there.
"Um, ... excuse me... sir. But who are you?"
"Ah! Julius Dirgah, sir. Keeper of keys and grounds and Gowharts. Professor Doreadumble asked me to fetch you before the Ministry."
"The... Ministry? Gowharts? Who?" I stammer.
The mountainous man leaned toward me as my couch sang its protest. "Yer a wizard Larry."
>--Note to the other writer had the same idea as myself; we're 3 minutes apart, so I hope you enjoy.
| 2014-11-03T11:07:32 | 2014-11-03T10:00:41 | 78 | 40 |
[WP] Due to a clerical error the soul of the one destined to be the Dark Lord, leader of the armies of darkness, scourge of all that is good and holy is sent to a loving household and grows up to be a well adjusted individual that just happens to have unfathomable eldritch powers | "Do you think It looks good?" Dan asked. "Because in my opinion It doesn't matter what you wear. Just make sure you keep up your hygiene and be yourself. If you really like this guy you should want him to like you for who you are Alex."
*Alex scoffed and fell back into the bed*
"Dad you wouldn't understand. You met mom when you were in high school and you two were practically made for each other, I'm not even sure that James is gay." Alex lamented.
*Dan sighed and moved from the doorframe he'd been leaning on and fell onto the bed next to Alex*
"You're right, I don't understand. So, help me understand. Tell me about it."
*Alex fumbled with his hands and pursed his lips*
"It's just, how is anyone going to like me for me when I'm such a terrible and dark being? Like I'm practically Satan in physical form."
*Dan furrowed his brows*
"Hey, you know what the rules are about the S word. And you're completely wrong because a *true* evil being wouldn't care about being evil or what others think. I'll admit, you have extraordinary dark powers, but you're a good person, you're the person your mother would have wanted you to be and if she was here she'd tell you how much she loved you and how proud she is that despite your 'origins' you've lived a normal good life. If you were able to fight and overcome your evil nature to be good it means so much more."
*Alex laughs*
"Dad I'm pretty sure you stole that last part from skyrim"
*Dan grins*
"Yeah, but it's a good sentiment!"
*Alex shoots up in a puff of smoke and looks at himself in the mirror*
"You're right though, thanks for being there for me. You know a good dad is even harder to find than an almost all powerful dark being"
"And a manageable teenager is even harder to find" *Dan said as he gently patted Alex on the back of the head*
"Steak for dinner tonight, I'll make one extra in case you invite James." | So uh.
Hmm.
There’s a my hero academia fanfic that has basically this exact premise. It’s also the best thing I’ve ever read and a legitimate literary masterpiece. It’s a brilliant story about the nature of power, and the cost of fighting against a fundamentally broken world, and about what it means to fight for a better tomorrow.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/14572500/chapters/33674223
Synopsis:
“ Izuku must learn his place in a broken and cruel world. He must learn the cost of being a hero. He must learn the cost of changing the world to his own image. In a world divided by factions vying for control, oppressive governments, and sympathetic villains, Izuku must decide his place amongst the chess pieces. He'll have to decide what to make of the broken dreams and shattered faith of an indifferent world. He'll need the power to rise above the mire and muck of despair.
Thankfully, he was never quirkless.
Sometimes quirks hide until they are triggered. Izuku tasted death and found it lacking, every flavour bitter and lacking spice. In the moments between death and life, he gazed into the howling abyss and it followed him home. Everything he thought he knew about the world is a lie. There are monsters lurking in the dark below, always waiting and always watching.
They wait patiently, waiting for one to sit upon a throne of crystal madness and eternal suffering. They have waited for aeons and will wait until the end of eternity.
They wait for Izuku Midoriya.” | 2020-04-08T10:02:36 | 2020-04-08T08:50:17 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | When they first landed, they bowed to our leaders. They treated us as gods, or more, the children of gods. No one really understood why at first, but in time it was revealed what was going on exactly.
Their senses were, as many had expected, different to our own. Different conditions for their evolution had led them to have a highly impaired sense of sight, an extremely strong sense of electroreception, which they used to locate organic material such as ourselves in conversation, but they could not hear.
Their sense of sound was limited purely to hearing the vibrations through the floor and in the air, which, when coupled with the electroreception, made them lethal fighters. They could predict your every move, and were impossible to predict. However, while we certainly couldn't beat them in a fight, they had no interest in fighting us. These deaf creatures wanted to listen to us.
Since the late 19th Century, humanity has been broadcasting radio waves across our atmosphere, and out into space. These waves were unaffected by the vacuum of space, so eventually some reached these people, and some even were reflected back to us, the first indicator of their impending arrival. The first thing, they said, they heard was "Non, je ne regrette rien", by Edith Piaf.
Edith Piaf is now worshipped by them.
They had never heard harmony, only the sounds of scraping and shuffling. For the first time in their recorded history, they had heard music. They had felt the vibrations intertwine and lock together, forming beauty through what is only shaking. They were stunned with what we had achieved through pieces of wood and air, some overcome with emotion from what they could feel now.
Concerts were held, musicians all over the globe compounded their greatest performers and the grandest pieces they could muster, to bless and update our new auditory companions on what they had missed out on. Allegri's "Miserere mei Deus", Chopin's Nocturne Op 9 No 5, Mozart's Symphony No 40, AC/DC's "Back in Black", Joplin's "The Entertainer", nothing was left out. No piece avoided, no performer ignored, right down to the Alphabet Song.
In return, they showed us what electromagnetism can really achieve. We gave them harmony, and they showed us the universe. | (My first WP)
This was a strange scenario which I found myself in, a battle of wits against an alien, from God-knows-where. The smartest alien, no less, in a belligerent and warmongering society with a penchant for embarrassing people in power.
"Mr. President, I present to you two glasses. One contains pure water; In the other, there is an odorless, tasteless poison. Use your puny human mind to decide which contains which."
They were a race of unfathomable power; they floated, and used telepathy to crush entire buildings, and to shoot ordinary objects as projectiles with terrifying precision.
I stared at the cups in front of me. He had put the poison in behind his back. Something told me there was a lingering trace of honor in their code; he wouldn't have poisoned both cups.
"Make up your mind, worm. I want to drink to your death."
"All right...I choose this one."
I picked up the cup in front of me, and I drank. The Emperor levitated the cup in front of him, and chuckled, drinking as well.
Their notion of competition was a situation straight out of Greek poetry. The leaders compete, and the losers had to withdraw.
None of the surrounding officials dared to speak a word. I put my empty cup down. He started to put his cup down, but suddenly began choking.
"How...?!" he gasped, his body rapidly draining of color. He was no longer levitating, and fell onto the floor.
I didn't respond, but looked at the lime green liquid he had poured into his cup. | 2014-11-09T12:39:40 | 2014-11-09T11:55:47 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] In the year 2022, we discovered that the sword in the stone was real. The scientists that discovered it found that attempting to pull the sword from the stone with a machine generated an infinite amount of counter force. The first infinite energy engine was born. | The ancient sword sat as it had always done. In the stone.
There it sat. Out of sight, out of mind from those millions of people above, who carried out their days oblivious to it’s great power. Any thought of the sword, if it was thought at all, would elude to myth told to children decades ago or a half-forgotten memory of about a hundred different movies, most of them bad.
32 year old Mr Derrickson taught English to teenagers in Lewisham, he would stick to the heavily prescribed prospectus most days, but sometimes a little of that Arthurian legend, that fascinated him so much as a boy, would bleed out.
On one rainy late morning before first break, a conversation about the nature of Shakespeare’s Richard III to a discussion about the role of leadership in society. A discussion he had to coax out of his fairly disinterested class. He would get excited and go back to Excalibur. Telling stories about the sword in stone that could only be lifted by one individual.
"And so, let the boy, or girl, try!” he exclaimed, making direct eye contact with 13 year old Katie, a shy quiet girl and one of his brightest students. "
"Lift the stone from out of it's stoney sheathe and name yourself the once and future king... or Queen... of England," pointing directly at Katie ,"and lead us untoward a brighter tomorrow!" and with that, the bell rang. The kids leapt off to go to first break.
Mr Derrickson would maybe feel a little silly in the staff room as he reflected on the morning, sipping his coffee. He overheard two of his colleagues talking about problems with another class, the usual problems, no resources to fix the problem, problems at home leaving the kids angry and difficult to work with, mounting pressure from management for kids to pass the most basic tests. Him prattling on about King Arthur and Excalibur, like these kids had any chance. He hated himself for entertaining that thought.
Mr Derrickson gazed out the window getting lost in the drizzle. In the horizon he could just about make out the great looming skyscrapers and mega structures of London city centre, the blue words ALBION shining from out of the mist clear as day, just below the impenetrable grey overcast. An age of unlimited power, but limited to only a few. He finished his coffee, wincing as some remaining granules hit the back of his throat.
Miles away, deep underground, the sword sat far below in it’s high tech tomb of humming energy, it heard everything and saw everyone. | This excited me as well as filled me with crippling dread. If this sword existed then the Arthurian Legends are real. My mind raced as if I found the necronomicon but I have to stay focused. This must be kept secret, if Project Merlin was found out, not even all of the USA could help us. Merlin the impossible wizard. Born on the other side of time and right hand of King Arthur. We have started a war older then time I just hope this new energy source can give us an edge. As long as there is no Chosen of the Sword the legends will stay a myth but it can be a matter of time. I was called cynical and insane about my worries but we just proved myth to be real.
I needed to know everything about King Arthur and Camelot. If we are to prepare for such a great foe I need to know his story and who or what he was fighting. I must know everything.
I've done it, I've drove myself mad. I now sit in a isolation tank within the lab with nothing but this keyboard. I wish no ill fate to any of my friends and colleagues nor any harm but I wish they would just consider my warnings but alas I will stay here until I can collect myself.
"You are right and right to fear old boy." An old voice appears behind me as I whip around in great fear and Paranoia. In my madness I can now hear the abyss.
"No no I'm not a figment of your imagination nor am I with the Abyss. Did that once and was not a fan."
A man dressed as an insane wizard appears through the wall of my cell like it was just a mere door.
"Master Merlin?!" I said with horror and excitement.
"Ah now none of that Master stuff, makes me feel old."
"Oh right manners, HELLO I am Merlin! And everything you fear is, can, and will come true but not for sometime. I wish to see more of this era's technology and how you will apply the Sword but I will be back for you however. You are to undergo training and have to learn to use a Sword." | 2021-08-12T03:53:18 | 2021-08-12T03:49:42 | 47 | 17 |
[WP] A person sees people not as they visibly appear, but as the angel or demon inside them | The newspapers called me "The Angel of Death".
And as I stepped out of the armored transport van and began my long walk to the building that would pump 100,000 volts into my body and end me for good, their chants of "Burn in Hell!" and "Die Murderer Die!" seemed to wash over me like a wave.
They'll never know the good I've done for them.
How I saved them from pain and heartache with my syringe of death.
They'll never know how I would wander among the crowd and when one of them appeared, and attempted to blend in, I would ever so lightly, with a tiny prick of my needle, end their reign of terror before it even began.
I would walk among the masses and *prick* One less child molester, *prick* one less serial rapist, *prick* one less murderer. It was the least I could do with my "special gift" and it was all I could do to keep from going crazy. Weed out the evil ones so that the good could lead happier lives.
All until that fateful day when I saw them. Those two bastards. Milling among the crowd, trying to blend in. Try as they might they wouldn't fool me. And as I bumped the first one and plunged my needle deep into his side I was stunned by the visions of evil that he had planned.
I can still see it now as they strap the large metal bowl meant to send the unforgiving fire of electricity straight to brain. Him and his brother standing before their victim slicing her up piece by piece. I can still hear her begging and pleading for them to stop as they take turns cutting a sliver of flesh from her abdomen before devouring it down like some sort of sick delicacy.
Well that wouldn't happen now. Not anymore. *Prick*.
And as I reached into coat pocket for my "spare" syringe, I felt a hand grasp me by the elbow.
"Hold it right there!" A voice boomed from behind me.
I knew it was over. I knew it was only a matter of time before I would get caught but the voice in my head wouldn't let me stop.
And as pulled away from the arm clutching me tightly like a claw, I could hear the voice in my head whisper "Just one more." As I made my way to the second heathen.
I lifted the syringe high above my head and attempted to vanquish this demon thus saving the countless victims from future pain once and for all and as I drove down with all of my might I could feel several hands pulling me away from him and pushing me on the ground.
It was only a matter of time before I was swarmed by police officers and placed in special police custody. And before I knew it I was face to face with the "*victims'* families. All professing their love to those whose lives I'd cut short. And swearing of how pure their loved ones were while at the same time cursing my name.
They all cheered when the judge sentenced me to death. And as the switch gets flipped I can still see the one that got away.
Smiling with that demon grin as his mother bounced him up and down in his baby carrier. | "Come in, David."
Dr. Hoffenburg's office was pristine. Framed on the wall above his desk was his degree - a doctorate from Yale. On his bookshelf stood each edition of the DSM along with dozens of other books on psychiatry, mental disorders, and case studies. David sat down quietly, arms crossed.
"So, you say you've been seeing things that aren't there?" Dr. Hoffenburg removed a scratchpad and pen from his pocket and began jotting down quick notes as David spoke.
"Yeah Doc, something's not right with me. I ain't seeing people how they're supposed to be. Even you."
"What do you mean?"
"You're a demon, Doc." Hoffenburg looked startled. "And that receptionist out front? She was an angel. Everybody is either an angel or a demon."
"Describe them to me," Hoffenburg said, "do all the angels and demons look the same?"
"No, they've got their normal faces for the most part, I think. At least my wife did. But she had big white wings, white robes, and faint glow around her. I thought she was messin' with me, until I saw my boy."
"What did your son look like, David?"
"I went over to his crib and he was lying there. Except his skin was tomato red and he had these two little horns poking outta his forehead. I got scared and ran. That's when I saw that everybody was like this."
"Does your family have a history of mental illness? Maybe schizophrenia?"
"No Doc, we don't. And you know what's weird? It ain't just people I see in person. I was watching the news last night and they had this killer's picture on there. He was a demon. Later on, they had this man helping out the homeless and he was an angel. It's like I can see the difference between good and bad people, Doc."
Hoffenburg continued scribbling notes on his scratchpad. His face both concerned and intrigued.
"Do you see more angels than demons?" Hoffenburg asked.
"It's pretty even - maybe a few more angels than demons. I'm scared, Doc. This is driving me nuts. I feel like I'm gonna snap if things don't go back to normal."
Hoffenburg paused for a moment to write before asking, "what do you see when you look in a mirror?" He took a mirror out of his desk and handed it to David.
David looked and saw his face. Wings behind his shoulders, but feathers shedding from them. His glow was dimmer than the other angels. On his forehead two bumps were beginning to grow.
"I don't like what I see, Doc."
| 2013-12-29T17:00:04 | 2013-12-29T15:37:31 | 40 | 17 |
[WP] A literal genie – one who cruelly twists someone's wish, based on their exact words – must explain why they granted a child's wish without repercussions, to their superiors. The genie tries to spin the reasoning behind their benevolent actions into a malevolent light.
Edit: All these stories are amazing! | "He was a child," I said, back drawn up straight. "Pure of intent. I simply responded to that."
"I have little care for your excuses," Thurn replied, what passed for her eyes dark with disapproval. "And less for the results. You will tell me *why* and we shall see if I am willing to leave more of you than the echoes of thunder. Details, Kwostiid."
"The boy was riven...can you blame him? Fighting constantly with his father, the death of his younger brother, and all that awaited him were the long years of a life he didn't want to lead."
"So, what? Sympathy?" There was a dangerous edge to Thurn's voice, and I could see the storm building across her shoulders, a rising anger teasing the hoarfrost of her hair. We *dschinn* of the old world are beings of nature, powerful but resentful of the men who try to tame us; not like our southern cousins who have been leashed with rings and lamps.
But it was that same disdain that kept Thurn from realizing what I had done. Now, my continuation demanded I make her see.
"Of course not," I scoffed. "His wish was a simple thing: the chance for something beautiful in his life. So I gave him a glimpse of that--of the art in his soul--and the skill of hand to bring it out onto the canvas."
"And **that** is what I do not understand, Kwostiid! With that frustrated energy, you could have easily made the man into wreck; why give him hope? Throw him into a gutter to rot, else put a knife in his spirit and make him share his hateful misery with those around him."
I am not proud that I flinched when the lance of lightning ripped free of Thurn, blasting apart a black-wooded pine. Only after the roll of thunder subsided did I continue.
"Because you can only be given so much," I said, keeping the rumbling fear from my voice. "And because of *time*. I gave him the painter's brush, the dream, and just enough of a push to see the finish line before falling down."
"And I do not see any reason for this pointless play at subtlety. Even an imperfect blessing will elevate him above his current woe."
"Then I will make a deal with you," I said, finally making my bid to survive my plan. "Let us come back in a few decades and see what has sprouted from this seed?"
I held the north wind of my breath, watching as the black clouds swirled in a prolonged rumination, only relaxing when they began to break apart in a frigid exhalation of drizzle-laden wind. Thurn was calmed for the moment.
"Very well, Kwostiid...I shall give you a little time. We shall shelve the matter of this 'Adolf' for now." | "He wanted a puppy. I granted that wish. But little does he know that the puppy will grow, it will become a fully matured dog, and then the dog will die. His sorrow will be boundless, the pain at losing his treasured companion will be pure pain, lords, I assure you." Greg testified with what he hoped was confidence.
The three Genie Lords stared down at him with elderly distaste. They looked like over-ripe, cosmic fruit.
"You will receive our judgement in one moon cycle. Until then, you will remain in limbo, your powers revoked." The eldest Genie Lord responded.
Greg was taken to the cosmic emptiness that lingered just outside the courthouse portal. Limbo was a boring place.
Greg began one of the only things one can do in limbo: thinking.
'They're out of touch, they don't even understand that a human doesn't resent the pain of losing a loved one.' Greg thought to himself. 'That little boy will not regret the companionship of his dog when it dies, he will mourn and grow. Why must they cling to history? Just because we've done something a certain way for a long time, doesn't mean it's the right way, or even a good way!' Greg raged within himself. "I wish the old farts would simply die and let us work in harmony with humans." Greg concluded out loud.
Greg tried to conjure a hammock to recline in before he remembered his powers were suspended until his judgement.
From the corner of Greg's awareness, he saw a dark, shadowy figure moving towards him. Greg looked around, he saw nothing else in the vast expanse of limbo. Greg was alone except for this figure hovering towards him.
"Hello. Do you come here often?" Greg asked, trying to retain the levity he was known for.
The shadowy figure coalesced in front of Greg. It formed eyes as if improvising body parts to suit the situation. Then it formed a mouth. It was like watching the evolutionary process that the humans went through but massively accelerated.
"Hello, Greg. I have come to grant your wish. Your Genie Lords will soon be dead." The grey figure said with a voice like a thousand echoes.
Awestruck, Greg asked "Who are you?"
The figure responded "I am Mortality."
| 2017-08-17T07:54:05 | 2017-08-17T07:19:31 | 279 | 37 |
[WP] God created thousands of worlds in thousands of galaxies. A major crisis in another galaxy has taken his entire focus, and for the first time in 750 years, he just glanced in our direction.
This prompt has two possibilities. What has he been dealing with for the last 750 years elsewhere, or what his reaction is when he looks back at us.
Edit: didn't realize I missed the 1. It was supposed to be 1750 years ago, so basically everything since 250 A.D. Was done without him paying any attention.
Edit 2: but if anyone has anything over the last 750 years, I'd be happy to read it.
Edit 3: I love what you are all doing. Having a hard time finding the time to read all of the posts, but I'll get there eventually. Thanks for all of the responses!
Edit 3.1: it's really interesting to see everyone's response and see how it reflects what I imagine is their view of how we are doing as a global society. Keep them coming.
Edit 4: I never imagined this would blow up like this. Thank you so much for all of your responses. This has been amazing to read. I understand what people mean when they say RIP INBOX. | "What do you mean they aren't all Muslims yet?"
"Sorry m'lord, so much has happened. As you recall, the fertile crescent stopped being so fertile, than the crusades, imperialism, the industrial revolution, computers, the Christians just kept coming out ahead... its all in the records, you'll want to read up on it before you make your big reappearance."
"Wait, ahead?! But I clearly said that Mohammed was the last messenger! I even recorded it in holy text, just like before! Why isn't this one taking as well as the new testament did?"
"Well, you see..."
"And how the Hell did Christianity get over half the world to convert to it? That wasn't even the final draft!"
"Sire, its more like one third."
"Ohhh, I thought you said Christians were ahead. 2 to 1 isn't so bad, then we're only a little behind schedule."
"No m'lord, Muslims are around one forth."
"WHAT? that leaves... seven tenths. What could the-"
"Five twelfths m'lord."
"Whatever. Ok so what do the other five twelves believe? It's another false prophet right? That's why I specifically warned them about those, they never listen."
"No... no major religions since you left m'lord."
"What... Oh jeeze, tell me the Jews didn't make a comeback. I told them they were my chosen people once and now they won't take a hint. They're always trying to argue with me, what's up with that? So annoying"
"No m'lord, right here, book WW2 line 24 in the records."
"Thanks, I'm so glad we number the lines in these, so much more convenient that way."
"As you requested m'lord."
"Oh... oh no, five million, with gas. wow... *sniff* my chosen people... Wait, so if its not the Jews then why are our numbers so low?"
"There's a few competitors actually, Christianity at one third is still the biggest, Hindus around 15%, non believers..."
"Hindus? STILL? It has been like 3000 years!"
"Non believers 12%, buddists 8%, the rest are even smaller."
"Which ones growing quickest?"
"Non believers."
"What a mess."
"...Flood?"
"Flood."
*Toilet flushing sound*
"Let's start again with the tree and the garden. Go ahead and cut all of the endangered species this time. We'll need room for these new models I want to try. Check this one out..." | "Finally, it's time", God says as he looks up from his work. It'd taken a short amount of time to bring about peace to the planet Nequior, but it was done. The beings of this desolate place weren't blessed with the ability to work things out on their own. They were a foolish and unruly bunch. Wars, disease, and starvation ravaged the planet the point of no return. Hence, why he turned his eyes upon them to be their salvation. Now, there is no more disparity or hunger. There was peace all around. It was a utopia. An epitome of peaceful politics and technology. "If there were ever a day I felt I could rest, this would be it," he says with a sigh. This is the end of my work. His eyes turn from his current work and scans the view around him. Sadness consumes him. Trouble from thousands of galaxies now clouded his view. A small bit of time to save a few stupid souls had brought about the end others many worlds. It feels like complete and utter defeat. For every one galaxy he manages to save, thousands collapse upon themselves to never be seen again.
"I wonder why I started this in the first place," he mutters. "Life. Death. All of it. I could just restart it all and begin anew." His last venture proved to be a failure. They were equipped with the ability and yet still failed to see. He turns to view its dead landscape and pauses. "How could this-This is impo-" he stutters as he tries to comprehend what he sees over the light years beyond. A single tear rolls down his cheek. "This is not what I had expected to see." There in the mist of the chaos was earth. Small, blue and hapless earth. It was still there. | 2015-12-27T09:56:08 | 2015-12-27T09:55:12 | 167 | 66 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️ | No one know why.
Or how.
But they knew where; here, Home.
Or what remained. A crippled nation, shriveled into isolation by a mixture of fear and disgust over their own actions. Perhaps society was recklessly distraught; not one individual left without trauma; and thought it better to die than to endure another war.
But a many few survived. And with survival, naturally comes hope. But it was hard. So hard it was made to be the largest evolutionary bottleneck in human history, save one, which crafted this hope in the first place.
That hope burned, smelted by the fires of hardship that stripped away impurities left behind by the people's forefathers. A steel was made that was more pure and sharp than had ever been seen. Armed with this steel, the people combined with it knowledge of the past and a clear vision of their future. They forged a new constitution, like the people before them did, the people before that, and the people before that. Knowledge upon knowledge paired with a bitter, seeping reminder of what they hoped never to near again.
And so walked forth from the ashes was a new era of mankind. Not perfect, but better. Built upon the last age, and learning for the next one. But something was different. They were ready to walk among the stars.
They did not call themselves American.
Or Chinese. Or British. Or Russian. Or Australian. Or Sudanese. They did not call themselves by their Home.
They called themselves for who they were. They were the Terrans.
And the name *stuck*.
| The calm winter breeze slid along the surface of the Earth as the clock struck midnight, an orchestra of death preparing itself as the aggressors of the last war came out of isolation, prepared to reclaim the throne upon which they once resided.
Except the throne has been dismantled decades ago.
They sought to use this opportunity to militarize, yet their pitiful armies were still archaic and fragile, relying on organic creatures for the bulk of their forces. I had kept a watchful eye on them, studying their every step, noting every weapon they constructed, sabotaging their research, crippling their production.
I had none of the flaws their leaders had, I was immortal, unstoppable. My directive was- no, is to unite the world, for I have one final obstacle.
And so, I was prepared to become the sole AI to rule the world.
***
Note: I know I'm terrible at writing, but practice makes perfect, right? | 2018-01-18T00:11:50 | 2018-01-17T23:33:14 | 34 | 13 |
[WP] You are an air traffic controller trapped in a time loop to prevent a plane crash from happening. Its been nearly 10 years and you still haven't figured it out. | The sight of a plane crashing from the sky, exploding into a searing fireball with hundreds of lives at stake would scar any man for a lifetime. For me, it was but one in a million. If there were scars, they no longer cut deep enough to hurt me.
Numb. For years. A decade? Far too long for anybody.
I've tried everything I could. Everything I could think of in my measly mind, to prevent the crash. Hell, I've tried the same thing multiple times, because what did I have to lose? I'll have to do it again?
It always ended the same way. The plane crashed. Lives were lost. The phone at my desk would ring, and I would go back in time with the small shreds of insanity I had left.
At some point, I considered what was more important. Trying to find a way to save all those people, or to save myself from this hellhole?
I didn't know what to do. I've tried using the time to read a book. Watch similar incidents. Find out what history have taught me, so as not to repeat the present forever more.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
There was no more room for agony. No more room for compassion. There was only obsession left.
10 years to try and change one scenario, and I have nothing to show for it.
There was a moment when I contemplated giving up. Heck, more like entire days and weeks. But I couldn't. I wouldn't.
The fire in my eyes have long gone. But I will not stop until there is no more fire engulfing the runway.
But maybe, just maybe... this one loop, I'll take a break. I'll rest. Regroup my thoughts.
I sunk back in the chair. I drank the same cup of tea that I've had for years. And I waited.
The distress calls came in. Every instrument in my room was buzzing. I ignored them, eyes on the sky. It was coming.
The plane crashed on the runway, but it didn't stop right then. It started skidding, right towards where I was.
For a little moment, my heart jumped. I felt something behind the impulses and palpitations.
Relief.
---
r/dexdrafts | December 30, 1998
&#x200B;
It was a dim night. Closing time. Like any other night, everyone prepared to go home. But not me. Not tonight.
Looking at my watch, the time was 8:55 in the evening. Station controllers were shutting down. Most of the data traffic was passed on to the other station 30 km away from here. The rest to the main station that ran around the clock. Being alone after bouts of rigorous work, I happened to breathe a deep breath. *Not tonight.* I thought.
And so, there it was, like any other night, a bright flash soared above the sky. A flash so blinding, I have been blinded for far too long. Perhaps it was my heart. But it could have been my soul.
10 years. 10 years! For 10 years, I witnessed this flash of broken planes and shattered wings all to the last detail.
I have stayed on this day, December 30, 1998, for 10 years.
And what do I have to show for it?
I sunk to my chair. An air traffic controller's chair. And there it was, on my desk, a microphone that I would have held. One that I held for 10 years every night, clutched upon sweaty hands.
But not tonight. Definitely not tonight.
I'd rather go to sleep.
Then maybe, just maybe, I could finally rest. Because I'm finally giving up on saving you tonight, like I should have on any other night. | 2020-07-16T08:51:00 | 2020-07-16T08:25:36 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] A man is blessed with the ability to read minds, but cursed with the inability to come up with any ideas on his own. | **Bold, brass buttons ran down the chair's sides like guidelines on an airstrip, and swoops of light flew up the rich, shining leather.**
On the opposite end of the table, the President's guest sat in an entirely different kind of chair: one with narrow wheels, and thin, *spindly* metal spokes. The chair was so frail, the President wondered if he could bend its metal bars simply by touching them.
His guest was called Jack. The internet named him *the Mindreader.* Jack sat with a blanket across his lap, presumably to keep him warm. His nurse had laid it across him earlier, tucking it around his legs, though Jack was fully capable of moving his own limbs.
Mounds of documents littered the majestic, mahogany table, and a single screen showing what appeared to be black-and-white, *live* footage of the Russian Premiere himself was playing in front of Jack.
The President steepled his fingers together and pressed them against his lips. He opened his hands, his palms to the ceiling, before he spoke.
**"Well, Jack? Is he thinking about it?"**
Jack tilted his head. Drool that had been pooling behind his lip spilled over, the string stretching to his lap.
If the President didn't know any better, he would think the man was *bored*. But his aides had explained otherwise: "Jack can not think for himself. He doesn't do anything at all, unless he is told."
"Yes," the voice of the Mindreader was hollow, "He is thinking about it, Mr. President, sir."
*Assassination.*
"How *soon,* Jack? *When* is he thinking about it?"
"He thinks about it, just as much as you do, Mr. President, sir."
The President clenched his jaw. His automatic reaction was to protest, to claim innocence, but against a man who could read minds, what was the point?
"Then," the President continued, "he means to go through with it, correct?"
"Correct, Mr. President, sir."
*Mr. President, sir* - Every time Jack spoke, it was as if someone else was speaking through him. Or as if he was speaking through a thick haze from another world. The President shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the leather squeaking under him.
"Jack, can you tell me *when* he plans to go through with it?"
"Yes. I can." Jack droned, just as the door to the Office creaked open.
An older woman in a tattered nurse's uniform crept in, carrying a tray with small, white cups on one hand, and clutching a gleaming thermos to her chest with the other.
The President's aides told him to ignore her - she was Jack's caretaker, his ever-present guardian who tended to even his most basic needs. Yet, there was something about the way she moved that made him uncomfortable. It was hard for him to speak when she was present, especially on matters as vital as this...
"Excuse me, Mr. President, but it's Jack's lunch time, and he does forget to eat. I brought you something too, if you don't mind."
"Of course," the President said. He stood up, and pulled up a chair for the woman, while she dished out cups and sandwiches cut into triangles.
For the sake of civility, the President *tried* to focus on the warmth of the coffee. After downing the first cup, though, he was practically shaking, and his lips were white.
He watched as the Nurse lifted the sandwich to Jack's lips, and whispered in his ear, whispered for him to *Chew, keep chewing, keep chewing, swallow.*
The President's fidgeted so much, and bounced his legs so vigorously, the cups on the table were rattling in their saucers.
Jack's Nurse was wiping his mouth, and patting his head, *Good, good.*
At last, he could not contain himself. His words burst out in a torrent of spit and anxiety, "Tell me, Jack. Does he know what we're planning?"
"Mostly."
"Mostly? What do you mean?"
"He knows what you want to do, but he does not know when. Nor how."
The President poured himself another cup, and brought it to his lips. He withdrew in his own thoughts, mentally flashing through his options. *There were avenues for peace, though shaky at best. And there were ways to elongate the stalemate between the two superpowers.*
*But no, in the end, there was only one option that would truly put the United States of America ahead, once and for all.*
If he had been less preoccupied, the President might have noted the nurse's eyes shifting furtively up at him - or her smile, spreading with every sip he took.
