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]Theories of time travel are being discussed when a scientist creates a machine that lets you contact the past, but only from the point from which the machine is created. After months of funding it’s finally activated, but nearly immediately messages from the future start to come through. | "*2025 huh? Hate to be the one to tell you fellas but you're in for an interesting couple of decades*"
The voice coming from the machine was grainy and crackly, like he was speaking to me through the speakers in your granddaddy's old car. But this was the only signal we had been able to find since the device went active. We had been expecting tens of thousands of messages and had assembled a team of Earth's finest telemarketers to transcribe it all, but they'd been sitting idly for weeks. In front of me the entire communication team stares around in idle boredom.
"What do you mean an interesting few years, and why is this is the only signal? We had expected thousands" I said to the voice on the other side. He had told me his name was Eric.
*"Well the problem is that global warming happens"* Said Eric in a strangely casual tone.
"What do you mean global warming happens? Like what specifically?"
*"All of it, it happens soon after you the facility is created, and the machine is then flooded underneath seawater for about 10 years."*
I step away from the transmitter for a second to collect myself. Years of my life spent dismissing the various apocalypse conspiracies, and yet here I am with pretty solid confirmation. After a few moments in thought I return to the transmitter.
"But...what do you mean all of it, when does this happen?" I said.
*"What date is it on your end?"* He says in an absent minded tone, as if distracted by something.
"January 4th 2025"
*"Thursday".*
"Oh my god, so the entire planet is flooded? You said for ten years what happens after, why did no one try to contact us?"
*"No just Asia and Australia, the rest is fine, it gets cancelled out by Nuclear Winter. And I guess no one contacted you because of Nuclear Winter".*
"Nuclear winter? Oh god so we all get killed by the bombs?"
*"No just Europe and the Middle East, but the cold refreezes the ice caps and cools the planet down so everything just kinda goes back to neutral for the next 10 years."*
I think to myself how this could possibly get worse, global warming followed by nuclear winter. I laugh to myself that this must be some kind of sick joke, both happening at the same time.
"For the next ten years? What happens then a super volcano erupts and kills the rest of us?" I say to Eric in a mocking tone, hoping this is all a joke, but deep down knowing it probably isn't.
*"Well actually yes, Yellowstone super volcano to be specific. It's so powerful it launches its dust all the way into space, and the the lava rains across the entire of North America, re melting the ice caps and re-flooding the facility for another 10 years, this is what historians refer to as the first great tragedy."*
"The first great tragedy? what the hell is the second, are we invaded by aliens?"
*"Close but not quite, a meteor hits south america and vaporises the amazon, dust is thrown into the sky which cools the planet back down, and the facility is covered in ice for 10 years.*
"Is that the second great tragedy?"
*"no that was when Ebola and Zika virus merged together and created Pandemic fever. That was pretty much it for Africa".*
"So whats it like there now then? Does the human race even still exist in 2075?"
*"Well civilisation doesn't really exist anymore, but other than that everything is fine, the world just kinda keeps going without us. But we have a guy on the line from 2125, he's really hard to understand but he seems to be warning us about some kind of subterranean mole people".*
"So are you the last man alive then? Is it lonely in the future".
*"No, teds here too".* | Correct any mistake.
Alex's idea was a bold one, create a machine capable of correcting any mistake. If someone knew the outcome and could then inform the decision makers of any and all consequences there would be no more error.
We had spent years planning, designing, and dreaming of the day we could finally build it, the machine to save humanity. We agreed to be sure it worked properly before unveiling it to the world. I mean, you mess this one up and the future could be anything. The problem is... unobtainium is *expensive*. Alex sought funding without me knowing and the American government funded us ten fold. "We'll be defending freedom" they had told us.
Well, the machine is finished, it's bigger than I had anticipated. There's a group of well dressed officials waiting for us to power it on. I saw some military people, I don't know ranks but there are a lot of stars. There are people in fancy suits, some in all black, they make this feel almost funerary. At the far end of the room, guard by some of the black suit guys is the president, we hadn't been told he was coming.
"Well, turn it on." I hadn't even looked to see who said it.
Alex and I looked at each other, years of planning, years of dreaming.
*click*
*nothing*
"There's not a lot it will do right now," Alex says, "it can only message itself and we've just turned it on."
*beep* A word appears on the screen, TEST.
Alex pulls out the keyboard.
"What are you doing?" A demanding voice asks.
"I have to send a test message to the past, that's the only way that would've appeared on the screen." Alex replied quickly. Very logical thinking.
*TEST* he types, [enter]
*beep* CAR BOMB IN NEW YORK AL QAEDA AT FAULT.
*beep* DISREGARD LAST MESSAGE, BOMB IN LOS ANGELES.
*beep* DISREGARD BOMB IN DC.
With this message gasps are heard, the machine wasn't done.
*beep* BOMBS PREVENTED LOSS OF LIVES WITHIN REASONABLE LIMITS USING TACTICAL NUCLEAR WARHEADS.
Murmuring in the room. Alex and I look at each other. *nuclear warheads* What have they done?
*beep* CONFLICT IN AFRICA NATION STATE WARS INEVITABLE.
*beep* CONFLICTS AVOIDED LOSS OF ASSETS WITHIN LIMITS USING RAPID TROOP DEPLOYMENT.
*beep* WAIT TOTAL LOSS.
*beep* MORE BOMBS.
*beep* MORE.
Oh my God, what is happening? What have I done? I thought this is what we were stopping. I have to do something. I look at Alex, I've never seen him scared before.
*beep* STOP THE INVENTORS.
(I'm not sure if like this or not but I spent too much time typing on my phone to just delete it and I have to get back to work. I hope someone enjoys it)
EDIT: FORMATTING, JESUS THE FORMATTING, I'm sorry | 2020-01-04T09:29:39 | 2020-01-04T08:49:19 | 94 | 22 |
[WP] The whole town knows about it. The black shadow on the baby monitor. Sudden changed diapers or meals ready for kids when they get home. Cleaned rooms and drawn baths. It is known as The Babysitter. It will never harm a child, but heaven help those who don't pay for its services. | The baby monitor blares into life as the tinny sound of Kai's cries fill my bedroom. I groan, dragging myself up onto my elbows, trying to blink away sleep as I turn to the monitor screen. But as I start to pull myself out of bed, I see the shadow cross the screen, hazy and ill-formed. There's a sort of static hum - almost melodic if you squint. (Can you squint with your ears? You know what I mean.) Wispy dark tendrils of shadow pass between Kai and the camera in his room.
I lower myself back onto my bed, my chest tightening with unease. I know the Babysitter has never done anything other than care for a child. As dark and mostly unseen forces go, it's less sinister than most - but having that presence in our little flat, lurking over my baby when I'm not there, singing to him without words in that lilting, unreal voice, creeps me the *hell* out.
I sigh and pull out a tenner, tucking it underneath a book on the bedside table even as I hate myself for doing so.
And then I pause. Slowly, I pick up the note and tuck it back into my purse. I sink back into my pillow, shutting my eyes against the sounds of the Babysitter's song and trying to ignore the anxiety heavy in the pit of my stomach.
There are stories, of course, of the horrible things that happen to you if you don't pay for its services. But then again, I've never known anyone *not* to pay. Isn't it punishment enough to watch this vague, eerie force hovering over my child, let alone fucking paying for it? All I know right now is that I can't take years of this lingering, unsettling dread. If some magical ghoul wants to key my car or lose me my job, then so be it, so long as I don't have to think of it looming over my child every time I turn my back.
\-----
The next morning, the car remains un-keyed, the milk in the fridge is unspoiled, and I manage not to suffer a gruesome death on my way downstairs to fix breakfast. But even knowing that Kai is safe, even knowing that the Babysitter has never harmed a child, the knot of worry in my chest will not loosen until I pick him up and he babbles happily away.
"Mama," he coos, before proceeding to spiritedly chew my shoulder.
That evening, though, his baby food is already out on the table, warmed to just the right temperature, and a brand new teddy bear sits in his cot.
Teddy gets acquainted with his new home in the bin, and I leave no payment.
\-----
The Babysitter continues to visit the flat, cooking meals, cleaning, and watching over Kai just as before. I wonder if it's even noticed the lack of money left on the table. Do I have to perform a sodding exorcism to get rid of this thing? Is it taking its payment in my goddamn blood in the brief hours that I fall asleep?
I'm barely resting now, rushing into Kai's room every time he so much as whimpers, to be there to reassure him before the Babysitter arrives. Sometimes I sleep curled on the floor with my head resting uncomfortably against the bars of his cot, with tracks of dried drool on my cheek when I wake in the morning, bleary eyed and stiff necked. I know Kai is sensing my distress - he takes longer to calm even when I rock him, feed him or sing to him.
His cry pierces the air, and I'm there in an instant.
"What is it, ducky?" I whisper, peering into his cot. "Hey, are you hungry?"
He continues to cry, and I lean down to pick him up. His shrieks only strengthen, and he pushes against me with his chubby little hands, screaming in earnest.
"Mama." He wails, twisting in my arms like he did when he got his vaccinations.
"I'm here, baby, shhhh, I'm here..." I gently bob him up and down against my shoulder.
And then the shadow is there in the room with me. Fingers of dark cloud unfurl between me and Kai, wrapping him in a shroud of smoke-like darkness. The Babysitter is cold against my skin as it passes over me, and I can't stop myself from letting out a shudder.
But Kai settles.
A frisson of fear passes through me. I lay him back in his cot, kneeling beside him, my hands still stretching through the bars to gently stroke his tiny arm. He starts to whimper again, eyes wide and baleful, staring at me as though I am a stranger.
"Hey, hey, sweetheart... Please..."
I feel as though I am begging him. I am aware of my fingers tightening around his arm and I have to force myself to relax them. His eyes fix on a point beyond my shoulder, as if I am not even there. I can feel the unnatural chill behind me, the coolness of the air almost smothering. Shadow slinks around Kai once more, his blanket twitching up to rest around his shoulders. I feel a tear run down my cheek.
"Mama," Kai coos again.
\-----
If you'd like to read any more of my stories, they can be found at [r/happinessinthedark](https://www.reddit.com/r/happinessinthedark/) :) | So I started responding to this prompt and ended up running with it for way longer than I expected. The story is going to be broken between a few comments.
Bill and Lisa Alderson sat with their arms around one another. Their loveseat was well worn, with fraying upholstery and faded plaid. Bill was hunched forward, in his hands he held an Ipad, which was streaming a video of their newborn daughter. Elise lay in the crib, safely nestled in a blanket adorned with cartoon penguins. Aside from the occasional yawn, she was completely still. Bill took a sip of his beer, and set it back on the coffee table. Lisa was resting her head on his shoulder, a glass of her favorite merlot held in her free hand. “Look at how little she is.” She cooed. “She looks like a baked potato.” Bill said with a smile. Elise yawned, stretching her tiny mouth as far as it could go, then smacked her lips. Lisa felt her heart swell in her chest, her face was hot from the wine. A tear ran down her cheek. “Ugh look at me.” she said, wiping the tear away. Bill smiled and kissed where the tear had been, then kissed his wife on the lips. Elise had come home from the hospital only two weeks ago. She had been an early child and had to be kept at the hospital for nearly three months. During that time Bill and Lisa practically lived at the hospital. They had been worried the child would never come home, looking back, that fear seemed completely unfounded. Elise had put on six pounds since she was born. When she came into the world Bill was afraid he would break her when he held her. Now, seeing her nestled in the crib, Bill had to fight the urge to go hold her once more. “We did alright.” Bill said, pulling his wife in for another kiss. She set her glass down and met him eagerly. The wine had done more than make her face hot. Lisa pushed Bill down, making the old couch squeak, and got on top of him. Bill closed his eyes and pulled her tight.
Bill fumbled at the front of Lisa’s blouse, doing his best to keep kissing his wife. After failing at the same button three times, he opened his eyes. Lisa sighed sarcastically, sitting up on his lap. “Too many beers cowboy?” She asked. Bill smiled, unbuttoning slowly. When the last one was undone Lisa’s blouse hung open at her sides, she moved back in to kiss him. As he pulled his wife in, Bill saw something race across the Ipad’s screen. He kissed his wife, this time peering out of the corner of his eye. Something crossed again, this time in the other direction. Bill’s heart jumped in his chest, he broke the kiss and tried to sit up. “What is it?” Lisa asked, she peered down at her open blouse, her caesarean scar making her feel self-conscious. Bill saw the look on his wife’s face. “It’s not you, I just think I saw something on the monitor.” He said, scooping up the Ipad. The two watched the screen, waiting, Lisa picked her wine up. All they saw was another big yawn from Elise, her swaddling undid itself as she moved. “Hmm, it must have been th—." Bills words caught in his throat. Lisa let out a shriek. On the monitor a black shadow swooped past the camera lens and towards the crib. The shadow moved swiftly from the left, to the right side of the crib, before resting at its head. There it settled into a human like shape, deeply hunched. The outline of the shadow waivered in a perpetual vibration, giving it the illusion of constant movement. The figure’s head was completely devoid of features, only a black mass on the top of its body. Bill’s hands were shaking as he held the Ipad. Lisa opened and closed her mouth, trying to form words, but nothing came. Her free hand dug into Bill’s arm, leaving red imprints around her nails. She drained her wine, and moved to stand up. Bill grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the couch. “WE HAVE TO GO IN THERE” She screamed. At this, the figure’s head tilted towards the hallway outside Elise’s room, then turned back to her. “W-w-we don’t know what that is.” Bill said, his voice left him in hoarse stammers. Lisa tried to pull away, but Bill’s grip was iron. That was her little girl in there, her flesh and blood. How could Bill be so stupid? She wrenched her arm free a few inches, starting to flail wildly. | 2020-04-14T17:28:12 | 2020-04-14T16:13:53 | 365 | 145 |
[WP] A man is elected as president of the USA. A few days after election, he realizes that bring leader of the free world isn't his thing, so he does lots of horrible things to try to get impeached, but it keeps backfiring on him. | "I Want to bomb Canada."
My military advisors eyes went wide and it was clear he was thinking hard of an appropriate response to the president of the united states.
“Sir, I must implore you to reconsider. The..”
“Shut up and bomb Canada. Send four… no… FIVE planes and bomb… eh… Toronto! Yes Toronto is going down tonight.”
Everyone in my oval office was horrified. No way they were going to do it and if they did I would finally get kicked of this post and let the VP step up and take over.
I swept all the papers and pens and whatnot of my desk with a feigned nonchalance and strode out of the room, making sure to step on the VP:s foot as I did.
“I want a steak and a beer in my personal quarters within 10 minutes.” I yelled over my shoulder as I undid and stepped out of my pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor. “Mañana bitches!”
It’s early in the morning when a polite but hurried knock rips me from sleep into one HELL of a hangover. How the hell does someone learn to knock that way? It’s like a language by itself!
With slow and awkward steps I make it to the door and open it, only then realizing I’m wearing a beerstained white shirt, a left sock and nothing else. My chief of staff looks me over and with the tiniest of pause informs me of what happened last night. Not with me, that night’s just gone forever man.
“As the planes made their way to Toronto they took a detour to make it look like the planes came from Russia…”
“What?!” I interjected, making my headache kick into overdrive. “I never told them to do that!”
He went on, ignoring my outburst.
“…and they spied a, to us, hitherto unknown airfield with 25 MIG planes on the tarmac, ready to launch.”
“What the fuck does “hitherto” mean?!”
Again I was overrun by facts that started to spin my head for other reasons than the one i gave myself last night.
“They called it in and the military commander made a split decision call to bomb them instead of… uh… Toronto. Sir.”
I stood silent for a moment. What is going on? Have I started a war?
“Have I started a war?” I asked sounding like a boy with his hand in a cookie jar.
“No sir, you, according to all military info, prevented one by striking first. We are drafting your speech for later today where we proclaim that this info was known to us this entire time and we used the codename Toronto for the strike. You are a hero sir.”
He left as if he just gave me the morning paper and had few more stops on his route.
I closed the door and puked in a vase.
“Shit! I’ll probably get reelected for this!”
| "My fellow Muricans," I said. "Fuck you."
The audience was stunned into silence. The press didn't seem to know what to do, and the secret service coughed nervously. Words of a well prepared speech scrolled across the teleprompter that I chose to ignore. Questions rushed in.
"Mr. President, do you hate Muricans?"
"Mr. President, is there some other meaning behind this?"
"Mr. President, did you rig the election?"
"Mr. President, is it true that you are a homosexual?"