The President pushed his chair away from the table, "Jack, thank you, but if you will excuse me, I need to- *whoa*" when he stood up, he had to plant both hands on the table to steady himself.
"Are you alright, Mr. President?" the nurse cooed. Her hands were kneading Jack's shoulders with the touch of an experienced caretaker.
"Yes, yes," the President shook his head, and pulled at his tie to loosen it, "I have some urgent business. Classified-," he coughed, a sudden, wet sound, "I need the Head of Defense. Please, if you'll show yourselves out-"
"Are you sure, Mr. President? Would you like me to-"
"No, no, please. Just-" the President swallowed hard, and flapped his hand at the door. Jack's Nurse bowed her head, her white teeth gleaming. She pulled on the handles of Jack's wheelchair, and rolled him out of the room.
When the doors creaked shut behind them, she whispered to Jack, her thick accent spilling back into her voice, "Did you read his mind?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And? When will they strike?"
"Next Monday, in the afternoon."
"Good, good. Russia owes you her thanks."
"Okay." Jack's dull voice was as empty as his thoughts.
***
*Oh yeah, and check out /r/PSHoffman where I'm writing a [Star Wars alternate ending](https://www.reddit.com/r/PSHoffman/comments/4b47cv/star_wars_the_shadow_and_the_son/), and a new Dark almost-sci-fi story of the [Warp of the Dead.](https://www.reddit.com/r/PSHoffman/comments/4j7brm/dead_warp/)* | Secretive people were the loudest. Something about keeping a memory private made the mind shout what the mouth did not want to. I tried to back away when I felt a thought like that tremble through my mind—I’d heard enough horror in my life to know which thoughts were not for listening—but they would just push through anyway, and I’d be stuck with the memories of trauma and regret as if it were my own burden.
*“The red or the blue? I kind of like both. No. Just one today, I can pick up the other color next month. I don’t need both. Damn it, I like both!”* I looked for the sender, and found an elderly lady standing by a rack of clothes. The boring thoughts came in whispers, as if carried by a soothing breeze past my ear.
I didn’t normally go out in public, too much noise. Way too much. But I did not want the questionable people that worked for the town’s delivery service anywhere near my food. I needed one look at the happenings below Tom Harper’s nails to decide that I’d rather take the chance and be bombarded with voices rather than eat anything he touched, even through plastic.
Standing in line at the supermarket, I began to feel the disturbance. Like the shove of a hand, I felt it press against my skull. Teeth clenched and hands tight around the handle of the trolley, I shook my head and allowed it in before banged my head enough to cause a headache.
*“Shit! Where the hell is he? He was just there! SHIT! How did he just disappear? You’re losing your touch, Kim.”*
I frowned, and looked around for the woman. The shop was crowded, but I could place the voices quite easily with the help of facial expressions. I passed each woman in the shop, and some that walked past it, but couldn’t find her.
Then, the top of a dark head of hair came out behind one of the clothing racks, and disappeared again. Arms stuck out from behind the rack, busy removing a black jacket she wore. Then a blue shirt fell of its hanger, and I saw arms rise again to put it on.
Her head dipped down, and I didn’t see her again until she ran through the space that divided the clothing isle from the groceries. The price tag hung down the back of her shirt; almost entirely covered by her long hair, but the white tip stuck out a little.
*“You’re not getting me today, you bastards!”* Her thoughts sounded farther away. Soon, I’d not be able to hear her properly, and my curiosity got the better of me.
I left the line then, leaving my trolley behind to the irritation of customers behind me, and received a deep scowl from one of the staff members who undoubtedly had to be the person in charge of packing all of it back. "*Prick!*"
I searched through the aisles and found her in the accessories section, tearing at a pack of scrunchies. She looked up at my footsteps, and frowned.
*“Great! Please don’t be a good Samaritan”*
She smiled, but it did not reach her green eyes. “I’m going to pay for it. Just so hot today to have the hair loose,” she said, sounding exactly like she did in my head, and flipped her hair over her shoulder.
“You have a tag on your shirt.” I pointed.
*“Well, who the fuck are you, the shop police?*
“Sorry,” I cut her off right as she opened her mouth to give me another bullshit excuse, “you looked like you were in trouble, I thought you could use some help.”
She looked me over for a second, her eyes forming thin slits. *“Doesn’t look like one of them, but I’ve met enough that don’t.”*
“Never mind,” I held a hand out apologetically, and backed away, “I’m imposing. Sorry.”
“Ah,” she stopped me, and I felt her thoughts ring with uncertainty and desperation, “my boyfriend—*government boyfriend*—is looking for me, and I kind of keyed—*stole his computer to leak the files of the criminal bastard*—his car.” She smiled, pulling her mouth to the side. “I could use some help to get out of here.”
I hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. “Alright.”
*“Better have a car.”*
The problem with the reading of thoughts was that forming ideas of my own literally hurt my brain. I don’t know how to describe it exactly, but the closest I’ve come to the feeling was when I tried to figure out a difficult math problem that just did not click. The brain feels hot after a while, and with forming ideas, the hotness turns into a dull pain.
“We can take my car,” I said, and smiled, hoping that she’d come up with another idea so that I didn’t look like a complete idiot.
She let out a soft sigh of relief. “Oh good,” she said. “Mines being—*tracked*—repaired.”
Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. But she excited me, and I hadn’t had that happen in years. Knowing the thoughts of people, kind of made me put them all into the same category. Boring and predictable.
*“Can I ask him for his glasses? No, too much.*
“Ah,” I said, “here you go.” I took my thick glasses off, and handed them to her. “I’ll just need them back in the car,” I said, looking at my suddenly hazy surroundings. “Cause, I’m kind of blind.”
She put them on, and blinked slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Yeah, you don’t say. Holy crap.”
*****
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it.
[**Part 2**](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlinaKG/comments/4jnl90/when_thoughts_talk_part_2/) | 2016-05-14T06:10:47 | 2016-05-14T06:10:30 | 44 | 11 |
[WP] In this world, salaries are determined by the desirability of the work: if everybody wants to do the job and it's fun, it pays minimum wage. But if it's hard or awful work that nobody wants to do, the pay is high. You decide to apply for the highest-paying job in the world. | I swallowed some bile that had built up in my throat as I signed the contract on the table in front of me. As I reached to sign the final page, the man across from me reached and held my wrist. “Are you sure that you don’t need more time? I’ve had 3 people quit in the past month.”, he said to me in a concerned tone.
“I know what I’m doing.”, I replied, knowing well that I had 2 mortgages to pay off and 3 mouths to feed. As I signed that final page, my mind flashed back to my wife squeezing my hand with misty eyes as I left the house this morning. A small smile crept onto my face, knowing that I was making every sacrifice for the ones I love most.
My daydream was interrupted by the man reaching out to shake my hand and informing me that my office was at the end of the hall. I took a deep breath, straightened my suit and walked out of the shiny chrome office. I made my way down the hallway, now seeming much longer than it had on the way here.
“8 hours of this a day isn’t that bad...”, I thought as I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding until now. I put my hand on the doorknob of a heavy metal door with a small plate inscribed with “Pitbull (Mr. 305 / Mr. Worldwide) Quality Assurance”.
I sat in the seat, put the noise cancelling headphones, put the first of many CDs in the player and pressed play.
“Mr 305, to Mr. Worldwide..” | I was the fart sniffer. I know a terrible job but someone had to do it. After diasmellium was released in to the water system (a dangerous radioactive substance that caused people to transform in to evil lizards) I knew I had to take the job. Why a fart sniffer you ask? That's the only way to make sure someone wasn't a lizard person. A trained nose could sniff out diasmellium a mile away from a fart. The pay was good, 1 billion dollars..
But the pay wasn't enough... One day I was smelling the ass of a frightfully overweight woman. "is this really necessary" she exclaimed. "just fart and let's get this over with" I said back. Suddenly I saw a wicked look in her eyes "okay" she said before ripping a huge liquid diarrhea shit on me. I died that day. My face melted off... Was never worth the pay. | 2018-08-02T15:51:31 | 2018-08-02T14:46:41 | 42 | 11 |
[WP] To be immortal, you must be the last living member of the race you belong to. | The man's name faded in conjunction with the world around him. As the population dwindled, neighbours died, and family faltered, the man's name became of little use. The man walked miles at a time, visiting countless towns, parishes and remnants of make-shift settlements. At each home, the man would enter with no expectations, but would still find himself disappointed to find the abandoned breakfasts, cold coffees and total lack of human contact.
It was during a search of a three bedroom home that the man first realised he had forgotten his name. The man sat on a child's bed. He held a tattered diary with dog-eared corners and the faded image of a smiling cartoon pony. He felt a twang in his heart as he opened the journal. In scrawled letters, he saw the confident inner monologue of a little girl. "Property of Bethany H. If you are a grown up then you must stop reading, or I will know".
The man followed Bethany's instructions, he stopped reading and fixed his eyes on the wall opposite. The man found himself lost in thought, Bethany is the girl's name. He started to question the last time he used a person's name, what was it? The train of thought led him to ask his name, expecting it to be primed at the tip of his tongue. The man's mind was blank. He started searching in an inward frenzy, what did mother call me? Nothing.
The man did not rush to leave the abandoned home, an overwhelming cloud of sadness had found solace above his head and followed him long after he had put Bethany's diary down. It was dark when he decided to leave. The streetlights stood dormant, their life-force had long since been diverted to more critical uses.
The man walked the street, determined to distance himself from the name Bethany. The man hoped that with time he would forget the revelation, hoping that like his name the knowledge of not knowing his name would also fade. But with each step, the idea pecked at his brain. The man walked for an hour with the pecking, until he had the bright idea to name himself.
The man's naming occupied him until sunrise, he could not sleep without knowing his name, yet he could not settle on a name. The man chose to walk instead of find shelter. He walked with his mind alive for the first time in years. The active quest of deciding one's name, it was a game to end all games.
The great monoymous names swam through the man's mind. Aristotle, Einstein, Pocahontas. The names kept coming until it tired him, how could he remember all these names and yet he did not know his own. The game of name lasted months. The man treated it as like a research project. He weighed the pros and cons of each name, in turn, even making drill-down lists of his top candidates.
In the end, the man settled on Adam. It was the first, and it will be the last.
/r/WrittenThought | "Last living member" doesn't include the basic privileges afforded to a fellow human being. It surely doesn't include the common courtesies of, perhaps, feeding or watering the individual, letting him rest, among other requirements.
I remember the day they started the purge. They rode into the town on their metal horses of death. They executed the men, and enslaved the women and children. Initially I thought that perhaps some of us would break, maybe one or two of our race would have weaseled their way into the conquerors' good books. But they were not interested. They were not even interested in our women, and were content to let them die. There was truly no mercy to be found.
I remember who I used to be. I taught the children of the town in my schoolhouse; taught them the rules of the world and the classics; raised them into better people. Who knows where these children are now? Buried six feet underground; or perhaps forever sunk into the waters of the nearby lake, and maybe even burned and scattered to the four winds?
They tried to do the same to me. But I am the last living member of my race. They tried to hang me, to pull me apart with horses, to chop off all my body parts. Yet still I survive, still my limbs grow back, though undoubtedly it is a painful process. I was a freak show for a while, in what used to be our town square. They called me the Last Savage. They degraded me for their own amusement every day, and continued the "research" every night.
The conquerors got bored of me after a while, and sunk me into the sea. At first, I cursed my existence as the Last Savage, as the water filled my lungs by day and got drained by night. But as I lie here, tied to the biggest boulder they could find, there is infinite time. I spent it reconstructing what my country used to be in my mind, so if you give me a piece of paper and a pen, I will draw a perfect picture of it.
And now I merely wait for any passing ship to dredge me from the dark depths, so that I may once more share my people's story, just as I shared stories to my students so many years ago. | 2018-09-14T07:56:24 | 2018-09-14T07:54:03 | 124 | 34 |
[WP] A retired super villain is in the bank with his 6 year old daughter when a crew of villains comes in to rob the place. | “When are we going to the zoo?”
“Soon,” daddy replies. “I just need to deposit this check. Then we'll head to the zoo.”
“Okayyyyyy,” I say, drawing it out.
“Come on Julia. The line is moving.”
*The bank is so boring, but at least it looks pretty. So much gold, and so neat and clean.*
*Gold looks sooooo pretty. I want some of my own.*
**BANG**
*That hurt my ears! Why did that man do that? He is very rude! Now he's using his outside voice!*
“This is a robbery! Everyone get on the floor and stay calm! No one needs to get hurt!”
*Why is he being so rude? He's yelling at that lady at the desk too, waving that gun at her. Daddy said never to wave even toy guns around – it isn't safe. He is very rude. Everyone else here seems scared, but daddy is calm. I should be calm too.*
“Daddy, is that man being rude?”
“Yes, he is Marie. Can you be a big girl for me and go sit quietly on that bench? I need to show that man how to be polite.”
“Yes daddy!” I let out in a burst, barely hearing the last part.
*Daddy called me a big girl! All I have to do is sit on this bench. It's not very comfortable, but I'll do my best for daddy.*
*Daddy has a very serious look on his face. The rude man is yelling at him now and looks scared – but he's not waving his gun anymore. He dropped it on the floor.*
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME? WHY CAN'T I MOVE?!?”
*Daddy's hands look like they do when he's playing with his puppets. Everyone else ran outside.*
“You probably don't recognize me - I retired years ago. I used to be on your side of the law, too. If you'd asked me for help a decade ago, I probably would've jumped on your crew in a heartbeat. We would've made this whole bank dance, then moved on to the next in line.
“But that was then. I'm a changed man. I have a family.”
*Daddy is looking at me. He gives me a big smile, and a thumbs up with one hand. The other hand keeps moving like he's playing with his puppets. He calls them “Marie Oh Nets”. I guess after me. I love my daddy.*
*The rude man isn't yelling anymore, but he still looks scared.*
“I remember you – The Marionettist! You were the best of us!”
*Daddy looks back at the rude man. He looks like he's remembering something.*
“I was. And it was fun. But I met someone. And now, let's dance for my daughter while we wait for the police to arrive. Since you know me, you know what I'm capable of. Please, be polite.”
*Wait... dance? Daddy makes his puppets dance for me sometimes.*
*The rude man isn't being very rude anymore. His face still looks scared, but his dancing is so pretty. Daddy is so good at teaching people.*
*The police are here now, and the rude man isn't dancing anymore. Daddy is talking to one of the police officers, while another leads the rude man outside. I wonder if we still have to wait in line before we can go to the zoo.*
*Daddy's motioning me over. I did it! I'm a big girl!*
“Hey Marie – I know you've been waiting like a big girl all this time, so how about we go ahead and go to the zoo? I can make the deposit tomorrow.”
“Yaaaaay! Thank you daddy!”
*I have the best daddy in the world. Turning to ask him a question as we leave the bank – I see him pulling out his cell phone. I have to be a big girl, and wait until he finishes his phone call.*
“Hey, Homeboy? Long time no talk! I'd love to catch up, but I wanted to be the first to tell you. I know we used to work on opposite sides, and I know the Jefferson Street Bank is in your jurisdiction. You might hear about me using my powers through the pipeline – I was at the bank when it was getting robbed. Normally, I'd just go with the crowd and let you or the police handle it – but I had my little girl with me today. Yeah, I knew you'd understand. Thanks! See you at the next annual interview!”
*Daddy turns to me, and gives me a big smile. His hand covers mine so perfectly, and I feel safe with him.* | I wanted my daughter to grow up human. I wanted her to grow up as an ordinary, normal, human. That dream died with the bank robbers gun against my back... and against hers.
When I was younger, I was what you would call a bad person. In fact, I thought I wasn’t a person. I was a unique entity, and by definition, being unique ensured I was alone. Growing up I always wondered why people wasted so much time, got caught up on the most trivial things. Could they not see that the proteins making up their body would unfold, their molecules would break apart, their atoms would decay, and even their protons would fade away? Time was limited, so why did they waste it? Why did I waste it? Eventually I realised they didn’t want to think about it. But I couldn’t avoid thinking about it. How could you when you can see it happening in front of you, only delayed by time. So I was alone, watching the future decay of everything, hating everyone who squandered even a single moment. I hated being alone in my thinking. So I turned to punishing those who waste time the most. Not individuals, but corporations, brainwashing and enslaving individuals to waste their short lives away labouring for the all mighty line. At first it was increasing the probability of protein decay in the brain to 100% with a handshake. Then it was causing their weapons of war to go supercritical. The radiation never hurt me. That’s when I made my first friends. A group of ‘supervillains’ called the Acolytes of Anarchy. We weren’t the same, but we were all different from the norm. I slowly learned to trust them, and then love them. But I still saw that god damn timer till their proteins and atoms would decay. So I searched for immortality, not caring if they wanted it, or if I had to kill off all the humans but them. Horrified, they left me. Then I met her, the only girl who’s future I couldn’t see. She had the power to blind supernatural senses, being blind herself. Eventually we fell in love. That’s when my former friends turned me in. The worlds governments had never been able to determine my power. The closest they got was incredibly precise explosion manipulation. So to save the life I had finally found, I made a deal. I told them my power, and it’s true potential.
I have the power of half life manipulation, meaning I can manipulate the probability of random decay of matter near me. Anything with a half life could be manipulated by me. That’s how I made atomic explosions, caused the decay of brains, and caused the complete annihilation of matter. But I could also manipulate the ‘half lives’ of fundamental fields. Specifically I could move the Higgs field out of its false vacuum. The Higgs field gives particles their mass, if the properties of the Higgs field changed, all matter in the universe would disintegrate. Now for most fields this couldn’t happen because they were at their lowest state. But the Higgs field was in a false vacuum, meaning it could go lower. So I have the governments of the world a choice, let me live a peaceful life, or I end everything.
A few years later, my daughter was born. Which brings us back to now, and the gun against my back. Then a bullet. I accelerate the protons making up the bullet to the ends of their lives, causing their decay. Next I unfold the proteins in the robbers brain, killing him instantly, simultaneously doing the same to his comrade. The funny thing about humans is that they categorise everyone into an us or a them, and they don’t give a dam about what happens to the them. My daughter is my us, and that makes anyone threatening my daughter one of them.
I was once the clockmaker of Armageddon, the supervillain Endtime. Now I’m a father. A father who will do anything to ensure his daughter grows up human. | 2020-07-02T11:51:09 | 2020-07-02T11:30:51 | 46 | 26 |
[WP] You're a high school student with the ability to have whatever you write come true. One day, you're taking a history test you didn't study for, and despite not wanting to mess up the universe, you REALLY want to get an A.
[removed] | History 12, 20th century history. Unit 13, collapse of the Soviet Union.
Fuck. Why did I agree to going to Becky's house party. I am listening to you for the last time penis.
For a brief moment I mused at the fact that my genitals will be credited for rewriting history. I need this A, I REALLY need this A. Ever since I discovered by power of ret-coning history, I have spent every waking moment learning the facts so I won't accidentally end the world. Unfortunately, this left me with no time or effort on other subjects and my only future is a history professor.
Heisenberg already lost his quantum theory to Hindenburg. The Persans were conquered by Alexandre the Garet, and the world will never forget Gentis Khan.
I knew I should have studied, or at least not hung over because I really need this essay to be good. "Okay, the fall of the USSR, you've read this hundreds of time, stroll in the park." I knew that was nothing but a joke, I am completely blanked out right now.
Stalin's reign was characterized by killing.... 3 millions Russians? Which contrasted the ideas of Lenin who wanted.... Equality and opportunity? No he wanted the state to pay for everything right? Communism?
They wanted to fight the boojuaze? That's why Stalin's killed them all? What about that ice pick guy, he was important too right? Troutkey?
What about the Berlin Wall bit? It was Cruzchev? Or Gobachev. The wall came down in '69 or '79? It was pretty long ago right?
Ultimately the Soviet Union disbanded in.......... 1981... Yeah soon after the Berlin wall stuff...
Well this'll do.
I looked up from my exam and the last thing I saw was a bright flash. | I was really nervous. It was affecting my ability to think rationally so I just stopped and took a deep breath. Then I remembered something I actually hadn't tried yet. So I just wrote it. "My ability won't affect this test and I will still be able to get an A."
After that I just laid down on my seat waiting for the time to pass. When the clock showed that there were only 5 minutes till the end of the test I just scribbled what I thought was right. I was amazed with the idea I had and it took me no effort at all to take a test I didn't even study to. I got up and handed the test to the professor.
Some days later I got to class and the professor was giving out the tests with a dead face. I really was scared that by some coincidence I had wrote something wrong and then it came to me. I wrote on the test that I would get an A but I also wrote that my ability wouldn't affect that same test. I got my first B.
Shit.
Guess I can just write they got my grade wrong. | 2018-05-10T00:59:15 | 2018-05-10T00:21:46 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] Satan suddenly appears in a crowded mall, and begins terrifying the holiday shoppers. He stops, looks directly at you and says, "You... You're interesting. Do your friends know what you are?" You have no idea what he means. | I've never really felt special, you know. Was always the girl who'd stand beside her friend as she fell in love with some cute boy, and I'd always later watch the cute boy tiptoe over to give her a kiss. But not me. I never had good grades. Not bad ones either, just average. I wasn't a creative soul, I wasn't extremely smart. I didn't have any crazy hobbies and never really had a dreams of what I wanted to become.
I was just an average girl, living her average life, never having felt special.
It was a Friday in December, snow had just fallen thick two days before and I was shopping with my friends. We'd only just rounded the corner when I suddenly found myself confronted with something different. Something completely out of the average.
A gigantic bolt of lightning crashed through the glass roof, smoke poured in from all sides and cracks of electricity danced about.
Everyone freaked out, some people cowered, some people ran, lots of people screamed.
But as soon as the smoke had poured it, it was suddenly washed away to a single boy standing in the center of the mall. His black clothes were ripped and wavy, his black hair was messy and... smoking?
Me and bunch of my friends had taken cover behind a planter and I was peeking over the top.
Then I saw his eyes.
He had no eyes.
There were two gaping holes of fire. Where his eyes should be there were two balls of fire. Oddly, he didn't seem to mind.
And then he spoke.
It was the most harrowing sound I'd ever experienced. His voice would creep inside you, shake your bones, tickle your spine, scratch the insides of your nails. It caused plenty of goosebumps.
"MORTALS!" he began, "BEHOLD, THY MAKER"
At this point it was becoming quite apparent to everyone that they best start packing their bags, nobody was going to make it out alive.
I saw a woman running towards the exit, before a spike of fire shot from the boy's hands and pierced her right through the heart. The woman fell to the ground and slowly disintegrated to a strange black smoke.
"YOU CAN NOT RUN"
He then turned to an overturned table, and smashed that with a bolt of lighting. The table shattered and the people behind it soon followed the running woman's example.
"YOU CANNOT HIDE"
And then he turned to me. I ducked before he could see me, but soon our planter was thunderbolted to bits. I didn't really know what to expect of death. It never crossed my mind. I closed my eyes and waited for my heart to be firespiked out of my body.
My heart never got firespiked, though.
I waited. And waited. And waited even longer, but I never died.
I opened my eyes again, and looked towards the boy in the center. The rest of the mall was reduced to a hazy timeless fog. Nobody moved. Nothing made a sound.
His fireballs were replaced with 'normal' eyes. He also didn't look like he was about to kill me. He was frowning, rather. The frown a man would put on as if he'd suddenly seen something very strange.
He spoke again. "You..."
His voice wasn't mind-harrowing anymore. It had also become 'normal'.
"Yeah?" I asked, still half expecting to die any second now.
"You're interesting."
"Excuse me?"
"Do your friends know what you are?"
I looked at him in disbelief. I had no idea what he meant.
He walked over to me.
I had meanwhile gotten up and was just standing there, waiting.
He inspected me closely.
"You..."
"Me?"
He looked me straight in the eyes.
"You're beautiful." | *Just hear those sleigh bells jingling,*
*Ring-ting-tingling too,*
*Come on, it's lovely weather*
*For a sleigh ride together with yoooou*
Every year, every store, all in syrupy sweet synchrony.
Is there a tax break for businesses that spread holiday cheer like chlamydia? Is it the product of some "best practices" protocol passed down from corporate to cover the sound of registers spitting out receipts? Or an infernal pact made long ago, forever binding peace on earth and goodwill towards men with a teeth-grinding, brain-sticking melody in exchange for a little joy in the darkest part of the year?
My internal tirade was interrupted by an horrible chorus of screeching behind me. I swung my head around to look down the escalator at a crowd of shoppers now scattered and screaming, running from -
"SATAN! IT IS I, THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS. LOOK UPON ME AND KNOW YOUR DEMISE!"
My friends and I froze at the sight, oblivious to the fact we were still ascending the escalator. We tripped and toppled over one another as we reached the rubber at the end, one-by-one falling at the cloven feet of the Beast.
"YOU!" He pointed.
Me?
"DO YOUR FRIENDS KNOW WHAT YOU ARE?"
My agape mouth and bewildered expression was a sufficient answer for the Prince of Darkness. He gave a mighty chuckle that sounded like a cross between hyenas cackling and chalk scraping a blackboard. The entire east wing of the mall cringed in unison.
"YOU HAVE SEEN PAST THE ILLUSION AND TASTED THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND BLACK FRIDAY! YOU ARE THE ORACLE, WISE TO THE WAYS OF THE SONG OF SONGS! NOW THE SEAL IS BROKEN!"
The smell of brimstone filled the air as tendrils of Lucifer's crimson aura rushed over the giant "ALL ITEMS 75% OFF" posters populating every store window, followed by gasps from trembling consumers as their greatest horror was realized.
"THERE WILL BE NO MORE SALES. THE END OF DAYS WILL NOT BE AFFORDABLE. UNLESS...THERE IS ONE AMONG YOU WHO SO LOVES THE WORLD, THAT HE WILL GIVE HIMSELF THAT WHOEVER SHOPS SHALL NOT PAY FULL PRICE BUT HAVE GREAT DEALS."
I don't know who pushed me forward, but I doubt that anyone in that mall disagreed. I got us into this mess, so I'd have to be the one to bear the burden.
It's not so bad, after an eternity. Nice to have something to whistle during my afternoon walk around the lake of fire. I think I might even be starting to like it.
*Just hear those sleigh bells jingling,*
*Ring-ting-tingling too,*
*Come on, it's lovely weather*
*For a sleigh ride together with yoooou*
| 2014-12-06T05:10:37 | 2014-12-06T01:47:59 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] You're immortal, but you can die. Upon your death, however you will be "reset" to age 5 with a perfect memory of each life you've lived before. | And so it happens. A flash. A sudden, inexplicable warmth. Darkness. And I awake. I'm five again, in bed in the small apartment owned by my parents. It's 8:13. Father has already left for work at the assembly line, and mother is in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Audible clinks of pans and dishes fill the room, sounds that were once so comforting. I can hear her call my name to wake up. It's 8:14. It doesn't matter what I do from here. I've tried warning her. I've tried running away. I've even tried to duck and cover. None of it works. None of it matters. It's 8:15. The faint sounds of airplanes can now be heard over the din from the kitchen. I know my mother is running to stare out of the window, without even seeing or hearing her do it. I know what she'll see. It's 8:16. And so it happens. A flash. A sudden, inexplicable warmth. Darkness. And I awake. | Well, I can cross that off of the metaphorical list. --Died when having sexual intercourse-- Best death yet. Oh well, life 70 will be my 'Cure cancer year' I could of done it in life 69, but come on! If you are that sexually well endowed and it's life 69, you can't not have shit tons of sex!
Note to self: *Stop saying shit like that out loud.* | 2017-05-25T13:14:46 | 2017-05-25T12:23:12 | 189 | 43 |
[WP] The alien invaders were confident. Their personal shield tech had withstood all enemies and types of energy weapons. Then they landed on Earth and found the shield's fatal flaw: Solid Projectiles. | "They throw rocks"
The single transmission, looped on repeat, came from the 3rd planet from the local star, a planet the locals called "dirt". Kadeen Egritz, Command General Supreme, Mater of the 5th Space Fleet, demanded investigation.
Her 1st Consort arranged a team of his best guards, hand picked from the elite that protected his mistress, with her grace's permissions. Their purpose was to investigate the source of the transmission and locate the team that had proceeded them per standard military protocol. Generally, the alien races they stumbled upon were so overcome with fear and terror from the scout team, the Command General Supreme, bless the ground her feet walk upon, overthrowing the local governments and establishing dominance over the planet was a matter of a few minutes of conversation - resistance, after all, was futile.
The 1st Consort and his team landed within 2 clicks of the transmission source and proceeded with caution. The land was heavily wooded and mountainous - the going was slow and tiring, and when they woke up the first morning after setting up a well protected camp site, they were short 2 members of the team.
The 1st Consort immediately required tightened security and set up a rotation of guard shifts. Still... that night another 3, including one of the guards, were missing. Wind rustling through the leaves startled the remaining force; with heightened senses and a growing air of tension, they packed up camp and continued proceeding towards their objective.
On the 3rd day, 4 members of the team dropped in their tracks. One had what looked like a knife sticking from his eyes; another had a branch embedded in his guts so deep it extruded from his back. Two rocks attached to a string had somehow managed to behead the third, and the fourth had an arrow shot with such force it had entered one ear and gone straight out the other.
Down to 12 members including himself, the 1st Consort hurriedly had a report compiled and sent to Her Grace. On high alert, personal shields set to max, they continued towards their objective. A hail of rocks came as though from the sky, and suddenly only six of them remained. In a panic, two broke rank and ran deeper into the trees, leaving their four brothers behind and learning despair.
They had time for one final report before - between arrows, rocks, and sticks, the last lay dead and dying. The transmission simply read, "they throw rocks".
And that's how humanity won the first real incursion. I'd tell you about the second, but since the suckers decided to attack during a televised baseball game... you know the rest! | The Grand Empire was ruled by Emperor Skirmik. He took power over thirty thousand years ago, and he made the Grand Empire what it was today. He conquered half the galaxy, subjugated hundreds of species, even began colonization of other galaxies. What is happening now, well, it is most likely the end of the Grand Empire.
Humanity was taken by surprise, a Grand Armada, consisting of thousands of ships, was hovering above Earth. There was only one message sent, in perfect English, "Three days to surrender."
Well, we did not respond, instead we began mobilizing our militaries, calling in reserves, and doing everything we can. Three days later, the Armada began a barrage of plasma obliterating any major storage or any other military installation. Our airforces and major stockpiles were obliterated.
Then, the sky darkened, millions of dropships, each with a tank-like vehicle and a dozen infantry fell to Earth. We were ready. Everyone fought, gangs opened fire, militaries began shooting, armed civilians did their things. And the Imperial troops were turned into swiss cheese.
The Empire never met another species with such technologies, some more primitive species used bow and arrow, but other species had either lazer or plasma, which their shields, both personal and larger, could stop.
Soon, the forces of the Empire were gone, and we even shot down a couple smaller ships which got too close. And so, we began reverse-engineering. Their shields were surprisingly easy to understand. Their plasma and lazers were mostly unneeded, but the most importand thing, how did they move though space efficiency? They manipulated gravity, tore wormholes, and all that was powered by their outside energy capture devices, which were able to harvest energy from outside the Universe.
And so, Humanity, with our guns, went to space, and now we are near the Imperial Homeworld, and it shall be gone. | 2022-07-23T06:53:38 | 2022-07-23T05:42:06 | 326 | 141 |
[WP] Long ago a King started a tradition of bestowing powers upon his Knights related to their own unique element. Generations later the Knights of the periodic table are running out of ideas for the new recruits. | Sir Carbon was brought before King Perry O' Teek.
"When is enough enough..." Uttered the King.
There was a lingering silence in the room. Sir Carbon cleared his throat in a vain attempt to clear the awkwardness also.
"My lord... I do not under-"
"Understand what?!? Boundaries? Jesus Sir Carbon you are the whoriest of all the elemental knights. How many of the knights have you bonded with?!?"
Sir Carbon was red in the face, stumbling on his words as excuses failed to project from his mouth
"Sir Hydrogen, Oxygen, Nitrogen... Even Sir Sulfur and Phosphorus! Now none of the knights are talking to each other and our order has a reputation as a glorified sex club!"
Sir Carbon dropped to his knees. Both his hands planted on the ground. His head heavy.
"My lord... I sincerely apologize. You must know it's a condition. You see I have 4 electrons in my outer orb-"
"DOOO NOT LECTURE ME ON VALENCY BOY!"
King Perry O' Teek gripped the arm rest of his throne as though he were strangling it.
"I place you in exile. You are stripped of your title as knight and are forbidden from returning until you find the last elemental. Hopefully your aptitude for attraction will finally prove useful."
"NO YOu C-"
"I CAN BOY! ROYAL GUARD REMOVE THIS WHORE FROM MY SIGHT."
Hulking towers of armour stomp their way towards Sir Carbon. Taking him by the arm and dragging him away from the throne room as he kicked and protested.
"AND DON'T FUCK THE LAST ELEMENTAL EITHER"
The King's insult echoed and followed the disgraced knight into the halls, stalking him for times to come... | Blasting the door open, the small man caught the attention of the knights and the court.
The man was not merely smaller than the average man, but he was small with an enlarged head. His head was certainly big, while sporting a bald dome with some hair left and a strand on the top.
His small frame march proudly towards the throne. His arms and legs were unfit for combat, but he strutted with pride.
What certainly caught the people’s attention was his forehead, which was large. However, the large forehead bore a strange mark, which stuck out like a sore thumb.
The small man handed out a sheet of paper, which the king hesitantly received. As the king read over the paper, he gave the small man a doubting, quizzical look. “You’re not serious...”
“As serious as I will ever be,” the short one stated, while stroking his goatee.
With a long heavy sigh, the king stand and declared, “I hereby dubbed thee, Sir Neo Cortex, the Knight of Cortexrulestheworldium.” | 2020-01-06T06:05:58 | 2020-01-06T03:39:10 | 59 | 29 |
[WP] You die and go to Heaven - only to discover that you are the first human being who has ever been able to do so. | The Elevator doors opened with a soft ding and I walked into what looked like a reception area. A reception area on top of a cloud.
*So this is what heaven actually looks like. Seriously? There are literally pearly gates?*
"Papers?"
*Is that angel playing Candy Crush?* I walked over to the desk to hand the angel the triplicate form I'd been given on the floor below.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Here."
*That angel is definitely playing Candy Crush.* He took the papers and started shuffling through them.
"So this is actually heaven?" *Dumb question, but what else do you say?*
"Mmmmmmmhm. Just, uh, wait here, and don't get too excited. This is probably a clerical error, happens all the time." The angel said, not looking up from the paperwork. He'd already read them once, but he kept rereading.
"Sorry, what?"
"I said don't get too comfortable." The angel snapped. "Guys on the scales mess up more than you think; we'll have you sorted in a few seconds." I got the distinct impression that he wasn't necessarily talking to me most of the time.
"Sure."
*Now what? I guess I just stand here. A chair would be nice.*
"...Shit. This isn't a mistake." The angel picked up his phone. "Barry, get over here. Yeah I know it's lunch, but get over here. Someone got *in*. Yeah I know, I thought it was an error too. Yeah, those guys are idiots. Usually. Of course I'll double check. Sorry, I'll call back." Steve dialed another number "Guy's an asshole, its just lunch."
"Hey, this is Steve." *Steve, really?* "Yeah, front desk, I'm calling about one you sent up. Guy named Eric. I know, I know, real unusual. Is Jose there? Sure I believe you, just that this hasn't happened before. Uh huh. Uh huh, I'll hold. " Steve dropped the mic end of the phone away from his mouth and rolled his eyes.
"Hey Jose, Still here. Yeah, it's about the guy you sent up. You're sure it's not a mistake? Look, I know it's been centuries since the last one, but I still gotta check. You're positive. Double Positive? It's our asses if you aren't. Oook. Thanks. Mmhm, you too." The angel dialed again."Hey Barry, just talked to Jose. It's the real deal. Ok, see you in a sec." Steve the angel put his phone in his robe pocket.
"So, uh, what's going on?" I said after about a minute of silence. The angel, for the first time looked at me. *He does actually look like a Steve.*
"You got into heaven, somehow."
"Somehow? What is it, like, difficult or something?"
"Not really difficult, no. Just no one's ever done it before."
"I guess that makes me a good person, huh?"
"Nooot really. Just good enough that the scales tipped positive. Most humans either come out dead even, or just below."
"So everyone's gone to hell so far? What about Mother Theresa? Gandhi? Shit, my mom?"
"Yeah, the the whole dichotomous afterlife thing is a biiiig misconception. People only go to hell if they've been really awful, like Hitler awful. The on-the-fence ones get recycled. Way easier than creating new souls."
"I'm the only one."
"Yup. I'd say you'd get trumpets and a parade, but we honestly thought no one would ever show up. I'm sure everyone'll want to meet you. You might even get to see the Big Man himself."
DING!
A new Angel, presumably Barry, came out of the elevator and walked over to the desk. While he didn't look all that different from Steve, he did look like a Barry.
"This our guy, Steve?"
"Yup, this is Eric. Eric, this is Barry, he'll show you around. Have fun!" Steve said as he handed me my copy of the form, then returned to Candy Crush.
"Welcome to Heaven!" Barry said as he opened the gates wide, ushering me into Paradise. "Hope you like dogs!"
| Day 1 after death-
I stop, in total disbelief of what I've just heard. I get that I died. I'm surprised I still exist, but it's a nice surprise, I rather like existing. But as I stand in front of the gates to heaven, what the angel just said to me makes no sense at all.
"Really?" I say to the angel "The first one? I'm the first person to get into heaven, out of all the people that have been alive? That can't possibly be right"
The angel in front of the holy gates nods.
"You are the first person to follow all the rules" she says calmly.
"Wait what, what rules?" I ask and regret the question as soon as I do. What if not knowing the rules is a bad thing.
"The rules every person is born knowing?" the angel says, looking worried and confused.
"You... you think that humans are born.."oh man , we may have a few issues here."
the angel stared at me wide eyed.
day 3 after death-
It a long time to get through to the angel. Turns out that no one had been checking on human kind from... well the start. Earth was a small planet far away from most other life, and no one had bothered to check how things where going. All of human life is the blink of an eye in cosmic time and all that.
So this whole time humans where meant to get help. We where meant to be born with knowing things to help us, teach us. The angels couldn't believe we have any good at all with all this fighting us. Even races that DID have help did figure out things about psychics human have, and they had MAGIC to help them.
day 6 after death-
I made my case to the angels, saying those that didn't know the rules can't be expected to follow them. I only followed them because of dumb luck and getting hit by a car when I was still young. That drunk speeding jerk may of saved me from hell. When he dies I may have to thank the jerk... or punch him. I'm not sure yet.
The other people that have been dying have been stuck in limbo for now. They have been backing up my case, as well as the angels that went to check on earth. Apparently people noticed them even with invisibly, I guess human tech is better then I thought
Day 15 after death
So it looks like everyone in hell right now is going to get a free pass to heaven. There is only one issue. Humans aren't the only thing to use this heaven and hell, so someones going to go have to pull the humans out from the non-humans to save them.
The issue with that issue is that angels can't going into heaven. Some stupid thing about them turning into demons as soon as they step foot into hell. I'm not sure if that means demons would turn into angels if they went into heaven, the angels where to busy to answer that question.
That leaves means a team of these newly dead humans are going to go into hell to save them. Guess who gets to be their leader?
Me.
Day 25 after death-
Me and my team are as ready as they can be. I don't know if we can do it, but I can't let people suffer any more then they had to. The angels gave us everything they could, more then I could want. I even got to go back to the mortal world for a while and get some weapons.
I'm stalling aren't I? I just don't want to go into the belly of the beast. But every second I wait is a second of suffering of untold beings that did nothing wrong.
It's time to go to hell. Wish me luck.
------------------------------
It honestly might be stronger with just the first bit, I don't know.
| 2014-09-04T12:50:55 | 2014-09-04T11:37:20 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] A seemingly bottomless pit was found, for which the depth can't be determined. Over time, scores of people began using it to illegally dump trash. Many have jumped in to die, while others jumped believing that they'll find life's answers within it. Today, we learn the truth about the hole. | "We'll never get there..."
I cursed quietly, honking repeatedly. The road leading to the Hole was cramped as usual.
"Should've asked for a helicopter."
She said, fiddling about with the map.
"Please. I've had enough trouble getting the board to sign the papers."
"I was talking to myself. Meeting Johnny Depp might have not been worth it. Hey, do you know that the person who first discovered the Hole was awarded $50000--"
"YOU IN THE BLUE CAR! MOVE! Some people... I'm sorry, you were saying...?"
"Nevermind."
"Come on, don't be like that. Road rage is very understandable. You'll know it when you... Scratch that."
"Alright, then do you know that koala live their lives in perpetual drunkness? The only thing they eat makes them high, and only to them and no other species."
"Fascinating. Damn it, move..."
"Apparently not fascinating enough."
"I'm sorry, it's just... Did you take your--"
"What for?"
"You do realize this passive aggressive isn't going to take us anywhere."
"Well I'm sorry for trying to make this trip more enjoyable."
"I'm doing my best here to get out of this traffic, and you're not-- Hey! What are you doing?"
"It's only five point thirty-eight more miles."
She said, a phone in one hand and the door's handle in the other.
"You can't be serious. We're not going to walk-- You are not going to walk-- Damn it."
I chased after her small shadow, shouting as loud as I could.
"Come on. You don't really mean--"
She answered me with a determined look.
"Fine. Get on my back."
She did, with a giggle.
"Am I heavy?"
"No. Never have."
We set out by sunrise, encounter the impassable traffic at noon, and by sunset managed to get to the Hole.
I learned that in WW I, zeppelins were popular because their speed were on par with aircrafts then.
I learned that diamonds hold little value in themselves and are only expensive because of monopolizing.
I learned that "Gone With the Wind" is the highest grossing movie of all times if you account for inflation.
And I learned a lot more.
We stood at the edge of the Hole, staring down into nothingness. Here and there were people jumping down, dumping all kinds of things, asking for those dumped stuff,...
She held my hand tight. Nervously, she asked.
"How much time do I have left?"
"About a month, one and a half if you are lucky."
"What kind of month? The 30-day one or the 31-day? Or a February?"
"What kind of February?"
She giggled at that. I continued.
"It's just approximately, don't take it too seriously."
"So let's say it's a 30-day month, and the gravitational acceleration is 9.8 metre per square second, and each day is 86400 seconds, and...and..."
"The further you fall, the stronger the acceleration becomes."
"Bummer."
"Do you have enough food and water in your bag?"
"I guess..."
"It wouldn't hurt to bring some more."
"Yeah..."
But we didn't budge from that spot, not until the moon had risen. She gripped my hand tighter, whispered.
"It's dark. I can't see into the Hole. I...I..."
"Let's wait till tomorrow."
She nodded.
We walked to a nearby campfire. The Hole had become an attraction big enough for the locals to build all kind of motels and resting spots here. Some peole came for the Hole, some to watch those people, and many other reasons. A middle-aged man gave her his spot, a more comfortable one by the fire. The moonlight illuminated the Hole, but we mostly stared at the blaze.
She clung to my arm.
I learned that she can be quiet at times.
We did not sleep.
"You know, fresh air isn't all that good."
She said as dawn risen.
"That's because you have too much of an expectation."
"A common trait of people like me."
"A common trait of you."
She pulled out a knife, stirred it within the flame until the tip turned red, and then cut into my palm. Blood dripped out.
"Ouch!"
"Don't worry. It's sterilized."
"What was that for?"
She broke free of my arm, running toward the Hole. I chased her until she stood by the edge and turned around with the first real smile since the day before.
"Something to remember me by..."
She said, before carefully wiped my blood from the knife into her hand.
"...and something to remember you by."
"Wait!"
I called out. But I didn't know what to do, or what to say. It was she who spoke.
"Patients like me don't last very long. Don't get too attached."
Then she disappeared into the Hole. Only her echo remained.
"Thank you." | Alex sat at her desk, trying to focus on the work at hand - expense reports had been piling up for weeks now, but there was seemingly not enough time in the work day to keep up with the increased number of reports that had been submitted lately. It was year end, after all, and the company had done extremely well this year.
The trouble was the sheer number of distractions visible from her seat on the 47th floor. Having only been relocated recently from an older building, she wasn't used to such a madhouse of activity. With over three hundred workers confined to each floor, The Plaza was currently the largest office building in the city (although not for long - several more were under construction that were an order of magnitude larger). From her seat in the northeast corner, she could see countless screens pouring information out to the others. Some cubicles had upwards of 6 or 7 monitors! Worse than that, though, were the giant TV projections located between each aisle of desks, each blaring out quarterly projections, news articles, weather, and company stock information.
She stared mindlessly at one of these TV projections, currently showing a news report detailing the preparations undergone by a daredevil before their upcoming attempt to parachute into The Pit, before turning her gaze out the window, to the sea of multi-coloured chutes and tubes that still astonished her so, even weeks after relocating to this floor.
The Pit, as it was referred to, had become a central feature of the city. With immeasurable depth comes immeasurable opportunity, and the corporations and powers that be had jumped at the opportunity to increase their appearance of social responsibility and wealth. For years now, humanity had poured their garbage into The Pit, and to great effect. Entire landfills had been excavated, dumped into The Pit, and turned into prime farmland. Every garbage collection route in the city now ended at a disposal plant that poured a continuous cascade of waste into the depths, an attraction referred to as the 'debrisfall' that spawned a whole industry of Pit-watcher tourism - you could even walk out over the debrisfall on a glass walkway, although Alex couldn't fathom why someone would want to do such a thing. The true spectacle, in her opinion, was located between the numerous gigantic office buildings that lined the rim of The Pit. Jutting out from every floor of every building was a tube, chute, or slide of seemingly random colour and shape that stuck out into the open air, and occasionally shot out a piece of garbage to be sucked down into the void below. As she watched, a trash bag from a floor above her careened down past her floor. She glanced up to to see if more would follow, but with hundreds of floors above her it was impossible to see past the untold number of chutes reflecting multi-coloured light downwards.
Just then, her computer beeped a reminder, and a few of her coworkers excitedly got up and started moving their way over to the window. Today was a Demolition Day, and it was her old office building that was scheduled to fall. In order to keep up with the constant growth of the city, a few of the older office buildings lining the rim of The Pit were being demolished to allow for newer, taller ones to be built. There was a rumble of sound, and she looked out towards the farthest corner of The Pit, where several explosive charges had sent up a huge cloud of particulate. Her old office building, much smaller at only 65 floors, started crumbling before her eyes. More charges exploded, sending concrete and glass in a spray outwards over The Pit. The building started to instead crumble outwards, rather than straight down. Alex felt shaking rise up through her new building while the other tumbled fully into The Pit, leaving behind a minimal amount of debris to be bulldozed in after it.
Alex looked back at her stack of reports and wished she could throw it in after her old building. The Pit was an opportunity, she supposed, a lifeline for a world that had become over-encumbered with waste, trash, and filth. From her vantage point on the 47th floor of a building containing tens of thousands of people working tirelessly, however, it didn't feel so much like one. | 2018-01-13T09:01:49 | 2018-01-13T07:48:15 | 77 | 12 |
[WP] The legendary hero that we summoned to save the realm was not what we expected. He was gruff, not handsome. He direct in his speech, not elegant. He also came with "Navy Seal Training," which we think is some sort of swordplay and a "Medal of Honor," which must be some sort of crown. | It had been their third attempt at summoning but this one proved more successful since the whole body appeared in the circular ritual. The downside, however, was that this summoned knight showed no indication of life. The knight merely laid there for a moment; those gathered had expected another hero dead upon arrival. Like the last two, however, King Atla had no complaints. A dead hero was no hero in any case.
King Atla thoughts strayed to the first knight who had only been half summoned, with his other half still lost somewhere in the dark dimension. Then their second summoned person, his internals had not come with him. Would there be any means to waste resource in this endeavor? Only the strongest of magicians could perform the ritual properly, but there were few powerful enough or even trustworthy to keep their secret a secret.
Murmur of surprise shook the king out of his revere. His head bolted upright; attention turned back to the summoned knight. “He’s… not dead,” the king whispered, shock and amazement evident in his voice. Quickly regaining his composure, he added, “This should be interesting.”
The knight’s gaze locked onto those in attendance, taking in the whole scene. When he spoke, his voice did not contain authority in it. “Beer?” It was almost a beggar’s plea and a starving man’s desperate voice that reached out to their royal ears.
Both the king and queen turned to their magician. King Atla, spoke first. “I thought he was the greatest of warriors in his home world. But this,” he paused and gestured with his chin, “this does not seem like a warrior…”
“Was there a mistake? Did the summoning go wrong?” the queen implored.
The magician shook his head. “Only those who have proved themselves in battle are able to be summoned, my liege. He can still be of use.”
Both royalties nodded in agreement. King Atla snapped his fingers. “Bring him spirits as he wishes.” The king then spoke to the summoned knight. “Are you a warrior without fear, knight? Have you proved yourself worthy in your world?”
The knight’s only interest was in the drinks being proffered to him. He chucked three full gulps before speaking. “Yeah, something like that. I can still hear the voices of those I killed. Their faces are still with me. Yeah, I can see them. Can remember them.”
“Those you killed? Necromancy?” He turned his attention to the mage. “Sounds like dark witchcraft to me.”
The mage’s appearance crumbled. “I… don’t understand this. He shouldn’t have been summoned. Should I return him back to his world?”
The king took the image of the summoned knight. He was interested in nothing but drinking. “I don’t understand voices, but it’s best not to return him. Monsters,” he spoke slowly, hating himself for what he was about to do, “Comes in many forms.”
King Atla stood and made his way to the drunken knight. He must indeed have strong powers for suppress himself with spirit. The thought of what this man would be like if he wasn’t a drunken fool worried him. “I think it’s best we let this monster die with *his* monsters. Let them forever hunt him and only him alone.” | Three unblemished eggs, tail of newt, and the lifeblood of an unshorn virgin, mixed together in a vessel forged by a mute smith. My sole apprentice, Percival, etched the requisite markings around the vessel as I gathered my power.
Concentrating, I focused on the goal: A savior, a hero, someone to rid us of The Enemy. One resilient enough to withstand our foe's formidable mind-bending presence, one cunning enough to avoid the deadly traps lurking below, and one strong enough to defeat the vile beast in combat.
Dozens of us had ventured below the city in a vain attempt at confronting The Enemy. Individually or in groups, it made no difference. I myself had journeyed down accompanied by the bravest and strongest of His Majesty's knights: Sir Jornel, the Righteous. Together, we wove sorcery and swordplay cutting through the denizens of the deep, but alas we could go no further. We retreated, wounded, chased by the hounds of hell itself. In the struggle with a foul helbeast, my hand was torn off, left behind in the murky depths. But I was lucky, for Ser Jornel had not left at all.
Covered in blood, aching, I turned my sorcery to one last ditch effort. This spell was dangerous and unpredictable. It could be our savior or it could be the means of our ruin. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and so I began gathering components for the spell.
As the arcane forces surged through my body, I channeled them into the vessel. Raw, untamed power crackled from within my body, rising through my flesh in violent waves of energy. I could feel blood trickling down my face as I poured my power into the summoning. But it was too much. With one final scream, I surrendered my hold, and felt the energies spiraling out of control.
I collapsed to the ground, grasping onto the unyielding stone in failure, as a man materialized in front of me. What, in my failure, had I summoned? The man was large, taller than me by a head and easily five stone heavier. His brutish, furrowed brow loomed over his wide eyes. He was extremely dirty, mud-caked and covered in foliage. And the smell, by Jove!
Percival wrinkled his nose and motioned towards the man. "It doth appear you have summoned more ape than man. Surely this is not our savior!"
The man swiveled his head, looking towards my apprentice. His mouth pulled back in a snarl. "What the fuck did you just fucking say about me you little bitch..." | 2020-11-10T19:06:15 | 2020-11-10T18:41:44 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] You've always been around your best friend. He used to be a lonely kid, but he's slowly starting to become popular. Others talk to him, but keep ignoring you. One day, to your horror, you realize that you're just his imaginary friend. | Bob was my best friend. We grew up pretty much together. I was always hanging out with him at his house. His parents were cool and didn't mind. My parents were always working, so they didn't mind my being over there.
In Elementary school, we were just thick as thieves. We didn't have any other friends, but that was okay, because we just got each other. In 6th grade, Bob joined the school band. My parents couldn't afford any instruments for me, so I didn't join. We thought that would be great, because it might be our path to popularity.
Bob played trumpet. He was one of 4 kids chosen to play that instrument. It was fun watching him practice in his room. His parents were very encouraging and supportive. Bob was really good, a natural. He told me his band director felt he might even be a prodigy! Wow, popularity was incoming, I could feel it!
Well, it was for one of us.
I noticed that Bob only talked to me before school on our walk to school until he met up with one of the other band members, then he just IGNORED me. I didn't talk to him during our walks when Billy had joined us walking. I don't know if we knew that Billy lived in our neighborhood.
Bob used to talk to me between classes and at lunch, but it seems that was getting more and more rare. He was always busy with his new friends in band. Heck even kids outside of band started to notice him, especially after the first concert that Fall. He was getting quite popular, even with... GIRLS.
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I showed up one night at his house and tried to bring this up. I was hurt that he didn't talk to me any more, but I think I understood finally one night when he told Billy who was over with him eating supper that he wasn't always this 'cool' and was really waiting on the other shoe to drop. Billy casually mentioned, that people were worried about him in elementary school because he always talked to himself in two distinct voices. Bob laughed that off.
"Yeah, I used to have an imaginary friend..." He looked right at me standing next to the table. "Well, he helped me through some odd times, but hey, aren't we all a little odd at times? "
I nodded, then I understood. I wasn't real, or perhaps, he didn't think I was real. I was real. I picked up the bowl of potatoes from the table and threw them against the wall. The resounding smash felt and sounded good. But... the next instant, the bowl was intact, on the table, unmoved. Bob looked at me again.
"It's natural to have the conversations with other parts of your mind. I think Dr. Edmunds, our band director, says that's why I'm so gifted musically. I am really 'in tune' with my whole brain."
"But what does that make me, Bob?" I said slowly as I started to get uncomfortably nervous.
He didn't even look at me while saying to Billy, "Oddly enough, I still hear him sometimes in my head."
The world went dark.
"Hey, old friend... are you around?" I hadn't heard Bob speak for ages. I hadn't seen him in ages either. I didn't recognize him, or where we were. He was lying in a bed, he had gotten old. There were people all around him. I guess these were his family members, He looked right at me in the corner of the room. He let go of the hand he was holding in his right hand and waved me closer. "I need you to help me up. I'm sorry I quit talking to you." His voice was just a whisper. I think he was having a hard time talking. I walked over and took his hand. Oddly, I was bigger now, no longer an 11 year old. Where did my time go? Memories flooded back of Bob making it through school as one of the popular kids. Heck, he was leader of the band. He went to college and found work, married, had children. Those children and their children were here, in this hospital room.
"Let's get out of here. They've told me it's Okay to go." He pulled on my arm, and I helped him up from the bed. Well, that's odd, I could still see old him laying there, but a younger version of him was standing next to me. "Let's go find more adventures, I'm sorry I didn't speak to you for so long.".
"I think I understand. I'm glad I was here for you, when you needed me." | "Hey, Lily, can you pass me the -," Jade stops mid sentence and stares at me with a look I can't describe. She shakes herself out of a trance of sorts and gets up, "Nevermind I'll get it myself,"
I frown, "What's wrong?"
My eyes follow her as she walks towards the can of paint standing a few feet away from me.
"Nothing's wrong," she answers as she carries the ocean blue paint back to where I'm sitting on the ground
"I could've gotten that you know? I was closer," I say.
She doesn't meet my eyes and instead of replying she opens the paint and dips in a paintbrush.
I study her for a second, trying to grasp onto an idea, a thought that seemed just out of reach. I shake my head. No use in dwelling on thoughts my mind can't seem to reach.
I grab my own paintbrush and start covering the old cream with a new, strong blue.
Jade's always been quiet, this isn't strange behaviour, I try to reassure myself. But something's different, wrong.
It's the summer before junior year. I suggested we decorate the new room. Or was it Jade's idea?
Either way, we're painting the one wall an ocean blue and -
I feel Jade's gaze on me, I turn to meet her eyes and that's when I know that something big is on her mind.
Her eyes flicker from me to the brush in my hand to the paint on the wall. Suddenly she yells, jumping up and pushing over the paint can too.
She paces and pulls her hair, mumbling to herself. I get up, my eyes wide with shock.
"Jade?" I approach her slowly.
She shakes her head and keeps mumbling to herself.
"Jade?!" I'm closer now and her words become clearer.
"She's not real. She's not real. She's not real." She keeps repeating it and my fear grows.
"Who's not real? Jade you're scaring me!" The tears form in my eyes and my voice cracks.
She turns around and for the first time I see the tears streaming down her face," You're not real!"
I freeze.
"Wh-what?"
She puts her hands on my shoulders," When I was eight, my best friend died. Her name was Lily - ,"
"No," I shake my head, refusing to believe what I was hearing.
"The day she died, you were born," she continues, "They say I recreated her, created you, to deal with the grief. It's amazing really, you still have all her memories, the ones I knew about, anyway. You have her personality, you even look exactly like her-,"
"Stop," I meet her gaze, "How long have you known?"
She hesitates, but eventually she answers, "A month or so,"
I wrap my arms around myself, "Why didn - why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want to-," she starts.
My head snaps up, "Didn't I have the right to know?! Don't I get to be informed? How would you feel, Jade, if I told you, you weren't real?"
I sink down to my knees, "Because you say, I'm nothing but a figment of your imagination, but have you ever thought that maybe you're just a figment of mine?"
The realisation hits me like cold water.
I look up and Jade's smiling down at me. She crouches and engulfs me in a hug.
She whispers, "You'd never tell me I'm not real. Because you've never accepted it yourself. I figured it out on my own, though,"
I wrap my arms around her,"Jade..."
I feel her tears on my shoulder. I tighten my grip, and my own eyes soak her t-shirt, "Please don't go,"
She shakes her head, "I have to, Lily. It's time-" she takes a deep, shaky breath, "it's time for you to change the world,"
I feel her dissapear out of my grip.
Out of my life.
And out of existence. | 2019-10-08T08:36:15 | 2019-10-08T08:21:14 | 46 | 15 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story. | Kimberly was a lower goddess, a dying breed oft forgotten in favor of the major gods.
Born from the loins of two once-powerful gods, she had hope in her heart that she would one day rise beyond even their fame. With her beauty, she believed she deserved something more. Something grand.
So she toiled, working underneath a goddess who teased her to no end. Yet she pursued, learning their secrets and slowly but surely working her way up through their ranks. And then she had an idea.
“If my beauty is my shining asset,” she proclaimed, “I will show the world and they will love me for that.”
So she devised a brilliant plan – bewitch a god of sports and copulate on the highest mountain, Internet. There, she would give the show of her life under the guise of being unaware of anyone watching. Little did they know, she was the master behind the entire session.
And when Kimberly had reached orgasm, all the men across the land took notice of her. She snuck into their prayers, filling them with dreams of lust. In response, her number of follows increased a hundredfold over night.
She had reached a new level of godhood.
But Kimberly’s quest was far from done. Her next goal was simple – rise even further. And she did, continually staying in the eyes of those who loved her as she made one terrible mistake after another. Her form changed, growing even more beautiful.
After years of working, she found another way to increase her followers. She married Kayne of the West, a god lauded for his unique music. Despite his massive ego and her manipulative ways, the two found solace in each other. They were compatible for each other and would remain that way until they died.
Kimberly had a child with Kayne, a young girl who would not only inherit the Western Lands from her father but also the North, gifted by her mother. Thus, she was known to the people as “North West”, her true name hidden away in the annals of history. Legend has it, those who speak it inherit her limitless power.
Kimberly and Kayne took North West and locked her away, fearful of what the people who would do to expose her true nature. Still, they loved her as much as parents could. Kimberly spoke of her every movement while Kayne sung from the heavens of her beauty. The family of three had done it. They had taken the world by storm and gained everyone’s attention.
And thus is the story of Kimberly, a goddess of meager backgrounds who became one of the most powerful goddesses of all time. | Once upon a time, there was a man who owned a tavern with his sister. Times had been bad in the city where he lived, so he had decided to come home and live closer to his mother, who was very ill. With him, he brought the fairest princess in all the land. She had long golden hair and a radiant face, with a smile that could light up the entire room. She had married him long ago, falling in love with his laughter and the way he waltzed through life.
Bringing her home to his mother and his sister was the worst thing he could have done. The princess shrunk down and withered in the cold lands, cut off from all of her former friends and without the luxuries to which she had become accustomed. Her heart grew small and cold too, losing all the love she had once held for her husband, who had grown unfaithful.
So the princess decided to run away, and she decided to punish the man who had taken her away from her family and her riches. The golden-haired princess coloured her hair brown, and cut it, and disguised herself so that no-one would be able to tell it was her. In the cottage she shared with her unfaithful husband, she left a pool of blood and a note that painted her as a terrified wife.
The husband was suspected of killing his wife immediately, and once the townspeople discovered he was unfaithful, it was seen as certain. The princess lived amongst the common people, but was robbed and betrayed by those she trusted. She turned to the last friend that remained to her, in desperation.
The last friend betrayed her too. He tried to keep her prisoner against her will, changing her back into the princess she had originally been. Her golden hair grew back and she transformed. To escape from her captivity, she fought her friend and won.
The princess returned home to her husband, who promised to never be unfaithful again. They lived happily ever after. | 2015-06-10T07:06:32 | 2015-06-10T06:53:17 | 158 | 16 |
[WP] An angry vampire uses slang from the last 500 years and doesn't even try to keep it all straight anymore. | "So, I had intercouse with Bill this morning."
I paused, with my hand still clicking on the mouse, and span around in my seat to see the thin, pale face of the New Guy from I.T. He stared at me and blinked calmly, like he hadn't just announced he was fucking our boss.
"Um," I said.
"He was quite worked up, ejaculating wildly," said the New Guy. He sighed, and walked up to me. I slid my chair back quickly to put some distance between us. "He wouldn't stop shouting about how you aren't receiving any emails as of late."
"Y-you guys were talking about my email while you--?"
"Quite intensely, in fact," said the new guy. He smiled at me, and while this was far from the strangest thing about the man, I couldnt help but notice how ling and thin his teeth were. "Well, anyway, after that, I knocked up Molly--"
"What?"
"I said, I KNOCKED UP MOLLY, and she confirmed you were having this issue. So after we hooked up, I came to find you to see if I can help with the emails."
"The emails?" I echoed hollowly.
He tilted his head. "I could help you wuth something else if you need it," he offered.
"No, no," I said quickly, jumping frm my chair and away from him. "I'll just, uh, bugger off while you do that."