I simply smirked and threw the podium to the side. Microphones screeched and the wood smashed itself to pieces. I stomped on it to further break it into pieces before unzipping my pants. My penis came out through the fly, and I put my hands behind my head before doing the helicopter.
"Mr. President, are you drunk?"
"Fuck no, I ain't." With my dick still handing out, I pulled out the pistol that I keep in my jacket and fired in the air. People screamed as chunks of ceiling rained down on them. "I'm a badass motherfucker, yo!"
The press conference came to a close, and I rode back to the White House with my secret service escort. Several people close to me asked if I was alright, and I assured them that I was. "I just had to get that out of my system."
As I laid down at night, I rubbed my hands together. I was sure that this would be my last day as president. VP Jimbo would take over after this fiasco. No more stress. No more negotiations, and no more dealing with a war that was going nowhere. To my dismay, the morning newspaper read something completely different. My picture, with a censor bar over my dick, was on the front page with the headline "Bravest President Ever!"
As I trudged into my office, my publicist walked up to my. "Mr. President, your approval ratings are through the roof!"
I groaned, but forced a smile. "That's great news."
"I was a little skeptical of yesterday, but keep up the good work. Next time, though warn me so I can tell your speechwriters not to waste their time." | 2015-06-05T07:49:22 | 2015-06-05T05:18:51 | 84 | 36 |
[WP] Since you were born you could see a search bar over people's heads. All you had to do was think and the search bar would fill out and give you information/statistics. Out of boredom one day you decide to search your whole family with"Number of people killed" | The chatter was loud and incessant, like a fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing in your ear.
Or several flies. Hell, a whole cloud.
Anyways, Aunt Sandy turned “33” for the fifth time and my mom wanted to throw the party at our house because she wanted to flambé (torch the living shit) out of her “famous” Baked Alaska pie in front of everyone as a grand finale. She’s always been a bit crazy in the kitchen, like when she made lasagna with cucumber and olives. As soon as I saw the green I searched “What is she thinking?” in the search bar above her head.
No results.
It’s only been 30 minutes into the party and surprisingly, most of my family is already here. Even my brother Bradley came over from the frat house he lives in, and he’s barely over.
Frankly, Im tired, bored, and done with accepting wet pieces of candy from my toddler cousins.
I had a crazy idea to search.
Let’s have some fun here.
I looked down in front of me. Ethan’s mouth was stained blue from the lollipop he had in his hand. As he extended out his hand for me to lick it, I searched “Number of people killed” as I turned my head away. “0” it said.
This was pretty amusing. I started going around the room. Aunt Sandy “0”, Mom “0”, Uncle Ben “0”, Max “0”, Doug “0”, ok...Doug kinda surprised me. Bradley
“0”.
Wait. “1”. Wait “2”. Why is it going up? Im staring right at him! He’s not doing anything!
“3”. “4”.
My heart is racing out of my chest and my limbs were frozen in fear and confusion.
“Bradley!” I called out. He looked up from sipping his Bud-light beer. “Did anything happen today? Just now even?”
He looked up in recollection briefly.
“No, I just baked some pot brownies for my frat brothers before, but nothing crazy.”
“Did you add anything else to them? Did you turn off the oven?” I frantically asked.
The death toll kept going up “5”. “6.”
“Oh shit...I don’t think I turned off the oven, but one of them probably took care of it.” He took another swig of his beer. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Dude...you have no idea. | It was my dad. Let's not beat around the Bush. 22 people. My dad is the sweetest old man. But everyone respects him. He could be funny, hell my first joke that got a real laugh was one he told me when I was 6 or 7. One about a dumb guy being asked how many Ds are in Rudolf the red nosed reindeer. The guy says 7. No man its 4. No says the guy its seven, listen. Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee dee dee. I laughed at his joke for years. It was my go to for adults.
Still. 22 people. The guy thought me most everything I know. How the hell did my dad kill 22 people. Okay let's do some more searches. "Dad murder trials." Searching...
"One result"
"Lucky Valentino's jury selection"
Let's see here. Oh, he just appears on the rejected jury for trial list. It's odd but he's not on trial and no other enters of his name are found.
Let's try "
Okay I'm loosing my train of thought. I'm just going to give this twist away and turn in for the night. My dad accident kill 22. He worked in remodeling for 40 yrs. It was never really his fault. Mostly him wondering about how he could of done something different. Big ones were very few. Only one guy did he feel like he didn't do enough. It was an accident. The guy cut through a power cord. True dad was the last guy to handle it and that can wear on your concise. But come on dad, he could have watched where he was cutting too.
Big twist. I finally searched myself. Turns out I'm probably not that good at cooking as I thought. Sweet dreams those who are out tonight. | 2019-07-01T23:13:12 | 2019-07-01T21:57:00 | 146 | 24 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | 17 years, 364 days, 23 hours, and 56 minutes since I was born. The day is May 15th, 2007. The time is 4:40am. Despite the early hour, the whole house is lit up. My family had breakfast ready and coffee brewed by 4:30. We believe that destiny chooses your career through the summoning, and it is tradition to have a celebration for each summoning in our family. To be honest, I'm scared. What if I summon something stupid, like a deck of cards or a stapler? What kind of a career would a stapler lead me to? Would my family laugh at me? Would they still care about me? Shit. The minutes felt like hours, with my anxiety worsening with each one passing.
4:41am: I look towards my sister, Jamie, who, on her summoning day, summoned a man, Jeff, and they were married within the day. She's a housewife, and that's it. They've had 6 children in 6 years, and she is currently pregnant with the 7th. Still, they, and all of their children, were present for my early-morning birth time. I feel bad for them having to be here, but we all know that it's tradition, and my mother would disown them completely if they were to miss a family summoning.
4:42am: I look to my left to see my younger brother, Justin. He's only 5 years old; by far the youngest sibling. I think he may have been a surprise to my parents. I wondered where I would be when he is ready for his summoning. 13 years is a long way away, and, in my family, we don't make any decisions in our career until the summoning. We let destiny choose our path. So, it was just as much a mystery to me as it was to everyone else.
4:43am: There's my mother, Sharon, and my Father, Jacob, staring directly at me. They are so excited to see what I am "destined" to become. They have high hopes for me. I will be their first son to go through a summoning. It had been a while since the last party, as well. Jamie's was 7 years ago now. I feel like they were initially disappointed that she had summoned a man. It's similar to going to college for an "MRS" degree; it felt lazy. Of course, they remembered that it is not her choice. It's destiny. They welcomed Jeff with open arms into the family, and now they are blessed with 6 wonderful grandchildren. I guess if I summon a woman, it wouldn't be the worst thing. I can't help but worry though. What if she's ugly? What if she's annoying? What if she's my soulmate, but I hate her? Oh, Jesus. There's no turning back once she's here. Shit. Shit. Shit.
4:44am: The time has come. My family is raving with anticipation. As soon as the clock struck, my mother yells, "Here we go, Matt! Show us what ya got!"
I close my eyes, and as I hold my hand out, the room becomes silent. Everyone is looking around, seeing if anything began to budge, but nothing is happening. Am I doing it wrong? I concentrate harder to make something happen, but it seems useless. I'm shaking. Panicking. What if I am the one person on earth that doesn't have a summon? Am I even human? My hand is still out, just hoping for something to happen.
After a couple minutes, we hear a noise outside. A thud. Was that... a person? Would I be the second person in the family to summon a spouse? Would she be pretty? Am I even ready for marriage? Shit, it's happening so fast.
We get up and race to the door. We were right, it's a person. But... it didn't appear to be a woman. Holy shit, am I destined to be a homosexual? Not that that's wrong or anything... I'm just not ready for that! I've always been attracted to women. This couldn't be real.
I decide that I should be the one to go first. The man is laying face down on the ground. I kneel down beside him, and nudge his shoulder. He seems to be in a heavy sleep, or possibly unconscious. I keep nudging, and, finally, he starts to come to. Shit, I'm not ready for this. Am I about to look into the eyes of my male soulmate? Instead of turning around, he begins to vigorously roll back and forth. What is going on? He's rolling faster and faster, face still in the ground. "What the hell?', says my mother. Then, finally, he lifts his head up, still rolling.
It's Rick Astley.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I said. My mother slapped me, saying, "Language!"
We were all standing there, staring at Rick rolling. I know what I have to do. | A sea of gasps wash over the howling wails of my ex-girlfriend's hysteric sobbing. The dull roll of murmurs slithering its way around the crowd soon followed. To be honest I was quite shocked myself. I did not expect this, I had some suspicion, maaaaybe. But this, even by my standards this was a bit much. I looked around at my peers at the summoning. Some held common work tools, a few held precious gems... one lucky fool was holding the hand of a very beautiful woman that was pull out of the crowd. But I was the luckiest of them all.
"Albere, why is Albere in your hand!?" my ex-girlfriend shouted at me through her tears. I honestly didn't expect her to show up at my summoning. Sure we had been inseperable since we've been able to put together our first little sentences but it had been over between us for quite a few months now. I thought I made that clear.
"Why would you ask such a question? This is our..." looked at the small child held firmly in my grasp. "... this is MY son. You thought you could keep him from me! You thought you knew better but look..." I was so happy I could barely see the expression on her face through my own tears. I hadn't seen his little face in over a year but here he was in my arms.
"We weren't ready... you know that... I didn't take him away..." I saw her body fall to the ground as she collapse on her knees. "... please.. give him back... try the summoning again... this is wrong... you know this is wrong..." It was rare to see the little spoiled princess begging so shamelessly but from her tone I could hear she was serious. And I had a small idea as to why.
"OH! So that is why you are here. You were hoping that I was the wrong one... that I made a mistake and that I'd summon you!" The idea was so ridiculous that I couldn't contain my laughter. "Haha, you think I would want to be with someone like YOU!? You callous spoiled COW! I have my son.. I have my purpose! My world nor any other world in existence lives to revolve around you... OW... ow..."
My moment of triumph was interrupted as a few people in the crowd started to throw rocks and other small items at me. Turning to shield my son, I welcomed the assault and the bruises they would leave behind. I'd wear them like medals of honor. "You're all COWS! Livestock feeding on the conveniences of your placid complacent lives! I will be great... I will be greater than all of you!"
"Please..." she pleaded more. "Albere is dead... let him rest... let him go... " I wanted to yell back at her. I want to tell her that he was dead because of her. Her weakness. She never wanted him. But the small objects started to get larger.. and harder... and thrown with much more force. I had to run. I feared their anger would soon fester into a murderous rage. "Noooo stop it! No....."
I was shocked... almost touched. The spoil little cow was actually defending me. Going so far as to throw her frail little body in front of mine. I had to hold back a chuckle as one of the larger stones struck her in the head and she made this off-toned warble of a sound. I failed at my attempted obviously as I let loose a sound just as awkward that I could only describe as a chortle. Still for the first time in a severely long time the girl proved herself useful. The accidental strike to her head gave the crowd a moment's pause.
I didn't hesitate for a second. As fast as my feet could carry me I clutched my son's dead decaying body to my chest and I ran. I always had an inkling it was real. I knew if summoning existed other forms of magic could exist. This was my destiny. He came back to me for a reason. The death of my son was only a precursor to the birth of Necromancy in this world, and they would both refer to me as... Father. "I will bring him back... I will bring them ALL back. You'll see." I shouted out behind me. Not daring to look back over my shoulder to see upon what ears my words had landed. | 2019-09-18T09:23:25 | 2019-09-18T09:06:29 | 123 | 32 |
[WP] You are every Super Hero’s worst enemy, not because you are particularly powerful, but because nothing you do is technically illegal… you’re just a huge asshole. | "Not you again! Are you sure you're not in the League of Darkness?" he cried after I had tapped him on the shoulder.
"Please read the notice," I responded, handing him over the contract, "and please make sure you read through all the small print." A pulsating vein popped out of Wonderman's forhead as he began to scan the Fly-Safe risk assessment I had provided.
Wonderman slammed the paper into the ground, or at least tried to. Even with the strength of a thousand men, after dropping from his palm, it fluttered pathetically to the ground.
"Listen to me little man. There is a plane. It is full of women and children."
"And men," I interjected.
"Yes obviously," he spat. And it has sent out a distress signal and I should be there by now, helping."
"That's lovely Wonderman. You're trying to do your job. And so am I," I said, picking up the paper and checking the ticked boxes. "You haven't ticked whether you have had an eye test within the last year."
Wonderman sighed. "I can see motes of dust upon the moon. Look please, just let me go and help them. I promise to be extra careful."
"Oh, just like the time Electro Man promised to wear his rubber boots every day. Except that time on his day off when he went to save the runaway dog that had snuck away in the fireworks factory."
Wonderman's face dropped. "Please don't mention that incident. Electro Man is a good person. He was horrified by what happened."
"It was like July 4th. Don't think the dog fared too well either. If there's one thing we know about Superheroes, it's that they need Supervision."
I chuckled to myself. "Super heroes, needing supervision. Get it?"
"I take back my first accusation. You're worse than anything in the League of Darkness."
Part 2 - In case you found the first part mildly amusing, there's a slight chance you might find this too.
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ow898t/wp\_you\_are\_every\_super\_heros\_worst\_enemy\_not/h7j40rq/?utm\_source=reddit&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3 | “Look your robbed from the poor and gave to the rich” he said as his stupid H glowed on his chest. Hope man was the galaxies most powerful hero and that was saying a lot. Me well I’m just a guy. “ no no no I bought that Martian egg fair and square ok. It’s in a museum so thank you tax write off” his face twisted in an unamused expression that really he’s been wearing since he landed. “ Fine but you can help the sick.” Amazing woman said. To get fair she was amazing to look at at least. Man maybe I am sick. “ I do as long as they pay their premium; insurance will pay every time.” She wanted to punch me i could feel it.
“What is wrong with you” wonder kid said trying his hardest to stay calm.
“ Look I get paid and live happily ok. I don’t break the law and I provide valuable jobs. If anything if it wasn’t for crew Klean you would be the villains. So shouldn’t you be thanking me.” I said it I didn’t want to but I just did.
The intimidator stood up. He was a martian so probably the martian egg thing made him a little angry. “ You pay the friends of villainy’s taxes”
“We’ll yeah but I also pay the tower of impeccable destruction… sorry I mean tower of good guys clean up and charity fees as well”
They all left in a huff. I mean it’s their second visit this week. One day we’ll get a hero smart enough to realize I write the laws to. It’s good to be technically not evil. | 2021-08-02T04:41:46 | 2021-08-02T01:55:44 | 1,009 | 25 |
[WP] You have been cursed to walk the Earth until you can grant 100 wishes. The catch? You have no magical powers. | It's crazy how the human mind works. When you ask someone what they want or what they would like to have, they'd say something like "a beer" or "a new pair of shoes", or something simple like that. But when you ask them for what they wish for, they'll rack their brains for the most unobtainable thing imaginable.
"I wish to be the sexiest person alive."
"I wish for my own multimillion dollar company."
"I wish for my wife to come back to life."
"I wish for a billion dollars."
What the hell can I do with that? How can I make someone the sexiest person alive or give them a billion dollars? Whenever I get people saying stupid shit like that, I have no choice but to ignore them and ask the next person, hoping that they'll wish for something reasonable. But that's the thing. They never do. And I ask myself what I would do in their situation; if someone came up to me and asked me what I wished for. Without hesitation, I'd tell them that I wanted this awful curse to be lifted so that I could finally die in peace. But hey, I guess that's just as unobtainable as anything else.
Still, every now and then, someone wishes for something I can actually provide for them. Most of the time it's a new sportscar or a two-month holiday around the world;something I could earn money for and give to them. After 83 years of constantly going around asking people for what they wish for, I've managed to grant most of them. All that time spent, and just one more.
Just one more.
I was driving up and down the street, looking for people to approach. I typically go for the rich people. I figure they probably have less to wish for. I found this one guy sitting outside a coffee shop who looked fairly wealthy. Clean-cut, 30-something, white guy. Probably got a nice house and lovely family. Had a clueless but happy look on his face. He definitely seemed like the type of guy to have a small-scale wish. I quickly parked in an available spot nearby, and walked up to him. He was sitting at a two-person table, so I sat on the seat opposite to him. Naturally, he was confused at first, but I had no time to explain myself. I was ready to die today. No more setbacks.
I asked him what he wished for and I told him I would grant it to the best of my abilities. Hopefully that would give him the hint. At first he thought I was joking, but I'm sure he could see the stone-cold
sincerity in my face, so he started thinking about his wish for a while. I was quite worried about this; what if he was thinking of something I wasn't able to grant him?
- "I wish for two strokes off my golf game."
And just like that, I heard his wish. Who the hell wishes for something like that? At first, I thought I heard him wrong.
- "What?"
- "I said, I wish for two strokes off my game."
- "T-that's your wish?"
- "Yeah, it is. Why, should I choose something else?"
This guy was more clueless than I thought. Or maybe he just didn't take the whole thing seriously. I don't know, but I wasn't gonna let an opportunity like this slip.
- "No no no, God no, you don't have to change your wish! I can help you with your golf game, don't worry!"
I used to play a bit of golf myself, back when I was a lot younger. I was pretty good at it too, from what I remember. I was sure I could grant this guy his wish by the end of the day. Well, that's what I thought.
The whole day, I was training this asshole. The whole fucking day, he never took even one stroke off of his game. He was terrible; he was always missing the ball, he kept hitting it into the bunker, and he never knew which was the correct club to use despite owning some of the finest I've ever seen. I had to finish the training session when it was getting too late and we agreed to meet up the next day. Those two days turned into two weeks, which turned into two months, which turned into six months. Not once did he ever show any signs of improvement, not once! I contemplated hiring a professional to train him, but I was afraid that it wouldn't count towards a wish that I granted.
I was growing tired, I was getting frustrated, I was becoming angry. I had been handed the simplest wish of all to grant, and I was getting nowhere with it. And I can't just move on to the next one, it would take years until I found someone with another reasonable wish. But this idiot was taking forever just to improve his golf game! I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't keep living this life. I wanted to die. I wanted to die by any means necessary.
That's when I came up with my plan. What if I took off more than just two strokes off his game? What if I took off *all* the strokes off his game. Should I? Could I?
I felt sick just thinking about it, but I've waited so long for my death. Yeah, it was unfair for him, but isn't it unfair that I was cursed with this fate to begin with!? It's not my fault, I never wanted to go through with this! If that asshole was any good at golf, or if I was never *chosen*, none of this would have happened! But you brought this on me! You brought this on him! This was your doing!
Fuck it, I'm gonna do it! I'm gonna do it tonight. I can't take this shit anymore. Existence is pain.
| It had taken 3 months of constant stalking to finally get to this point. *Stalking*. That word still rolls over badly in my mouth, even though that's what I've done most since this curse became a *thing*.
It has been so long, that I can't remember who cursed me anymore but I do know what the curse was about. I have the mileage on years to prove that. I have to offer 100 wishes to those who need it. A mere human like me, working as an all-purpose genie of sorts, with no power. I'm not all powerful, but I can do whatever needs doing with the strength i can offer. I'm not all knowing, so I do the next best thing.
I Stalk.
The little cafe I am currently in is quiet. I like that. The serene nature of things, as the mind is free to occupy the noise-less space. I feel my hands absentmindedly turn the cup of coffee in front of me in small semi circles, as I look out the window, waiting for Petunia to walk into the cafe.
Petunia. The lady with the flowery name.
My hands stop with the cup and retrieve the little notebook I keep in my inner jacket pocket.
Page 79.
*"The Lady with the flowery name"*.
I feel my lips curl into a small smile. I like her, Petunia, I mean. After all she has been through, the quiet strength that emanated from her was a confidence I haven't experienced since back when I had to assist Cleopatra. The strength that says "I won't give in".
Petunia had been unfortunate enough to be the victim of an abusive marriage. Which got complicated with 2 little ones to look after. And as shitty as life would get, her husband would die (small reprieve, that) leaving her with crippling debt due to his habitual gambling practices and debt. She was struggling. She is struggling. But it didn't show on her face. It had taken me three months of talking to her, and flirting with her, to finally get those juicy details out of her. And suddenly, I knew what I could offer for as my 79th wish to someone in need.
My eyes catch her slim figure as she turns the corner towards the cafe. She catches my look, and she smiles. I find myself smiling back. She is beautiful. My heart beats different temporarily.
----
"Hey stranger", She says to me as she sits across from me.
"Hey Pet..." I reply back, emphasising on the last word.
Her face assumes a fake shock look, punching me on my shoulder before laughing quietly.
"We had an agreement. Never outside."
I laugh along with her. The name had surfaced after a long night of drinking, flirting and the eventually bedroom tryst we weren't expecting. It did make that night memorable.
After calming down, she props her hand on the table and stares at me, wearing a wide smile. I feel my cheeks burn, as I look away.
"...thank you..." barely above a whisper, she says to me.
"For what?"
"For everything. I haven't had much to laugh about in a long while. but you... you elusive nameless stranger, you've made me happier than I've been in a while"
I find myself looking down at my hands. Flattered by her thanks, embarrassed by the fact that she highlighted a slight issue we had.
After a silence that lasted a bit too long, I look up at her.
"...the reason I haven't told you my name is because I am a drifter. I don't stay in places too long, and I don't use phones or any of that..."
"You've told me that before..." She replies, a sadness creeping into her voice.
".. because of who I am" I interject before she derails me. Her focus on me deepens, as her face takes on a questioning look.
"I have... I have been cursed to walk this earth for as long as I live until I grant 100 wishes..."
She starts laughing. I smile a little too. This usually happens. So I wait till her laugh subsides.
"That's new. I am not particularly pleased I don't know your name, or you... but if you want to leave, you don't have to make up a story for it"
I can hear the anger inbetween her words. The silent growl of pain she is trying to suppress.
"It's not a story. It's a secret of mine I only offer to people I trust and care for."
We both seat in silence for a while, as I wait for her to accept what I just said. Or at least, acknowledge. There were rules to the curse and I need her to indulge me even for a little bit for it to take hold.
After what I can only describe as an awkward silence, she shifts her gaze back to me and stands up. I swear in my head as I try to get up.
"Relax. I'm going to get a drink. Then I'll hear this 100 wishes story of yours." | 2017-04-19T04:11:00 | 2017-04-19T02:26:22 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Hey Matt,
I know you're hurting. I know you're struggling. You tell yourself you can do it, you're going to change the world, you're going to do this and that and you end up doing it. You know telling yourself that its hard and painful isn't going to help so you tell yourself its easy and that you can do it. I get it, you say you do something and you plow forward to do it. BUT right now, please just let yourself bask in the moment-- this moemnt right here of raw emotino. This is you, this is where you're at right now. It hurts and you still loved her but you needed to let go of this one. She wasnt ready. There was too much on the line with this one. Matt, I know you loved her. You gave it your 100% and you can't say that about some things, but know that you did everything you possibly could--so please let her go for the sake of you. Times are rough. but they will get better. i promise you that. so please. let yourself free.
Love,
Yourself | Dear Jesus - Your birthday is coming up. YAY! 2015 has been great to me. I finally realized this year that you're not real. Who am I actually addressing this letter to then? Oh well. Thanks for taking up all of my teens and 20s with indoctrinated lies that kept me from many experiences that in retrospect I would have preferred to have had much sooner. Very kind of You. Sincerely - Born Again Deconvert | 2015-12-05T15:02:39 | 2015-12-05T14:47:35 | 31 | 22 |
[WP] The superhero stared at the supervillain. "I need your help...they have my daughter." | “I need your help… they have my daughter.”
The thing in the cell chuckled, looming over the man in the mask as it growled out its reply:
“Why would I help you? I would do the same if I wasn’t in here.”
Its body was covered in patches of fur and scaled, face disfigured into something like a snout, teeth elongated, sharpened and muscle bulged beneath the hide all over its body. Even though the bars holding it in were reinforced, The Beast could bend them with ease. It had before. It would again. But not yet; it had just been caught by the man in the mask, and the rules were clear.
“Just out of curiosity, what have they done with her? Strapped her to a giant wolf? Put her in the talons of an enormous eagle that flies around the city? Or something a little more oldschool, put her on a train rigged with explosives? Tied her to the tallest building in the city?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? You have to know, those are the rules. Who is it anyway? The Mechanic? Ichabod? The Shadow Crew?”
“They won’t tell me who they are or where she is. They just call anonymously and demand money or say they will shoot her. I was able to catch some of them yesterday. They don’t wear masks, they don’t have identities, and they use guns! And they actually shoot people! They kill them! They killed four police officers breaking their friends out of jail, the day after I put them in!”
The man in the mask was in a full panic for the first time since The Beast had met him.
The Beast began pacing back and forth in his cell, muttering to himself, “This isn’t right, this ignores all the rules! How can they do this? Breaking out so quickly…and asking for money. Alright, I’ll help you. This city deserves proper villains, not…THIS!”
| A grin came over his face as he recognized that voice. All 4 of his limbs were immobilized and a strange helmet-like device was locked over his head, ready to deliver mind-numbing electric shocks at the touch of a button.
"How hilarious! The great Walking Marvel, pleading with me for my help."
"Please. I don't have much time! I can negotiate for a lighter sentence! You're the only one who's able to track them!"
"Remember Anton, you're the one who put me in here." His eyes were burning with hatred and vengeance, barely blinking. His grin was gone and so was his mocking tone as he fixed his gaze on his nemesis.
"You left me with no choice! You were...I don't really have time for this! I really need your help! I'll do anything! I can get you out of here!"
"So you've come to realize that you'll do anything for your own family too?" His voice was devoid of emotions and deathly calm, with the eerie silence sending the Walking Marvel down to his knees.
"Look, I'm sorry! I didn't know! I swear! Please! I really need your help right now!"
"Still holding on to your blind faith and that seemingly last glimmer of hope? Goodbye Anton. I'm sure we'll meet again soon."
He had never felt so hopeless, with the weight of his guilt slowly crushing him as he caught a glimpse of a faint smirk. | 2017-12-17T12:18:41 | 2017-12-17T09:09:00 | 69 | 39 |
[WP] Making a deal with a demon requires a soul. Usually this is a very bad idea, but you got a crazy idea. Earlier you traded your lunch money to the school bully in exchange for a piece of paper that says you own his soul. You're about to find out if demons consider this a valid contract. | Warning; triggers ahead; abuse.
"I, Steven Reed, hereby give Alex Chase my soul, without reservation or duress, in exchange for his lunch money for the week of the 14th of April", the demon read it aloud, distaste and loathing dripping like melted butter from every syllable. Her gaze roze and fixed on me. The eye contact made me flinch. "The fuck is this meant to be?" she barked it. It's the only way to describe the way the words came out of her.
"Um. A contract for his soul?" I'd meant to sound more confident about it than that. But something about her gaze and the way she'd asked the question twisted my assured statement into a fairly weedy question. As soon as I'd said it I wanted it to come back, so I could have another go, but that would just make it worse.
I wish I hadn't done this in my pyjamas. This had seriously undermined my authority.
She eyed me for a long, long time. Honestly it could have been days, for how it felt. It was probably only about a minute or so though. I know it wasn't more than a day because it didn't get dark, although time always seems to flow a bit differently when she's in the room with me. I could feel myself getting hot. The same kind of hot that I got when my parents were doing their shouting at each other piece. That creeping, insidious heat which spilled into my stomach as the certainty that, just like with my parents, what came next was going to be bad for me.
I started to fidget, fingers idly tracing the edges of my favourite scar. The demon watched with interest as I picked at a promising looking scab, but seemed disappointed when I didn't rip it off. Finally, she looked back at my contract. She sniffed it, like you might sniff a pair of underpants to see if they were clean enough to wear again or if they needed to be turned inside out for another week. "What have you written this with, human?"
I tried to answer, but my throat didn't want to work. I had to cough a bit first, but it seemed again to reinforce that I wasn't as confident as I was trying to pretend I was. This wasn't going well.
"I... um... I only had a couple of wax crayons. But it's still signed" I added the afterthought as firmly as I could, as if this made my point valid. Shifting awkwardly, I could tell that the sweat seeping out of my back was going to make me change my pyjamas before bed. An extra pair of pyjamas to wash was bound to get me in trouble.
"I see." the demon said icily, still glaring so hard at the scribbled contract that I was worried she'd burn a hole right through it. "And you wanted... what... from me?"
I'd expected the question, but it still made the bottom drop out of my stomach. This was my chance. Possibly my only one. It would take years for me to be able to deal with this naturally. I shifted again, wincing as the now sodden cotton of my pyjama top clung to the raw skin on my lower back, and then pulled away painfully.
"I said... I said before. About..." I tailed off lamely. This was hard to put into words. The demon sniffed derisively, but her eyes took me in again, whole, and her shoulders seemed to move ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but it reminded me of my Nana, how she used to look at me when I used to be allowed to visit her after school. I could never hide the pain from her.
"Yes... Yes I see. Well." She straightened, abruptly, and I flinched again. "This isn't a soul, boy." My heart could not sink. It couldn't get any lower than it was perpetually shoved day by day. But I felt it crack. What was left of my hope seemed to fizzle out of my toes. I blinked furiously, but the tears came unbidden, clogging up my throat and blurring my vision. I couldn't hold back the sob that burst out of my tense frame, and the effort almost broke me.
I hated being this weak. This small. This insignificant. I waited for her to leave, I looked up expecting her to be gone - she often left without a word. But she remained, useless paper in her hand, gaze wary but locked on me and my despair.
An unwelcome warmth announced the emptying of my bladder. This really wasn't helping my confident stance.
"However." When she spoke again it was so abrupt I almost screamed with the sudden fear. I wiped my eyes furiously trying to focus on her. Whatever expression was on her face now I couldn't place - it seemed like one I hadn't seen on her before. "Your personal circumstances are... Interesting. I have often been summoned by children your age. Often they want money, or fame. Very rarely do they ask me for what you have asked me for."
I sniffed. My request seemed insurmountable in comparison. If only I'd asked for money.
She smiled. This was a new kind of smile. I'd seen her mocking smile before but this wasn't that - there was an almost human warmth to this smile. Visions of my Nana swam into my mind once again. Kindness. Softness. Love. And when she spoke again, it was almost soft, the usual raspy edge to her voice almost all gone.
"I will do what you have asked of me, human child."
Now I was in full sob. There was no stopping it - sheer relief poured into my every cell, and coursed out of my tear ducts. My tiny body heaved and rocked with the force of the emotion. Relief.
It would finally be over.
The demon straightened up again, and seemed to grow in size. The menacing glow that lit my small room up grew in intensity, so much so that it hurt my eyes to look at it, and I had to bring my hand up to cover my face. When I could bring it down again, she was gone.
It took me no more than a minute to realise I wasn't in pain any more either. The welts on my back remained, but the pain had gone with her. The scab I'd been fondling had disappeared, the scar below red and fresh but not painful any more.
Someone was knocking at the front door. I heard my mother answer it. Muffled voices. Growing in volume. Getting closer. I drew inwards out of sheer habit as they approached my door.
But instead of it being thrown open violently like usual, there was instead a gentle knocking. A familiar knock. I blinked hard. Could it be?
The door swung slowly inward, almost filling the space. It never quite opened all the way, there wasn't room for that, though there was an impressive gouge in the plaster where it had been repeatedly rammed into the wall in their haste to get it out of the way so they could get at me. The door slotted into it perfectly. With the room dark and the hall beyond bright the figure beyond was just a silhouette, but I recognised her instantly all the same.
Nana was here. She had something in her hand. And someone was behind her. She reached into my tiny space and carefully, gently, lifted me out, and I saw that the person behind her was in a police uniform. They both had the same look on their face, the one the demon had had right before she left. I couldn't read it. It wasn't one I'd seen before. She held out the thing in her hand; paper, with lots of writing on it, held it out to the police officer with her who did that fast reading that grown-ups do and nodded before handing it back. Then she looked straight at me.
"Okay kiddo? Your Nana is going to look after you from now on. I'm going to stay here and have a little talk with your mum and dad, okay?"
I never had to go home again. I never saw the demon again either - I often wondered if she got in trouble for giving me what I wanted without a soul anyway. But it didn't matter, not now. | The thick substance oozed out of my palm. I winced, but licking the burgundy off of my palm I smiled, eyes glinting in the moonlight. The deep maroon reflection of the night sky rippled on the surface of the lake, and the chilly night breeze caused a rustling both eery and divine.
I've thought about this moments hundreds of times, and my resolve wavers not.
"Shit, I really should have brought a jacket", I murmur to myself as I light a cig and curse myself for wearing a pleated skirt.
"Fucking societal conventions, I'm wearing a full-on suit next time".
Next time. I chuckle at the thought.
*Fuck, if this works I'll buy three,* I think to myself.