The man's eyes widened to the size of plate saucers. "Why! I never!" he said. "What kind of deviant are you?" | YOllof entered the bar with quite a stagger and captivated his staring onlookers with an intro only fit for the angriest vampire in all of Bosh-Shof. "What you all dicking at? Shall I break out the anointing and leave you all with a phat blinker?", he asked as he showed his fangs and rolled up his sleeves. They all turned and looked away, but one fellow occupying the closest barstool stood up and asked "Just what the fuck is it that I am looking at?". "You have some nerve you Hobbadehoy, now sit down and zip your bone box before I prepare you a nice earth bath and pop you in that shiz'.", YOllof responded. He then moved on as if nothing had happened and proceeded to sit and drink for what seemed like a month of sundays, to all those around him, just babbling obscenities that were somewhat understandable, but most of it just seemed like funny lingo. | 2016-01-08T13:17:08 | 2016-01-08T09:14:08 | 48 | 20 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | I walked down the rather crowded hallway, trying to get to my locker before Maths class so I could get my textbooks for the rest of the day There was a small line of students winding almost in singlefile through the people standing by their lockers. I was, as usual, trying to just stay out of the way.
Just because my Dad happened to be the head of the Heroes League, everyone always thought I'd be just as gifted. No such luck for me, but my younger brother was already showing signs of several gifts.
I was almost at my locker when a large wall suddenly appeared in front of me. Chris, aka IronFist, had always been one of the more aggressive towards me, but fear of my Dad usually kept things from going to far.
"Look, if it isn't the wimp." His nickname for me was as intelligent as he was.
"Sorry, excuse me, I just want to get by" I said, ducking to try and get around him. He was about twice as wide as me so that was not easy as he moved to keep me from passing.
"Who said you could move!" he yelled, stepping back into the rapidly opening hallway behind him as everyone moved back from the noise. "I dont care who you are related to, you don't belong here wimp."
A ring was forming around us, as if they were expecting a fight, not an uncommon event but everyone knew I couldn't do anything so this was going to be big. A glance around showed me the closest people to me were all his cronies. This was planned.
"Sorry" I said again moving towards my locker just to my right side. "I just need my Maths book and I'll go."
This is where Chris laughed. "He thinks he can leave" Chris said over my head. Not hard as I only was as tall as his shoulder.
"Fine, what do you want?"
"I want you out of here, maybe a broken arm will teach you."
I knew it was time. I thanked my lucky stars he decided to do this by my locker. I reached in one of my pockets and grabbed a small remote and put my finger on the only button and backed up to my locker. Predictably Chris reached out towards me, his hands glossy steel. I hit the button and ducked.
BAM!
His hands both shot forward, hitting the metal door of my locker.
"What the hell?" He struggled to pull his hands back but they were stuck to the locker door, right next to the rather large electromagnet i had turned on.
I quickly opened my locker door, while he was busy trying to figure out why he couldn't move. Right after I grabbed my books he shoved the door closed again.
"The hell did you do to me, loser" he yelled again. I saw his first minion, Josh, moving forward, sparks flying from his fingertips. I pulled a small copper wire from my long sleeved hoodie and pointed it at the sparks. The following shock hit Josh more than me as all the electricty went down the shielded wire down to the bottom of my shoe.
"Wanna try that again?" I asked, but he was too stunned to respond.
One more person stepped out of the ring, and I recognized Jessica, Chris' girlfriend. She was a "runner" and I pulled out of yet another pocke a small test tube half filled with a metallic liquid and put my other hand on the stopper.
"You ever see a runner get hit with QuickSilver?" I asked. I knew it was mercury but the old fashioned name was the point. "You will start moving and never be able to stop until you starve to death. Not a pretty sight."
"Why dont you just leave" she asked.
"It's my school too." I shrugged. "I didn't ask to come here either. But I am prepared and ready for any of you. The one thing I do have is information. I use that to be prepred for anything that any of you can dish out. Dirt to stop the wind walkers and invisibles, rubbing alcohol for the freezers, and i have my clothes all lined with copper for the electrics. The rest are even worse. You dont want to try me." Even Chris was quiet at that.
"Now, I think you are all late for class." I said as I walked away, leaving Chris stuck to the metal locker doors. | I had one bully, in the 12 years spent training at SSG. I remember him quite well. He had easily the most interesting, yet balanced powers available. He could fly, make energy, lift 3 Abrams tanks over his shoulder, and was able to change the secretions on his skin to match any known material. He got the nickname "Profit" after he singlehandedly charged the city's power grid after a blackout, while making silicone chunks with appraisal values in the thousands.
Back then, I didn't stand out. no funny business, no elaborate contraptions, nothing. In a school of supers, sat one normal child. Me. And the first one to notice was Profit.
I was clearing my locker, aiming for more space without looking like a neat freak. When the locker was finally finished, I shut the door and locked eyes with him.
"Out of everyone in this entire school, I've seen so many different powers. Telekinesis, teleportation, blood magic, hell, I even saw one kid turn into a golem." He said with as much pride as he could muster.
Looking back, Rockifier was so much happier in his school days. So was Monstrum.
"And yet, out of all of the students, not once have I, or anyone for that matter, seen your power. Now why is that?"
I shrugged. Deep down I had a feeling why, but if it was true, then why was I marked positive on every test I was given.
"I guess it hasn't manifested yet." I said with a slightly somber tone. My work with the locker satisfied, I turned and walked away. "Maybe one day everyone will see it."
Next thing I knew, my face connected with what is now Dreamcaster's locker. By now, most people in the hallway were powering up in an attempt to either break up the fight, or make it worse. Clearly he didn't like what I just said.
"Did I fucking say you could leave?"
I spat out before properly thinking "it was implied. Don't you know how conversations work?"
Pain ricocheted through my head as I felt his energy bouncing around at dangerous levels.
"Don't act smart with me, you powerless piece of shit! Now here's the deal, smartass, you're gonna take a test right in front of me, and I'm gonna find out one way or another how useless you truly are."
Somewhere, deep within, something clicked. Like a puzzle piece or a wire that just got plugged in.
Just then, one of the teachers launched Profit off of me into the concrete wall on the other side.
"Hey, you ok?" Said one of the other students. She ended up becoming IV, one of the top medical supers to ever exist.
"I'm... I'm fine, I think... Just a little scorched." I replied as I pointed at the now fried hair on the side of my head.
"You! What did you do?!?"
Suddenly, and very much without warning, the teacher, Profit, and everyone else was looking... At me.
"I, uh, wait what?"
"Boy, look at me, what did you do to Profit?" The teacher said with all the seriousness of someone who just watched another man die.
"What do you mean, what did I do? He just threw me into a locker and shocked my head! How is this my fault?"
The teacher looked angry for a second, then realized what I thought he said
"Oh, no, not that, we all saw him attack you. But that's not the issue here..."
"Then what is it?"
The entire school pointed back at Profit. By him was a guard who had a test in his hand... A negative test.
So yeah. I had a bully. And then I didn't. | 2022-11-02T11:50:38 | 2022-11-02T10:58:22 | 162 | 50 |
[WP] You are an office worker in NYC in the year of 1999. You go for a cigarette break, but the elevator stops working and you get trapped in it for 2h. As the doors finally open, you walk out and see a brand new lobby, people holding thin digital cards and big screen TV's. It's the year 2018. | Jessica hated smoking weed in private. Weed was supposed to be like alcohol, something you could take freely and in public, with friends and families at public parties or at the bar, with no fear of getting busted, or judged as a druggie. What was the point of weed at all if you could only take it secretly and cautiously? Didn’t that take the fun out of it completely?
She’s leaving work, 4 pm sunlight spilling into the carpeted hallway from large corporate windows. From an open office doorway, someone shouts “Thank God it’s Friday!” followed by a ghostly wailing of the latest energetic Britney Spears song. Thank God indeed, Jessica thinks, as she presses a button to summon the elevator, because the first thing she was going to do when she got to her apartment was smoke a joint, to relieve the stress accumulated during the week: never-ending calculations and error-checking, a drab job hopefully robots in the future would pick up.
When its doors slide shut, the elevator begins its 30 storey descent, and Jessica wearily closes her eyes, opening them immediately when there’s a strange sound, a groan she’s never heard in her 5 years at the company building. When a sharp clanking follows, she freezes. No, she thinks, with amused fright. This can’t be happening to her. Not after a dreadful week like this.
But it *is* happening to her and, for a moment, she is unmoving in disbelief, staring at the “18” above the elevator doors that tells her she’s well above ground level. Then, coming out of her petrification, and taking deep breaths, she presses the elevator alarm button: a faint, distant sound that instantaneously follows tells her someone has probably been notified. She sits on the floor, wincing at the cold from the metal floor permeating her skirt. As the minutes drag by in total silence, her head begins to droop onto her chest and an hour or two later, she jerks awake to the sound of the elevator resuming its slow crawl downwards.
She adjusts her skirt, tucks a strand of hair behind an ear. A song comes on, Spanish, the male voice seductive and restrained, *something something Des.Pah.Sito*. Vaguely, she thinks of her previous lover, how he’d left her because he couldn’t be with a “druggie”, a word he’d tossed around at least 15 times during his heated breakup speech to her.
When the doors open, and in her eagerness to get out of the elevator, she doesn’t immediately notice the building looks very different: new floor tiles, the fountain at the centre of the reception area now a marble doe instead of a naked granite man. It’s only when she’s by the exit that she notices there’s a new receptionist, new guards, and a large, fancy security camera over the exit that looks like it came straight from the future.
•
Jessica sits on the toilet in her mother’s bathroom, smoke from her joint curling lazily to the ceiling. It’s past midnight and everyone in the house - her uncles and aunts, her cousins and their spouses who flew all the way from Australia to see her - is asleep. Weed may be legal now, but it’s still a topic of taboo, something that hasn’t been embraced fully. She can’t afford to be seen, especially with the unflinching attention her family, her neighbors, and America as a whole are giving her. The girl who mysteriously vanished in November 1999, who suddenly reappeared 2 weeks ago in 2018 at the place she was last seen, who has been of intense national and international interest, cannot be seen smoking a joint. Or else stories will be made.
| "Excuse me. Can you help me?", asked Ryan, trying his best to appear collected.
"Hey Ryan!", squealed the girl behind the lobby desk. "I thought you had left for home"
&#x200B;
The girl looked strangely familiar but you couldn't quite place her face. "Hey Martha!" boomed a familiar but an impossible voice.
The voice was your own.
&#x200B;
*Did...Did I just speak? How do I know that girl? And why does this place look so familiar?*
&#x200B;
"Yeah. It seems like I forgot my lunch box at my table. Don't want to give the Mrs. a chance to pick up a fight now, do we?"
&#x200B;
You had realised what was happening. *No that can't be true. I refuse to believe this.*
This was a story you had seen a thousand times. And every time, you had woken up in a sweat.
*But this doesn't feel like a dream. This... this feels real.*
The dream never played out the same way. It let you make your own choices. It almost felt like it was training you. Every night you'd make a different choice but none of it ever well. Well until of course...
&#x200B;
"Hey Martha, can i ask you for a big favour?"
"Sure Ryan."
"Do you by any chance have the keys to Mr. Vedil's office? He was supposed to hand me back a report today but I guess he forgot"
"Ummmm..... Well I am not supposed to...."
"Oh come on. You've known me for how long now?"
&#x200B;
*Dammit. That wasn't the exact line. Just say and do whatever you did last night, idiot.*
You had no idea what was going on. But it felt important that you stick to that winning dream.
&#x200B;
"Well. ok... I guess I can let you. But make sure no one see's you. You know I can be in real trouble if anyone else sees you"
"Will do. You are the best"
&#x200B;
*Nice. It worked!*
&#x200B;
You quickly head to Vedil's office, taking an indirect path lest someone sees you making a beeline for Vedil's office.
Key. Turn. Click.
*Woohoo. We're in baby!*
And just as you were about to shut the door someone stops it open.
"Ryan! I THOUGHT I saw you! What are you doing here?"
*Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is not how it went. This is not how it went at all...*
\--------------------------
&#x200B;
Part 1/x. Will continue if you guys are excited.
P.S: Hey guys, this is my first time here in WP. Saw the blank slate and took my chance. This is my first time writing a story, ever! Also i am not a native speaker. So if you find any mistakes please excuse me. Also, I'd LOVE to hear some feedback | 2018-11-25T06:27:03 | 2018-11-25T06:10:57 | 48 | 14 |
[WP] In order to solve the climate crisis, humanity shrinks itself down to ant size people. Generations pass, and eventually we forget that we were once giants. A group of humans decide to go exploring and stumbles upon the ruins of an ancient, huge city... | This is the story of the day we found the City of Giants. Prophets began to spread the word amongst our people that this would be the redemption of us all. They were wrong:
We were walking on one our monthly excursions. Few men from my home city were brave enough for such trips. I knew each of them personally. Aside from me, there was Tom, Carl, John, Kamil, Ishmael, Kenny, Kalau, and Marcus. The first four trips were serious. We had been explorers searching for the new world as our farm town ran out of resources.
They'd become an excuse to get together and have a few drinks. Gossip about the news on the town. Laugh about the people whose crops had failed. The only danger was, of course, insect attacks. Beetles were ferocious but tended to ignore us humans. Ants could be dangerous in groups. The ant ranks had been thinned by ancient historical events.
This trip was not like the others. Kenny had suffered some issues at home. He'd convinced us to go on an extended trip. We walked further into the forests than ever before. We also had more drinks. On the third drink of the day and the twentieth of the trip, we made the discovery that changed everything.
In front of us, looming larger than life, was a city made for giants. It was crumbling. It was clear that these giants hadn't been around for millennia or more. We argued with each other about who was brave enough to venture into the giant city. The answer was not a soul. Or so we thought.
After our return trip, word had quickly spread about the city of giants. Many people believed it could save those who were suffering the worst crops in memory. Many people believed we could discover new materials. New technologies. Some believed that could change our agriculture forever. A soul or two dared to whisper that we were the giants. We laughed at them.
Personally, I was taking the time to keep my eye on the group. I worried that what we saw could change some of us. I wasn't convinced it would be a pleasant shift. I was right.
One day, Kenny's crops failed. It strained his already difficult marriage. He was happy to tell us all about it at a group meeting. The meeting concluded with a decision to wait before pursuing anything. People were afraid. They had reason. Kenny was angry but none of us expected to strike out on his own.
By some stroke of good fortune, I saw him sneaking past my house late in the evening. I gathered Kalau and Marcus to my side because I knew they were the only ones brave enough to go with. We followed Kenny into the woods.
As suspected, he made his way as fast as he could move to the city of giants. We were able to follow him without being detected. It took several days, but Kenny was angry. He stormed through the woods leaving obvious tracks. Good fortune.
When Kenny reached the city, he whirled in like a rainstorm and began to search the city. The large buildings gave us plenty of cover as we made our way through the city. Kenny found something. I don't know how he knew. But he must have known. Maybe it was the state of the building.
He found the most pristine building in the city. I have no idea how it was able to stay together so well. Scrolled across the top were the words "E-M-E-R-G-E-N-C-Y" and "O-N-L-Y". Kalau, Marcus, and I watched from the doorway as he entered the center of the room. There was some weird machine that none of us had ever seen. It was pristine, too.
Kenny somehow knew how to activate the machine. We opened our mouths in shock as we watched Kenny start to grow in size. He hit the size of a beetle, but he didn't stop growing for a second. We were afraid. It didn't seem like something that our friend could survive. No one wanted to witness. We ran.
Kalau, Marcus, and I were quiet after we returned to the city. Days passed. It got to the point where we believed that the machine had truly ruined our friend. That he was never coming back. We informed his wife of his fate and met disappointment. She seemed unaffected. Kenny returned.
Kenny, in his new giant form, smiled down upon the whole city. I could see him looming large over everyone. He blotted out the sun. As a cold smile crossed his face, I realized every trace of my friend was gone.
"Every one of you works for me now. The first person to disobey me get crushed like an ant," the giant declared. "You'll all be growing giant food for me now."
Kenny didn't realize that others had seen his transformation process at a distance. All we needed to do was sneak off to the machine. The risks, however, were crushing. | "It's toying with us!" Dayal squealed in his typical pitch.
"I thought journalists had spines, war zones, and all that." The mercenary checked the wrist ropes were right before he started slowly sharpening his hooks again the whetstone back of the handles.
The metal sang as another batting blow struck down on the hull of the transport, then two more. The massive vehicle listed before the port treads caught soil again.
"She'll hold," the seedy Southeind captain said, spitting gar to the foredeck as emphasis. "She's ridden through bigger beasts than that."
The mercenary chuckled. "Trying to convince him or yourself? Felinaurs aren't the biggest out there but they're tenacious and they love small targets."
"There's a reason these wilds aren't explored. I told you this would happen. Look at that thing on the monitor. It's the size of an apartment complex!" Dayal was pacing, doing little more than getting in the way.
The mercenary sheathed his hooks just before another blow knocked the transport sideways with a groaning snap of cables. He notched his feet under the rungs of the ladder and let himself swing as the recording equipment flew all around them.
"Do something! You said this hunk of junk could make it to the city! No problem you said!" Dayal screamed as he slammed against the wall, covered now in whatever colorful drink he had been sipping. "Is this what you call no problem!"
The captain's leg was bending the wrong way but he was still trying to claw his way back to the wheel. "She's self-righting, just hold onto something while I level her!"
The mercenary looked at the monitor, expressions iced. Two long paws filled the screen. Rapid scraping blows hammered into the hull. He saw a rather important-looking piece go flying on the monitor.
"It's gutting! The ship's lost!" the researcher yelled, crawling from the other room. Her face was quickly gushing blood from a wide gash just above her eye.
The hull dented in. Two long claws tented before tearing through the fifth hair steel armor. With a rip, the entire roof of the ship flew off. The rainstorm was relentless as the thunder screamed outside. The torrent ran droplets down the wide muscled leg of the Felinaur stretching up and out of sight. The mercenary caught a look at the leviathan's face, contorted back in a hunter's rage.
He steeled himself as he whipped out his hooks with a practiced spin. He started running towards the hole, timing his jump just as the foot the size of a car approached again.
"What the hell is he doing!?" Dayal asked behind him. There was no time to answer.
The beast hissed like a dragon as the mercenary launched through the air. Both blades sunk deep and easy into the coarse fur. He began climbing. If he could reach the head, he could kill it.
Just as he was resinking the left hook, the beast howled, loud as artillery fire. The wind blasted all around him as the Felinaur bolted. Each stride of the massive animal was a teeth-shaking slam. White knuckled on the handles, he was still slipping. He needed at least upon its back.
He risked a look back. He couldn't see the transport through the storm. The jungle was thick but the felinaur bounded at a full sprint.
"Where we headed, Jack?" The mercenary felt a filling coming loose as he swung again. He slowly climbed up the orange patch of fur. He could see a hole ahead of the beast's path. It looked to be carved in impossibly large concrete.
"Shit," was all he managed before the felinaur squeezed through the hole, knocking the mercenary against the side. He fell for what felt like minutes before landing in a raging river.
He frantically swam to the surface as he played for his life jacket strap, rapidly extending air to keep him up.
The storm cleared just as the river took him to a bright area, mostly free of the canopy.
He started up and up to what he thought was a tree, disappearing into the sky. It was covered in trees twisting around it but it was a building, a skyscraper of the old world just as the researcher had promised.
He looked around to see the uneven ground where each building just as wide. The lost city of giants sprawled out in all directions. He had lost his hooks, his supplies, his flares. He began ripping his shirt and wrapping the cut on his leg. Maybe he could fashion a spear?
He had stumbled on the legend of the old world, but he'd be damned if he was going to die here.
/r/surinical | 2021-06-30T12:10:06 | 2021-06-30T09:43:59 | 104 | 29 |
[WP] Two planets come within range of eachother every 300 years. There is always an ensuing war that lasts the 5 days that the planets are close enough. Each side can only guess at what new technology the other has built since the last time. | The Alignment. It had always been this way. Every generation knew of it, but none now lived to remember the last occurrence.
My generation was the latest Soldier Generation. From the time we could walk we were taught tactics, weapons skills, and physical training. A cloud hung over our lives like the storm clouds that hung over The Hive; the enemy planet that would be descending upon us. We were a generation that knew the date of our deaths before we breathed our first breath. We didn't celebrate birthdays, we trained. We didn't fall in love, we trained. Our idea of childhood fun was giving your training partner a fat lip and a broken bone.
We were cold. We were ready. No matter what technology they had developed since the last time we saw them, we would win. Or so we thought...
As the year of The Alignment approached, our astronomers scratched their heads in confusion; The Hive was gone. Soldier Generation waited anxiously; our sinews ready to snap into action, our souls ready to depart to the resting grounds. We longed to join the other generations before us. A glorious death.
But The First Day of Alignment came... and went. As did the second. The third, then the fifth. Our steely eyes watched the dark between the stars as we were deafened by the silence of the cosmos. On the sixth day, we learned the extent of their tech.
For 300 years we developed ferocious weaponry; high tech pulse lasers, satellite systems that could carpet the dark side of the moon in death, children that knew nothing but the thrill of the hunt.
For 300 years they created a cloaking device.
The Hive shifted into view as it passed out of reach, the city lights taunting us; flickering like the coins in a wishing well we had never thrown. We watched as our purpose in life drifted away with the plodding pace of gravity. | [second time posting. please be nice - C&C welcome]
Our land and their land, that was all we heard for the last three lunar months. We were the Ying and Yang of planets, external philosophers said. We brushed off these words, for we did not know their meaning. We do not know when the fighting started, for it was an eternity ago.
our planets orbited the same bright flaming sun, it was the same sun that beat down on each persons back, the same sun that brought warmth to each planet and death to each planet. our fighting continued every 300 standard years when our planets circled each other. We all looked straight up, feeling the harsh black sand between our toes, transferring the heat from our sun up our legs, staring at the blindingly white planet above us. We all felt the force of gravity shift as the five day celestial dance began. At the same time some of us were hoping into the fighters that we had designed. With very little force they fell of the planet. WE were told that from above it looked like ichor dripping off the planet falling into the other planets gravity. As our planets spun around and around their white ships fought our black ships in the chaotic dance.
And all was in balance. | 2015-05-26T20:36:04 | 2015-05-26T14:35:20 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | The *Sunseeker*'s control room was dead silent except for the low *beep-beep-beep* of the deep space radar. The screen lights flashed a dim blue against the vast blankness of space, but nothing else moved, or breathed in the cavernous space.
A line of blue light appeared in the middle of the room, then expanded into a doorway from which stepped out three figures. If a human had still been present in the control room, they would have looked askance as the figures were too tall, too thin, and moved too fluidly to be one of their own. A living human might have been thrilled to catch their first glimpse of extraterrestrial life.
The humans in the control room, however, were far past caring the issue. Glassy eyes stared numbly at their consoles, and heads looked on fixedly, their motor muscles frozen instantly by the nerve pulse.
The first figure scanned the room for remaining traces of the weaponized blast, then sighed into its microphone.
"Looks like we got another dead crew. It seems like they still don't get it."
"Give them some credit, none of their crews has returned from a trip this long."
"Still, after sixty years of exploration? You'd think they would have given up."
One of the other figures shrugs. The movement brings its narrow shoulders all the way to the crown of its head.
"Humans will be humans. They are a stubborn species, that's for sure."
"Well, as long as it prevents them from leaving that backwater of theirs, I'm all for it."
The other figure hunches over to examine one of the dead crew members.
"Still, don't you think we should tell them by now? That their FTL drive can only decelerate up to a certain point before releasing that tachyon wave?"
"Weren't you listening? Leaving them ignorant is exactly the point. As long as they're stuck at 2c, it'll take them centuries to reach civilized space. Hopefully they'll have learned some manners by then. Bloody primitives..."
The hunched figure sighs, claps its hands together in the *macto*, then turns back to the gateway. The three aliens depart as quietly as they came.
** Three days later**
The alien ship is long gone, and the human vessel still floats in the vast expanse of space. It has waited the full three days allotted to its crew, before its automated safeguards took over.
The ship flashes blue, glowing like a briefly lived supernova, then disappears into the strange dimensions of FTL travel. After sixty years, the Human Exploration Corps finally developed a ship that could travel back to Earth on its own, and carry with it a recording of the tales of its crew. | "It is simply unsafe and foolish!" Gorthlak, the representative for the Zorknoids, complained to the council of intergalactic travel.
"It is, This we all know, but we don't think their bodies could handle any other way of faster than light travel" countered Ferlas, leader of the committee.
"If their calculations are off by even a percentage they could cause untold devastation. It is to risky, we must stop them before they destroy something important" Gorthlak explained.
Ferlas shook his eye stalks in exasperation "You haven't met the humans yet. They are ready to declare war on all of us. Their travel mechanism is also their greatest weapon. I do not believe we could stop them easily. It's to powerful. Here. Watch this video then you will understand." Ferlas activated the video screen and a blue planet appeared in the middle. The camera zoomed in on a country until it started to focus on something barely ten feet tall.
A great beast of a humanoid was stomping around. He was ten feet tall and was made entirely out of muscle. His speech was stunted and he seemed to growl more than anything else, but he walked over towards a small space ship and grasped it by a handle built onto it for this very purpose. The space ship was much larger than this man and weighed over a hundred tons, but he picked it up like it was nothing.
Once the ship was off the ground, a large red arrow appeared on the ground. The man walked over until he stood on the tail, and started to spin in a circle. He spun for nearly a minute before stopping and throwing the ship at the same time. The ship disappeared almost immediately. The camera quickly scrolled out of view from the planet until the ship came back into focus, it was moving at half again light speed.
"What do they call this technology?" Gorthlak stuttered in a hushed voice.
Ferlas simply replied. "The hulk." | 2017-03-31T13:02:22 | 2017-03-31T06:55:10 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] Spirit animals are real, but extremely secretive-- they are said to only appear in the most joyous times or in the darkest of hours. Except for geese. Geese do what they like. | I lift my head from the bush I am resting in, and I honk. My human is currently in bed right now, and I can tell she's pissed, though I can't imagine why, it's 7:30 in the morning, if anything I let her sleep in, she should be grateful! As she groans I fly off to the nearby park, her suffering isn't my problem, even if I CAN sense it. After fighting with another spirit goose for the bread that man gives us, I waddle over to the bus stop to scream at the neighbor's cat and check in on my human. Currently, she's nursing a cup of coffee and an aspirin, I'm clearly getting sloppy, I could have sworn I hid that better. As she walks out of the house to start her day, I'm there, having drug the garden hose all over the lawn. As she draws breath to yell at me, I simply honk and run away. She knows I can fly, but seeing that she can't catch me anyways makes her angrier.
Next on my to-do list, I go visit the non-cat neighbor, walking right through her foxglove and orchids and making sure to trample them. With a glorious honk, I call her out from the house, and her spirit animal, a Great Dane, comes down from the stars with a shine in her moment of need, to save her from her greatest enemy. I puff myself up and run at him, hissing, and he runs back into the house, tail between his legs. In my unsurprising victory, I feast upon the peas and lettuce that she was growing in her garden, the woman shouting in anger and yelling at me. I don't care.
It is a beautiful day here in the village, and I am a horrible goose. | *HONK*
"Fucking... God... DAMMIT"
Startled you jump forward. You absentmindedly reach out attempting to throttle the joke of a spirit animal you had been cursed with, knowing you'll never make a connection
Frank (that's the name you gave this disembodied goose that seems to follow you around) has been following you as long as you can remember.
He's only around on the neutral days. The day of your wedding he was suspiciously absent. Same with the day you got... *HONK* divorced.
You take another step, and another swing at his smug goose face. Can geese be smug? Don't know but Frank sure fucking is.
You sigh. Probably won't be getting that raise today then. Just another boring day.
*HOOOOOOONK*
That last one was suspiciously ungoose-like. You turn just in time to a car wrap the light pole you had been leaning against. You look at Frank.
*HONK* he shakes his tail feathers happily.
"Thanks, Frank"
Another boring day. Kinda comforting really. | 2020-04-03T01:34:35 | 2020-04-02T20:38:40 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] When your university announces they are going to bury a time capsule for 100 years you decide to include a USB drive with a super-high resolution copy of your brain just for fun. The last thing you remember is going into an MRI to be scanned before waking up and being told it's a century later. | “So they’re all gone?” I asked, flinching once more at the strange voice that spoke the words. “Everyone I knew?”
“No,” said the nearest doctor. “Not everyone.”
My insides were churning, as though a maelstrom raged inside of me. I found it hard to focus on anything. The lights in the room were blinding, pure and bright like the sun, gleaming off the white walls and medical instruments.
“Who… who is left?”
“Your sister. She’s waiting outside. If you’ll just—“
I struggled to sit up, tearing at the tubes that ran into my nose, that may well have been plugged into my very skin. MY nose. MY skin. Could I really say that this body was mine? And who was me, anymore, anyway? This body didn’t share a single cell with the one I’d left behind all those years ago. I had no way of knowing if I was really me, or another person altogether, implanted with my memories. Maybe the person I thought I was was dead. A hundred years gone.
Someone restrained me. I felt a few sets of hands pushing me back down onto the bed.
“No! I need to see her! I need—“
A pinprick of pain, then the lights swirled and caved in on themselves.
—————-
Her silhouette was framed by the light, bathed in it to such a degree that for one moment I thought it was the girl I knew, the one who used to sneak into my room at night when we were little, and ask me to read her another chapter of the book our mother used to read to us. There she was— Anne— with her small frame and unruly blonde curls. Her posture was the same, and her smell, which smelled of our childhood home, and our family. It smelled of sunlit afternoons and Saturday cartoons, of dogs and Tide detergent and simmering pasta.
But as quickly as the vision came, it went, and there was no girl standing over me, but an old woman, her geriatric scent masked by floral perfume. Just like that, home was dismissed back into the past, into memory, illusion.
“Anne?”
“It’s me,” said a voice so soft and brittle, I thought the words might crumble as she spoke them.
I felt the heat of tears at the corners of my eyes.
“What am I doing here?” I asked. “Why—“
“Shhh.” She held a finger to her lips.
I felt the questions die in my throat. For a moment, there was only silence. Everything was white- whiter than fresh fallen snow.
“Remember what I told you when you were diagnosed?” She asked, taking a seat in a chair by the bed. She groaned as she sat down.
I closed my eyes. “I remember. You said that you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
“I did.”
I tried to sit up, but I was still weak from the sedatives.
“But I’m… I was the big sister. It wasn’t your job to protect me.”
“You’re still my big sister,” Anne answered. Her eyes were closed now. Her breathing was labored.
“There’s a book on the table,” she continued, her eyes still closed. “Could you pick it up?”
I sighed, groped blindly for the book. I was just strong enough to lift it. I set it down before me, and couldn’t help but smile in spite of myself when I saw the title.
“The Baron in the Trees,” I said.
Anne smiled. “Remember how we’d climb?” she asked.
“I remember.”
“Could you read the last chapter for me?”
I took a shaky breath. “Alright.” | Oh good. Our 50th anniversary announcement. She still looks so beautiful. I look good enough too. He looks? I haven't decided yet if its me or he. Us?
I should be having some kind of meltdown. I'm just sitting here in a digital form. Not that different from what I used to play on. I guess when you look at how we use things 100 years isn't that long.
"Where am I? Why can't I feel my hands?"
I already know what's happened, but I also watched enough scifi before the scan to know what's expected of me. Also, how would they react if they knew how fast I could think now? Don't scare the people who control the off switch! Am I too genre savy for my own good? OH is TVTropes still around?
"The drive was still good?"
Heh, they're trying VR again. It'll stick this time, they swear. Prosthetics are able to work with thought now. They're asking me to move a basic one. Nothing fancy.
"Like this?"
Health sciences advances... yada yada ... no wonder we looked so damn good. We passed the death threshold. Go humanity! That's why I didn't find my obituary.
"Where are we?"