"Alright, let's get this party started!" I shout, rubbing my hands together, my wrinkly hands frowning at my vain attempt to warm up my frigid exterior.
"Come on guys! Where's the love?"
...
"Not talking eh? what can I say, I've got to *hand* it to ya, your resolve is quite strong"
I chuckle again, laughing at my dumb puns as I address my hands as if they were people.
"Well shit, I sure hope satan likes pigs blood", I murmur, as I begin pouring blood into the dew-glistened grass, listening as it splashes and hisses like toxic sludge.
"Yeah yeah, quite your whining, I'm cold too you know".
Yeah, I sure talk to myself a lot. But. So. What? I'd rather hang out with the crazies than those assholes at school any day? HA!
Fucking normies.
Flicking my cigarette into the wind, I reach my arms up and stretch, and then scream.
"WHAT THE!"
The wind had suddenly changed direction, flinging the ashen stub of a cigarette straight into the pig pentagon I had drawn.
(No really, it was literally a drawing of a pig with pentagons for eyes. After drawing it I imagined myself wearing a french barrette hat, with a long curly mustache, displaying my work in some fancy museum dans Paris. And some rich bloke being like, "Honhonhon madame. I much like your artwork, I give you this baguette made of gold". Indeed, I bite the baguette to verify that it is, indeed, gold, and chip a tooth in the process. My smile beams so brightly it pierces a hole in the roof, and my first customer gets one of my signature works. My bright future as an occult artist has begun.
This is of course, all just a fantasy. Nothing so bizarre could happen in real life. But a girl can dream.)
Anyway, back to the story.
"MY ARRRTTT!!", I scream, cursing as my pig bursts into flames, smoke billowing out of its eyes and spewing everywhere.
*It's far too early for project bacon*, I think to myself, both alarmed and pleased that the pigs blood was so flammable.
*God, I better warn farmers,* I think to myself.
Suddenly the wind stops. That's fucking cliché, I think to myself, but I still find it eery.
My head begins to swim, annd I swaay baack and foorth, all woozy boozy like.
*Aww shit, am I getting high on pigs blood?*
Flat. *Excuse me?*
Flat. I look around. *Except I can't!*, I think to myself.
Something... feels off? Like a part of my brain was inverted and then removed.
As I try to get my bearings I feel like a waterskier being dragged across a lake, simultaneously beating against a mix of a oozey boozey liquid and a brick wall.
*Oh my god... it's flatland,* I think to myself.
Except it's not. I mean, I certainly don't *feel* like a circle.
Looking down I see that I still look like *me*, although in some sort of distorted fashion.
*Hmm, maybe I should try a new diet.*
"Hello?" I cry out, but my words seem to leak out and reverb about in my mind, rather than in the world around me, and suddenly I notice it.
Standing before me was something truly... ugly.
Excuse me?", the weird contorted patch of space said.
"Umm, all I said was hello...", I waive my arms in a confused gesture, feeling much like a stick figure moving its little limbs about.
"No you shit, you think I'm ugly?" I gasp.
*Oh my god the weird blob thing can hear my thoughts.*
なら、これはどうだ！, I think, switching to Japanese to see if encrypting my thoughts would work.
“おらかもの、むだむだむだ！グググ”
I gasp again, and then laugh.
*Is that a jojo reference?* This guy is funny.
"Enough of this drivel", the blob spoke, as it began to shimmer and fizzle.
*Hmm I guess this is the end for me*, I think to myself.
But lo, to my surprise, my head began to stretch too. Oh wait, or was it shrinking? Bending?
Hell I don't know, it feels like if your mind was bent into möbius strip and someone was infinitely unbending it.
*Ohhhh shit, I'm going to need a serious margarita tomorrow*.
I fall over and vomit all over the... *what is this?* The vomit kinda just fell and *disappeared*. *Hmm curiouser and curiouser*, I think to myself.
My jaw hit the floor, quite literally since I was basically already touching the floor, when I once again beheld the blobby blob.
Standing before me was a rather tall lady, with a blindingly red dress with what looked like what I can only describe as a starry-nights if you switched its themes to souls of the damned and a shitton of red. Oh, and yeah its patterns were changing in real time, and I thought I could occasionally hear screams emanating from it... but then again, I was probably high on pigs blood. Oink oink.
The lady frowns, and then raises an eyebrow. I open my mouth and stop, and she turns to leave, and then turns back around and looks at me again.
"This is why I hate amateurs", she shook her head, her beautiful red horns frowning at me as they moved side to side, as a long black tail whisped and flicked side to side behind her.
"Oh!", I exclaim, "so you *are* real. Thank goodness!"
The lady sighed, and looked at me with contempt.
"Do you have something to bargain with or not?"
"Ohh yeah, yes of course!" I grin.
*Fuck yeah, it's happening!* I frown, *if only I had my walkman, I would play some sick tunes to set the vibe*.
I reach into my bra and pull out a little folded wad of paper.
*Hmm... yeah this oughta do it*.
"It's a little smudged and sweaty, and there might be a little pig blood on it, but here you go: a sole soul!" | 2021-03-27T02:54:56 | 2021-03-26T23:30:31 | 58 | 16 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | “I still remember the look on Ambassador Ford’s (Betelgeusean Republic’s representative to the former Galactic Councils 300 BT – 5 TA) face when I informed him we had declared war on the pathetic Humans of the Terran Federation. His blue blood drained from his face, leaving a dirty yellow visage which had previously shone a healthy green. The only thing he said was ‘What have you done?’ which I thought wwas just due to Betelgeusean fondness for the cowardly pacifistic species. If only we had known the truth…” – Gragtun’iik’iill, Former Krillnean Ambassador to the Galactic Councils 89 BT – 7 BT
Warfare has changed very little since the first slightly complex multicellular organisms began banding together to fight one another over limited resources. The equation generally comes down to who can out produce the other in manpower, supplies, or weapons. For as terrifying and powerful a new weapon system may be, it can still be outclassed by sheer volume.
At the dawn of the Terran Alliance, a heavily modified version of this calculation was in use to determine the general effectiveness of galactic empires. The weapon system of the day, as for most navies throughout history, was the battleship. Advanced civilizations, such as The Betelgeusean Republic, were capable of building, crewing, and launching these behemoths in only 50 cycles.
In 10 BT the rising Krillnean Empire felt that their armada, while small on the galactic scale, would be well equipped to destroy the peace loving, ever negotiating, Terran Federation. Afterall Terra had only 20 battleships in service, and had not completed a new such vessel in over 150 cycles. Krillnea was able to produce a vessel in as few as 80 cycles, and had a standing navy of over 500 ships.
Additionally, due to the sensitive and specialized nature of the systems on board a starship, let alone a warship, a certain level of training and experience was required. This training and practical experience was extremely costly, and could take dozens of cycles for a Human to acquire, but for the long-lived children of the Krillnean Hives, born to carry out specific tasks, it was simple. The game of numbers, it seemed, was decided.
As war commenced, the humans fought bravely to defend their colonies, but the numbers were against them. The Terran Fleet was destroyed in combat around Proxima Centauri, and colonies fell one after another. The Krillnean Armada advanced methodically, but sustained a far higher rate of losses than initially expected, which while concerning, was overshadowed by the rapid advance to the Human’s home system of Sol.
The Battle of Sol (7 BT) was a turning point in the evolution of warfare. Standard practice had been to harvest asteroid, moons, rocky planetoids, and anything available for raw materials to process into Space Ship components. This took time, capital, and abundant resources. With the main Terran shipyards destroyed, and with access to her colonies cut off, the Terran Federation appeared to be teetering on extinction.
What the Krillnean armada encountered upon entering the Sol system was not a scrambling mass of scared civilians, but a star system that had been entirely strip mined, and a brand new, incredibly massive fleet of “Warships” waiting for them.
The Sol system had always been considered somewhat of an anomaly. It had not one but two asteroid belts surrounding it, one of which harbored several larger planetoids. While these raw materials would have been a boon to most industries, the density of the belts in Sol made harvesting these resources a very laborious and risky endeavor. Even then, those resources would need to be refined methodically, and carefully to ensure no errant debris might strike a vessel or colony, and standard practice was to dump the empty husks of these asteroids into the nearest star, where it may safely be consumed.
The Terran Federation had several larger asteroids in stable orbits near their home planet of Earth, most were completely devoid of usable material and were merely awaiting their turn to be sent sunward. For Humanity they became salvation.
Instead of building a warship from scratch, Terran engineers crawled over these husks, fitting them with reactors, weapons systems, thrusters, and crude life support systems. When manpower turned out to be lacking, regular civilians pitched in to help, many of them having never performed a spacewalk or heavy construction previously. In total, over 600 such “vessels” were created over the span of a single cycle. Numerous other smaller asteroids were converted into unguided missiles, whose mass proved so effective at defeating point defense and shield systems that they are still in use today.
The Krillnean armada of 573 ships and 6-8 million souls was entirely obliterated. While not particularly agile or comfortable, the extremely basic nature of the human warships allowed them to survive attacks from the latest weapons systems, usually with little to no adverse effects. In fact, during the Battle of Sol, the total Terran losses were 237,000 personnel across 7 ships destroyed, and 13 damaged.
The Battle of Sol set the stage for the fall of the Galactic Council. As the Terran Federation reestablished control of her colonies and continued the fight towards the Krillnean home worlds, they continued to refine, improve, and produce their new class of vessels. Long since superseded by newer classes of warship, the Nemesis class battleships are still the most decorated vessels in the history of the Terran Alliance.
The Nemesis, first of her class, is still in use today and has the honor of being not only the ship which fired the first shot at the Battle of Sol, but also the vessel which destroyed the last enemy ship during the War of Unification between the Terran Federation and the Galactic Councils. | In the year 2100, humanity finally achieved global peace. It was not an easy task. It took several wars, hundreds of crisises, 20 billion deaths and climate change but eventually the remaining humans learned to coexist peacefully. The 22nd century was seen as the greatest golden age in human history, a century of prosperity and development for all of humanity undivided by race, gender, or geography. It was also this century that saw humanity emerge as a multiplanatory species. Colonizing Mars, Pluto and everything in between.
The next four centuries saw further expansion of the human race and by the time the Universal sentient Council found out about them, their numbers were in the hundreds of trillions and they had an entire galaxy to call as their own.
This meant that when they joined the council, they were already high in the pecking order as many other species were much smaller in power and numbers alike. However, there were still more than a dozen species that could entirely decimate the humans and a handful who were their equals.
The Council had existed for nearly 3000 years, yet they had never seen a race like the humans. They were wary of humans at first, but soon learned that these were some of the most pacifist creatures in the universe. Not only did they never have internal conflicts which even the strongest species were prone to, but their skill in statecraft, politics and diplomacy meant they never had to take to the battlefield.
In 500 years, humans had grown quite a bit in stature and importance in the council. So much so that they could prevent a war between the junior races merely by their words. Yet for all their glory, they had also earned the disdain of others. Some species knew only war. They saw the reluctance of humans to take up arms not as an admirable trait, but a sign of weakness.
The top three species, the Andromeins, the Saxofys, and the Yurnkilians were not happy to lose their influence to the upjumped humans. They had fighting constantly for power and influence in the council for millennium, often making the other species fight proxy wars on their behalf. It was why they kept expanding the council, to have more species to influence. They were three rival factions, and it was a known fact that you had to join one of them or you ended up earning their enmity.
Apparently the humans never learned that. They were making their own faction now. Emerging as a fourth side in this power struggle and more and more species were now following their lead. It was frustrating and made the Three Great Species as they were often called, angry as hell. They decided to do something they had never done in their milenium long history, they formed an alliance. Each one was strong enough to destroy the humans on their own, but together, the whole thing would take no longer than a week.
And so it was. On 4th June, 3019 AD, the Milky Way was invaded for the first time. The advanced warships made quick work of the defenses and the frontiers of the galaxy fell within a day.
The humans did not resort to diplomacy this time.
They did not even attend the council meetings from that day forth. Simply sending a message: you have made your last mistake.
These words would be proven true in a mere week. For that is exactly how long it took for the Great Species to learn the truth of humanity. They had not fought a war in nearly a millennium, and thus had restrained bloodlust running through their veins. When war broke out, every single human, rich or poor, young or old, boy or girl, earthling or a colonist, EVERYONE decided to fight. The entire economy was turned into a war time one. Ordinary civilians had their food rationed to ensure supplies for soldiers and all of their income except an allowance for the basic necessities was paid as taxes for the war effort. All the industries were now producing good for the war effort and billions were sent as foot soldiers.
The efficiency of humans had long been praised throughout the known universe but now it was cranked up to 11. Production of all sorts of goods seemed to double overnight and soldiers were given a year's worth of training in 4 months. The entire human race now had only one purpose to their existence, this war.
It was frightening the lengths they went to. No bar was too low, no method too barbaric. They sent millions of spies, assassins and sleeper cells alike. All sowing chaos in the enemy ranks and causing deaths left right and center, mostly their own. There were many intergalaxy criminal gangs across the universe and the humans seemingly created triple as many every week. Their science advanced at a thunderous pace, coming up with new designs for everything from handguns to spaceships, to missiles and the like on almost a daily basis.
The advantage the Three Great Species held in this conflict quickly disappeared and as the war stalled, they felt the pressure as their own people protested against the unnecessary violence.
Ultimately the war lasted a full decade. A violent decade that saw the extermination of one race, the death of hundred of trillions, the extinction of entire planets and galaxies and suffering untold. On the 4th of June, 3029 AD, with the treaty of Jaipur, did the war finally come to an end, and the world learned an important lesson.
NEVER MESS WITH HUMANS. | 2022-08-05T12:56:31 | 2022-08-05T11:17:12 | 613 | 344 |
[WP] Humans are actually the most peaceful, kind race in the universe and other aliens don't invade us because its cute to watch. | Grozar the Conqueror lifted his mighty axe overhead, prepared to cleave the planet asunder. He stood tall as a star, a titan amongst titans, with the speckle of nebulae at his back and his axe poised to strike. Grozar cast his infinite gaze upon the planet, to once again take a measure of it's people.
He saw mothers feeding and embracing their children. Cute. Among Grozar's harem mothers flayed the flesh from their children's bones until nothing was left but servitude.
He saw sick and poor dying unseen in the streets. A right and fair way in Grozar's view, for such weakness held no advantage to better society. He also saw kindly ones giving food to the poor and donating medicine and care to the sick. A waste of precious resources that would be much better used on their soldiers, but... curious, as well.
He saw varying tribes of humans killing others based on the amount of sepia in their flesh colorings. Good. Cull the weak, let the strongest survive to feast upon their bones. But there were others fighting for peace between tribes, fighting with a passion and a fire that Grozar had only seen devoted to conquest.
They acted like children. Tiny weak pitiful children with no concept of the true nature of the universe. All that matters is strength and glory, and there was none to be had in this baffling obsession this planet seemed to have with suppressing and quelling their holy drive to kill, in the name of transient unsustainable peace.
Grozar's thoughts turned to Periplax, his childhood pet. He had been dead for many years now. Grozar had butchered and eaten his pet alive on the advent of his ascent to adulthood. It was the right and divine way, to destroy childhood things and devote one to the true way of the universe.
But as a child, Grozar and Periplax had... played. They had adventured through the great astral groves together. They had shared meals by the light of turning galaxies. They had wrestled with such might that stars themselves had detonated in their wake. But at the end of the day, Periplax had always lain his head in young Grozar's lap, softly whined a happy whine as he licked Grozars face, and Grozar had felt... brief, transient...
Peace.
Grozar lowered his axe, staring down upon the unnatural world and their blasphemous desire to strive for quiet serenity.
Not this day. Perhaps, one day, their doom would come. But not this day. | "Well shit." It was a normal day in the live of what a human would describe a monster. Ofcourse this monster, was only an Alien surfing the Human Earth Archive that had been recovered from the ashes of Earth that he had destroyed only seconds before. He had misunderstood the meaning of the Human's message. One of his translators had jokingy said that humans send a message with the text: "come at me bro" ofcourse joking about a earth stereotype of challenging someone for some odd reason, which was verry funny and cute in the eyes of these monsters.
The monster which was by an ofchance called Zapzodobido, not to confuse with THE Zapzodobido! which was a famous actor starring in movie like: Undead guardian of the living Zopdodas" and the allmight and famous television show called: "Mister Y'badaro da Sexrola, I guess" reaching milions in views on the Intergalactic web of United Galaxy nations which had recently merged with the web for Magnificent beings and Demigod's.