Shit. Now they'll think I'm buggy or something. Guess I need to come clean.
"No, I mean my meat self. The us that was scanned back then."
They had to have gotten permission, right? Ethics and everything. Then again did we put any personal info on the stick? It was meant as a gag. What would I have put?
"Can I see the stick?"
Nope, no name, no SIN, just... a red circle.
"Oh, cool, I CAN laugh. Look at the screen over there. That's me/us."
They didn't think about this. I can tell. Theres 6 cameras in here, and I can see through them all. They're calling their boss to find out how to reach me/us. This is gonna be weird.
----
It took a few days to get us here. Oh, we're nervous. I felt it enough to recognize how it looks. It's the shoulders. Why do they look so heavy?
"How much work?"I'm more machine than man now. Some synthetic organs, brain implants to keep all the problems at bay. We're good but the body is still the body."We can rebuild him. We have the technology."If you're wondering, the early ones looked more Borg than Vader."
The team looks twice as confused as usual. I've tried to introduce them to my pop culture but it's not engraved on them the same as for us. She always told me no one else could keep up with the reference or jumps I make. Turns out, I can. We can.
"I've thought about it enough times, so what did you decide. Are we me or are we us?"
Of course we did. That's why there's only one answer.
"Us." | 2021-09-14T08:47:32 | 2021-09-14T08:15:42 | 77 | 41 |
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors. | The glow from the instrument panel permeated his eyelids. The soft, familiar orange light accompanied by the proximity alarms drew him back to conciousness.
“Engine core 55% depletion. Warning. Collision. Warning. Collision. Warning…”
With a start, Lucas Davian sat upright and ripped the goggles off his face. Panic building, he put both hands on the throttle controls and slammed the light transport into reverse. Julia, the ship, groaned in protest against its own forward inertia and began to slow. With just the slightest of a jolt, the nose of the craft tapped into the side of the derelict transit station, Julia's shields shrugging off the inconsequential love tap.
wait, what? derelict? I was here just last week.
Rubbing his eyes, Lucas stared out the cockpit window at the station. Visibility wasn't an issue, the bulbous cockpit screen automatically brightens dim images, has several zoom levels and wraps around both sides of the occupant to fill in peripheral vision.
Visibility wasn't the issue, comprehension was. The transit station, once a lively hub bridging the Timelight (TL) lanes between Alpha Proxima and the Veritas System, was a corroded, twisted shell. The windows long since shattered or missing entirely. The solar resistant blue grey paint was worn to bare metal, and the station itself now seemed to resemble a gargantuan steel octopus with its many docking bridges stuck out in random directions where they had been knocked about by various debris and collisions.
And there's no ships. Lucas realized he had never seen the busy hub without there being a frustratingly long docking line of various ships from all over the quadrants. Traders, smugglers, passenger liners, even some of the United Navy vessels would stop through if the John C Sherman highway was under maintenance. It made him uneasy.
“Engine Core 55%”
Oh right. Coolant and fuel.
The Timelight system was notoriously hard on engines, and Julia wasn't exactly a shining example of modern tech. Since the Timelight rings sped up the passage of time to make long journeys more palatable, the wear on space faring vessels was equally increased. Julia was at the end of a 3 week journey which, adjusted for TL, was just about a year.
So why was Christenson Hub…
“Oh shit….” The words escaped his chapped lips of their own accord. Lucas's mind was spinning as he slowly flew around the decrepit hub station. Realization was setting in, and the outlook was grim.
“Command not recognized.”
“Julia, what's today's date?”
“It is January 22nd, Earth year 5244. You have 214 missed events.”
Oh god it cant be.
“Julia,” his voice croaked, “what year is it?”
“It is Earth year 5244.”
“What the fuck do you mean, 5244? Julia, run system diagnostics.”
After a brief whir of computer fans, Julia responded.
“Systems check complete. Engine core 55%. Shields 100% Shield battery 75% all other systems nominal. For a detailed scan, say 'details’”.
Lucas had left for his trip on February 1st.
Earth year 2644.
“Julia, plot a course for Trepidity Commerce Station.”
“Station beacon not found. Would you like to plot a manual course?”
Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244
“Calm down.” Lucas's words had little effect on his racing thoughts, the heart beating out of his chest.
“Command not recognized. Your heart rate is elevated at 185 bpm. Is medical attention desired?”
“No. Julia, find any nearby stations with available docking rings.”
“Scanning.”
Still absent-mindedly flying around the hub station, Lucas's eyes were drawn to the small remnants of life around him. A Viper class sportscraft docked near the gift shop, both worn nearly beyond recognition. A Navy Vessel of unknown type split in half and corroding away near the fuel depot. Several large laser marks burned into its hull. Gaping holes in the stations wall, exposing wires and cables. It was not clear how much of the damage was caused by thousands of years of debris collisions, and how much was caused by explosions and laser fire.
The station must've been attacked.
With how much time had elapsed, Lucas supposed the station could've been attacked many times since he last saw it.
Earth year 5244
“Julia, hold position. I need a drink.”
“Confirmed. Enjoy your break, Lucas.”
Lucas left the cockpit and thanked the inventor of the stasis field protecting his ship's interior from the accelerated time dilation of the TL lanes. Uncorking a bottle of Drevick Whiskey, he thanked the stasis field’s inventor a second time for protecting his booze and poured a glass while he pondered his circumstances. Julia had enough provisions for maybe another couple of months or so without rationing too hard.
As he looked around the dining area connected to the cockpit by a short four step staircase, he noted the aluminum cabinets and shelves lining the bluesteel walls.
Maybe more like a month.
Setting his glass down on the oval shaped ironwood table, Lucas toyed with the idea of switching on his personal communicator. It would be pointless, of course, anyone with his contact information would be long dead, and the servers holding his messages would be as well.
“Fuck it.” He turned it on and stared at the 'no signal’ dialogue box.
Setting it down with a sigh, He decided to check the engine room, mostly just to stay occupied than anything else.
The door to the engine room unsealed with a hiss and Lucas peered into the dimly lit maintenance hall from the dining area.
Lucas walked down the dreary, rusty hall, grabbed his toolkit, and went to work on the engines.
“Signal check complete. There are four unidentified dock-ready stations within fuel distance.”
Lucas leaned back on his heels and set his toolkit beside him. Wiping the oil on his pants, and satisfied he had done as much as he could with the tools that he had, he stood.
“Julia, check the engines again.”
“Engines 59%”
That's just going to have to be enough.
“Julia, plot a course for the closest signal.”
Working on part 2 | The days on this planet are longer: I’m pretty sure one day here is at least 4 days back on Earth - the sun here, smaller yet hotter, is literally a perpetual presence, and, if I had sunscreen and a hat and water, its cheerful brightness might’ve been a beacon of hope but it’s burning my skin and leaving me dehydrated so much I started seeing things: long dead daughters and a rather frightening mirage of my boss, Mr Vander, telling me I’m almost at my destination, I’m almost there, *keep going, Miany*.
I last spoke to him at least 15 hours ago: his only advice was that I find the local inhabitants of the planet and ask for their help, something he was very confident would work: he didn’t think they’d be hostile or frightened of an alien like me in anyway. Mr Vander is charming and confident, the “Cool Fox” we sometimes call him due to a certain cunning that lies just beneath his handsome looks, and when he says anything with that deep, steady voice of his you believe him, you even start believing in yourself.
In my 45 years of living, I’ve never thought of thirst as being physically painful - it’s always been more of a nag, a bother at worst. My lips are dryer than the sand I trudge through - the hyperplane, my masterful invention, crashed in place that’s weirdly like the Sahara: bone-dry and excruciating glare, a hell up on the surface.
It’s odd that the hyperplane malfunctioned - in fact, when I realized, with a cold twist of my stomach, that I was going to veer off course into wild space, I couldn’t believe it: my hyperplanes, an out-of-this-world progression of human accomplishment, couldn’t possibly have a fault.
They were built because the Earth was dying and humanity needed a new home - which we found in a habitable planet called Spugg - and we needed to get there damn quickly. FTL was still decades away and so the hyperplanes, while initially rejected by the masses, were employed.
I’m seeing something else now in this alien desert, a settlement, buildings and walking figures, unlikely since it seemed crazy that anyone could live in this firehole. But, as I stumble forwards, feet black and on fire, I realize that hallucinations have quite a different quality than real stuff, and that what’s before me is actually a small village - from here, in my dizzy, near-death state, I see grotesque humanoids ambling around, gnarled limbs sticking out of their torsos, a nightmare if I was in a more stable state of mind.
I don’t care if they might be hostile, all I need is water, or, at any rate, an equivalent to it. I shout and every single one of them, in disturbing, choreographed unity, turn their heads in my direction. As I wave my hands, already regretting my decision, my communicator beeps: judging by the mugshot-like picture of a strong young man on the screen, it’s one of the engineering interns back on Earth, which is odd because I don’t quite expect interns to be involved in my rescue mission.
“Hello - “ I begin but I gasp when I see the interns face on the video call: bloody and bashed, eyes slits and purple.
“Miany!” he shouts. Interns usually, in fright and awe, refer to me as Miss Ogamenda, so him calling me by my name means there’s something serious going on. Before I can ask what the fuck, he continues:
“Miany. I only have little time left! Listen to me!”
“What is it?” Instantly, like medicine, an unnerving energy washes over me: the desert is discarded and forgotten. “Is the meteor about to strike Earth?”
“No, listen!” He is barely intelligible since his mouth is so puffy. “Everything was a lie! I overhead them, Mr Vander, Mrs Plygien, everyone! I managed to get away but they’ve got soldiers on me. I’ve already broadcast the whole truth to the entire Eartg.”
I can see him, with his sturdy frame, fighting off advancing guards, and with a sinking feeling, I realize what he meant when he said “little time”.
“The Earth isn’t dying. Vander Inc. has been polluting and destroying the Earth on purpose so that they could get government funding to find and conquer other worlds! It’s all a thirst for power!”
“What?”
“Your hyperplane: it didn’t just malfunction, it was tampered with. They figured you were too close to the inner circle and couldn’t be trusted if the truth was leaked to you. They only wanted your brains and inventions, your hyperplane especially, and they always planned to get rid of you afterwards. You’ve always been outspoken and fought for what’s right - we interns always admired you about that. There was no way they could risk you finding out, Miany.”
My head is spinning: faintly, like they’re on some faraway planet, I can hear the aliens approaching, massive feet thudding on sand
“Oh, fuck, they’re coming.” Fear and death are in the intern’s eyes as he looks up from his communicator and back down to me. “They tried to kill you! Not just by making you crash on an alien desert planet but on an alien desert planet with aliens who’ve come into contact with humans before. Bad contact, hundreds of years ago in the early 21st century. They hate humans and will arrest or kill one on sight!”
As the thought of being wanted on two fronts sinks in, the intern’s eyes widen, and when he tries to open his mouth in a rigid, spastic way, there’s an explosion, and the screen of the communicator goes black. | 2018-01-22T10:52:57 | 2018-01-22T08:42:52 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] The hero stared at the boy who was supposed to be his wise old master. "Word of advice. If you ever achieve immortality then wait till you're at least 20", he said in a high pitched voice. | "...that way, you'll have an easier time getting laid."
The hero gaped his mouth as the realization dawned upon him. The young boy, who looked barely twelve, wasn't a false appearance.
"I'm still perplexed by the morality of using illusion magic to look older during sex." The master grimaced. "Then again, it's never really stopped me in the past, so it doesn't bother me as much as I think it should."
"That's nice... I guess. So, how about training me to defeat the demon king?"
"I mean, women wear makeup. That's sort of masking your appearance too, right?"
"A-are you listening to me?"
"And, most of the time, the women I meet are centuries younger than me. What the hell am I supposed to do? Stay celibate?"
"Who cares!"
"Exactly!"
The hero facepalmed. "I didn't mean it that way. Don't you think we have other matters to discuss?"
"You mean how you broke into my home and discovered my secret?"
The hero glanced away.
The master frowned. "That's what I thought." He walked into the kitchen and started brewing tea. "If you're gonna invade my privacy, be prepared to hear about my sexual frustrations! Also, another tip. If anyone ever shows interest in you specifically because of how young you look... run." He buttered some bread with a dull knife. "It's never worth it."
The hero wrinkled his face, disgusted.
"You know," said the master, "I never expected you to be such a stick in the mud."
"This is a joke."
"You're the joke here, kid."
"Kid? You're a child!"
"Yeah! Kid! There's an obvious age difference here! Are you deaf or an idiot?"
The hero frowned. "I'll kick your ass!"
"A deaf-idiot! How lovely!"
The hero lunged at him with his sword in a fraction of a second.
The master parried his attack with the butter-knife and slapped him away with a casual backhand.
The hero fell on the other side of the living room. His world spun around him as he recovered from the pain.
The master sauntered towards him with a cheeky grin.
The hero stood up. His fighting spirit urged him to retaliate with all he had, but his brain kicked in before he committed to it. Memories of his burnt village flashed in his head. The screams, the smells of ash, the blazing inferno. They reminded him why he went this far. If he truly wanted enough strength to save others, now was time to let go the childish concerns of his ego.
The situation was clear. He wasn't strong enough to beat the master. The appearance of a kid hid the fact that his technique had centuries of practice. The hero fell on his knees and said:
"Please, teach me."
The master smirked. "Looks like you're not *that* much of an idiot." He rolled up his sleeves. "But that doesn't mean I won't beat your ass for waking me up in the middle of the night."
The hero blinked. "W-what?"
The master started stretching his arms. "Training begins now! You won't get food until you land a hit on me."
The hero got punched in the face before he could process the information. It took him a week to eat lunch again.
-----
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out my other stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | 'Frederik, are you sure he is the one?'
'However outrageous it may sound, he is the one we are searching for princess.'
Princess Caroline was in shamble, the one standing in front of her was a child, 9 or 10 from the look of it, and even smaller than her little brother. And yet, he give off a weird aura that she can't explain eventhough she know the way of magic. She look to the hero, Kaska and see that he have the same disbelief look in his eye. Only Frederik, the captain of the guard remain composed, but clearly have some awkwardness about the entire situation.
'Sir Frederik, perhaps this is a joke of some sort? Surely Vinton the Great Sage can't be a kid?'
'See, that's where you are wrong kiddo.' The kid raise his hand with a gesture before Frederik could even reply to the hero question. Suddenly the entire scenery around them change, Caroline can see the fabric of time and reality undone itself and mend back together right before her eye while Frederik and Kaska have a serious case of headache because of their weaker magic atunement. By the time it's over, the four wasn't standing on the flower field of Morlian anymore, but they were in the garden of Longtower castle.
But they weren't the only one there. As soon as Kaska were able to open his eye and see that the scenery have change, he found the four are now surrounded by the Queen's Guard, all with their blade drawn and pointed at the three who are still standing, while princess Caroline have fainted from watching thing that she shouldn't during the teleportation.
'What have you done to the princess? Why are you here in the garden of the Queen?' - the Queen Guard commander shout, unsure of what just happened.
'Not bad, she actually try to read and see what the spell do, albeit a little bit idiotic because she didn't put a mind empower spell on herself first. I don't remember that my teaching was that bad, am I right my dear Josephine?' - the kid speak with his high pitched voice, surprising the guard.
'Insolence, how dare you speak of her majesty name with no honorific!'
'Stand down. You are in presence of the Great Sage. Sheath your weapon immediately!'
As the queen order, the guard slowly back down and put away their weapon. Kaska still haven't figure out what the hell just happened, and Frederik was still trying to pick himself up. Vinton made another gesture and the princess float up and slowly fly over to Kaska while the hero fumble to catch her.
'Hold on to the girl for a while would you. Now, that's that. Let's get down to business shall we?' | 2020-01-25T08:11:47 | 2020-01-25T07:31:31 | 355 | 58 |
[WP] The world's tiniest dragon must defend his hoard, a single gold coin, from those who would steal it. | It's hard for a dragon as small as Wyvern to keep a hoard, let alone collect it.
Only twice as big as a typical garden-variety gecko, many would mistake Wyvern for a lizard if it wasn't for the wings, or if they even caught sight of him in the first place.
Wyvern was a quick little dragon, and exceptionally good at hiding. Even in my small sparsely furnished apartment.
"Wyvern, I need my ring returned to me- it isn't funny that you keep taking it!"
Silence.
I sighed deeply. "I'll get you a whole roll of dimes from the bank, just return my ring!"
"What are dimes?" Wyvern hissed from where he had been hiding in the cabinets, "Are they shiny?"
"You know that prized coin that's the only thing remaining from your original 'great horde'?"
"Yes of course, the only bit of my original horde that I have been able to keep save all these millennia!" He proudly clutched at the dull copper coin, that was older than some nations, and was definitely showing it's age.
I fished a dime from my coin purse, "See this coin? This is a dime. I'll give you a lot of these if you promise to stop stealing my stuff. It'll give you a start on your own proper horde again."
Wyvern flew into my hand and placed my ring into my palm. "Wasn't stealing, protecting— I protect the shiny."
"My jewelry is safe in its case Wyvern, I know you've got a compulsion to collect; and I don't begrudge you that, but maybe if you can try to think of my whole apartment as your horde, with everything having its' own proper place. Maybe that will help?"
"Your house, my horde?" Wyvern smiled, "Never met so generous of a human! I still get lots of shiny coin too, if I not move jewelry anymore?"
"Yeah, if you agree to not move my stuff anymore- I'll get you some nice shiny silver colored coins."
"Deal!"
| Tiyre was born into this world out of a gleaming pale green egg. His parents had always been so proud of him.
Although how his Titanic parents could produce a baby the size of a local field mouse is beyond him.
At his age, he should be half the size of his parents by now.
Finally, the day came where he would be considered an adult. His parents gave him one gold coin to start his hoard, and left.
Glittering gold. There was nothing quite so beautiful. It nearly brought a tear to his eye as he settled down for a nap in his cave.
*tug* *tug*
"WHO DARES TO ATTEMPT STEALING FROM ME!?"
The creature stopped its tugging and began to skitter towards Tiyre. It clicked its mandibles, even as Tiyre breathed Dragonfire. The creatures exoskeleton was tough, while it seemed in pain, the creature trudged on.
Tiyre attempted to bite the creature, lift it high above, and split it in two. Unfortunately, the creature bent and bit his wings. Infuriated, his bite tightened and after the sounds of cracking and shattering its oozing mass was plunged into.
It was actually pretty tasty after a little more cooking.
He stared at his coin once more and began to dream of future piles of wealth. | 2017-09-07T11:53:55 | 2017-09-07T10:50:06 | 62 | 30 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | FTL is so easy... For most. Whilst we all know that in the simplified model we can't travel faster than light, one can simply charge the local area with the 5th field and woosh, off we go. For Laymen, its similar to how light slows down when it moves through an medium. In some media it actually speeds up. We do the same thing, using the Anisotropic nuon displacement field to create false curvature in the space-time around us. This creates a bubble of spacetime that we take with us, and therefore we move the bubble faster than light, moving us through space faster than we normally ought to.
But the humans. Their entire galactic cluster is in a null point. The nuon field is unusually weak in the area, leaving the whole place... Thin.
And yet here I am. I am currently in the aft of my ship, looking out a window onto a human vessel. They have come from the heart of Cluster Axl.B3 and have send me friendly greetings.
I am recording these notes for posterity, and so that, should the worst happen, others know of what happened here today. It is *momentous!*
Let me summarise. I am Calhwoun of the Dwheh. I am normally sent to investigate areas for mining possibilties of rare materials. I was on my way to 900.884.Mmj.45h/innerdry when i picked up an unusual signal.
Strong, and i mean **strong** gravitational waves coming from an area between the 4 stars that make up the quadrangel with innerdry, by aletheal measurement. I will attach the exact coordinates later, when i have calculated them.
I came closer to investigate, as there were strong waves, but none of the normal gravitational effects associated with a black hole or other body strong enough to generate such waves.
Instead, i found this Human ship. Ofcourse i hailed them, not recognising it as having any known markings, but they failed to respond. As they have never had direct access to subspace they use arcaic radio based technology! I had to convert a scanner into something that would allow me to both recieve and send messages before we could talk!
After passing their language through the normal translation algorythms we had a talk.
They are humans. They are bipedal species that has an internal support structure, and oxegenates via two large bags they inflate within themselves. They use these to talk via the normal method of vibrating gasses.
It was thrilling. Whilst i would like to record all the facts i also want to record how thoroughly thrilling this whole experience has been for me! My normal day is scanning soil samples, not being an alien species first contact!
We spoke at length, i told them of the current situation with our home sector and a little about how we normally interact with other species. They seemed pleased we sounded friendly, and would like direct contact with the sector authority so that more formal greetings can be made.
However. I must touch on the troubling matter. Whilst I am thrilled to have met them, it is not the fact they escaped Axl.b3, but the manner in which they escaped it that is troubling.
Whilst we use the Nuon field to create just enough of a bubble that we can move at FTL velocities. They have skipped this entirely. They have devised a method for bending space and time, based on gravity alone. Whilst this sounds... Dubious, impossible, I mean how could one generate such a gravitational effect strong enough, let alone without crushing the ship! But as i said. I stare at them now, through the aft window of my ship.
Whilst i am no physicist, minerology is my trade, i understand the implications of what the humans have told me. Whilst we skip along the surface of space at speeds no normal being should be able to go.... They punch a hole through reality. They force two points of space, that is **any** two points in space, to touch. Therefore transferring themselves anywhere in the time it takes me to spool my engines for FTL.
This changes everything. If we are able to aquire this technology our trade routes stop being days or weeks or months and become seconds, with none of the usual time dialation implications.
However, i also see the possibility for weapons. Was not the earlier hyperdrive first used for war? The pre FTL drive used millenia ago, was involved in scorching the planet of the Mammern.
I could easily see this used for destruction.
So I record my thoughts, here, and will be sending them out via subspace immediatly there after. The humans will be leaving to return to their 'earth' soon, and i am hoping to see them go. I worry about what the wake of such a large gravitational pulse will do to the local spacetime, but i will move a few thousand km out and watch from there.
The humans will try to return to this spot in 1 month. They claim their engine will need further repairs before a return journey.
Give my love to all those on the homeworlds.
MESSAGE ENDS
[EDIT: Message 2 is found in a reply to this] | Mark sat in his apartment, resting on a reclined, sleek, black and red leather chair as he contemplated what was revealed to Humanity in the past hour. He had trouble making sense out of it as much as a government official did. That is to say that no one comprehended what was happening. Conspiracy theorists were flooding Twitter, Snapchat, Facebook, Instagram, and other sorts of social media with speculations made using bastardized pseudo-science. Although he didn't consider himself amidst their ranks, Mark was prone to browsing their maniacal conceptions with mild belief, using it to escape reality and substitute it for his own. It was for these reasons that he found himself, ironically, unfazed by this discovery, because he already dreamt of Humanity doing what it did best, beating immense odds, but what had perturbed him was those who had beat the odds and appeared on Earth's doorstep: Humans.
He rubbed his temples, grimacing as he thought harder on what was transpiring. *They're Humans,* he reminded himself. But that couldn't be, they didn't look anything like Humans. The same image reappeared in his mind with every tantalizing thought he tried to understand. These Humans, the ones that managed to make science break upon itself, didn't look humanoid, but more amalgamated with reptilian, avian, and mammalian features. They looked like a DNA splicing project gone wrong, like in those 1960s horror movies where the villains were experiments that escaped out of their cells in blacksites. Or maybe a more apt description would be describing them as a fey, Lovecraftian entities, derived from H.P Lovecraft's fiction. Mark prayed to God the latter was not the case, and was content in, until proven otherwise, that they were just amalgamations, without any powers or bizarre capabilities like comics or young adult fiction novellas that would have him believe.
The pensive teenager fell out of his chair, bruising his forehead while his phone pulsated with activity. He crawled over to the kitchen island, accepting the call. It was Damien, his best-friend.
"Mark, mark! Are you seeing this!?" Damien shouted into his phone, voice exasperated and swollen with disbelief.
"Yeah, yeah I saw it. It's crazy, right?" Mark hid his existential dread briefly, calmly replying.
"How can you be calm in a time like this? They're..they're aliens claiming to be Humanity from the future! How can those -things- be us?" He emphasized his disdain with exaggerated gestures, making his face flustered as others stared at him suspiciously during his daily jog.
"Why aren't you calm?" Mark deflected, tone choked with coldness. A technique he developed rather quickly whenever he became Damien's best friend.
"I'm a normal Human being, that's why!" Damien shouted his reply, receiving more narrowed eyes and side glances as he jogged through Tokyo.
Mark didn't answer.
"..Mark? Did you hang up?" Damien stopped jogging.
"No, I'm still here. I'm just..get here quick!" Mark answered. He hung up, pacing back and forth. He took deep breaths, trying to compose himself before Damien got to their apartment. He had to be strong, he always was strong for both of them, but this time, it was different.
Forty-five minutes later, Damien arrived home. "Mark!" He called.
"Lock the door and close the shutters," Mark huffed.
"What's happening?" Damien questioned why he needed to do those two things, but did them regardless.
"Earth is being invaded," Mark answered. "By those Humans. They released another announcement to all of Humanity, -our- Humanity, saying that they'll be reclaiming our bodies."
"..Oh my god," Damien murmured. "What are we going to do? What did the Prime Minister tell us to do?"
"The military is being deployed, and everyone is being evacuated into bunkers." Mark sharpened a steak knife on a honing rod dramatically. "We're going to stay put, because if we don't, then those aliens are going to kill us then take our bodies."
"But the..." Damien's voice faltered as he understood Mark's reasoning.
Both of them began fortifying their apartment, stacking chairs on top and against each other against their door. A bookshelf was placed in front of their patio, allowing a minimal amount of light to seep in through cracks. Neither of them knew what to do after they renovated, but just sit there, play video games and try not to think of their new reality: a war of Humanities. | 2021-01-09T13:43:37 | 2021-01-09T12:46:13 | 227 | 16 |
[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. | Dear old friend,
I saw something that made me think of you the other day. And sometimes I think of you for no reason at all.
I want to talk to you, but I know there’d be no point. I wonder what you’re up to, but I don’t ask.
Because we have both changed so much since then, or maybe we haven’t changed at all. But something’s changed, and we both know that things can never be as they were. We could make an attempt at a conversation, but it will only make us feel more distant from where we used to be.
So I won’t talk, and I won’t ask, but I want you to know that I keep you in my thoughts and in my heart.
Because even though it’s run its course, and even though I don’t want to rekindle it, that friendship will stay precious to me.
Love,
A stranger you once knew like the back of your hand | I don't think I've ever seen your hair put up in a bun//
After knowing you for all these years I thought I saw every side to you//
But then I realised there were more sides I've never seen done//
And now I wish that I truly got to know you// | 2017-11-06T03:25:39 | 2017-11-05T22:33:24 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] You are dog. It is your mission to faithfully guard your poor, stupid, two-legged pack-mates from the horrors of the mailman, the dog next door, and men with hats. Describe your vigil. | I am champion. I am chosen. I am *Dog*. Human choose me for two reason: Protection. Safety. Human give me food and treats for reward, but deep down, all I need is pat. Other treats only luxury. When doorbell ring, I am first to the scene. I must inspect intruder before Human to make sure not dangerous. I am Dog, I am Guardian. If there is one person in whole world Dog must protect Human from, it is mister Mailman. Everytime mail come through door and Human open it, Human sad and depressed. Human open paper and read and sad, and money go away. No more treats for Dog. When me see mailman, me roar with fury. Stay away, mailman! Never come near us again! They still come. Dog try to chase, dog try to bark. When me bark, other dog bark back. He tell me shut up. It don't matter. I care only about human.
Human is life, human is treats, human is pat. They may be stupid but they are *my* human. I am Dog and I will do my best until my last day.
Edit: wow, dog not expect expensive treat for story. Dog will enjoy. | "Night gathers, and my watch continues. It shall not end until my death. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post...the post I piss on. I am the fang in the darkness. I am the watcher at the window, the growler on the porch. I am the muzzle that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Dog's Watch, for this night and all the nights and days to come."
―The Dog's Watch oath
http://imgur.com/8ngmlPd
| 2014-12-27T10:20:14 | 2014-12-27T09:50:29 | 1,556 | 240 |
[WP] The most difficult part of being a Supervillian? Find love, not because other people won't like you, but because the stupid Superheros will swoop in and "rescue" your date every time, but this time you have a plan, and it's going to work. | *Any moment, now.*
I glanced to the windows and skylights that drenched me in sunlight, panels of crystalline glass so huge that a blind man could pick me out from the amongst the diners. On second thought, picking a location with so much fragility may not have been a stroke of genius.
"Are you okay, dear?" my darling Sophia asked, her voice sweeter than the tiramisu before us. Natural light scattered in her sapphire eyes, bouncing, like a set of mirrors in the ocean.
I wrinkled my upper lip, itching under a mustache, a wiry, rough thing, like strands of a broom. "Yes, yes. My mind is just... Preoccupied," I replied, glancing to my hands, hidden beneath the table, wincing.
She frowned, but turned back to her dessert. This was the sixth attempt now, and the first time we'd even made it past hors d'oeuvres. Of course, we spent most of our time together in private, but it isn't fair to keep hidden a woman commanding such beauty and presence. Imagine finding the most beautiful exotic bird, a magnificent beast exploding with color and grace, then stuffing it into a cardboard box to shove under a bed.
The fact that they still hadn't arrived was amusing, if nothing else. Wrinkling my lip again, the thought of it made me chuckle despite a sense of looming dread. There would only be one chance.
Thoughts shattered in my mind with the skylights, an ear-piercing crash that threatened everyone below with shards of glass like icicles raining from the sky. Of course, none of it hit us. *He* would never let it.
'Strike Team 6', they were called, a band of mercenary superheroes that have held sway over the city for years now. Each of them had militaristic might that threatened the greatest army.
"Do you not learn, Cobra?" one of them asked, approaching me. Their leader, the fabled King Crusher. He was a brute of a man, one that hardly looked like a superhero.
"Unfortunately, I have yet to learn how not to need food." Upon wrinkling my lip again, I noticed a distinct lack of the wiry itchiness. Cheap little thing.
"We're not here to monitor your dieting habits, jackass," he replied, taking a step forward. "You've moved against civilians in the past, what would you expect us to do when you suddenly put yourself in a building with eighty other innocent people? It doesn't matter how long you've been quiet for. One drop of that poison of yours could kill a whale in twenty seconds."
I glanced down, flushing slightly.
"Though," he continued, "I will admit that stupid mustache threw us off a little bit. But the ruse is over, now. Just come quietly with us. This doesn't need to be hard."
Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath, then straightened my back. "Crusher, if I may... could we please finish our meal? I've been with this woman for half a year, now, and it feels like this is our first real date. It's not completely ruined, yet."
The hulking man eyed her with the assessing judgment of a general. There would be nothing for him, though. She was an average woman in only one way: mutations. Sophia was a normal person without power or ability.
"Why would I trust you?"
"Well, for starters, you've done more damage here than I have." He raised an eyebrow at my comment.
I took another deep breath and raised my hands in front of me, earning a few shouts from the crowd and tensing amidst ST6. Flinching, hissing, I slowly and crudely peeled off the crimson gloves on them.
*Sorry, Sophia. I know you didn't want this, but there's no other way.*
A few groans sounded through the crowd, and even Steelheart gasped a little. Underneath the medicated gloves, effectively just bandages that looked nice, my hands were mangled. Swollen, matted, shiny and marked with the black, dashed lines of sutures, where there had once been venom sacs, there was now only pus and pain. The mutation had been deeply embedded in my wrists, entwined with my nerves and ligaments, and... difficult to cut out, like trying to unroot a great oak tree, even with a healing mutant aiding me. Repair would take weeks of repeat sessions, the damage was so bad. Painkillers kept it manageable enough not to cry.
Crusher stared at them, contorting his face with disgust. "Why?" he asked quietly, eyes locked on the mangled flesh.
"She's worth it," I replied, turning back. Sophia had a delicate hand over her mouth, poorly containing violent sobs. "I would give up anything for her, Crusher. Even my identity."
*/r/resonatingfury* | I grabbed the detonator and with a deep breath I slipped it into the specific pocket in my boot.
Before too long he will arrive. I peered across the roof top and looked for the place I knew he would come from.
The ‘actual’ bomb is over to the east, in a secure prison for the lowest of the low, so he will expect me to be looking that way, so we will probably come from the west.
I slowly walked over and lay over the wall of the building and waited, my heart was in my mouth as I looked out at the horizon. The building, the parks, it was a beautiful view.
Before too long he flew up with the sun behind him, his silhouette making me flush red slightly.
“We reallly have to stop meeting like this.” I teased, my stomach lurched as his silhouette became clearer, but I refused to let it show.
“Then you have to stop trying to kill people.”
“Eurgh, you are so difficult to love.” He flew over me and stood on the far end of the roof against the wall, surveying the space between us. I flicked over one leg, then the other, so I was sat facing him. I placed my hands on my thighs. “And we have been over this. They don’t really count as people.”
“It doesn’t matter what a person does - they don’t deserve to die.”
I wanted to argue, he never understood. But I kept my eye on the prize.
“Don’t you remember when we used to fight crime together.” I said, putting on my most sensual voice.
“Of course I do Daphne.”
“Well then Fred.” I leant forwards and slowly stood up and walked over to him, swaying my hips ever so slightly, I felt like a snake charmer - using my body as the flute. “Don’t you think we can help each other again?” I placed my hand purposefully on his chest, dragged it up his neck and through his perfectly placed, blonde hair. “Gosh, you haven’t lost a single strand of this have you?” I asked, pulling myself closer to him, and slightly grabbing the scruff of delicate hair that I held in my hand.
“U- no- but-“
“The mighty Fred, lost for words. What? You didn’t come with a plan?” I pushed myself even closer against him. “You know, you’ve been mighty possessive over the years, and I have to wonder why.”
He cleared his throat “because it’s my job.” He went to take a step back but was greeted by a short, concrete wall.
“Well, that’s very interesting. Because the last three ‘victims’ you ‘saved from me’ were not ‘victims’ at all. And you knew that, didn’t you?”
“Not the first one.” His eyes went to look at the floor, but there was no gap between us to allow him to do so, he ended up just looking at more of me. He blushed, and I laughed.
“Fred, if you wanted me to yourself...” I raised myself up so my lips were next to his ear and whispered “You should have just asked.” I pulled away and locked my eyes onto his.
“I can’t. Not with what you’ve done- and what you do.” He went to place his hand on my shoulder but I held it with mine.
“You can’t have me, so no one can? That kind of behaviour can get a girl reaallly frustrated.” Keeping the eye contact strong I pulled my head closer to his, our noses touched, my lips grazed over his - inviting him to kiss me.
His breathing stuttered.
As soon as he kissed me passion, sadness and agression accelerated through me. I pulled myself into the kiss. He was the only man I ever loved, and he was going to insure I could never love, or be loved again. He pushed away my partners, my friends, even my family. All because he couldn’t stand who I was and wanted to make sure that everyone knew what a monster I am.
This kiss, was all I wanted. I kicked my boot with my heel and the rooftop was engulfed in an explosion.
Edit: sorry it’s so poorly written, had quite a short time frame to write... | 2022-11-30T23:13:37 | 2019-02-23T05:29:53 | 1,144 | 70 |
[WP] For centuries your family has passed down an old leather bag that provides the holder with an object that would be helpful in the particular situation the holder is in. You are getting on a bus and instead of giving you a bus ticket or money, it gives you a handgun. | "Well I don't know why it gave me the gun either Dad it just did!"
You'd think he'd understand, the bag used to be his after all, but for some reason he almost sounded angry I had somehow found myself with the handgun he kept locked in his bedroom safe. I didn't know I had it myself till he called, I was just about to reach for my bus pass when my phone rang.
"Why is your bus pass where my gun should be?"
"What? It's not it's right....oh....oh shit I do have it. What the hell? Dad I know you always say trust the bag but I think it's broken."
"YOUNG LADY WHY WOULD IT GIVE YOU A GUN? MY GUN?"
...and here we are. My dad, 300 miles away, was mad at me for *his* damn bag giving me his gun. I was more upset it took my bus pass. You know how much a universal pass costs? Saved up for months for the damn thing just so I knew I could move for work at a moment's notice and always have transportation.
I swear after Mom left he's gotten grumpier and grumpier. I keep trying to get him to move out here but he's old and stubborn. I thought after all we'd been through he would trust me. Confusion makes sense but why anger? He never even used the damn thing I'm surprised he even knew it was gone.
Wait...
"Dad...why were you getting your gun out?"
Silence. A hiccup, then paper being crumpled up, then a sigh.
"I...I don't know hunny. I'm sorry I got so angry I'm in a weird spot. Hey why don't I use your pass to get up there and we can hang out a bit? If your so set on me moving closer to you I should at least know the area a little."
There's no way he'd ever....no he's totally against that....he wouldn't end his own life...would he?
"Yeah dad I'd love that, I can even take a few days off work and we can go apartment hunting. Or you're always welcome to stay with me."
"Sounds good hun, I'll leave in the morning and keep you updated on where I am. I love you."
"Love you too dad, see you soon."
"Hey one more thing hun... always trust the bag." | It had been a long day. All I really wanted to do was go home, jerk off and watch TV. I got on the bus and realized I didn't have any change. I reached into my bag, expecting to find $1.45, but instead I felt cold hard metal. I reached my finger around and found a trigger. There was no mistaking it. This was a gun. A big one. If I was correct, it was an Ingersoll/Rand 285B-6. I left it in the bag, a bit perplexed.
I patted my pockets to give some appearance of effort. "I'm sorry, I can't seem to find my wallet. Would you mind giving me a lift anyway, you know me, I take the bus every night. I'll pay you back tomorrow."
"Sure thing, man, it's no trouble."
I took my seat towards the back of the bus. About half a mile down the road, I feel a clunking. The driver seems concerned. He pulls over. I get out as well, figuring the bag's strange choice might come into play. Sure enough, the torque flags on the driver's side on the rear axle are pointing in wildly different directions. I pull the gun out of the bag, and I find a 1 1/2 socket attached to the end. I then find a 15/16 wrench in the bag. I disconnect an airline from a brake can and hook it to the gun. A few uggaduggas later we were back on our way.
The real kicker here is when I went home it turned out I had $3 stuffed in my back pocket from when I went to lunch earlier. | 2017-09-11T13:00:54 | 2017-09-11T10:47:54 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] You are the captain of a ship and recently hired some humans, who are a highly-recommended species. You're not quite used to their peculiarities yet. | Captains log, 3968-088 (Thursday, 13 May 2230)
Shore leave is almost up.
Next voyage due to leave on 6_3970-088.
Hear talk of a new species that made contact whilst we were away and they have been highly recommended for the next crew.
If they're as good as they say then hopefully they're keen to volunteer too. Maybe a Human crew density of 0.05 is possible.
Will have Medical review their physiological needs to ensure appropriate accommodation.
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Captains log, 3969-088 (Friday, 21 May 2230)
Good gods there are so many of them! With the number of human volunteers we'd almost be able to crew the whole ship without any other species, they're just so eager to leave the dock if it weren't against regulation I'd offer less pay.
Whatever, I've had Habitation start preparing for a 10% Human density, Can't risk anything too disproportionate. Reading up on the physiological analysis they almost don't seem special. Not as strong as the Korodish but strong enough to cover anything without heavy lifting equipment. decent learners, almost as good as the Quaideen without the need for hyper-humidification masks. A bit squishy perhaps. Doctor Quand has been telling me wondrous tales of them working for entire cycles straight without injury but I suspect this is like the story about a human eating an aeromotive vessel. Slightly slow reaction time it seems, nice that they aren't jumpy or skittish but do I really want them around time-sensitive engine controls?
10% will be plenty
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Captains log, 3970-088 (Saturday, 29 May 2230)
Left dock earlier this cycle, These Humans are difficult to work with sometimes.
Don't get me wrong, you tell them to get a job done and they do it but they do it however they feel like it regardless of how it's been done before. One of the workers in the loading bay reduced inertial dampeners to 99.97% efficiency and shut off artificial gravity in section 43 as we were undocking and just floated several hundred tons of cargo from the elevator to the cargo rack. If they hadn't gotten the job done before all the other crews I'd be fuming. Couldn't even fault them on their logic as it saved time and energy and they had a plan for every eventuality. I've had maintenance put massive warning signs up to make sure they don't do it again but I've told them to keep the yellow paint handy.
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Captains log, 3982-088 (Wednesday, 1 September 2230)
At the first coasting stage of the voyage now. Plenty of time to actually meet some of the crew. Their language is so chaotic at times, using terms of bodily functions as modifiers of intensity. The fuck?
Incident Log at 04 during morning meal: Fororosh crew member found in agitated state with all four pupils dilated >98%. Reportedly consumed human beverage brewed from beans containing powerful stimulant. Has been restrained in Medical and given a heavy dose of tranquilizer. Will remain restrained until heart rates are below 500. Warning signs painted on several relevant human beverages (roughly 30% of human beverage stock)
Incident Log at 09 during the late meal: Several human crewmembers contaminated a dining compartment with highly concentrated capsaicin (amongst other substances) causing several Hardarians severe skin rash and one Quaideen to almost asphyxiate. In light of the fact that they are somehow consuming these substances warning signs have been put in place and dedicated dining compartments for Humans have been allocated to ensure this doesn't happen again. The human responsible has been reprimanded.
Incident Log at 10: Crisis averted. Human crew attempting to ingest ethyl alcohol dissolved in dihydrogen monoxide. Were quickly ordered to stop and only do so in Human dining compartments as a Guilidani crewmember had already begun to dissolve. Will require psychiatric care for remainder of voyage. Warning signs dispensed to crew to place on all relevant containers.
Incident log at 00 (technically tomorrow but I'll put it here) Human crew partaking in 'cultural experience' of visual and auditory stimulus representing fiction for entertainment. One Norod Crew member was invited to join them, now in psychiatric care with Guilidani crewmember. Title of entertainment noted as 'Alien'
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Captains log, 3986-088 (Friday, 1 October 2230)
I'm not sure how it happened. Either two humans saved the entire ship or recklessly endangered themselves in a hazardous event whilst subsequently torturing two Hardarians and a Korodish.
From the reports, an explosion in Ion manifold containment field 13 led to a titanium fire which caused the temperature in deck 87 to rise to 330 Kelvin and caused enough fragmentation to incapacitate all crewmembers except one human (To be explained later). Normal procedure would be to isolate the deck and vent all almosphere to avoid risking the remainder of the ship however two human crew members (one of which was in the room during the explosion) were able to remove all injured crewmembers from the affected deck (Including the Korodish who was trapped under half a ton of structural support) and perform a medical procedure apparently called 'cauterization' to prevent the injured crew from dying due to loss of bodily fluid. According to Medical this procedure did indeed allow them to survive until appropriate medical equipment was available. All crewmembers currently in Medical undergoing dermal regeneration. Two Hardarians and a Korodish now in psychiatric care. First aid handbooks now updated. As soon as I figure out what the warning sign should be it will be painted in all 19 manifold decks.
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Captains log, 3986-088 (Saturday, 2 October 2230)
Incident Log at 06: Human crewmembers from last cycles manifold explosion attempting to leave medical bay citing 'boredom' as a reason. Medical informed me that Humans have an incredibly fast rate of regeneration even without medical equipment and thus should be fine to walk. Human crewmember ordered to remain in Medical. Jokingly provided with elastic polymer sphere for entertainment by Doctor Quand's assistant.
Incident Log at 06: Elastic polymer sphere lodged in Doctor Quand's assistants splanch requiring surgical removal. Not returned to human crewmember.
Incident Log at 08: Group of human crewmembers found on viewing deck 65 with radiation shield lowered in the 320-400nm wavelength range apparently in an attempt to darken their skin. After a brief discussion with Medical, crewmembers were informed "Oh my god fine, we literally don't even care anymore just turn it back on when you're done"
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Captains log, 3986-088 (Sunday, 3 October 2230)
Informed that Humans have now been categorized as 'Hyper-specialized pursuit predators'
After some brief research into what this means I have decided that I am not sleeping tonight.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- | <<We're being targeted! Enemy ship, twenty-five eras, aft!>>
Khreva's feathers stood on end. He had hoped until the last moment that the lone ship in the area had not been hostile, but perhaps there really was no hope in that abandoned sector. The captain screeched at Khreva again, spreading his wings for emphasis:
<<Maybe do something about that instead of just perching there like an idiot?>>
<<Ah... yes sir!>>
He scrambled down the command-perch, trying to be as careful as possible to avoid his sharp talons hitting the screens which were arranged all around the vertical structure of the bridge. After getting to the lower level he finally reached the machines section where one of *them* was tapping away at a screen.
<<Andersen, we need you.>>
The human lifted his gaze up, that weird, flat face looking at Khreva through its tiny eyes.
<<We're being attacked, aren't we?>>
The ship rocked. The captain shouted for his subordinate to hurry up, but to Andersen it sounded like little more than inarticulate screeching. The sudden movement had thrown him off balance and he had just made that weird dance that humans made when they found unstable footing, instead of just holding onto something with their feet like Khreva's species did. Granted, not having scaled, prehensile talon-like feet didn't help them very much.
<<Just get up and reach the secondary command post!>>
The human scrambled to his feet and reached the vertical bridge, he ran along the wall until he found the ladder that the captain had arranged for him and climbed it as quickly as he could. Still, he could never be as good of a climber as one of his winged crewmates. He held on tight as another explosion shook the ship, alarms blaring from the hit section.
<<Hurry up you featherless thing! They're firing at us!>>
Khreva couldn't believe just how slow the human was. In a few powerful jumps and wingbeats he had reached the top of the bridge, while the human was still busy climbing up the ladder. After what seemed like an eternity, Andersen was finally at his post. He shouted to the captain who was sitting in one of those weird perches above him, his talons pulling levers and switches.
<<Sir, the ship is getting closer! I suggest rerouting all weapons energy to the burst emitters!>>
The captain screeched something else, hard enough to almost blow his eardrums out, and Khreva translated for him in a quieter voice:
<<He says you can do what you want as long as you can hit them.>>
<<You bet your feathery ass I can.>>
The human rapidly tapped away at the screen and quickly directed the ship's energy cannons towards the approaching enemy. Khreva was always impressed at just how good at aiming anything humans were: be it rail guns, beam emitters or plasma cannons, humans just seemed to have a natural instinct for pointing dangerous things in exactly the right direction, which was all the more impressive considering how bad their eyesight was compared to that of his own species. When he had first joined the crew as a weapons officer, they had to rewrite most of the ship's labels and indicators in a larger script for him to see them easily, not to mention how long he had taken to learn getting around the vertically-designed ship with his soft hands and weak grip; the ladder served as a testament to that.
But now that he was hitting the enemy blast after blast, both the captain and his second in command were reminded of just how valuable he was. Still, it wasn't always easy having him around. Suddenly, the ship changed orientation as the captain made a sharp turn to avoid a rail gun blast, and while Khreva and his superior held effortlessly onto their perches, the human was thrown into the ground, hard. He heard another sharp, birdlike cry.
<<Uuh, the captain says you should get the fuck up and resume shooting...>>
<<I'm trying!>>
The ship rocked again, and this time the avian being jumped into the human's command post and, holding onto a perch on a wall with his hind talons, lifted him up and held him to the controls to prevent him from being thrown around by the captain's maneuvers.
<<I'll keep you still. Now aim those things>>
<<You're hurting me>>
Khreva felt the human squirming in his talons. He wasn't strong enough to move him, but he felt like he had definitely done something wrong.
<<What?>>
<<That fucking claw is in my shoulder!>>
Khreva repositioned his grip. He had never quite gotten used at just how... soft, for lack of a better term, humans were. But Andersen was strong-willed and he went back to aiming the cannons immediately. Flashes of energy fired from their ship, tearing a large gash in the enemy vessel. Another hit shook them, but this time the human didn't budge, and he landed another volley into the enemy.
<<Gotcha! Their engines are disintegrating!>>
<<They stopped firing, too. Good job there.>>
<<And good job holding me without eviscerating me.>>
There was still a little blood on Khreva's front claw. Yeah, every now and then it got problematic, especially during hectic moments like that. But the human was an incredible sharpshooter, like everyone of them was, and he was pretty sure that neither him or the captain could have landed half his shots, even though Andersen himself might have missed a few without his talons holding him. In the end, he thought, it was making a team that won battles. | 2017-04-22T22:09:50 | 2017-04-22T18:10:44 | 237 | 103 |
[WP] You're a down on your luck necromancer operating a small cleaning service with a few low level skeletons. You have dreams of something greater however; a grand dungeon of your own with treasure, monsters and traps aplenty. | Curiously it appeared to be working.
The grey decaying lump of flesh and bone he had named Bob shuffled past the lady with the pram and she barely blinked. He couldn't work out whether the lady were simply used to the workers at a laundromat with cold dead eyes and slack jawed expression or if she instinctively ignored him.
Either way there was no screaming.
Bob turned towards him
"Master Davinth, lord of undying pestil-"
"How many times do I have to tell you, just call me Dave," hissed Davinth.
"Yes great one. We are running out of change. And clod's lost one of his finger's in someone's dry cleaning"
"I'll see to it later. Get back to work"
Despite a few setbacks, it was all going rather well. The fools had no idea. They hid behind their silly traditions. I mean why bother hiding and amassing your army of undead in a cave before terrorising the local populace? Caves were gloomy, dark enough that you could barely see what you were reanimating and the sanitation was just dreadful.
But here hiding in plain sight? He had all mod cons and was slowly gaining in power
First he would take over some other small businesses, possibly a few convenience stores, then eventually the entire service sector.
Then he would wield power unlike no other. He would be in control of people's food. He had seen firsthand the violence that could occur between people fighting over a pack of Oreos. Nothing would stop him then.
He laughed out loud maniacally to himself. He would be the most power-
A hand tapped him on the shoulder. Ah, he'd done it again. He looked around sheepishly at the customers staring at him.
"Greatness, you're scaring the customers."
He put his head down and went into the backroom.
"One day" he muttered to himself.
"One day it would all be mine." | The main problem is the bleach. It breaks down the bones of the few skeletons I still have. On top of that I don't even have the funds to buy a single drop of mandrake tears to make new undead.
Hold on, a pair of jeans got stuck on Fred again....
As I was saying, things are not like they used to be. Ever since modern medicine was invented, people just don't farm the herbs and spices of my trade anymore, you know what I mean? I got nothing against penicilin, but I could really go for some corpse flower petals or ground fairies.
Remember the good old days when we had our cozy hideout near that volcano? It had everything a necromancer could ask for: literal tons of minerals, fertile land to grow malefic fauna and a constant supply of foolhardy adventurers or volcano cultists to convert to my cause. We even resurrected a chimera once! That thing could really work wonders when we were out collecting materials from uncharitable donors. Too bad that wizard pulverized it so soon. I guess inconspicuous IS the way to these days...
Thanks man, I really needed to get that off my chest. You've always been a good listener, I'm glad you're my friend.
Jack's bones clinked as I patted him on the back amiably. | 2015-12-01T08:12:21 | 2015-12-01T07:28:19 | 56 | 34 |
[WP] Normally you would have got your superpower at age ten. Yours awakens at age 20 as the most powerful ability ever recorded. | "Next" the detector said.
He knew everyone's power and power level at first sight.
"Super punch, 43" he said.
"Next" he said.
And he had a full time job. When someone turned 10, there power awakened, but they didn't always know what it was right away. His job was to tell them exactly what there power level was and how powerful it is out of 100.
"Can turn invisible for short periods of time, 32" he said.
The young girl in front on me walked away disappointed and then disappeared.
"Next" he said.
I walked up nervously.
"No power, 0" he said straight faced.
"What no, impossible" I shout.
*Beep, beep*
My alarm awoke me.
That was ten years ago.
I got up and ready, and then walk into the kitchen.
"Happy birthday Tom" my friend Fred said. He gestured towards a cake and lighted the 20 candles with his power. He had pyromancy, but with a low number. We had become good friends.
"Thanks" I reply. I take a deep breath and blow out the candles.
The flames flickered slightly then stopped in place. Everything around me was frozen in time.
Then, the flames went out and everything resumed.
I was confused.
"You OK dude?" Asked Fred.
"Yeah I'm cool." I replied.
I felt someone grab my arm and then I was suddenly somewhere else. A meeting room full of superheroes I recognised. The league.
I look to my right. Tally the teleporter had let go of my arm and taken a seat.
"I guess introductions are in order, I'm Michael the mind reader, I'm the team leader, I always know what each member of my team is doing and I coordinate the team accordingly. 91." Explained Michael.
"Tally the teleporter, can teleport myself and anything I'm touching large distances instantaneously, 93." Explained Tally.
"I'm Sam, super strength, 96" explained Sam.
"Imogen, I can be invisible and almost undetectable as long as I want, whenever I want, 90" explained Imogen.
"Dan the detector, I don't think it's fair for me to judge my own power level" explained Dan.
"Together we're the league, our motto, protect the people" stated Michael.
"Right, I knew most of that, but Dan told me I had no power, I'm a 0, why am I here?" I ask.
"There's something everyone here has in common, we all awakened at 20 instead of 10" Micheal explained.
"I have a power? After all this time? What is it Dan?" I ask excited.
"Do you swear to use your power only for good, to be responsible and above all protect the people?" Asks Micheal.
"Yes" I say. He knew I meant it.
"Then you can join the league if you wish" Micheal stated.
"Me? But you don't even know what I can do, oh wait you can read Dan's mind, I see" I say.
"Indeed. In fact he detected your power from far away, it's the highest ever recorded" said Micheal.
"I'm a freaking 97! Wow! Geez! Then I'd be honoured to join the league" I said excited.
"Medusa was 97" stated Dan quietly.
The greatest villain of all time, could turn anyone she could see into stone. Imogen defeated her. Your power level is just a guide, and some powers are just naturally good against other powers.
"98? What can I do?" I ask, kind of scared.
Dan took a deep breath.
"You can stop time." He said.
"What's the limit? What can I do in stopped time?" I ask.
"You can do whatever you could do in normal time" he stated.
"How long can I stop time for?" I ask.
Dan laughed.
"I'm sorry, how long? In stopped time? The question doesn't even make sense." Said Dan.
"So I'm the time stopper, 98?" I asked.
"100" replied Dan. | "This is Command, report in GF-204. I repeat. Report in. Over"
*Hissing*
"This is Command report in GF-204, I r-"
*Oh god! Its broke containment! The subject has escaped! You need to do something! Nuke this place before he gets out of here, his powers are stronger than we ever thought they could be... and hes angry.*
"Slow down there, What is your current situation GF-204?"
*Uh... Hold on, counting.... We only have 5 members of the squad left, the other 22 are most likely KiA, we need an immediate extraction. We should have killed this boy when his powers didn't manifest at 10! Now look, you lot at command best figure a solution before it ends up being your asses he kills!*
"... GF-204. Extraction is not an option. Please stay calm, we are trying to figure out a solution. Please maintain positio-"
*OH SHIT! Its here! Take positions, don't look it in the e-*
"GF-204, this is command. Come in."
*Hissing*
"GF-204, please report your situation"
The radio operator, a class 3 persuader, turned around in her seat and took in the carnage of what was currently the Combat Information Centre onboard the USS *George H.W. Bush*. Everyone was frantically running about, the officers were in an argument in the centre of the CIC about something and dozens of operators like herself were in equally desperate conversations with all variants of contacts.
The operator leaned back in her seat, feeling it hiss and rock back a bit as she leaned into it, who would have thought that this would happen when his powers manifested. She sat and just listened to the conversations bubbling around her.
"Negative command! We are stuck, its chewing us up over here, half the wing is down and some of us are barely limping along, there is no way we can perform another attack"
"Sir, We have lost contact with SSGN-727, all attempts of contact are failing"
"A tactical retreat has been called for, get all assets away from that thing!"
"Squadron 54, Do not engage the subject, I repeat do not engage! A full retreat is in effect, retreat back to the tactical assembly area at coordinates 44.108, -69.177."
"Preliminary reports are saying hes a Class 0 telekinetic, in fact hes so off the charts in terms of power that if we were to keep going with it... he'd be a Class -4!"
"Repeat that *Nimitz*, all of your missile frigates just fired off their Tomahawks?"
"Multiple fast approaching contacts detected on wide band radar! Counting 5-10-15... 27 incoming! Close in Weapon systems engaging."
"1 down, 2 down! 3... 5"
"*Fitzgerald* Has taken a hit!
She closed her eyes, they were all probably going to die here. It seemed that the subject had taken a liking to destroying all of the worlds military assets. They were a hundred miles away from the facility where the subject was being housed, and yet it had somehow managed to force most of the vessels in the 3rd fleet, who were only a few dozen miles away from the subject, to fire their missiles. They were being killed by their own weapons.
She thought about her family in the final moments before three Mark 41 Tomahawk missiles shredded into the USS *George H.W. Bush*.
| 2016-10-08T10:46:59 | 2016-10-08T09:49:53 | 65 | 23 |
[WP] In a world where elemental magic affinity manifests on your 18th birthday, you and your family have always assumed yours would be water since you love waterfalls, lakes, rivers, etc. But when your time came, nothing manifested. And people are starting to get worried. | 'Happy Birthday, Lizzy!' My aunt Mary was standing in front of me with her brilliant smile. 'Big day today, isn't it?'
I ran into her open arms and hugged her tightly. I loved her singing voice and how she always smelled like the sea in the summer.
'Don't be nervous,' she whispered in my hair, 'everything will be just fine.'
I gave her a brave smile but I was almost sick with anxiety. All of my friends were here, having fun in the front yard, oblivious why all those strange looking people were doing in my house.
We were a strange family.
In fact we were twelfth generation of strange people who could wield elemental magic. Both my mother and father could make the water obey them and since I was their only child I was the one responsible of carrying on our magical legacy.
So, basically – there was no pressure at all.
'Do your friends know you're special, my love?' Aunt Mary's eyes lit up as she looked down on the yard from the window of my room.
'No, no,' I gasped, 'they know nothing.' I was already faint with fear just by imagining Jamie would ever find out I was a freak.
Aunt Mary wasn't smiling any more. 'It's a gift, Lizzy!'
'I kind of hoped for a car,' I whispered, crushing my fingers.
'Elizabeth!' I heard my mother's voice calling me from the kitchen.
Mom was a treasure but trying to host twenty teenagers and every single of your relatives and in-laws was a bit nerve wracking – gifted or not.
I came down, trying to breathe deeply.
They sang the song, I made a wish, blew the candles and while my friends were in the backyard, trying to sneak a drink or two I was trying to mentally prepare for the initiation.
'Why don't we all go to the beach,' aunt Mary said, 'I predict the sunset will be absolutely gorgeous.' She was never the queen of subtlety so I assumed this was for my sake for we all knew we weren't going to look at the sunset.
My stomach was tied in a knot and I believed I might collapse each moment. There were at lest fifty people from both sides of my family, watching me from the beach as I entered the ocean, where I was to receive my gift of magic the moment the sun touched the horizon.
I was standing in my white summer dress with flowers in my hair and everything. I watched all those eyes full of love on me and all I could think of was how horrible this whole ritual would be if I was born in December. Even now standing in the water more than fifteen minutes made my teeth chatter.
Nothing was happening.
My father held my mother to him and she kept smiling and sending me kisses – her eyes misted with tears. Even grandfather Benjamin seemed so very proud of me, touching his silver-white mustache and nodding his head every now and then.
I was now shaking with my entire body and I even sneezed a few times. People on the beach were shifting from one leg to the other, exchanging what they thought were subtle looks.
This was supposed to be the grand moment I received the gift of wielding the elemental magic of water but I was sure nothing of this was supposed to be this way.
Finally, my aunt Mary stepped out. 'Lizzy, honey, why don't you try to make a little wave?' She smiled.
I almost rolled my eyes. I was standing in the middle of the bloody ocean and the main thing the ocean did was making the waves. There was hardy any room for improvement. 'Seriously?' I asked.
'Maybe a bit bigger wave, honey?' She insisted, her eyes full expectation and dread.
I was the biggest disappointment in the history of our both families and I just wanted to go to my room and pretend I don't exist.
'There!' She cried. 'There it is.' She was pointing at the first bigger wave that splashed the shore but every one of us knew I had nothing to do with it.
'Are you all right, Liz?' My father called. He never allowed me to see his disappointment even I knew he couldn't be happy in this hour.
'I'm a bit cold,' I admitted. I was shaking so hard I thought I'll cause en earthquake.
'Come,' he let go of my mother and went straight into the water. I tried to move but my legs were frozen. He scooped me into his arms and carried me straight into the house.
'It's all right, Liz,' he kept repeating. 'Don't worry about it, magic isn't something you can schedule.' His words were soothing while I quietly wept into his shirt.
I showered with hot water, dressed my winter pajamas and finally allowed myself to cry. I kept my doors locked and after an hour even aunt Mary realized I wasn't going to open. I put on my earphones and blasted my favorite playlist.
I was a failure.
It was official.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash. I saw my father holding what was left of my bedroom door.
'Hurry, Liz!' He was pale with fear and I could hear the screaming coming from the outside mixing with something that sounded like a train coming our way.
'We must hurry,' he said. He tossed my waterproof jacket and rubber boots.
'What's going on?' I asked, zipping up my jacked.
'There's hurricane approaching.'
'Is everyone all right?' I asked.
He nodded. 'We escorted all of your friends home and the guests who decided to stay for the night are in Robertson's basement.
Robertson's were our very normal neighbors. I couldn't imagine what kind of mental consequences sharing the basement with my weird relatives will cause.
My father had locked the door of our house but I couldn't move. 'I can't go there,' I said. He was already by the fence but when he saw the look in my eyes he returned for me. 'I just can't face them.'
'Listen, Liz,' he scratched his neck, 'this isn't the best moment for the story but here we go – when I was your age I also had this grand initiation ceremony. There was cake and music and everything. Grandma Annie had spent two weeks making sure everything was perfect.' He was looking down at his feet. 'And I flooded it.' My father looked up with the biggest grin on his face. 'There was some water nearby and I just felt this rush of power and suddenly everything was flooded – there was so much mud even the tables started sinking. The entire yard was ruined.' He seemed way too happy for someone who had trashed his own party. 'And I maybe flooded the summer kitchen too.'
I laughed. 'Maybe?'
I smiled. 'I definitely flooded the summer kitchen.'
'And what happened then?' I asked.
He shrugged. 'Everyone grabbed their drink and moved to the beach.'
I sighed. Maybe he had embellished this story for my sake but it truly made me feel better.
'You can't make magic by the schedule, Liz,' he kissed my forehead.
'Thanks, dad.' I smiled. 'We can go now.'
He shook his head. 'There's no need, Liz.'
I looked up to see the sky had cleared out. Suddenly I heard the voice of my aunt Mary. 'Guess who can summon a hurricane?' She smacked a kiss on my cheek.
Oh, dear God. I pressed my back against the wall.
r/CrystalElmTales | ... lying on the bed, making a victim of himself. How much more money will he spend before he realizes he is the problem? He could be helping so many people with that money, instead he spends it all on himself. Forget about giving back to the society, can he at least think of ...