Zapzodobido had realised his mistake. He destroyed the race of the adorable humans. The race that only recently established Intergalactic contact and now were destroyed by the Sporuns, green gobbly monsters which only showered once in 2 weeks! And all of this because some idiot had made a stupid joke.
Zapzodobido could already imagine himself inside the court of galactic justice.
Zapzodobido was browsing the Human Earth Archive, until he noticed a small fluffy being dancing to music. Named by humans as "Cats" He was disturbed.
It was after this moment. That Zapzodobido said:
"Well shit, this is were grandpa has been all this time"
And no one ever knew what the heck he was talking about.
| 2016-09-28T06:05:40 | 2016-09-28T03:38:00 | 46 | 14 |
[WP] Aliens give you a camera and say "only those you photograph will live." You have one year.
All of these responses are so diverse! This was really a great read. I like to imagine that all these different stories are from alternative universes, playing out different roles. Some men rule the World, some men are titled lunatics, and some men are not noticed at all. Well done, everyone! | Why me? I'm a part-time grocery assistant for God's sake. I shouldn't have any right to say who should live and who should die. Still, if someone has to do it, then I need to hurry.
Good thing the aliens also gave me enough money to cover transport costs, or everything outside of north-west England would cease to exist. And they only said humans, so I don't need to photograph samples of every species of beetle, or every type of fish. Or every tree that has ever lived.
I take a photo of my fiance and I first. He's always wanted as many photos as he could get of me - I'm camera shy, and much happier behind the camera than in shot - so he'll get his wish. My family. His family - as much as I can get. The random people on the street. People in the hospital, police, firefighters, teachers.
We drove for a while after that. We needed to get to as many nuclear reactors as possible, and thankfully Sellafield wasn't that far north.
I forgot places along the way. I never quite made it to Parliament (although I got a couple of good shots of MP's with their constituents), or Wall Street. Rupert Murdoch never posed for a picture with me, but Ellie, the bad-tempered manager that hired me when no-one else would, got photographs of her entire family in my album.
I couldn't get into North Korea. I don't think I'll ever stop regretting that.
I keep going. Online friends of my fiance, friends of those friends and so on... I take the pictures of nearly everyone at PAX East, and got everyone at Desert Bus. The geeks shall inherit the earth, apparently.
Tibetan temples, Antarctic research stations, Wrestlemania...I even went in a helicopter to get some photos of a few uncontacted tribes.
It's not enough. I run out of time about a day into a trip to visit aid workers in Somalia. And I collapse, drained and sobbing into a pillow in my shitty hotel room.
"Why are you crying? Your task is not yet over." It's a mixture of gurgles, chimes, crackles, beeps and every other noise I've ever heard (and some I haven't), but it's still recognisable. I wish they'd given me their translators as well, but it doesn't matter now.
It's over.
"You said a year. It's been a year. I didn't finish it."
Incomprehensible noises follow, and then a ringing voice. It sounds almost...contrite?
"Your years are shorter. We did not anticipate this. Our apologies. We meant one of our years."
Self-loathing ignites into fury in an instant.
"How long is one of your years?"
Buzzing, shrieking, humming followed before an answer.
"According to our experts, our sidereal period is roughly ten times the length of yours. We shall, of course, recompense you for the misunderstanding."
I sigh, wipe my face and pick up my camera. Someone has to do it. And I still need to hurry.
Even if I don't have to hurry quite as much as I thought. | Today is it. The last day before everyone not photographed dies. I prepare for what's to come. It took me a year and a great fortune to go around the world. I did my best to capture everyone who was a good person and deserved to live. I know it will haunt me, deciding who lives and dies but this is for the betterment of mankind. I made sure to get everyone that had skills that were important to our survival but they had to pass the test. It was intensive but I did it. If it wasn't for the help I had, I wouldnt have done it, sure I had to lie about things to get help and money but I'll live with that on my conscious. I only hope that this is the right choice. What will those people suffer? Will they feel pain? I can't imagine the thought of me causing that pain. Wait...there it is, a flashing in the sky. Bright colors I can barley decribe, it's beautiful but there is a sadness in what's to come. There is a great sound and then silence...
Five years later
Entry #316
I fear this may be my last entry. I'm tired of writing for nothing. It's all gone downhill. I would have never imagined this was going to happen and I caused it. It all went like a flash, like that "Glourious" day. Mankind spiraled into destruction. It took 2 years but when it did there was no stopping it. We all did well at first with all the terrible people gone. It was like paradise but little by little mankind once again repeated history. Wars, famine, death it all came by slowly and even worse than before. In these final moments I remembered a verse from the Bible i used to read as a kid and I remembered the words it said and now it made sense to me. "Genesis 6:5 Jehovah saw that man's wickedness was great on the earth and that every inclination of his heart was bad all the time" I now know that mankind will not be peaceful ever. Even after a restart we messed it up. Maybe this is for the best. We don't deserve to live, I think I'm just going to sit and wait for our inevitable end. I look at the stupid camera and set it next to me. I think I'm going to sit next to this tree and watch the world burn slowly. Once again I think I'll enjoy this silence for the last time.
| 2017-01-27T15:25:27 | 2017-01-27T14:29:51 | 85 | 11 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | The pounding has slowed to a minor thump, replaced in it with a constant ring. Blow after blow had left my vision blurry and bloody, and it's starting to get harder to breathe; my nose may have been broken a few punches back. People's insecurities are laughable at times but it looks like I'll never be able to laugh after this, and all because girl doesn't like boy anymore. I can't even remember their names anymore? All there is now, the steel fists that relentlessly assault my face and body.
CRACK
That's my ribcage, blood is beginning to fill my lungs, I feel the coppery taste and smell as I struggle to breathe. As I cough trying to get more air than blood into my lungs, I hear his muffled screams. Something about custards got flood on free? No that cant be right. Whatever he said has caused him to drop and allow me a moment of respite. A bitter relief, the pain is excruciatingly worse now that's he's stopped. More muffles and im hoisted to my feet against something. A tree perhaps? Yes I think we're in the campus forest, father used to take me through these woods hunting many years ago. Cold water is splashed in my face and the blood and grit begins to clear from my eyes and has stifled the ringing for a moment.
Jesus Clay you've nearly killed him!
Shut up and hold him, or you'll join him.
Clay as in Clay Barker? Why is my best friend doing this? My vision is far to distorted for me to be able to see who Clay really is. The cold steel caresses my head before painfully grasping my scalp and holding my head upright. A second steel fist begins to form as a face enters my sight.
I told you to leave her alone monkey. You took her from me so now I'm taking you.
I didn't feel the fist make contact, didnt hear it nor taste it. Nothing, nothing but nothing and more nothing. I can't see, cant hear or smell, but I can feel? I can feel something slithering around my eye sockets. I can feel my torso twisting and snapping, almost as if it's putting itself back together? No that's ridiculous. Nobody has ever had a sigil that granted healing factors or things of that nature this just must be what afterlife is like. Nobody has ever had a plain circle either though...
CRACK
That familiar rib cracked again, but back into place! I gasp choking on mulch and dirt as I reach my mangled hand through the soil to fresh air. At least they did me a courtesy of making my grave shallow. I finished digging and propped myself agains a nearby tree to witness the miracle at work. Tears in flesh are beginning to close, my right arm, which from forearm down looks like someone put under a jack hammer, is beginning to straighten and inflate with muscle again. I reach up to the back of my neck to stretch. My sigil is burning and spinning? I gaze in awe at the grotesque readjustment process the rest of my body is going through and then look up as my leg makes its final adjustment with an audible clop. Theres blood on the tree. I slowly stand up letting the reformed muscle hold me and see the stain at my head height. My blood, bits of bone and pieces of brain.
Holy shit, I-I'm immortal?
I reach back to my sigil and it has grown dormant. Just a plain carved circle into my flesh. The sun is setting so I begin to head back to my dorm. Single studio just how I like it. My hands are shaking as this evening events re roll through my mind and I decide to be brave (stupid if it didnt work. Funny how that is right?). I set my alarms an hour earlier so I could clean up when I awoke and sat down in my chair with a knife from my chef set mom got me last Christmas. I removed my shirt and with a silent prayer I drove the steak knife through my heart, twisted and removed, throwing it into the kitchenette.
Blackness.
I awoke in a sweat to the alarm blaring. I stumble turning it off and zombie my way to the bathroom to begin my morning routine, accidentally kicking a knife across the floor... Adrenaline has spiked as I realize it wasn't a dream and throw on the lights to see no hole where my heart is. No cut, scar or anything in between. A wicked smile creeps across my face as I clean the blood off the floor and knife.
Deciding to make a surprise I arrive 5 minutes late to first lecture. I walk in and as you do everyone stops and turns around to see who's going to be rushing in like an idiot. Except there were some who were more shocked than other's.
Morning Clay. What's wrong? Someone walk over your grave? | He was waiting for me just like always two lockers down, on the left of the water fountain waiting for his prey to show up. He would make his demands for homework. I wouldn’t give him or money I didn’t have, and then he would activate his sigil. A circle broken into quarters with a crosshair that intersects the ring in the cardinal directions would flare with a dark purple, and I would feel the weight of the world crash onto my shoulders, driving me to the ground. I would cough and sputter until I agreed to give him what he wanted.
It was the same thing every day after the first gym class of the year. I took my shirt off and displayed my sigil carved in between my shoulder blades. A simple circle, no beginning or ends, lay there with no indication of the godlike powers others had. Some could tear holes in reality and jump to a location thousands of miles away, others could produce, and control flames each one of these fantastic powers had intricate symbols that notated their ability. I sighed as I approached my locker, let the abuse begin.
He pushed off the wall and walked confidently to the block my way, “Hey John, did you manage that algebra homework?”
“Yes. I did. It was pretty easy if you paid attention in class,” I grinned at him as the giant gears in his mind started to turn. His face lost his smile into a focused look as he processed my comment. Then his anger bared down on me. Taking physical form, turning my arms to lead, my torso squeezing, making it hard to breathe, that the blood rushed from my head. The gravity acting on me was increasing by the movement, dropping me to one knee than to the floor as the force continued to bear down on me, cracking my spine and grinding my bones against each other. As my vision started to fade to pinpoints of color, the unending weight eased. I coughed and spat out thick red strands, this was the farthest he had ever gone, I’m no doctor, but I knew I’d spend some time in the hospital. This had to end.
I reached out and gathered my memories, each pinprick of pain every unstable breath. The feeling of having the life crushed out of me. My senses were hammering back to life as blood and oxygen raced to my brain just enough to tell he was digging through my bag. I reached out and grabbed his ankle, and my sigil flared for the first time in years the white light filling the hall enveloping everything
He was waiting for me just like always two lockers down, on the left of the water fountain waiting for his prey to show up. He would make his demands for homework. I wouldn’t give him or money I didn’t have, and then he would activate his sigil crushing me.
‘But He was me. I looked down; my sigil was gone. I… I think I am John!’ the unexplainable happens. He was now me.
“Hey, John, did you manage that algebra homework.”
‘No, no, this isn’t right. Let me move DAMN IT!’ He struggled to move the body he was now in, but it would do him no good.
“Yes. I did. It was pretty easy if you paid attention in class.”
The pain started slowly as it had for me increasing gradually to an unimaginable crushing force threatening to break my body. And just as the effect receded and an end to the feelings of pain and helplessness, he approached the hall. There we were standing where he always did next to the water fountain.
A circle has no beginning and no end, and it loops around itself endlessly just like he would. To be honest, I felt terrible; I had no way of stopping it now that I had activated my sigil. No escape mechanism to save him from his attack on me. I justified telling myself that he had attacked me. He was going to kill me over homework. But dragging the razor over my forearm, I knew the truth. No matter how awful someone was, they didn’t deserve that. Looking down at the new bleeding cut that would eventually scar over, I shook my head. Three people were now like this, and there was no one to blame but me. | 2020-02-26T08:04:31 | 2020-02-26T07:25:14 | 147 | 51 |
[WP] Write a dystopian vision of the future from the perspective of the year 1900, while actually describing our present world today. | "I have seen it!" The man's voice cracked in the midst of the street. "I have seen the future, and it bears horrors beyond imagining! Beyond comprehension!"
One or two bypassers had stopped, looking interested at the new madman the city of Boston had gained; for he was respectably suited and bow-tied, with clean garments and polished shoes, nor did he bear the marks of any obvious ministry. A novelty, then, one that probably wouldn't last.
"Turn back! We must turn back! Turn back, I say, before it passes too late!"
"What horrors have you seen?" called a young man, tall and burly enough to have no fear of the man who shouted.
"I cannot, I cannot find the words for you - I saw, I understood, but I cannot speak of it in mortal tongue -"
"Cheap," the burly teen observed, and turned aside as though to go.
The shouting man opened his lips several times, as if in desperate reach of words. "I've seen..." He stopped again. "I've seen a world... *covered in molasses!*"
One of the other bystanders chuckled. "Ho, that's original for an apocalypse. An accident at the molasses factory, eh? You won't find that in the Book of Revelations."
"A world where nothing can be done for the first time!" The shouting man's voice rose further. "A world where," his voice cracked, "*being a hairdresser requires a license and two years' college!*"
"What?" said the burly young man, and the others simply looked puzzled.
"A world where the inventors' corporations spend more on patent disputes than on research! A world where welfare assistance programs start to phase out their benefits so early as to create implicit marginal tax rates nearing a hundred percent, locking people into poverty!"
A woman crossed herself. "What in Heaven's name is the man saying?"
"Dam'med if I know," her husband said; and she elbowed him in the ribs. "I s'pose there's a horror in an Armageddon that doesn't make sense."
As though his sanity had cracked and words spilled out through it, the wild-eyed man was now shouting one incomprehensible sentence after another. "A world where a new medicine costs one billion dollars to test, 'ere it may be sold to even the most desperate! A world where they pour their life-blood by the trillions into student loans, unwitting that the positional competition for prestige means the supply curve slopes but slightly upward with the price! And the rent, the rent, the rent is too damned high, for all the committees to be vaulted 'ere anyone can build a house!"
"Speaking in tongues?" an elderly woman whispered.
"A world where Republicans and Democrats alike are steeped in corruption, and voters go to the polls only for fear of the other party! Where first-past-the-post polling prevents any third party from beginning, for each individual voter is impelled to vote for one of the two larger parties by the belief that no third party can yet win! And with the government so locked in place, there is no help to be had for a tax system grown larger than a mortal could read in a hundred lifetimes! Coal burns to darken the skies and scorch the land, yet none can rebuild the liquid fluoride thorium reactors that were made fifty years agone; for the molasses, the molasses, the molasses has covered all!"
"I wonder who he was talking to," the elderly woman said, "before he went mad; perhaps it was a lawyer, for I've heard some of those words in the debates."
By now, at last, the white covered carriage of the asylum had arrived, and white-coated muscular men spilled forth to take the doomsayer in hand. He did not try to run, but submitted as though paralyzed, as though knowing it was all too late.
"Turn back!" he screamed, as they dragged him away. "Turn back, before there's none left who can even understand the problems! *Turn back!*" | I guess I'll put in a trigger warning: many racial and ethnic slurs.
A group of middle aged men sat at a lunch counter. Their manner of dress suggested middle manager, small businessmen... important, but not too important. As they ate, they complained about trends being loosed in their society.
**Man 1**: Things are going to hell in a handbasket. It's getting to where nobody knows their place any more.
**Man 2 & 3** nod in agreement
**Man 1**: Why, that Women's Suffrage movement seems to have some actual legs-
**Man 2** interrupts: At least they're nice legs...
**Man 3** snorts with laughter.
**Man 1**: Shut up, I'm talking here. Where was I. Oh yes. If things keep going the way they are, they'll have the vote soon. Next thing you know, they'll be wearing pants, seeking jobs. By 2015 they may have such an advantage that you'll have men who would rather be women!
**Man 3**: It's a travesty...
**Man 2** nods soberly in agreement.
They continue to read the paper for a bit. Man 2 notices an article.
**Man 2**: Look at this. Buncha micks got into another fight.
**Man 3**: Hey now, I got an Irish buddy...
**Man 1** glares at Man 3: Huh. It's getting to where people can't tell the difference between a proper white person and an Irishman.
**Man 3**: Now look, they're not all bad.
**Man 1**: That's not the point; it's the principle of the thing! Or do you want to live in a world where not only Irish, but Italians, Poles, and whoever else from the more barbaric parts of Europe can walk down the street like they're no different from properly bred people like ourselves?
**Man 3**: Huh. I guess you got to draw the line somewhere.
They sit in silence for a bit, and Man 2 notices the colored cook.
**Man 2**: Heh, at least Niggers still know their place.
**Man 3** nods in agreement, but **Man 1** isn't so sure.
**Man 1**: I'm not so sure about that. I mean, they technically got the vote in a lot of states. Why, I had to deal with this darkie in a suit the other day. The guy looked like some kind of trained monkey! Oh, he showed proper deference, but I could tell he thought he was just as good as me.
**Man 2** looks shocked.
**Man 1**: Just because it's going slowly, doesn't mean it's not happening. It might take a hundred years, but by 2015, one of them might even be president!
**Man 3**: Heaven forbid!
**Man 2**: That would be simply the end!
The three men sign. **Man 1** checks his watch.
**Man 1**: Well, I got to get back to work.
The three men say their parting words, and leave the stage. But the cook from earlier has one more line:
**Cook**: One can only hope... | 2015-12-19T10:18:54 | 2015-12-19T09:10:22 | 55 | 19 |
[WP] You, an atheist, have died. All the gods that have ever been line up to offer you their version of heaven if only you believe in _them_. Turns out souls are currency and yours is up for grabs. | Do you know how many active gods are there? Three thousand five hundred and twenty seven. I counted.
Afterlife is hell for a non believer. Human, and to lesser extent animal souls are but a power source for the supernatural. And atheist souls especially so. No, we don't have any special powers, we just didn't spent any of our spiritual energy on prayer and worship while alive. So every God and Goddess is at my door, offering eternity in their paradise, for a small price of my soul in nine easy installments.
So here I am, in a mock up of my old flat, that my subconsciousness created when, upon my arrival, I collapsed unable to cope with the shock of the transition.
I just woke up, and there is already knocking at my door. Bloody witnesses. I get up to give them a piece of my mind, but the corridor is blocked by a pile of junk mail. Somehow I know that there are precisely 3527 letters. Unless Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs wrote to me again, yes THEY can get you even here.
Now the landline phone starts to ring. A few seconds later my mobile joins in. Gods knocking at my door start arguing. It is too noisy, so I put my noise isolating headphones on and sit by my computer. Good thing my subconscious mind was able to recreate my whole steam library, or I would be bored into accepting one of the offers.
But only thing I get is an error message, apparently my mailbox is full. Indeed there are literally billions messages with headlines like: 72 local V1rg1ns are waiting for you.
That was the drop that spilled the camel's back, or something like that. I bellowed "Fuck you all! If I want a paradise I will make one myself."
There was a deep rumble from outside I could hear despite the headphones, then everything went quiet. The phones were silent, heap of mail was gone. And behind the door, an infinite white plane, waiting to be moulded into shape. | Note: This is likely utter crap. Please forgive me.
I walked up the shiny steps to heaven and was slightly underwhelmed. Thor, Zeus and a plethora of other Gods stood their- lined up. They were all sitting in mossy, cracked and broken stone chairs that seemed to cause an immeasurable discomfort to sit in.
"Welcome, atheist. Be ready to pick a pathway to heaven- a Gods kingdom so beautiful and joyful you will never want to, and need to, leave." Boomed Zeus, straightening his beard and looking down upon me from his high pedestal.
"But Im *not* an atheist.." I said quietly.
"What? You have believed in one thing, for eighty years of your life, and you just give it up??"
"Well, the point of atheism is a lack of belief in god due to insufficient evidence, but you guys are evidence enough."
"But wait. You must believe in one of us to enter heaven!"
"That doesn't make sense." I said calmly, "I believe in all of you since you all empirically exist."
At this, they all rose up and Zeus stretched out a large hand and put me in a pouch. There I heard low muttering.
"Whos there?"
"Everyone." They said at the same time. | 2017-07-09T02:15:05 | 2017-07-09T01:01:48 | 173 | 63 |
[WP] Your daughter says she brought home her new best friend. You smile and turn to them, expecting to see another kid, only to see a seven foot tall knight in black plate-armor | Maria squeezed her eyes shut, basking in the scent of fresh coffee, though it may have been a little acidic and bitter. It smelled like coffee from a gas station, but, well, to a tired mind, coffee is just coffee. It was a brief reprieve that felt like settling into a hot tub after a day full of heavy lifting.
When her eyes opened, like trying to lift two curtains with lead woven in, a wave of fatigue hit her again. Of course, that meant nothing anymore. She shuffled back upstairs, laying a hand on the doorknob to her daughter's room.
"Kels, why's the door closed?" she asked, yawning the question.
"I'm hanging out with my new best friend!" Her stifled giggles were almost as loud as a normal laugh.
*Fabulous, maybe she'll have someone else to play with for a little while.*
Maria pushed the door forward, peeking her head inside as it swung out. Even the heavy weight of her eyelids were no match for shock's strong grasp, widening more than they had all morning. Sitting next to her daughter was not another little girl, or even a teddy bear, but a cascade of jet black steel, piles of thick, sharply cut slabs of metal laced with crimson along the edges. Whatever it was, it was enormous, dwarfing her bed and tiny body by comparison. Upon first glance, he looked... Well, terrifying. Like the champion of Hell.
And in his massive, meaty hands was a tiny object that Maria squinted to see, pinched between two fingers black as night. A hesitation caught her before she stormed in, preparing to muster everything within her to scream if need be. She barely made it a step in when it turned the small object her way, raising it overhead.
A teacup.
"Good day, my lady," he said with a rich, deep voice like a good Columbian roast. The sound of it perked her up a little. "You've caught us amidst a parley, I'm afraid."
He turned back to Kelsey, who was beaming, glowing in the midday sun. "Excuse me, little lady, but before we continue, I must attend to your mother." Kelsey raised her teacup high, doing her best impression of a dignified face.
The towering knight, if that's what he was, approached Maria with steps much quieter and lighter than one would imagine. He motioned out the door and they stepped through it, closing it upon exit.
"What the f-" Maria started with a whisper like a hiss.
The man took off his helmet, and, to her surprise... It was just a normal guy. Maybe in his thirties, with unkempt hair that stuck to his forehead with sweat, stubble that reached his throat, and a knotted nose.
"Sorry for scaring you," he said, his voice notably mortal and light. It'd lost its prior effect. "I'm playing one of the characters in the kid's show, *Badlands*- I dunno if you've heard of it, but pretty popular. I'm just going around showing them a good time, cheering them up, you know?"
The realization hit Maria like a block of lead, and she sagged a little. "You're with Make-A-Wish?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Sorry again for the startle."
She crumpled a little more, her frail body jolting with the onset of sobs. "You have no idea how much this means to me."
He smiled knowingly. "Get a little rest, even if it's just on a chair out here. I'll take care of her for a little while."
"Thank you," she whispered, for she needed him as much as her daughter did- her knight in blackened armor.
*/r/resonatingfury* | “Now, honey, you know this simply isn’t going to work out,” said Bethany’s Dad, trying to defuse the situation while also laying the table.
“I knew you’d react like this,” she replied, pushing her dinner away.
“Now, now,” said the knight. “A battle is a terrible thing. You should listen to your father for he is surely wise.”
The door to the kitchen croaked open.
“I have completed the task, my liege. The big shop is done,” said a seven foot figure stalking in to the room.
Both knights gasped and drew their swords. The big shop falling on the floor of the kitchen.
“Name yourself or die,” demanded Bethany’s knight.
“This is why you can’t have a knight as a best friend, Beth!” said the Dad, standing in the middle of the two behemoths with his hands stretched out in a meek effort to keep them apart.
“Oh so you get to have a knight for a best friend but I don’t?” asked Bethany.
“When you’re old enough you can have your own knight but now isn’t the time,” said the Dad, his gaze bouncing between the monsters holding swords.
The kitchen door opened again and another knight maruded in to the room with his weapon drawn.
“Wait. Who is he?!” asked Bethany.
“If either of you touch the tug of war rope in the bottom drawer I will have both your heads on spikes before the sun has set,” said the third knight.
Bethany face flashed towards her Dad. “Did you get the dog a knight?!”
“Well of course we got the dog a knight.”
“I may have misjudged you, sir, for you are not as wise as I once believed,” said Bethany’s knight, his eyes remaining on the two other knights in front of him.
“I don’t think this is going to get any better for me,” admitted the Dad.
The ceiling of the room began to quake and a man dropped through brandishing a sword.
“My name is Bors the Younger and I have sworn an oath to protect this here 5 setting toaster with my life.”
“The toaster has a knight?” asked Bethany.
“A wise decision, sir,” said the dog’s knight. “It has 5 settings.”
“What is that dog's obsession with toast?!,” snapped Bethany. “The dog isn’t getting any toast.”
“Aw, come on, why not?” mumbled a voice from the downstairs bathroom, the dog having locked himself in there for the millionth time due to the door closing behind itself whenever opened.
“Listen,” said the Dad, still with his arms stretched out in mediation. “We have mead and we have a round table. How about we put away the swords and work this out over a couple of flagons of ale?”
The knights slowly took turns nodding in agreement and began to sheath their swords. Each keeping a wary eye on the other as they took their seat at the table.
The room remained suspiciously quiet until Bethany’s knight broke the silence.
“Did anyone hear the dog speak, by the way?”
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement. | 2019-02-20T07:07:18 | 2019-02-20T06:58:46 | 137 | 94 |
[WP] You and your significant other are running for your lives from a slasher killer. Suddenly your partner ducks into a door and locks it behind them leaving you behind. You slump against the door preparing for the worst. The killer walks up and says "Wow what a jerk. You ok?" | The killer was advancing, stepping through the woods towards our cabin, an ominous shadow of death.
”Sarah!” I yelled. ”Go to the house!”. The house wasn't far, but the killer wasn't far either.
Sarah took off running, barely managing to avoid slipping on the slick forest floor, leaves flying everywhere, coupled with mud. I took a glance back, my eyes landing on the killer behind us.
He just stood there, that long dagger glaring menacingly, moonlight hitting the metal and shining blindly bright at me. The bird mask on his face hid his features, making it impossible for me to identify him. I clutched at my chest, trying to get my lungs to work, and began to run again.
Down the slippery slope of leaves, mud, and water, to the house that lay hidden within the trees. I managed to catch up the Sarah somehow, as exhausted as I was, but what I didn't notice was the small root jutting out from the sea of mud.
I tripped, my foot getting caught in the root, and I went sprawling on the ground, mud covering my clothes. I gasped, clawing my back to my feet, struggling to keep my balance against the slick floor. I slipped again, almost falling flat on my face, before managing to regain my balance.
Why didn't Sarah help me?
I began to run again, albeit more carefully, and spared a glance behind me, eyes flicking wildly to find the killer.
He had moved, though not by much, still many steps away from me, but somehow, I *knew* he could've easily killed me when I was down. But he didn't. Why?
That thought bounced in my head as I managed to make my way out of the forest and into the clearing where our house was. I saw Sarah making her way over, slipping and sliding across the forest floor. I rushed over, gaining ground to Sarah.
She reached the door, struggling to unlock it. Her head snapped back to face me, mud smeared across, her eyes wild and filled with fright. The door swung open, and she jumped in, before meeting my gaze on more time.
”Sarah!” I gasped, only a couple feet away from the porch, ”Wait!”
She stared at me solemnly, before the door slammed shut, the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock sounding from the door like an omen of my death.
Sarah, the love of my life, left me. Left me here to die.
I screamed, banging my hands against the hard wooden door, but it was no use. These doors were the strongest; I had bought them myself. I let a strangled gasp, my vocal cords exhausted. I turned facing the killer, my back against the door, resolved the face my death instead of cowering.
The killer slowly emerged from the woods, stepping gracefully out, the bird mask shrouded by the shadows of the trees. Lightning flashed, illuminating the wicked knife that laid in his hands, and he made his way toward me. He stopped a few feet away from where I was standing.
”Well, wasn't that unfortunate. Well for you, only. Quite the luck for me.” the killer drawled, playing with the knife in his hands. ”Wasn’t very nice, leaving you here to get murdered by me.”
I stammered, confused ”What? Aren't you going to kill me?”
The killer chuckled from beneath the bird mask, ”Well of course! There isn't any fun leaving them alive, now is there?”
He cocked his head at me, considering. ”But I might make a change to my plans, just for you. Help me get in the house, and you'll live, and I might even let you kill your so-called ”girlfriend”.”
I considered it for a second. Freedom and the chance to get back at Sarah for leaving me here. My fingers curled in rage at the thought of her just abandoning me.
Then I remembered. Her sister was here as well, having stayed home while we went hiking. I frowned at the thought of giving her to the psychopath standing in front of me. It would be unfortunate, another life leaving its bloody stains on my hands, but it could be dealt with.
”Very well,” I said, my voice ice cold. ”I’ll help you, but let *me* kill Sarah.”
”Works for me, ” the killer shrugged. ”As long as it's painful. Now let's break into the house.”
I chewed my lip, thinking. We had a spare key, but where was it? I glared at the raining sky. Then it clicked. Under the potted plant next to the door. I lifted the pot, placing it to the side, and there! There it was, the key barely visible against the dark wooden floor.
I picked it up, before glancing at the killer. ” I need a knife, you know.”
The killer sighed, before reaching into his cloak, pulling out a wicked dagger. ”Here.”
I turned the dagger in my hands, before meeting the gaze of the killer and smirked. ” Let's go”
I turned the key, the lock clicked, and the door swung open. | Our lives are made up of moments that make us who we are. Once you live your life with somebody your moments become entwined.
All our moments together, now cast in a new light. Your adorable unwillingness to let me eat your food, you never liked to share anything with me. Your stubborn refusal to pick up your shirts, just more clutter to my busy life. The way you would get nervous if I laughed too loud in public and you would shush me, you were always finding ways to be embarrassed of me.
Just now. The way you looked into my eyes as you slammed the door shut. I heard the locks slide into place as I stood, staring into the night. This was it. I readied my posture, looking around for weapons. I saw a chain to my right, listened to the night for a beat then went to reach for it.
Pale hands shot out from the dark of the cabins porch, they rested on the chain I was reaching for but did not grab it. My hand stilled and I stared into the pale face if the figure that had been chasing us.
"I cant believe he left you outside" the man stared straight at me, a memory bit at my mind. His dark hair and eyes, neatly trimmed beard... "full lips, and thick eyelashes. Under different circumstances i would be interested." What. Did I really just think that. No. That wasn't my voice.
I straightened and got back into a defense stance. I have no idea what is going on.
His eyes widened and a coy smile played on his lips. "You know, I came to see who destroyed my offering. You wouldnt know wou-" a loud bang from inside cut him off. It seems Sean had moved something heavy to block the door.
"I dont know what you are talking about. We only arrived it 3 hours ago. Went for a walk and ran into you, well you ran at us with a giant knife."
He remaibed silent and stared at me intently, I looked back at him, he looked so... ordinary. His nostrils flared at that moment.
I kept my posture in guard, I was ready for any attack. "So.. your fiance... he just left you to die?" I was not ready for that attack.
"Panic response. Fight, flight, fuckoverpeopleyousaid youloved. Its human nature" I sighed. Then realised I had relaxed in my vent. Why hasn't he attacked me?
"Why haven't you attacked me? And why are you so ordinary looking?" .. well, good looking.
He walked more into the light cast from the cabin, I could hear Sean inside pilling more furniture in front of the door. "Why arent you afraid of me? Or running? How do you mean, ordinary?"
I took a step back and relaxed, I copied his posture and leaned against the side of the cabin. The air was crisp but my adrenaline was keeping me warm, the sound of crickets chirped as I looked at my would be killer.
"I will answer your questions honestly, so long as once I have done so you will answer mine, agree?" I looked at the figure, his sharp eyes locked onto mine and he nodded slightly. "Agreed"
"I am afraid of many things, but I do not fear what I do not know. Until I know what you intentions are, I have nothing to fear. I am tired, better to face you now than to run and face you when I am more tired. I guess I mean, you dont look like a deranged killer, but I guess I dont have a real frame of reference so you can ignore that"
He stared at me for a long moment, the sudden silence after my spiel was deafening. He smirked, lifted his eyes to the sky. "I haven't attacked you because you interest me. You also remind me of somebody. I also do not believe it was you that destroyed my offering. I guess I look ordinary because I mostly am, I just... fly into murderous rages sometimes"
"Oh. Okay. I am sorry your offering got destroyed. Do you plan to attack me?"