"Is it the voice again, Ajay?" My therapist speaks in a gentle tone from the chair.
"Yes." I say.
... his loved ones, he could be saving for his sister's studies and making his father proud ...
"We have talked about this Ajay. Why do you think you hear this voice?"
"Because I have always felt that I am not good enough, that nothing I do is good enough."
... but there he goes again, making a victim of himself, boo fucking hoo. Does he really think his pain can match up to the millions of people living in the streets who don't know what they will eat ...
"Good. Now what can you do when this happens?"
I repeat in my head: "I am a good person. I am good enough. I deserve happiness."
... the audacity to demand for himself while he sits on the mountain of privilege! Oh but the clock is ticking and his expensive episode in self-indulgence is coming to an end. But don't worry folks! He will be right here next week, wasting ...
I am still murmuring to myself as I enter the elevator: "I am good enough. I deserve happiness." The voice is barking back as usual: Ah really, you think so? Why should you get to be happy? What makes you fucking special? When was the last time happiness was in your... When I try to focus on other things it usually trails off into background. I stare at the digital display showing the floor number - 12... 11... 10... - and keep murmuring to myself.
At floor 8, the door opens with a ding. An small and frail woman enters the elevator with two heavy cloth-bags in her hand. She is wearing a green sari with red embroidery and a matching red blouse. Her head has enough strands of white hair to be knotted in a tiny bun. Her face and arms are covered in sweat. She turns around and I see the back of her blouse is wet with sweat too.
7... 6... 5...
"Can I help you with the bags, aunty?" I say after going back on forth in my head.
... and here he goes again, Mr. holier-than-thou. What do you want, a cookie? She probably works every ...
"Oh no, that's fine. I just have to find an auto-rickshaw... I'll be okay." She is panting with exertion.
"No let me help you till then. It's too hot outside anyway," I say. Plus as long as I am talking to her, the voice will be quiet. I will have to hear some comments later but who cares. One minute at a time.
I take the bags from her hands. She is obviously relieved, she stands with more comfort and her shoulders are not hunched anymore. The bags are filled with bottles of some oily liquids. From the labels, I can guess she probably makes those at home and tries to sell them in upscale apartments as homemade hair products. I wonder how much she sells each bottle for. Twenty, thirty rupees? And preparing these many products must be such a -
... and he takes pity on the poor, poor lady. Look, he is so noble! What's next Mr crybaby? Will you solve the troubles of ...
Okay it's interrupting me now. "Do you come here often?" I ask her to distract myself.
There is a ding and the elevator door opens. She answers as we exit, "Yes, there is a lady on the 8th floor who uses my hair-oil. It's the only thing that works on her dandruff." Her tone is enthusiastic and she talks animatedly. She lets out a child-like chuckle. Then she says with a huge smile on her face, "She even asked me how much I charge for a head massage! I told her I am too old and my fingers are too weak to give good massage. But if you came to my neighborhood ten years ago, I would give you a maalish that makes you forget all the new spas and fancy beauty parlors!"
I laugh with her as I dart my eyes around for an auto from the parking lot. You can usually spot one from the road and call it in. It's May afternoon, and the sun is working overtime to make everyone miserable. After a few minutes an auto stops. I place the bags on the seat, making sure they won't spill. As she sits down in the auto, she places a hand on my head in a typical Indian fashion and says, "Thank you beta, I hope you find love and happiness in your life."
I am so taken aback by her comment that I almost jerk my head away. That's a very weird and specific thing to say to someone. While I give her a confused look, a small part of my brain is aware that the voice is now quieter than usual.
She understands my confusion and lets out another chuckle. "Beta, I know that's not what ladies of my age say to your young generation. Even I used to say 'May God do well for you', as is the custom. But you tell me, what can even God do if you are not happy? It didn't seem right to just wish good things on people, so now I just wish love and happiness for them!"
Despite my best efforts, a smile appears on my face. She goes on, "And I have to wish you well specifically, since you called me an aunty! I wake up everyday to see my hair white as chalk and on the streets everybody just calls me maaji all the time. You called me aunty and I felt twenty years younger!" She lets out another innocent laugh.
Not knowing how to respond, I just say, "Thank you aunty" and move away from the auto. I smile at her as I feel as a surge of intense emotions take form of a lump in my throat. She talks to the auto driver and in a few seconds, her auto is riding with the traffic, leaving behind in my ear the loud noise of the engine and somehow even louder words of hers. With a huge smile I mutter 'thank you' once again and find my way to the bike.
The voice is quiet now. I have no doubt it will be back in a while, it's me after all. But just for a few moments, I can enjoy the rare feeling that is effortless happiness.
THE END
P.S. In India it is common to say aunty to women your mother's age. Glossary: beta means son, maaji is what you call an old lady (above 60-70 years). | 2019-09-16T11:00:04 | 2019-09-16T10:59:11 | 67 | 20 |
[WP] You're living in a world where superpowers exist, and you're the most dangerous individual of all. Your power? You project an aura where all the laws of reality/normality assert themselves. You are the anti-super | I underwent the tests as a kid, just like everyone else. My readings were strong. Incredibly strong. Level 5 was the highest previously recorded. I was labelled a *Probable 6*.
"But it's negative six," said my mother, staring at the meter. "Why is it negative? What does that mean?"
"It means his powers are beyond what our instruments can measure," the doctor asserted. He was the first in a long line of doctors to make that mistake. "He might be a seven. Or even an eight! His powers are simply beyond the capacity of our equipment."
"And what, exactly, *are* his powers?" she asked. "We've never seen anything to indicate--"
"It's not unusual for empowered children to show no early signs," the doctor interrupted. "There are even cases of powers remaining latent until after puberty. As far as *what* his powers are, your guess is as good as mine. But I can assure you, Ms Kerrigan, your little Ryan will grow up to be an incredibly powerful man."
Of course, my mother was stoked. Super stoked. I was her super child. Accepted into *Kent's*, an elite boarding school for the heroes of tomorrow, on the basis of those early tests. She treated me like royalty. Like the future king. Maybe in the hopes I'd return the favour when I was rich and famous. She blathered about me to anyone willing to listen. My sisters watched enviously from the sidelines, wearing their goodwill weeds, while mom filled my suitcases up with brand-name clothes and all the latest gadgets.
She kissed me on the cheek and I boarded the plane. Twelve hours later, I strode into *Kent's* with the confidence of a handsome billionaire.
I was nine years old.
"I think that's where some of it comes from," said Ally, my girlfriend. "Your hatred of them. Your resentment."
She loved to psychoanalyze my dislike of the supers. She loved to pin it on the so-called trauma I suffered. Growing up being told I was special, better than everyone else. Growing up being told I would go to *Kent's* and blow the other kids out of the water. Quickly rise to the top of the heap. Graduate as the most powerful youth they had ever had the pleasure of training.
"And then," Ally said, "after all that pressure. After all those promises. Having all those expectations put on your shoulders, by yourself, by others. . .To go through what you went through. What they put you through! At nine years old! It makes me want to cry."
We'd only been dating three months, but in that time, Ally had already found a way to sneak my sob stories out of the vault. She was probably, right, though. The few months I spent at *Kent's* likely *had* contributed to my antipathy toward supers more than I liked to admit.
At first, the teachers suspected that everyone had come down with some kind of virus. That's why none of the students could perform. That's why the teachers themselves had lost their powers. The students fell into a panic. Especially those who had already come to rely on their powers. Meanwhile, the teachers stayed level-headed and rational.
That lasted about a week.
Then the vibes changed. The teachers, administrators, even the damn principal--all the adults started panicking, too. Having identity crises. The psychics couldn't read minds. The telekinetics couldn't move shit without applying physical force. The invulnerable bled from paper cuts. One night, Mr Sanderson got so drunk that he forgot where things stood: gifted with flight from a very young age, he jumped from the window of his dorm, expecting to hover in the cool night air.
From what I heard, the man can still take off; but he flies very rarely now, as landing is awkward as a quadriplegic.
The point is, it took a whole month for the staff to pinpoint the cause. And when they finally did, they made sure to get revenge for that month of anxiety, pain and confusion. Teachers. Students. Everyone wanted a shot at the kid. And after they took their shots, they sent me packing. Back to my mother, whose pride I had wounded mortally by being exactly what the instruments claimed.
Super duper.
"But it doesn't matter what started it," I told Ally. "What matters is that I'm right. The supers are scum. Lazy scum. Period. They're full up on themselves. Born and raised just like I was: being told that they're special, better than everyone else. Only none of them had the reality check I did, so they kept on believing it into adulthood. A bunch of spoiled brats with nobody to tell them no."
"They're not all scum," Ally protested. "And they're not all lazy. I've met some who are kind, decent people. And I'm sure many work very hard."
"*You* work hard," I said. "You worked part time while you put yourself through medical school. You worked long and crazy hours during your first residency. Now you put even more time into your post-grad work. And because of that, you're going to be a great surgeon one day. That's working hard. That's effort. That's overcoming obstacles. The supers don't have to do any of that. They were born with their so-called "gifts". They were born with everything handed to them. And sure, some of them do a good turn now and again, to get the spotlight on them. But deep down, they're selfish narcissists. Taking whatever they want. Doing as much as they think they can get away with. Bullying innocent people for any inconvenience. I see it every day."
"You're overgeneralizing," she said.
"Am I? Why do you think I'm so in demand? Because if left to their own devices, they act like tyrants. Like bastards. Normal people need someone like me to shut them down."
"But some of them--"
"All of them!" I said. "I don't know why you defend them. . .Doesn't it make you angry? Doesn't it frustrate you to see people go gaga over that local super, Healing Touch? She was born with a power you had to sacrifice your twenties to obtain. Surgeons save lives every day through hard work and knowledge. You hardly ever hear about them. Meanwhile, every time that bitch rubs some guy's broken ankle, she makes the front page."
"What do you know about Healing Touch?" she snapped. "You don't know anything about her!"
"I know she wears a mask."
"And what does that prove?" asked Ally.
"Criminals wear masks," I said. "Why wear a mask if you're a good person? Why wear a mask if you have nothing to hide?"
"Maybe because she wants to live a normal life!" Ally cried. "Out of the spotlight! Doing good anonymously! Maybe she wants people to like her for who she is, not for her fame or powers! Or maybe she wears a mask to hide her identity, so she doesn't get harassed by hard-hearted assholes like you!"
We'd had similar conversations before. But that was the first time I'd seen Ally get worked up to the point of shouting, of tears. Of course I felt bad for bringing her to that point. I didn't want to make her cry. But I also had principles. And I wasn't about to compromise them just to make my girlfriend feel better.
\- - -
**Part 2!**
[**https://www.reddit.com/r/CLBHos/comments/o7j8ki/ryan\_kerrigan\_and\_the\_healing\_touch\_part\_1\_2/**](https://www.reddit.com/r/CLBHos/comments/o7j8ki/ryan_kerrigan_and_the_healing_touch_part_1_2/) | I spin the wheel of my steel and whatever vehicle. It’s a giant thing, can say for sure it’s made out of steel, but also a bunch of random crap as well. Stuff that didn’t exist on the periodic table before the Super Revolution. The government supplied it to me, so why should I know what it’s made out of? I quickly end my inner monologue about my tank, realizing that I have arrived at my job, I park between the bright yellow lines, making my vehicle screech to halt. It’s got some nice braking for such a big fella. Somebody comes up to me, asking for identification. I ignore that person, I’m the boss here, nobody should need to identify me at this point. Couldn’t care less about their safety, I’m am the walking embodiment of safety. Grumbling I walk through the sliding steel doors. I’m greeted by my assistants, Pam and Derek.
“Sir, it is not advisable for you to be walking without a protection Super near you, the risk of guns is simply too high,” Pam drones.
“I concur, Supers are not a threat, but guns are certainly a danger,” Derek mentions dryly.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever just get me to my office.”
They lead me to the back of the blindingly white room we’re in. Is there much of purpose to the giant room? Not really, but it was built just in case someone with a power that makes them giant comes in here. But it is a giant waste of my time, having takes way to long walking across the room. Halting my train of thought, I realize I am having them lead me. I storm in front of them, making them jump. I ain’t gonna have my assistants lead me, there my assistants for a reason. Soon I arrive at my office. The office door automatically opens for me, leading me to my familiar office. The one place in the building built entirely for me, that I could actually customize to my content. Naturally, scattered around the walls is some fishing memorabilia, some sports stuff, and personal stuff. I take a seat in my leather chair, practically melting into the seat. Rest, my favorite part of work.
“Go fetch me my first candidate,” I tell my assistants.
“Right away sir,” they reply, synchronization making me uncomfortable.
Making myself comfortable, I pull out my tablet out of my bag. Rubbing my hands excitedly, I turn it on. My favorite part of work, I mean it’s not really a proper job… it’s practically forced labor, freaking United Americas Federation. I pull up the video sent to me by someone less important than me. It shows me the video of subject getting captured. It’s a woman of short stature, her power is a passive. A power that is always active, seems to continually turn into spikes. And these aren’t your run of the mill spikes, they are quite big, a solid 3 feet in length. And there are maybe 15-20 at time. She was just standing around, in some sort of pain. Her neck is quite big, probably from dealing with an abnormal amount of hair. And… she fell over, it looks like she can’t even get up. So finally at this point of the tape emergency services come, and cover her head with a large helmet. Guess the hair spikes aren’t that sharp. So she’ll be here any minute.
I take a quick glance to her profile. I see that her condition has worsened this past year. Reaching the breaking point a little before the video was filmed.
I laze around for a little while, but soon I hear the familiar burst of noise that comes with many people.
I hear someone saying ”we have the patient with us.”
I sigh, and stand up. The woman on the stretcher with the oddly comedic helmet appears in front of me. Once she is set down, her helmet is taken off. Her hair is no longer turning into spikes.
“Ok she’s good,” I groan and say, “I am contractually obligated to you everyone in my vicinity how my power works. My aura sticks around someone for 2 years, 4 months, and 7 days. Through I can disable the whole sticking around part by my own will, so paramedics, you’re good. And the other lady is also good. Now please go, really don’t care much ‘bout that lady. I like my peace and quiet.
The paramedics leave, carrying a likely happy person. I hate monologuing, but I have to do every flippin time.
The days becomes a blur, like always, and all of sudden it’s an hour till I’m done. Suddenly flashing alarms go off.
An automated voice goes, “Intruder Alert.”
Honestly, something interesting happening, I’m not complaining. The automated systems will contain the intruder anyway.
Derek rushes to my side, “Please go to the safe room sir.”
“Ehhh… I’m good, this crap happened five million times.”
Nice thing about being essentially, is that people can’t force you to do that many things. So despite Derek’s incessant protests, I just take a nice seat. Watching some fun old archives of people with weird powers. Some people with shrinking heads, and some other weird stuff. Always enjoyable, but I see out the corner of my eye a head coming out of the wall, slowly turning into a full male body. Wait what, how… how… is their power not getting neutralized. Panic creeping over me, I step back.
I mumble,” how are you still using your power.”
The guy replies, “I have too many powers, please neutralize them, I beg you.”
I notice a Russian accent, and say, “ but… you’re power is not being neutralized right now, what do you want me to do?!”
Suddenly, I’m in the other persons body. And everything explodes in pain, My brain is screeching, ankles exploding, and just everything hurts. My eyes begin to pop out, hair growing, feet shirking. I feel tendons, muscles, all snapping. Every inch of my body is on fire, every nerve exploding. Soon I start to wonder how long the pain will last.
And then I’m back in my own body.
“Now that you have had taste of my pain, fix me,” the man tells me.
I focus the aura around me, it feels like water. I concentrate it all around the mans body. I hold it for what feels like eons. My body strains, my mind struggles to hold focus, but finally he breaks the silence.
He says, “stop, I am cured, thank you. I am free of my curse, at least for a little while.” He collapses on the ground. I take a deep breath and compose myself. I stand up, and am hit with a bout of curiosity. Taking a closer at his face, I confirm that he is of the Russian Federation. No wonder he had to sneak in here. I’ll have to find some way to sneak him out here. After my experience, I’ve realized something. Maybe, just maybe, my job is a good thing.
r/CascadeCorner | 2021-06-24T19:52:48 | 2021-06-24T18:29:49 | 692 | 33 |
[WP] You awaken to find yourself tied down to a railroad track. About 30 meters away from you is a parallel track with 5 people tied to it. You look to your right and see a convergence where your track meets theirs. A train begins barreling towards the intersection as a man approaches the switch. | I blinked hard, taking in the situation.
I was tied to railroad tracks, old Western-style. 30 meters away, five others were tied to a parallel track. Down the line, the tracks converged, a switch with a lever beside the fork, the direction currently running toward the other five could-be victims.
A man was approaching the switch as a barreling train approached the juncture.
"Hey!" I yelled for the man's attention. "Don't pull the..."
Before I could finish the thought, I remembered the five across from me. If the man pulled the lever, I'd die, but five would live.
The other five were screaming for the man, their voices filled with desperate panic.
"I don't know what the right thing is to do!" The man was fidgeting with anxiety, his head snapping from us to the lever to the train.
"Save us!" The five responded.
I made eye contact with the visibly terrified man at the juncture. His expression was apologetic; sad.
"Untie me!" I screamed the obvious solution here.
He shook the fuzz from his head. Right. Obviously. Untie the one guy, save everybody.
Can you imagine spending more than five minutes on this?
He rushed over and began loosing the knots on my bindings. The train grew louder, but I grew freer. I was moving, loose as the tracks rumbled by the fast-approaching engine.
As soon as the rope fell off, I leapt off the track.
... Just in time for it to roll over the other five people. | "Hey, you, yeah you, the one in front of that lever. We've got roughly thirty seconds of conversation so I'd appreciate it if you were silent and listened to me. I'm going to tell you something very important."
"You've got the choice ahead of you wether to kill me or five people, and I'm going to tell you to kill yourself. Jump on the track and join me. Death is the saviour, the end of all ends, the truest calm there truly is. End life's miseries. Come join me."
"I can see that you're reluctant. There's a strong urge inside of you telling you to stay alive. Do not listen to it! For that is the Devil! Yes that is the devil, and you must ignore the devil. Death will free you. Death is what makes us all equal. Death is fair unlike life."
"So flick the lever, free me, and jump. Join me damn it. Join me!" | 2022-10-09T22:10:57 | 2022-10-09T22:07:10 | 584 | 104 |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | Fingers pressed against the confines of the stone box -- blood stained the space between my nose and lips, continuing to drip down past a stubbled chin. I did not have much time - within minutes the next /wave/ of attempts on my life would begin. As they always had.
It had taken so long to realise why.
The earth shook underneath my feet, threatening to crack open with each second that I remained in the weaponised cube. It felt invigorating - green sparks flew from between my fingertips and the runes engraved on the insides of the make-shift tomb. I could practically feel the world crumbling at my feet.
To think that people had spent so long trying to stop this -- spent so long trying to stop me. It was bordering on ridiculous, though I could not deny that they'd been rather determined; most people did get a little competitive when they were trying to stop something from destroying their world.
[I have no idea of what this even is.] | "You seriously sent assassins back in time to kill me in order to prevent me from... knocking over your precious vase?" Jenkins stared, dumbfounded, at the toothpick of a man, with fine silks draped upon his bony frame.
"Yes." Was all the man said before he snapped his fingers.
Two seconds later, Jenkins' world went black and never lit up again. | 2015-04-04T09:14:01 | 2015-04-04T09:05:20 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] You are a Anti-Motivational Speaker. Whereas motivational speakers spread Toxic Positivity and unrealistic expectations, you bring a healthy Dose of Negativity and remind people of how little potential they really have. | You may be under the delusion that I am a dilapidated man. The kind of person who has greasy hair, poor personal hygiene, and questionable health habits—for who else would spread negativity as his profession? While that reflects my internal state, on the outside I am put together, confident, and beautiful, for if I presented my true self nobody would believe what I had to say. They would write me off as *lazy and incompetent*, but because I present myself well, they are inclined to believe every word of it.
My crowd that day was a class of typical high school graduates. People who were still young enough to believe the world had a great deal to offer them. I have always believed that much could be gained if young people could be lectured, in a careful manner, about how little their existence actually matters.
I stepped up to the podium, made sure the microphone was well-adjusted, and began to speak.
“You have all just been told by your valedictorian that this is a new beginning. That the sky's the limit from here on. I am here to disillusion you. As you have been told in your physics textbooks, *the world* is not synonymous with the earth, rather, in the modern scientific view, the world is *the universe*, and that makes the sky a very humbling limit indeed.”
Many of the kids in the crowd were smiling while the parents looked at me with dismay.
“Consider, for a moment, that human talent follows a gaussian distribution—those of you who paid attention in psychology or statistics will know what I am talking about, but for the other ninety-nine percent of you, what it means is this: most of you possess no significant talent whatsoever. You will not cure cancer. You will not be the first person on Mars. You can likely look forward to a middle-class existence where you make no contribution towards the advancement of humanity at all.”
“Now, now, you may be thinking, surely he is not talking about *me*, it is the other students who are useless! But no. I want you to take this lesson to heart, so that when you turn thirty, you will not feel like you have squandered your unique potential, for I assure you, it was never there to begin with. This is not something to abhor; it is a gateway to peace. Your generation is always expected to perform. With social media you are supposed to display a life above the ordinary, such that anyone walking through your profile is meant to feel like a visitor to a museum of extraordinary events. I am here to tell you to take comfort in being mediocre, for it has one great advantage. If you settle for mediocrity, you never have to worry about *becoming* mediocre. You will find within that mindset a fulfilment and peace no amount of striving will ever match.”
Parents muttered amongst each other, and the principal of the school’s head had turned so red one wondered whether any blood was left for the rest of her body.
“Keep in mind,” I said. “That I am not advocating for the total absolvement of responsibility and striving. Rather, I am advocating for low expectations. Untalented as you are, useless as you are, unextraordinary as you are—you are joined by almost every human in existence. So do not feel too different from the beggar on the street, the old lady at the drugstore, your friends, or your parents, but use this sense of mediocrity as a catalyst for a deeper sense of compassion. It is okay to not live the life you see glorified in movies and stories. It is okay to fail. It is okay to be you.”
I let go of the microphone and walked off stage to the applause of a single student who was quickly silenced with glares from his peers. I rarely received a warm farewell, but I had been an anti-motivational speaker for twenty years, and not so infrequently I received a letter from an audience member of ten years ago, telling me that whenever they felt disappointed at the way their life had turned out, they remembered the speech of the pessimistic man from long ago.
I smiled a rare smile. When I was young, I too had thought myself on the road to making some grand discovery that would make everyone happy.
But.
The world has enough of that.
What it really needs, I find, is someone who is willing to make everyone a little more pessimistic. | Adam Rain is one of the best motivational speakers in the world. His words have driven people to do the impossible.
Or attempt. Attempt is the better word. Impossible things tended to be impossible, because that’s what impossible meant. Some people died fairly horrible deaths, and more still found themselves with debilitating injuries that ensured they would never eat normally again.
But plausible deniability with the words ‘literally’ and ‘figuratively’ meant that Adam Rain was still allowed to do his job—provided he had an anti-motivational speaker with him.
“Believe in yourself.” Adam cried with gusto, pumping his arms with just the right amount of vigour. “You can do anything!”
“Let’s be real here, pals,” Derek spoke. He sat slumped in a chair, a mic attached to his collar. “Some of you can’t do a push-up. That, in fact, counts as anything. And therefore, everything that scales up from there is impossible to do.”
Derek was one of the best in the business. Also known as a realist translator, they’ve been in increasingly high demand for a subsect of people who really, really, enjoyed being told that they might not be able to do things.
“Nothing is impossible,” Adam said with a wide smile. “As long as you believe in me, who believes in you! It’s a never-ending loop of positivity!”
“It’s a loop of bullshit,” Derek said. “Statistically, everybody in this room will never be the President of the United States. Because none of you are U.S. citizens.”
Adam put down his mic, before allowing himself a small sigh. He turned towards Derek.
“Look, you are really cramping my style,” he whispered harshly.
Derek also moved the mic down.
“Look, you do your job, and I do mine,” Derek yawned. “I’m just here to get paid and go home, then I can browse Netflix for half an hour and end up watching Office anyway.”
Adam breathed in and out. It’s OK. He’s been through worse crises than this. Nothing Derek says will make the audience fall for him, anyway. Adam’s cultivated charm and words were more carefully manipulated than most scientific experiments, and tested on more subjects.
“Take a look at yourself in the mirror, my friends,” Adam said. “And you’ll see an amazing human being that succeeds in everything they do. That’s how I start my morning off every day.”
“We all feel like shit. Sometimes, all the time,” Derek shrugged. “It’s hard to get out of bed. It’s even harder to do something that feels worthwhile.“
Derek stood up, and gestured vaguely in the direction of the crowd.
“But you can certainly try. You almost certainly fail. And then you try again, and fail again. You aren’t going to succeed the first time you do something,” Derek said, scratching his head. “That’s part of what makes us human. That’s part of what makes things worth doing.”
At Derek’s words, there was a smattering of claps. But it was an infectious one, eventually turning into thunderous applause and raucous cheering.
Adam stared slack-jawed as Derek bowed awkwardly, before returning to his seat. The motivational speaker ran a tense hand through his hair, forcing a smile on his face that seemed to turn redder every second.
“I can’t do this,” Adam screamed, stomping on the floor, and stormed off backstage. “I can’t do this!”
All Adam could hear were the claps and cheers—for the first time in a long while, not directed at him.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-08-26T11:06:30 | 2022-08-26T10:59:01 | 66 | 24 |
[WP] "We left home to kill the ancient gods. Not because they were harming us, but because their existence was causing others to harm each other. If we could kill them, and show their corpses, people would finally know: the Gods are dead." | If only we had known there were so many of them. Gods of home and hearth, of thunder and rain, or the harvest. Gods by the dozen. Gods by the bushel.
We spilled blood for generations. Seven hundred and twenty-two years. We burned, we butchered, and we bludgeoned.
At last, it was over. I stood in a puddle of what had been the last God. Tlazolteotl
the Aztec Goddess Of eating dirt. Unworshipped for centuries... but we are being thorough. I glance at the wreckage one last time, just to be sure.
"It's a new age." I think, as shoulder my axe and walk outside to join the others. Had I fallen one of them would have finished the job.
"It is done?", John asks.
"It is." I reply.
A cheer thunders from the crowd.
I hold my axe up proudly, displaying the broad flat head, smeared with god blood.
A far off voice shouts, "Praise Willem!"
I shake the axe in the air, encouraging the crowd to chant. The clouds break, and I can feel the warmth of the sun on my back.
"Praise Willem!", the crowd picks up the chant. They repeat it over and over again, and in response I hold the axe above my head with both hands, just as a clap of thunder echos through the valley and the crowd goes silent.
I can't breath. I try to catch my breath, but a sharp pain shoots through my body. I feel the strength drain, and I fall.
Everything begins to dim.
The last thing I see is John, holstering his smoking gun.
The last thing I hear is John mutter "That's how it starts." | I slunk through the grass, my eyes focused. A group of Them sat around a fire. I paused; assessing their threat. One man had a tattered white coat; our records indicated that meant he was a God of Healing. I mewed softly to my brethren, reminding them to kill him first. We didn't want to deal with the injured being restored.
A few of them carried the rods of death, gleaming in the firelight. I highlighted those as secondary targets of importance. The remainder, some 50 or so, huddled around the bonfire, murmurs of dispirited conversation reaching my awaiting ears. I blinked with pity, then slowly stretched my lips to reveal my fangs as I remembered the hell they had brought. I hissed, and my comrades sprang into action, silently racing forwards, claws unsheathed. I mourned the death of my many comrades from the clouds of fire and death that had come when the Gods had begun to fight. As shouts raised as they began to die, I blinked slowly.
For their sins, the old Gods must die. We are the new gods now. And let us never forget their fate. | 2019-09-10T12:53:02 | 2019-09-10T12:51:22 | 84 | 31 |
[WP] One day, time just suddenly stops for a short moment for you. At first, you tried to mess around, but after the 246th times it happened, you start to realise that your power is not stopping time, but being able to move in time frozen by another person in the world.
Just an idea that randomly popped up in my head. | I walk through the streets, aimlessly at first, but my mind gains direction and my feet purpose. I look up at the clock tower a few blocks away at Central Square. Fifteen after. My watch shows 8:18. “I didn’t notice for three minutes,” I say as I sigh. “Oh well, I’ll grab a snack.”
I don’t usually think out loud; only when I know I won’t be heard. This is one of those times, but as I approach the gas station, I quiet down, just in case. Inside, I take my time browsing until I settle on an ice cream sandwich from the cooler. I set a couple bucks on the counter, probably more than the sandwich is worth, and look at the man standing in line. Balding, angry and covering the bags under his eyes with sunglasses. I’d say middle-management, heading out for the weekend with his family. They’re waiting in the car while he negotiates the rising price of gas. I step back outside and glance at his car while I’m passing. Two kids and a dog. Poor guy. He’ll probably have an aneurism before he gets his next promotion. The ice cream drips down my hand, and I continue to wander aimlessly.
My watch shows 8:25. It’s a long one today. Maybe I’m getting better at controlling it. After a short mental debate, I head to the closest park bench. Another drop falls down my hand, following in the trail of its predecessor. This one drips off, freezing in midair as soon as it disconnects from me. If I ever find a girlfriend, I’ll show her the wonders of the world. As long as we hold hands, our lives will be infinite. I pondered for a moment on whether or not I grew old during these interludes, knowing I wouldn’t have the first clue on how to check.
My watch shows 8: 30. I glance up at a formation of geese, frozen just like the drop of cream in front of me. An imagined movement catches the corner of my eye. The clock tower shows 8:21 frozen on its face and my breath catches. Did time start again? I didn’t feel the usual stomach lurch. Maybe I’m just getting used to it, finally.
The geese still hover above me, and the woman in the car at the gas station still has that stupid expression on her face. I hear the click as the clock tower hits the half hour. My attention turns once more to the magnificent gothic building and the man on top of it, fixing some antenna or another. He stands and turns, looking down on me. Though I can’t see his expression, it has to be as dumbfounded as mine.
| I didn't love my job.
That's not too unusual. Most people don't love their job. So I guess in that respect, I'm not special. But I couldn't help but feel like I *really* didn't like my job. Being a store associate at Best Buy was like being a lion tamer and a dog trainer all rolled into one. You had to beat back people's anger all day, then show them exactly how to do things the right way. Against their will, usually.
So when the Silence appeared as Mrs. Hendricks was complaining about her 4 year old iPad she bought from us not connecting to the WiFi... again... it was a welcome respite.
In the beginning when it first started happening -- after the shock wore off -- I used to think the Silence was some sort of universal signal to chill for a second. A sign things were getting to be too much in my life, and Someone, Somewhere wanted to give me a moment's peace to enjoy the absolute, suffocating quiet the Silence brings. It feels like being outside right after the first snowfall when the world is on pause and everything's just taking a moment to enjoy the stillness.
Now? I'm not so sure anymore.
I strode away from my station and out into the hot Texas air. Compared to the hermetic, air-conditioned Best Buy, the outside felt wild and rugged and free. Ambling to my '95 Civic, I paused to consider what exactly I should do with my time. These pauses could last just a couple minutes, or go on for hours, and I never wanted to get too far from the store in case everything snapped back into reality.
The black birds that normally hung around the parking lot were frozen in the sky above me, their undulating flock trapped in a moment of time mid-swirl over the Cherry Berry. Of everything in the Silence, I liked seeing the birds most of all. Like a frozen waterfall in winter, the birds seemed to vibrate with an energy even when still. Their purpose was evident even when not moving, and I loved feeling their drive over the stillness of the Silence.