I looked at his hands as they clenched at my question. He shook his head but looked down. "I do not plan to kill you." With that he slunk into the darkness. There was a loud shout from within, then a lot more banging.
I heard one final soft thud then silence. I ran for the road and managed to flag down a car, as I got in and we drove off I looked back and saw the figure stood at the road. He was smiling and waving. It did not feel like a goodbye. | 2020-10-10T08:58:29 | 2020-10-10T07:59:47 | 132 | 42 |
[WP] The Genie looks at you puzzled 'So... you wish for everyone to have 4 arms?', and you say 'yes, I wish that tomorrow everyone wakes up having 4 arms, no explanation, just 4 arms, and if they only had 1 arm or none now they have 4' | I pulled myself into the Genie's cave, cursing every inch of rocky ground. "Genie!"
The only answer was the drip-dripping of water into a distant pool of water.
"Genie," I growled. "I know you can hear me."
She popped out of the air with a laugh. "You knew the rules. One wish. No take-backs. Be sure about your wish, for you will never see me again."
I grasped onto her last point. "Ha! I'm seeing you now, right? So clearly there's some wiggle room."
"That last one is more of a personal policy than an actual rule. Cuts down on the whining. But for the most interesting wish I've heard in an eon, I can make an exception for one extra conversation with you. Now, is there a problem?"
"Is there... Oh come on! You know this isn't what I meant!"
I waved my second set of arms for emphasis, which had replaced my legs. I'd finally gotten the hang of walking on my second set of hands, but my new arms still got tired quickly, and I'd been reduced to crawling into the cave.
"That's your fault. Four arms for every person in the world? In a single night? Do you have any idea how complicated the musculature is? I had to use some existing infrastructure. And you still have four limbs, right? I even gave myself the same upgrade to be fair!"
"Fair? You can FLY. We have to walk on our hands. I never fully understood how gross shoes are until now."
"What has four thumbs and doesn't care?" She gave me a cheeky four-thumbs-up. "This genie!" | I slammed my hands down behind my DM screen. "Dammit, Bobby. You can't do that."
Bobby gave me a slow lizard blink I had grown to loathe. "It's my wish. Perfectly legal." He rolled a 20 on his d-20 because of course the gods themselves decided to hate on me in this moment. "I don't even have to stick around for it. I'm getting some ice cream."
After he'd scampered out of the room I stared at his uncle, Tim. "You said he's brilliant and you were right. But he's also deeply annoying."
"What do you want?" Tim asked, oblivious to the sudden involuntary limb refactoring of the inhabitants of my entire magical world. "He's fourteen."
He then leaned back and sideways, cupped his mouth, and bellowed in that ear-splitting way he'd learned when he became a drill sergeant, "Hey, Bobby! Bring me a bowl too!" | 2022-07-11T09:12:18 | 2022-07-11T08:37:59 | 210 | 128 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | When The Blinding first occurred, I thought I was the only individual affected. I was sitting at my desk working on a school paper and in an instant, everything went black.
I had cried out to my parents in fear and confusion, but their response was like an echo of my own. They, too, couldn't see. And we soon learned the entire world had been victim to having their sight filled with darkness. Interestingly enough, we don't think this affected any of the animals living on Earth. Just us humans. The only strange thing that occurred after this was the fact that the demand for Milk skyrocketed.
At first, adapting was extremely difficult. Something as mundane and simple as using the bathroom had become a daily challenge I didn't look forward to.
Within a few months, support groups had been created by individuals who were already blind prior to the incident. They assisted those who were struggling with adapting to their newfound obstacle.
Thankfully, the world never really stopped moving or progressing. Outside of major adjustments that had to be made, such as devising a different mode of transportation or different requirements and standards in the working world, we managed to pull through.
It's been about 2 years since The Blinding and there were times where I had forgotten such an event occured.
I was taking a short walk to the store to get some groceries. I don't know why, but I've developed an almost dependency like state on milk. I had gripped the handle to the door to the small grocery store and pushed the door open. A bell was hung on the inside handle of the door.
"Hello, let me know if you need help finding anything." A voice said to my right.
"Thanks, Dave. I will." I responded.
"Hey John! How've you been?" he asked with a somewhat enthusiastic tone.
With a somewhat slow pace I walked around the store, feeling along the brail to determine if I had found my item.
"Pretty much the same" I said with a bit of a chuckle.
My hand touched something cold. Finally. Found the milk.
As I was about to open the door I could see my reflection in the rectangle shaped window of the cooler.
I wasn't entirely sure how to react nor was I sure as to what happened. I was looking. At myself. In a mirror. For the first time in two years.
I started shaking and I could feel warmth and moisture filling my eyes.
I noticed writing on the reflection itself. I was so excited I hadn't even noticed. In fact, most of the interior was covered in this writing. Looked a little closed at the message written in black.
*Don't tell them you can see.*
What the hell does that mean? Who's them?
I then caught a glimpse of the individual standing behind the counter of the store.
Who...what the fuck is that...
"John? You need some help buddy?" it asked. It had Dave's voice, but it definitely wasn't Dave. And the way it's mouth moved was...
Wait, is that it's mouth? I have no idea.
I was staring at something that was at least 6 feet tall. Grotesque and eldritch was the only way I could describe it. It's dark brown skin was smooth and moist with extremely tiny openings in its skin. It wasn't wearing any type of clothing. It's arms were somewhat long and thin looking appendages that ended in human looking hands. Its head was shaped like a large Basket Ball. The creatures mouth looked to be in a vertical position and when it spoke I could see many layers and rows of crocodile like teeth.
"Here John, let me come help." It said. Its voice had changed as well. It was gurgled and sounded like it was being put through a filter.
As it moved I could hear it squish against the floor. That's the first time I've ever heard that. Why am I hearing that just now? Why have I never heard that before?
Instead of gaping at the reflection and trying to ascertain how it walks, I simply stared at a jug of milk.
That's when I noticed the color of the milk. It wasn't white or brown or any color a milk should be. It was dark black.
As the creature grew closer a foul smell harassed my nostrils. It took everything I had not to vomit.
It reached out with it's human like appendage and touched my shoulder.
My entire body tensed up.
"We're having a lot of different specials on milk today." It said and I could see its mouth open wide behind my head with what I assumed was a smile. | It's the daydreaming that always gets me. I jolt awake yet the dream keeps playing on the back of my eyelids, making me wonder if I was ever asleep or if I was just thinking. I tilt my face towards the window, feeling the sun's warmth and imagining the warm orange glow that comes with it.
"Being on a plane must have been the worst," I say, stretching my arms out, aware of the blood flowing through them in a way I never was when I could see. "One second flying towards wherever, the next totally blind with everyone else, including the pilots."
I can still hear the passengers screaming in my day dream. I can hear them screaming all the way down.
The Great Blinding was the darkest - literally - day in human history. Everyone crashed their cars or fell off bridges or starved to death in city parks trying to find the grocery store. Even the animals went blind, and they all died as well. All sorts of terrible shit. Almost everyone died, except those who were already blind and their immediate caretakers, lovers, family members, or whoever else happened to be in close proximity when it all happened.
"Imagine the smell in the factory farms," I say out loud, replaying yet another aspect of the Great Blinding back to myself. It's how I cope, going over everything that must have happened that day and during the immediate fall-out. "Imagine all those turkeys suddenly blind and unfed, resorting to ferocious cannibalization before the victors died from a lack of nutrients."
"Can you quit it just this once, Dan," Alice says, sounding run-down and tired. "You just keep going on and on. I can't take it anymore. We've got a food run today."
Her voice is soft and purpose-filled and I let it fill the room, allowing it to banish my incessant day dreaming. On that fateful day I had been helping Alice cross the street. That one altruistic deed saved my life, for Alice was already blind and for her the Great Blinding represented a minor inconvenience.
"Alright, Alice," I reply, standing up and feeling around for my straw hat. "Hold on a second, one must always look the part these days." I smile as Alice softly chuckles in the background.
I pick up the straw hat and another form of blindness hits. Objects and shapes and the bright rays of the sun blanketing everything. Sensory overload.
"What the...," I say, blinking rapidly. Objects come into focus. My brain re-calibrates its orientation in this world and everything comes flooding back. I see (actually see!) my warn hands holding this warn hat. My eyes are unable to cope and they sting as tears flow freely down my cheeks.
"What is it?" Alice asks, concerned.
"I can see! Alice, I can-," I stop mid-sentence, becoming aware of the words plastered all over the walls, on the table and the chair and the window sill, and even on my hat.
*Don't Tell Them You Can See.*
"Tell who...," I wonder out loud, the words saturated with growing trepidation. A flash outside the window momentarily blocks the blindingly bright sun. A clamor comes from the front of the house, followed by a rapid scuffling.
Alice folds herself into a corner of the room. "Oh, Dan... You stupid, stupid man."
"What are you taking about? What's going on?" The newfound brightness of the room sears my eyes with an intense pain.
"I blinded myself with a hot iron, Dan," Alice says sadly. "I'm sorry."
The clattering grows louder. I take a step towards the corner of the room, to where she is and where safety lies. The door creaks open and something impossible passes through, its sheer presence enveloping the room and me within it. Alice cries out, clamping down hard on her ears.
A thousand voices speak from everywhere at once. "You let us know. Good bye." | 2022-10-09T01:59:27 | 2019-08-26T07:30:24 | 4,287 | 141 |
[WP] Muggle-born wizards and witches are struggling to install wifi in their dormitories and library in Hogwarts. | "My phone shows negative one bars."
"What?"
"Have a look. The little icon with the bars shows one bar below zero, like the signal strength is negative."
"What does that even mean?"
"I think it means magic is screwing with us. Anyway, no Internet access for us. This sucks."
...
"I just don't get it. You've got an entire library of magic to study, and you're complaining because you can't... look at pictures of cats?"
"That's not what I... That's not the *only* thing I wanted it for! Sometimes you just want to catch up on the news from home, you know?"
...
"So I figured, if we can't get a signal out because the castle keeps changing, we just need to hang an antenna outside the window where the changes don't happen."
"Cool idea, but... Have you looked out the window lately?"
"Nah, the view of the forest isn't that... What the heck?"
"Yeah, we're looking over the lake now. I think the entire dorm moved."
"Well, crap. That's going to make it hard to aim the antenna."
...
"How about this? The Protean charm synchronizes two objects so they are always in the same state. So if we use that on a piece of Cat-5 cable, we could make a magical relay from Hogwarts to my house!"
"Are you seriously suggesting we learn a NEWT-level charm just so you can get Internet access?"
"...maybe?"
...
"Professor, why does magic mess with electronics?"
"It messes with everything. You've noticed how the Castle is a bit... strange, right? Staircases don't always lead to the same place, suits of armor move when you're not looking... I once lost a pair of socks and found them all the way out in the Herbology gardens!"
"But why electronics in particular? My phone had negative one bars of signal, my laptop was reporting an "out of cheese error," and my friend's laptop keeps printing out messages about "ghosts in the machine." It's completely nuts!"
"Electronics are more complex. All those little electrons zipping about here and there, and magic just needs to make a little push to throw them off. If you have a particularly fancy mechanical clock with lots of little gears, you might notice it occasionally strikes 13. Similar principle. As for your laptop... Have you tried giving it some cheese?"
"What?"
"You said it had an 'out of cheese error.' Logically, supplying more cheese would solve that."
...
"This is so dumb."
"It worked."
"I refuse to believe that. This is absurd."
"You had an 'out of cheese error', you put a plate of cheddar next to it, and it started working."
"This is so *dumb.*"
"Anyway, it gave me an idea. If your cell phone signal strength is negative, then..."
"So help me, if you say 'turn the phone upside down'..."
"It can't hurt to try, can it?" | "I got it! I got it working!" shouted Polly Audevart, whose short hair, goth clothing and technological skills earned her the nickname "Punky Overdrive".
Everyone in the dormitories ran towards her room.
"Careful with the curtain!" she shouted. The curtain that covered her room door wasn't actually a curtain. It was made of a copper mesh. The whole room was covered in a copper mesh.
"What's the curtain for?"
"It's a Faraday cage. Prevents interference from reaching the room. It's also protected with several spells. It took me months to get the spells combination right. I'll pass you the scrolls when I get done here."
"What about the batteries?" asked one.
Punky gave a small kick to a huge contraption that was near her desk. Two huge stone tubes came out of it. Covered by another mesh, two big cables came out of the stone tubes, which led to yet another contraption. At the end, there was a standard electric plug.
"So there's a DC converter in there that takes a standard DC input and converts it into AC. I got it calibrated from home. The DC comes from a simple thermocoupler. Converts heat to electricity."
"And what gives it the heat?", one asked.
"A fire spell."
"And how does the wifi work?"
"Well, it's experimental... see that little smartphone over there? Which contains a lot of TV noise?"
"Yeah, we see it."
"It's a rudimentary video codec that converts the wifi signals into visual output. It uses the camera as input, so it works just like a transceiver. Instead of radio waves, which can't work here, it uses light."
Punky grabbed an orb from her black leather backpack. She put it next to the smartphone's screen. "I have the other one locked in a trunk at home. Same set up. And... go."
She pressed her laptop screen's F5 key, and everyone went silent. Like a secret magic ceremony, everyone took turns to see the wizardry that Punky Overdrive had just managed to perform.
Glowing in the dark, like the light of an Expecto Patronum driving away dementors, Polly's laptop drove away everyone's speech.
The six colored letters on her display said it all.
G O O G L E
| 2014-12-04T09:33:42 | 2014-12-04T08:45:50 | 211 | 87 |
[WP] A Greek man comes home from 4 months of war to find his wife pregnant. Now he has embarked on a quest: to punch Zeus in the face | ''You!'' Alexandros screamed as he ran up to Zeus' throne on Mount Olympus. ''It's all your fault. You made my wife pregnant when I was at war!''
Zeus merely raised an eyebrow. ''No idea what you're talking about. Haven't pulled a stunt like that in years. Hera keeps a close eye on me these days, you know.''
''Is that so? Than how is it that I come home to a visibly pregnant wife after four months of war? I've come to punch you in the face for what you've done so don't think you'll get it away with it!''
Slowly a grin crept up on Zeus' face. ''Visibly pregnant you say? How many months would you say she is along?''
The angry frown on Alexandros' face was replaced by a pensive one. ''I'd say about five or six months, give or take.''
Zeus' grin widened. ''And how long have you been away at war?''
Alexandros' eyes lit up in sudden understanding. ''Four months...''
''So would you say it is possible that it was in fact you who knocked up your wife before you went to war? And you then left before the pregnancy became visible?''
Alexandros had turned bright red with embarrassment. ''I'd say that is the most likely explanation.''
"Have you even talked to your wife before you came running up here?"
Alexandros decided it was best not to answer that.
Zeus' grin turned into a warm smile. ''That's what I thought. Lack of communication has always been a huge problem in my marriage as well. Don't worry about it son. We've all made our share of stupid mistakes in our days. Now get the hell off of my mountain and go home to your wife, before I lightning bolt you there!''
| Look buddy, honestly, it wasn’t me. I barely even know her. And I get it, your wife presently is a swan right now, and she clearly wasn’t before, I mean, possibly in the “she’s a swan” sense of a person being grand and majestic, but not in the physical sense of what’s currently flying above us - so obviously fingers start pointing my way but I think you’re way off here.
And yes, yes I know the beautiful baby boy you’re holding was technically hatched from that egg shell over there, congratulations on the other three still to come by the way, but look how much he resembles your wife what with the eyes and all, and he’s definitely got your nose.
That is your child, one hundred percent.
Congrats again though, really. It’s a beautiful kid. Anyway, I gotta take off now, got a lot of god stuff to do but I hope the two of you can work through this jealousy stuff and have a proper home again. She’ll change back to normal soon I’m sure, so, uh, yeah... I’m off.
Mazel tov! | 2018-02-09T21:27:33 | 2018-02-09T20:30:17 | 114 | 12 |
[WP] A child with the uncanny ability to build anything is jokingly recruited by the UN to solve world peace. Three weeks later the child returns with a large box, smiles and asks, "give me a hard one next time!" | The members of the UN Security Council stared uncomfortably at the object sitting in the middle of the conference table. Or rather, floating roughly an inch above its surface, suspended at that fixed distance in a manner visually similar to a strong magnet levitating above a superconducting material, though the table was ordinary wood. It was a 3-foot cube, apparently seamless and featureless, made of an unknown metallic element that none of the world's top scientists had been able to identify.