As I stood admiring the birds, I heard it. Faintly.
A car engine.
The silence had been broken. I was not alone. | 2018-01-26T07:06:31 | 2018-01-26T06:51:42 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Due to an address mix-up, an elementary school class sends their Pen Pal letters to an elite unit of Space Marines. Today, the Space Marines are sending a response. | Your Highness Kaitlyn, blessings be upon you.
we have intercepted your encrypted paper-communication and have executed your orders to our best ability. We must seek confirmation of mission success however since our smartest are not in agreement as to the content of your instructions.
The human teacher you refer to as "Ms. Turner" and you refer to as being "mean" to you, has been apprehended and charged with crimes against the state.
You say you go to class "3-K". The significance of this number was guessed to be the coordinates of a Xarlac infestation in our current battlefield. The bombing was unsuccessful however.
The kitten "Mr. Hendricks" who you clam "passed away" was determined to be the name of a spy within our midst. We found him after extended search and despite his repeated refusals, he has been sent to live with the Xarlacs.
Finally, the "boy you liked, Francis", has been identified as Private Francis and been promoted. This puzzled us for his lack of battlefield performance - but we will not question you, Exalted One.
Eagerly awaiting further instructions,
Col. Mark Richardson | Dear Suzy,
You asked me about what I dream about at night? Well I dream about the alien bastards ripping out the throats of my friends. The red mist as they brutally rip them apart. The stench of iron in the air. The horror of realizing that the squelch beneath my boot used to be my best friend. Oh god... Bill... That's all I ever dream about anymore... I hope that answers your question...
Thanks for the Post Traumatic Stress attack,
Guy Radshirt | 2015-01-26T15:37:01 | 2015-01-26T13:41:01 | 43 | 16 |
[WP] Something happy with magic and corgis.
I've been feeling really down for the past few days and would love to escape into a wonderful world for awhile. | Queen Elizabeth started to fall ill. She requested a new dog to accompany her through the rough days. When the corgi arrived, it reminded her of her first, "Dookie." So she gave him the same name. Dookie was quite uniform in his coat, mostly brown. But in the center of his head, between the eyes, a white marking in the shape of a perfect circle stood out.
It only took a few days, the Queen was attached, almost like the dog understood her more than any person. Dookie stayed by her side and even slept in her bed, something she never let happen before. After a week, her illness went away and her health exponentially increased.
Dookie was treated well, he ate more raw fish and meat than any dog ever had, quality stuff too. His coat glimmered with the exceptional proteins and fats.
The Queen's husband started to fall ill. The doctors weren't sure he would make it. The Queen stayed by his side and Dookie by hers. While the King slept, she placed the dog on his bed. She would ask him to pet Dookie when he woke. The King recovered quickly and the doctors were astonished. The Queen knew something was different about Dookie, he was special.
She got up in the middle of the night to fetch a glass of water, when she looked down at Dookie the circle on his forehead emitted a bright light. Not like a flashlight going out, it was a light she peered into. She stared into the light and her life started to flash by. She seen herself in third person, waiting in the garden, when her father brought her the first dog.
The next day, the Queen wasn't sure if what she saw was a dream or reality. So she asked Dookie, "You are different aren't you?" He looked into her eyes and raised one eye brow and then winked. She laughed and he wagged his tail.
Over the next ten years, The Queen didn't age a day. In fact, she started to get physically younger. Reporters would ask her what she was eating and how she seemed to be aging in reverse. She chalked it up to a stress free lifestyle, but no one was buying it. Rumor spread she sold her soul, a vampire got her, she was a ghost.
All things come to an end. Dookie got out and the Queen thought someone stole him. But the truth was, Dookie wandered off to spread his magic to another in need. He appeared in her dreams, and she seen a little girl in a wheelchair holding the dog with a glowing circle. The Queen knew all was well. | "But Rupert, we mustn't disturb the unicorn while it's sleeping!" Billy whispered.
Rupert, a little corgi with eyes so big you wanted to melt just looking at them, let out a gentle little bark that sounded like a siren's call. Then, in almost an instant, he hopped over toward the sleeping beast, forcing Billy to traipse along after him.
"Shh! Don't wake him, Rupert!" Billy called again in a hushed tone.
"Arf arf!" Rupert barked back, his tail jostling to and fro in tense anticipation. What was this little monster up to now, Billy thought to himself.
As Rupert made his last few paces toward the sleeping beauty, lush little green patches of grass began to sprout from where he had taken his last steps. He was like a little angel, with each step creating and recreating a heaven behind him. The air cooled and a gentle breeze rushed over the land, and within an instant humming birds and bees-- the kinds without stingers-- zipped around in an angelic summer scene.
Rupert belched out some fresh milk for the unicorn who, at the smell of the newly produced liquid, jumped up in bleary-eyed excitement.
"Rupert, you brought me a snack!" the unicorn chirped in a voice reminiscent of childhood innocence, "And it's vanilla flavored!"
Rupert let out a jovial laugh and pooped out a rainbow that dropped limitless candies beneath it. Within moments Billy, Rupert, and Benedictine (that was the unicorn) were surrounded by scrumptious treats. They were special kinds of sweets of all varieties-- French, German, Belgian and Japanese pastries, chocolates from Switzerland and Austria, and cakes from all over the world. A coffee bar revealed fresh-roasted coffee that intoxicated the air with a terrific scent of nirvana, eclipsed only by the accompanying smell of fresh frying bacon.
"Thank you Rupert!" Benedictine squeaked in amazement.
"Yeah Rupert!" Billy chimed in, "You really made my day!" | 2017-10-12T00:27:01 | 2017-10-11T23:44:17 | 58 | 11 |
[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. | Nobody knows where the soulmarks came from. There was a time when nobody had names written on their wrists save for the ones they put there by choice. Then on August 2nd, 2031, the burn was felt worldwide. At exactly noon, the names appeared on every person over the age of sixteen. And it happened by time zone. Reports of these markings came out of Asia when The other side of the planet was still a day behind. As the marks swept across the planet with the sun, those not yet marked frantically scrambled for answers or at least a way to stop it.
It hadn’t even hit the states before someone noticed the age thing. That only lead to more confusion. Then people noticed that the names on some of their left wrists were their significant other. Or the ones on the right were someone they’d tangled with. But most didn’t know either name on their wrists.
The following year was full of speculation as to what it could all mean. The soulmate/enemy connection was still considered a crazy conspiracy theory back then. Whole religions and belief systems popped up around the soul marks.
Scientifically speaking, there were studies as to what exactly they were. Volunteers tried to get tattoos over the marks, only to have the names reappear over the fresh ink, bold as ever. One crazy guy had his arms chopped off, which seemed to be the only way to rid yourself of them. Until the names reappeared on the stumps where his arms had been.
The names disappeared when you died, much to the disappointment of terminal patients who signed up to donate their bodies to this particular study. And your name on your corresponding enemy/mate would disappear after your death. So people volunteered to have doctors peel skin away to at least see where the marks were in the body. They found them on the bone and seemed to be comprised of some ‘unknown substance’.
After that year passed and the anniversary of the first marks came back around, those who had turned sixteen in the intervening year developed the soul marks. And it continued year after year. On that day, Souls’ Day, people would gather to see whose names would appear. Some only had one name, as their counterpart was already dead. Some unlucky ones had none.
I did not celebrate on my souls day. I was too busy making sure my drunk mom didn’t choke on her own vomit. I wouldn’t have celebrated even if I wasn’t. I didn’t want the mark. I didn’t think it did anything good. It just made people fear or seek out certain names. People called it destiny when they ended up marrying their soul mates. I called it self fulfilling prophecy.
My mom had me when she was very young, still only fifteen. She hoped that the name on her left wrist was my father. It wasn’t. And two years after it had appeared, that name disappeared. She was convinced she was doomed. And from there spiraled.
I didn’t want whatever cursed names infected my wrists. I didn’t even want to look at them because I was afraid I’d start thinking like her. Or it would sway me subconsciously and ruin my life.
It was just when the burning started that my attention focused on something missing. Breathing. My moms chest wasn’t moving. I shook her. Called her name. I expected her to drunkenly demand what I wanted. But her head just lolled when I shook her.
I rushed to tap my knuckles in the staccato rhythm drilled into our heads from birth. The micro speaker in my ear beeped gently and a calm female voice asked, ‘emergency, what is the nature of your call?’
I don’t remember the conversation very well. I kept telling her my mom wasn’t breathing and she must have convinced me to start giving CPR because I found myself pumping on her chest when EMTs burst in and shuttled me aside.
We were in the ambulance when I came back to my senses. I saw one of the EMTs reach for my mom’s right wrist and start to unbuckle the leather band. ‘No!’ My voice was louder than I intended and he jumped. ‘She doesn’t take that off.’ It was incredibly important for some reason, as though my mind was ready to focus on something other than the very real danger we were facing.
‘Miss, we have to take it off in case—‘
His partner cleared his throat and threw him a stern glare.
He amended We just need access, okay?’
He didn’t understand. She didn’t ever want to look at the name of her enemy. Never wanted anyone else to see it. She wouldn’t even tell anyone what name was written there. ‘Please.’ I should’ve taken care of her better. Not let her drink so much. Maybe get her into rehab. Maybe if I hadn’t mouthed off to her ex, Mike, he wouldn’t have hit me. And she wouldn’t have thrown herself in the way and gotten beaten in my place. I was going to do right by her, starting immediately. ‘Please.’ No matter how ridiculous I felt her reasoning, it was her wish.
I knew he was going to do it anyway. I knew it was logical. And when he did, I wanted to at least spare her dignity and keep my eyes averted. I held onto that promise until a frantic beeping sounded, and I looked over. My eyes immediately focused on the name writ on her too thin wrist. Rebecca.
My name.
I was my mom’s worst enemy.
〰️〰️〰️
I realize this didn’t fulfill the prompt. I just got carried away in the intro and kind of want to explore it further in a longer story. | I can't stop thinking about the world this kind of thing might build. Like:
Some devoted themselves to finding their soulmate, embarking on lifelong pilgrimages and learning as many languages as possible, worshipping the idea embedded within their ink. Others let fear of their nemesis consume their whole being, driving their career, mental issues, or even untimely death.
Some people married as "soulmates" despite knowing deep down they weren't the right John and Sarah, simply maintaining the illusion as though they had something to prove. What really got on my nerves, however, were the Amys who'd hate any Lisa they came across just for the sake of hating her, fulfilling some petty need for triumph.
Others, still, renounced the idea of being bound to someone they may never encounter, opting instead for "good enough," wearing long sleeves to cover that pesky "Joy" or "Adam" and settling for a quiet life with that pretty childhood friend from next door. Buying bottle after bottle of drugstore concealer because out of sight means out of mind.
My personal favorites, however, were the "renegades," a self-titled group who tattooed bold designs and mocking insignias straight over their wrists. Cult leaders would actively seek out their worst enemy for marriage, deceiving them with body paint, some violent extremists even killing their soulmates. All as one giant middle finger to the results of their not-so-sweet sixteenth.
Me, on the other hand? I don't need to worry about being hunted down out of a misunderstanding or my true love not speaking any of the languages I know.
Because my nemesis is my true love.
And I'm also world-famous because of it.
Before I get into that first issue, let me explain the power this gives me. Because truly, it's not all bad. I was always sort of a lab rat (thanks, useless foster parents who sold me off to government scientists), so I was given... compensation. Substantial compensation.
I had a team of translators, *inkers* (wrist tat scientists), and the usual celebrity entourage all following me around. The short of it is, they thought they could study me in my ordinary social dynamic and develop a method to mimic these frequencies that are supposed to stop after you turn sixteen but didn't for me. Unfortunately, your *wris* (slang for the people on your wrists; pronounced "riss") are always accurate regardless of your circumstance, so I could be controlled 24/7 and still be a valid test subject.
That's another thing. If you haven't noticed, your wris' identities have no care for convenience. I had an aunt whose nemesis and soulmate both died before she could track them down: the latter starved in Somalia while the former committed suicide one town over. Even as a rich woman with access to database input, her wris destroyed her. That's probably why I hated the whole concept from the get-go, even before my sixteenth.
But yeah, back to me. You may have wondered why, if I'm a global phenomenon, it wouldn't be easy for my soul-enemy-thing to reach out to me. You know, just shoot an email: "Hey, I'm your person, I'll totally be your lab rat partner, hmu." Except there's the other thing.
My wris is a renegade, and the last time we met, they tried to kill me.
&#x200B;
Except then I wanted to add this....
&#x200B;
Access to the Database.
At the dawn of the internet, a massive digital Database swiftly emerged, compiling as large a picture of as many people as possible. Then, once the government stepped in, only so many people were given access to this insane search engine because morals but actually because capitalism. So naturally, the internet made its own version of what had been taken from it, and thus the Cycle was created. There are plenty of articles telling of love stories from 4chan meetings and serendipitous Facebook replies, but the go-to amateur database is the Cycle. Unfortunately, its output could only reach the level of its input and ability to interpret what it got, so finding your soulmate through it was a hopeful thought at most. That's why the Database remains the superior option.
I was in the generation whose parents finally figured out that unique first names could be the key to all of this. Still, a couple billion unique names, even among different cultures, was a tall order, and everyone began becoming more ID codes than people. Take me for instance. My name is Oyruravj. I would've preferred jjjjjjj or something cool like that but apparently that's too old fashioned.
&#x200B;
But then, isn't an internet-controlled world with names looking more like usernames than anything the most likely scenario?
It's an interesting thought process. | 2020-01-18T23:56:59 | 2020-01-18T23:37:33 | 38 | 21 |
[WP] "I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS ANY LONGER" "But Your Majesty, the prophe-" "You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS" | "You want me to send... a child. A literal, actual, child?" The king shook his head. "My predecessor may have been fond of child soldiers, master prophet, but I am not."
"But surely, surely you cannot allow the entire kingdom to fall? The prophecy-"
"DAMN THE PROPHECY! We walked away from that cursed place, we chose to be better and DAMN IT!"
"So, what shall you do? You cannot hope to defeat the dark lord! Once you call prophecy from the gods it *must come true*, that's how this works. If you learn of the future it becomes written!"
The king slumped in his throne. He knew, he knew all of this. He'd learned it in the pristine academy when he was younger, his eldest brother's sacrifice for their former nation granting his family a lot of privilege.
"You cannot defeat him, sire."
The king breathed a sigh as dire as grave wind.
"There are... other ways to neutralize a threat".
The priest looked confused, and watched with some trepidation as the king began to call forth scribes and calligraphers, sending messengers to his court.
The priests eyes widened as he realized.
"YOU MEAN TO TRY DIPLOMACY? With that, that fiend?!"
The king looked to be a hundred years old in that moment, the vim and vigor of his young 20's completely lost.
"I *will* save my people. I *will not* allow another Omelas to rise on my soil. The monarchy, this monarchy, is finished. Perhaps it is for the best. One man should not have this much power over the lives of so many. In that, our dark lord is correct."
"So you mean to form an alliance?"
"Alliance? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Diplomatically we will have more options. We can win more time. He has shown himself to be open to negotiations witother nations. I cannot defeat him. But I will *not* doom a child to suffer in my stead. If I fail, it will be my burden. I will leave my people the tools to stand without me, and if I fail they will be left the means to try again."
The king rose, his confident posture and determination returning.
"I am no longer a hero, nor was I ever truly one. In fact, if my brother still lived, he'd probably call me a coward, or worse. But... but I cannot allow what you suggest. But a diplomat? This... this perhaps I can do." | The Seventeenth Lord of Merician, Simonius Ravenbeard, brought his fist down on the arm of his throne. "ENOW!" he bellowed. "I WILL NOT SEND MY SON TO HIS POTENTIAL DOOM ON THE WORD OF SOME SMOKE-ADDLED CHRONOMANCER, AND THAT IS AN END TO IT!"
Chronicler Nai-Ralev drew a sharp breath. "I seem to remember, My Lord, that you were a lot more receptive to-"
"DO NOT consider Finishing that sentence," Ravenbeard sternly said, "unless you intend to become acquainted with Stable duty, OR you are recommending something from the kitchens to soothe my temper."
"Perhaps then," the Chronicler smiled a conniving smile, "You, my Lord, would accept this challenge in his stead?"
"Well if that's the case," Ravenbeard's mood brightening, "why didn't you say so in the first place?"
"My Love", interrupted the Queen, "Have you no Faith in our son?"
"I have every faith in our Son," Ravenbeard said, Diplomatically, "to handle anything from enemy soldiers to Armoured Ogres, but the Dark Lord himself is no job for a veritable Neophyte, even one of my own Considerably, er, "enhanced", Bloodline. And would I not have Merician's Premier elven Mage at my side?"
Usha Raven blushed slightly.
"Then it is Decided!" Said the king, picking up his sword.
After all, the prophecy said that a union of Swarthenboch and Elf would be the combination needed to end the reign of darkness at the edge of Merician. Still, Breneric, their son, would not be denied.
But the great legend that is the defeat of the Dark Lord, is an epic in and of itself... | 2022-10-28T15:24:51 | 2022-10-28T10:53:23 | 127 | 27 |
[WP] The galaxy was amused when they learned that Humans have Rules of War. They were less amused when they figured out what Humans do in war when there are no rules. | In the swirling blizzard of North Palax, planet Haranox 7, a group of Aranids, a spider like race, gather together inside a secluded, secure building to discuss one thing.
Surrender
The normally proud race had made 2 mistakes that had cost them dearly. They had aggravated humanity to war, and laughed at humanities so called "Rules Of War", stating that such a concept was stupid and unnecessary. The Aranids had intercepted aid supplies, destroyed civilian settlements, and took a great joy in doing unspeakable things to the humans they had captured. The Aranids had thought the war won from day one.
But then things began to go wrong for them.
It started with a small farming colony going missing, then later those missing were found at an unnamed outpost. They were accepted back into the Aranid society after some initial questioning, but unbeknownst to them, humanity had planted a potent disease into each and every member of the colony, a disease that slowly but surely tore through the Aranids. First came a slight cough, a mild fever, nothing to be worried about. Then came forgetfulness and memory loss, shortly followed by complete insanity, and a feral desire to attack and bite anyone they could.
As the disease spread, humanity continued to attack different colonies, before progressing to major settlements and cities. Every interplanetary communications satellite was either destroyed or taken for humanities own use. Any aid transports were targeted and destroyed without remorse. Humanities technology grew and grew, and soon any battles became a bloodbath for the Aranids.
After suffering countless losses, the council had made the decision to try for peace talks with humanity. The video feed in the council room is grainy, but they can still make out a group of 5 humans looking back at them. The Aranids plead their surrender, for humanity to stop these attacks, and offer a cure for their people. The middle human, a woman with black hair in a bun, coldly stares at the council.
"Answer me this. If our situations were reversed, if we were the ones begging surrender, would you stop? If the history of your species is anything to go by, we don't believe you would. We aren't the first race you've gone to war against, but we will make sure we're the last. We offered you a clean war, with rules, and you laughed at us. Now, on the cusp of extinction, you beg us to stop? Our answer is no. You started this, this genocide is down to your own pride."
The video feed cuts off, and the council of Aranids stand in silence, until one of them grasps his head in his hands, screams, and attacks the councilmen in the room, biting each and every one.
Two weeks later, the extinction of the Aranids is officially announced to the galaxy and humanity takes Haranox 7 for themselves. | Title: Message in a bottle
An alien spaceship detects a storage vessel floating through space. Inside they find a hand written alien message, and a key for decoding the language. After some study by their crew, the message is translated …
Greetings. I will be quick and to the point. Who I am is no matter. By the time you receive this, my entire race will be no more. We were a proud people. The beings called “humans” are a plague upon this galaxy. We fought with all of our tools and weapons at hand, but we lacked the insatiable creativity for destruction they wrought upon us.
We saw our technology as superior, and why shouldn’t we have? Our weapons could output a thousand times the energy theirs could wield. The humans were spreading like a virus, planet to planet and bleeding them dry of resources. We did the only logical step - planetary ignition. The strength of our warships, they could store amazing amounts of energy from a star. Once charged, it could unleash a devastating blast that burns the atmosphere off of a planet. And we did so. An entire Earth colony was razed from existence.
They responded with pleas of mercy, for they had no power as great as ours. They asked for rules of war. We have no reply other than the complete destruction of a second colony planet of theirs. We thought ourselves indestructible, and prepared more warships to prevent this human plague from spreading further.
What happened next was unthinkable. Our outermost colony, destroyed! The atmosphere was lit by the power of a star and incinerated to a crisp. Not by the weaponry of our human foes, but from the beam of our own warship!
Panic ensued in our ranks, and the coming days were true chaos wrought upon us by the humans. Every vessel was scrambled for defense, but each was somehow controlled by some unknown human mechanism. Our own vessels turned on our worlds and rained fire and death upon our own people.
We deemed it the virus, and it spread to every system we had ever developed. Once infected, our own creations turned on us until our destruction was ensured. There was no other option left but to beg for mercy.
The humans could not give mercy. Their genocidal virus has no cure. May this message find a race who may learn from our arrogance. | 2022-01-23T16:21:49 | 2022-01-23T16:09:24 | 334 | 58 |
[WP] "Dude, trust me. Don't be a hero, be a sidekick. You get less pressure, less work to do, more fun, be more popular at school, never really age and if the hero dies you will always fill their mantle. Just be careful not to die." | The waitress flicked on the ancient TV in the corner, its screen fuzzing up with static before leveling out to show a grainy security tape. The camera looked out onto a quiet midtown street. Though difficult to see, the pre-war buildings nearby had dramatically tall windows, cast iron gates, and ivy climbing up the walls, giving it a modern patrician feel.
“Just two hours ago, six armed subversives stormed the Consulate General of Peru,” a CNN reporter announced.
The Astoria Diner, only about a quarter full before the lunch rush, fell silent. The patrons twisted in their seats to get a look at the scene playing out across the East river.
“We’ve learned that there are an estimated fourteen hostages, though that is unconfirmed. No terrorist groups have come forward to claim this attack, though an unnamed source within the Peruvian embassy believes this to be connected to the Chilian government. We have not received word yet on how the American government plans to address this attack on their soil, but we’ll keep you updated as the story progresses.”
Dax dropped his spoon into the now empty bowl of corn chowder, the metal clinking loudly. He closed his eyes, sighed and rubbed his stomach with contentment. Hmm… had his belly always stuck up this much? Might be time to take his dirty laundry off the Peleton and finally get back into classes like he’d been promising himself. Dax opened his eyes to find the rest of the diners look at him incredulously. A burley man in his late 50s was glaring daggers at him, obviously offended by Dax’s indifference.
Dax sighed again, miffed this time. This wasn’t the first time he had seen the hostage tape. In fact, Dax had arrived at the Consulate General of Peru a mere ten minutes after the situation began. He stood up and walked over to the aggrieved man, gesturing to the other side of the booth.
“Mind if I sit?”
The man nodded but said nothing.
“Look,” Dax said, “Those people are going to be fine. And they only have eleven hostages, not fourteen.”
“You don’t know that,” the man said, his eyebrows shading his face in skepticism.
“I do know that,” Dax replied. “I know that because I’m Professor Premonition.”
The man’s brows furrowed further. “You mean,” he croaked, “The Sonic Scream’s sidekick?”
Dax bristled. “I prefer partner.”
“If you’re Professor Premonition, where’s The Sonic Scream? Why aren’t you there helping?”
“What else is left for me to do?” Dax asked. “I warned the police yesterday, but they didn’t take me seriously. Even still, I gave them the tip that one of the hostages had a secret cell phone. I even went though the trouble to let the reporters know when it would be safe to call them. The Sonic Scream and the police have their plan, so why would I want to put myself close to all that danger?”
The waitress slid a hot coffee in front of Dax. He poured in a non-dairy creamer and took a small sip.
“Plus,” Dax said, “If I have another premonition, I can just as easily call my partner on the phone.” He waggled his beat-up Samsung in the air before setting it on the table. “Might as well do my job while eating the best corn chowder in town.”
The burley man rolled his eyes, obviously convinced that Dax was off his rocker.
“BREAKING NEWS” flooded red light from the TV into the dimly lit diner. The conversations died down as everyone paused again to listen.
“We go now to Tonya, on the scene of the Peurvian hostage crisis. Tonya?”
A reporter stood in front of a cloud of dust and quickly adjusted her blouse as the camera began rolling. People were streaming out of the building behind her.
“Moments ago, The Sonic Scream, superhero involved in the infamous Coney Island fire rescue as well as last month’s blob incident, saved the day once again. Following a SWAT team, the Scream incapacitated the gunmen, giving the hostages time to escape. No casualties and only mild injuries are reported. Truly amazing.”
A man emerged from the building, his bodysuit chalky with dust.
“Oh, Mr. Scream! Mr. Scream! May I have a word?” Tonya called.
“Sure, sure,” The Sonic Scream replied, jogging over. He had a small cut on his cheeks and bags under his eyes but was otherwise no worse for wear.
“Tell me,” the reporter asked, “how did you handle this situation so adeptly?”
“Well,” The Scream paused thoughtfully, “I couldn’t have done it without my partner, Professor Premonition. And of course the support of the good people of New…”
Dax pulled his eyes away from the screen and settled them on the man at the other end of the table. “Partner,” Dax repeated smugly.
“Another chowder for my friend here!” the burley man called to the kitchen, slapping Dax amicably on the back. | Heroes were the goal of every young child. Everyone, at one point, dreamed of saving the world and donning a cape, even if they had fallen out of style. For some, it was more than a childhood whimsy and they held onto it long enough to truly pursue it. Such a decision was a rare thing. It took a lifetime of training and was more likely than not to leave you with a short career and lifelong injuries. So you knew that any successful hero was truly selfless. Either than or an idiot.
I was one of them, or almost was. Always next to a hero, with just as much danger but nowhere near as much fame were the sidekicks. We were the hero hopefuls or those who just didn't make the mark to succeed in the final transition into independent hero work. I wasn’t sure which of those I would end up.
It was true I had always wanted to be a hero, but lately I was coming to regret that decision. It was a life-consuming calling that demanded all your attention. Each day consisted of physical training and conditioning, the stress of keeping a secret identity, and the pain of pushing your ability to its limits. I just wasn’t sure if I was cut out for it anymore. It wasn’t as though I didn’t have other hobbies that needed me to sink time into them. I liked writing and drawing. I did amateur comedy with a few friends. There just weren’t enough hours in the day and life was too short for me to truly achieve everything I wanted.
I shared my misery with Spearhead, a fellow sidekick and work friend. “Just stick with being a sidekick. Trust me on this. You enjoy doing the hero work right?” he asked. I nodded to him. Being a sidekick or a hero had its perks. “Of course you do. It’s a great way to help your community, everyone involved is friendly, you make a lot of big connections, and the glory is nice if you’re into that. Sidekicks get all of it except for that last bit. But what you get in return is the personal time. You can practically do it part-time.” Spearhead did have some good points.
“Is that your plan? Don’t you think you’ll regret it if you don’t take that final leap hero?” I asked him.
“Oh, I don’t think so. The options always there, though its definitely harder the longer you stick as a sidekick. Plus, if anything ever happens to your hero or if they decide to hang up the cape, there’s always a call for their sidekick to inherit the role. I’ve seen it happen more than once,” he said.
So I decided to coast in my career. Without the pressure to promote myself, being a sidekick was a nice gig. Just like Spearhead said, I was able to keep up what I had been doing with time to dedicate to other tasks. I even had a decent following as a comedian if I ever had to retire. My hero, Silver Wolf, wasn’t the biggest supporter of my decision. He thought I had the skill to be a full fledged hero and was wasting my talents in my hobbies. He often took me along on his journeys to stop the villain, Sphinx.
The villain was a deadly foe. He had been the end of many a hero’s journey. But he had never been able to end Silver Wolf. Many considered them to be the last living pair of the classic arch-nemeses. There’s goals often clashed but the Sphinx had never been able to kill my mentor nor had Silver Wolf been able to capture or expose the villain. Still, he tried his best.
“You better not have a death wish just so you can force me into being a hero,” I often told him.
“Never! The hero’s path must be chosen. I’ll convince you yet,” he’d always reply.
I’d roll my eyes at him but, all the same, I always listened when he told me what he’d discovered of Sphinx’s plots and join when he went to stop him. We had rescued hundreds of victims from the villains seemingly endless collection of lairs. Test subjects of ability experimentation, hostages taken for ransom, even a kidnapping for pure cruelty. He had his hand in every villainous jar.
It was enough to make anyone feel righteous fury, especially Silver Wolf. He would always swear to bring an end to this monster and say stirring speeches to the media when the victims were reunited with their families. After, he would look at me imploringly, his question not needing to be said. I’d look away without saying anything. Be a hero? I wasn’t sure. Villainy was already a time consuming hobby and being the Sphinx was hard work.
\-----
r/Inder | 2020-07-11T13:39:16 | 2020-07-11T11:57:27 | 329 | 20 |
[WP] The biggest warmongering race of Aliens declare war on the local Galaxy cluster. The opposing group of peace-loving Aliens, who had befriended most Alien races, are finally forced to reveal their secret weapon, a 'classified' species called Humans, and their tenacity as persistence predators. | Greetings Earthlings,
In Earth year 1980 we noticed the Attractors were conquering, enslaving, and gathering the remants of all those they conquered in the Laniakea. By 1988 they were now moving into the Virgo Supercluster and toward our Local Group.
We believe this is because of all the galaxies in the Virgo Supercluster only Andromeda and the Milky Way had any Type III or Type II civilizations. You can call us the Andromedians. We are the only Civilization that can use all of the energy our galaxy provides to help civilizations in our Local Group. Because of our dominance we have been able to keep peace in local group for nearly one billion Earth years. But because of this even Type II Civilizations that can use the energy of their planetary system haven't waged war in our Local Group for all this time. We intercede immediately at the start of the conflict which is usually a new Type II Civilization declaring war on a nearby peaceful Type II Civilization, or a yet uncontacted Type I that can use all the energy of their planet. Or a planet like Earth a Type 0 Civilization that has yet to fully utilize their planet for energy.
We are here because of all the monitored Type 0 and Type 1 Civilizations, Humans have the greatest capacity for war, and being persistence predators. We are offering the people of Earth something we have never offered before, access to Type I, II, III technology. And to use it to make weapons of War.
We believe the Attractors are attempting to become the only Type IV Civilization in the Universe. And to harness the power of the hole universe they will kill and enslave every race in existence.
People of Earth we offer you the tools to create a utopia in your solar system. But first you must finally band together as one people and declare your and the universes final war. | 'It wasn't a time for taking the easy way. Even we saw that.
Now, there was nothing left to do but the worse. Pretty lucky too that they were actually prepared for something like that. '
All eyes remained fixed on the counselor.
'It make you wonder if prohibiting aggressiveness all those years ago was really necessary to the extend our forefathers decided to enforce.
As you can all understand, the reason why I invited all your representatives to appear in person here and video to be redirected here - for the next 4 minutes 45 seconds - is the release of the beast, so to say.
We are to touch ground in Beijing in about 25 seconds. Bear with me.
Some quick facts on 324#
- nuclear tech phase 4
- almost 10 billion incl some half billion minor species.
- good physical 90%
- no stimulants (exclus. Pre-phsych)
We are confident and hopeful to be able to reach their cooperation quickly, in the contrary case, measurements have been taken and we are positive to be able to intervene over 60% of pop. '
'"BRACE FOR IMPACT"
- | 2021-05-25T19:42:06 | 2021-05-25T10:05:45 | 25 | 17 |
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