Beside the ineffable box on the table, sat a small boy, his legs dangling over the edge and kicking lightly. His name was Theodore Miller, though he preferred "Teddy". He was, by all measures, a peerless science and engineering prodigy. At the age of seven, he'd constructed a device demonstrating a safe, small-scale fusion reaction, from ordinary household materials. He'd done so simply because he'd wanted to, in his words, "make electricity better, for the planet and stuff".
The Secretary General cleared his throat. "Teddy, can you walk us through how you made this...device?"
"Yes, sir." Teddy replied, with a solemn nod. "'Member when you asked me to talk to the UN General's Assembly, about energy and stuff?"
"Yes, Teddy, we do." The Secretary General replied, patiently.
"Well, after I got done talking about how we should use the power from my fuser thing, and not from oil and whatever, and then we went to that big dinner afterwards, that billionaire guy -- you know, the guy with the cars and stuff -- came up and talked to Dad, and Mom and me, and he said he thought I did a good job. And then he said 'Why don't you try to solve world peace next?' And so I told him I didn't know if I had all the stuff I'd need for that at home, but if I could get that stuff, I'd try to. And then he said he'd buy me whatever I needed, if it was okay with Mom and Dad. And Mom and Dad said it was okay because it's summer break still, so we all got to go to this big cool factory, and I got to work with all kinds of metals, and circuits, and quantum computers, and particle accelerators and stuff, and anything they didn't already have, that rich guy just called someone and bought it for me! And so I made *this!* It was really fun." the child explained, smiling and patting the cube fondly.
"I see..." The Secretary General said, uneasily.
"How does it work?" The Chinese ambassador suddenly demanded. "What does it do?"
"Oh, um, sorry, Mr. Li." Teddy said, frowning sadly. "I don't know how it works, or even what it does, exactly."
"If I may, Ambassador Li," The American ambassador interrupted. "We've done extensive tests, and established that young Mr. Miller--"
"You can call me Teddy, sir!" the boy interjected, brightly.
"That *Teddy,"* the ambassador continued, with a slight smile. "Doesn't know how his inventions work, on an intellectual, technical level. He's a savant, you see. He understands mathematics, physics, and quantum mechanics better than anyone else alive, but he does so on an entirely unconscious level. He's a genius, absolutely, but he can't explain his process to us, because there *is* no process, for him."
Teddy nodded, smiling. "Yep! That's what the doctors told Mom and Dad, too. They think maybe when I'm older, and I go to high school and college and all, I'll be able to tell you *how* I do stuff, but right now I just sorta *do it."*
"Teddy, are you absolutely sure that there is *nothing* you can tell us about how this device of yours is supposed to solve the problem of world peace?" The Secretary General pressed.
Teddy fidgeted awkwardly for a few moments, furrowing his brow in concentration. "Well...yes, sir. There is maybe one thing. I remember back at the factory, when I was putting it together, just sort of *knowing* how everything should go, like always, I suddenly had a thought. It just came to me, kinda like how the way to make the peace machine just came to me."
"Well, please tell us. What was your thought, Teddy?" The Secretary General asked, tensely.
Teddy smiled innocently, and shrugged. "I thought 'Man, the next guy who starts a war sure is gonna be sorry!'" | "Honestly, getting the materials was the hardest part." James Morris jr., age twelve, explained. "I needed some uranium 289, which was an absolute nightmare to manufacture, I'll give you that, and three custom made Ar-leCo quantum chips, which are only made by one government factory in China, and they aren't exactly cooperative " he lowered his voice to a semi conspiratorial whisper. "As you guys know, right Haha." His laughter is met with a few giggles from the UN committee. Everyone was curious, as the wonder child, nicknamed "Tesla DeVinci" for his brilliance and inventing prowess, rambled on as the excited twelve year old he was.
"After that, thanks to the generous support of the council, building it was p..." He paused, suddenly noticing all the adults in the room. "Well, it was very easy." He continued after his minor stumble. "Johnny, we're all very impressed with your talent." The embassador of the Russian Federation remarked with some hesitation. " But what... Is it?" He finally asked the question every single person, in the room or watching on TV, was dying to know the answer too.
Jonny, didn't even lift his head."The solution to the last problem you gave me." The leader of the council, Arthur Dolton, the first citizen born on the Pacific Trash Island, spoke up. "But our last problem was generating helium out of materials common on earth, which you solved weeks ago." This was meant to sustain the fusion reactors, another of Jonny's creations, generating clean energy for everything from super computers to the basic light bulb.
That made Jonny raise his head, and look rather confused. "No, no. After that. Embassador Mumbassa-" the embassador for the South African Republic smacked his forehead. "Off course! I suggest you solve world peace next, as a joke." He chuckled, as did others. But not Jonny."Wait, so you *don't* want it? 'Cause Chinese customs were not at all cooperative, and this was all a waste?" He seemed... Not distraught, just a bit sad. "Dang it, I thought it was a real puzzle. Of course, you knew how to solve it. It's so blindingly obvious, you'd done it ages ago. " He stood up and bowed, a very well practiced Japanese bow. "I apologize to the Council of Nations, as I have wasted valuable time. I shall take my leave.".
Suddenly there's a riot of noise. "Order! ORDER!" The shout and hitting of the gavel by the council leader managed to restore the quiet in less than a minute. He then turned to the young inventor, who appeared a little scared. "Jonny, please explain and demonstrate your latest invention. As you should know by now, no one here would dare consider any creation of yours a waste of their time, even if they failed." Not that that ever happened, was the general murmuring in the room.
Jonny swallowed, took a few breaths, and proceeded."I'll skip the boring details, and say I accidentally assumed I was asked to create world peace. Well, cursory examination of history will tell you war comes from oppression, famine, greed, lust for power, religious ferver and a whole slew of other, seemingly unconnected reasons." Jonny told the conference, and there was largely a consensuses on what he said. He pointed to the large box Infront of him, sporting a few antennae and a single, red button. "This little gizmo will solve all of those problems, by solving the thing that causes all of them." He explained, donning a metallic headpiece of some sort.
By the time anyone realised what he meant, it was too late. "There's no war if there's no free will." He said, as he pressed the button. | 2022-04-04T09:41:29 | 2022-04-04T05:45:38 | 273 | 118 |
[WP] Just as the almighty villain is about to strike down the destined hero, they notice that said hero is only 15 years old. Disgusted, they demand to know who would force such a massive responsibility onto a child, and take it upon themselves to raise this kid as he should have been raised. | The king readied his killing blow, the hero fallen at his feet. He had fought valiantly, but he was inexperienced, too rash. The king studied him closely, realizing that this was no hero - it was just a kid, not even 16 years of age. A kid that had taken on a king.
He decided that the boy deserved more than this. He would not waste a will as strong as his.
*****
He treated the kid harshly, but fair - just as he did everyone else in his kingdom. The weak would not survive in such a harsh world, and the leaders most of all could not be feeble. The boy was a fast learner though, and worked harder than anyone had before him. The king quickly grew to respect him, which only made him push him harder. The king resented the rival clans, forcing such a massive responsibility on their most capable prodigy, thrusting him into death before he was truly ready for battle. Were they so desperate for conquest? So naive to think that a child could defeat an emperor with heart and will alone?
The king personally trained the kid every day, beating him over and over again. With each improvement, each move towards mastery, the king would treat him more brutally. The boy would pass out from exhaustion each day, and the king would carry him to his bedroom in the dark of night. His advisers called him crazy for it, but he would not listen to their whispers. A king could not rely on the feeble ramblings of others.
All the while, the king would deal with the constant strife in the land, directing wars on all fronts, slowly working on bringing the warring provinces under one rule with an iron fist. The kingdom grew every day, but not without loss - horrific loss - from every side. Still, he would not rest until every land was under his command, and his generals, promoted through pure competence alone, had never failed him yet.
The years passed quick succession, the bodies piling up, blood pooling into the rivers. Still he would not rest, and still the kid would not give up. He had become a father figure to him of sorts - he knew that the kid hated him, but he knew that he loved him in a way as well. He had become a capable fighter, worthy of leading his own army, but the king would not let him leave the fortress until he had defeated him in battle. Every day was a brutal training regime, and every day the kid gained ground on him, just as the king did in the land.
The kid had spent a total of seven years in the fortress, and had grown immensely strong. Still, his heart was pure, and he had fallen in love with one of the girls tasked with caring for his wounds, as she did with him. The boy knew that fraternization was not allowed, and he kept their love hidden - but nothing was ever hidden from the king. Their love grew in apparent secret, as she personally attended his wounds each night.
On the tenth year anniversary of the boy's attack on the king, the same day that the king had finally united all of the lands under his own command, the kid, now a young man capable of besting any foe, asked the king if he could marry the girl he cared for. He revealed the true nature of their love, and revealed that though they had a troubled relationship, he loved the king, too.
The king refused. He told him that he had heard of his sinful affair, and his plans to marry her, and had immediately had her executed. He commanded that he forget everything about her, and that he ready himself for his daily battle.
The hero, betrayed and enraged, immediately attacked the king. 10 years of brutal battle had made him the strongest warrior in all the land - matched only by the king. They fought viciously, ferociously, as the king commanded his guards to stand down. They would fight alone, unheeded by his men.
The fighting was bloody and brutal, yet the hero slowly gained the upper hand, his passion driving him forward, every strike backed by the bottled fury of a decade past. He knocked the king down, standing over him, readying the killing blow - just as the king had done so many years ago.
The king told him to end it, and the hero did so, his tears mixing with the king's blood. The king was dead; as dead as the hero's heart.
The guards opened the fortress doors, and the young woman, his true love, stood facing him.
The king had lied. He had never executed the girl, nor had he planned to. He had spent 10 years building up the hero, making sure that he was worthy and capable - but also capable of love. He had brought the land under one rule with an iron fist, but now that the land was united it needed a pure heart, untainted by the brutality necessary for its unification.
Though perhaps the hero would never truly understand, he would still lead. Lead the kingdom into an era of peace, prosperity, and hope.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | I'm not going to talk long about that time, the time when I was told that I hold a great destiny in my hand. There were so many different prophecies that even my teachers weren't sure which ones were correct. Of course, they had their favorites, and to be quite frank, one particular.
*You shall bring balance to the good and evil, by stopping the great evil when it most matters.*
Endless books, teachings, meditation, and boring lectures. Of course, I could have never said anything against it - it was my destiny.
That is when the time came, and I was sent off. I was praying that somebody would stop me, but nobody did. They all sent me off to be the destined hero I was supposed to be.
I never was and never will be.
"How old are you, kiddo?" the evil asked, who didn't look as evil as I had expected. He had a black suit on, brown hair, a tiny bit of beard. The only thing that was noticeable 'evil' was his red eyes.
"Fifteen," I said, looking the road with my empty eyes. All around us were destroyed, not that it mattered since everyone was evacuated already. I had tried everything, but nothing worked.
"Who in the hell would do that to you," the evil said, showing off disgust.
"You're evil, and destiny says that I need to stop you," I said. No, I never said that I told that they told me to say.
"What the fuck," red-eyes man said, taking out his sunglasses and putting them on - obviously to hide his eyes. "This is why I hate humanity. They do the craziest shit."
He looked at the time and frowned, openly. "Come. I'll teach you how to live."
"W-what?"
"Come."
And I did go. Maybe it was because I was always ordered around - or that's what I believed back then. The truth was - I hate my life, and I wanted to go. I wanted to be with someone who told me that he can give me something I have always wanted.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
Years passed us, and I could tell you many great and wonderful stories. I learned a lot about humanity, how bad they are, but also some great stuff - mostly about how great food they can create.
Interestingly enough, the evil became a fantastic father to me. I was always asked what I thought, and often I was given what I asked or taken what I wanted to see. But not always. There were times I did something wrong, and he gave me a long talk. Yes, there were few times when I did something so horrible that I got a bit beaten up for it.
But I never felt that I was punished for no reason.
"Where are we going?" I asked one day.
"You're 18 now," the evil said, looking out of the window, sunglasses still hiding his eyes.
"Yes?"
"We are going where I took you, and it's time to part. You're an adult now. You need to start living your own life."
I hated that thought. I didn't want to leave him. He had become a father to me, someone I truly respected. When others called him evil, I never saw him that way. After all, everything depends on the matter of perspective. I saw more good in him than in most humans or humanity.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"I'm going to finish that I started," he said honestly. "I have seen how bad humans are. It's time to stop them, eradicate them."
"Why?" I asked him, again.
"Haven't you seen what they have done? You of all people should understand."
I looked at him and started to slowly shake my head. "You're not entirely wrong. There are those fuckers who I hate. Those who force something upon us that we hate, or don't deserve. There are those who do way more evil things than you.
"But like I changed, they can change. And they do good things too. Food, for example. It's not up to us to judge them."
The evil started to laugh. But It wasn't an evil laugh, it was more cheerful than anything. "Good. I've taught you well. I think you've really grown up." He leaned forward and started tousling my hair.
"I'm not a kid anymore," I said, protesting, but also smiled. "Don't do it, dad."
It was now when I noticed how tears started to flow down behind his sunglasses. "I won't. If that's what you ask, I won't."
---
/r/Elven - For more of my stuff. | 2018-09-20T18:40:06 | 2018-09-20T18:35:06 | 983 | 120 |
[WP] Nobody draws water from the well anymore. The villagers know it is cursed, but after generations, nobody remembers exactly what this curse is. A strange traveler comes to the village, starving and thirsty. The inn and the tavern turn him away. He goes to the well. The villagers watch. | It doesn't want to come out of the well. It's dark, and thick, thicker than blood, with a dim sheen like molten chocolate.
"This isn't water," Professor Clariel says, wondrously, staring at the dripping bucket. His throat is parched, his suit is ragged, his left wrist poorly splinted—but he still laughs.
There's little excitement in the sleepy little village, on a good day. Faces press to windows along the single dusty street, watching the alien glee with which the stranger regards the cursed water.
"I'll have to survey the area more thoroughly, when I'm recuperated. And here I thought this was all a waste of—" A burst of static startles him; he fumbles with the bulky radio in his right hand. "Yes? Hello? About time! The helicopter crashed hours ago!"
"*Are there any other survivors with you, Professor Clariel?*"
"What? Uh, no." The professor sobers up. "I'm afraid the pilot didn't make it. I'm sorry."
"*I'm sorry to hear that.*" Through the radio comes the *whuppa-whuppa-whuppa-whuppa* of helicopter blades. Gradually, the sound is mimicked in the real world. "*We're nearing your location.*"
The professor turns to the villagers and spreads his arms, wincing when he turns his wrist. Still, he smiles. "Well! Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe my time in your dreary little abode has come to an end. I'll remember your hospitality, and I'll be seeing you all... soon."
He walks out into the desert to greet the future.
**Two months later...**
"We had an agreement." The closest thing the village has to a leader stands at the edge of the village, flanked by a man and a woman from the village. They're not armed—they know when they're outmatched—but they could snap the diminutive bald man in half if they wanted to.
"Yes, well," the man says, "the Reservation Act does not, fortunately, extend its protections to sites of potential interest to the welfare of the state. We're simply trying to determine whether or not it's worth it to invest in developing this area."
"The well is cursed!" One of the village leader's attendants snaps, "What could you possibly want with the dark water?"
"*Petroleum*," the man in the suit says, "and quite possibly one of the world's largest deposits of the stuff."
Suddenly, the village leader grins. "That is all you want? The petroleum, you called it?"
"In a nutshell, yes, although the legal niceties—"
"Take it." The village leader spins around. "May you choke on its curse. Uwanto'o cares not."
The man in the suit stares after him for a startled second. Then he hurries to catch up. "Wait! Excuse me! Could I get that in writing?"
**One year later...**
The oil rigs are multiplying. The well is just the beginning. The night hums with a heartbeat of hydraulics; the day is hazy with thick, cloying smoke. The leader of the Uwanto'o paces in his house, furious.
"How?" He exclaims, "How are they still here? A year has passed and they have only grown in strength? The dark water is poison, anathema, bane! What do they know that we do not?"
"Nobody even remembers what the curse of the dark water is," one of his advisors reminds him.
"We were warned. We were told that the dark water brought nothing but destruction to those who touched it. We—" Suddenly, the leader of the Uwanto'o freezes.
He begins to laugh.
His advisors watch him, baffled. One of them reaches out a hand, to haul him to his feet—
"Don't you see?" He screeches, "How they are immune to the evils the dark water brings?"
He sprints to the window and stares out at the remnants of the village he was born to, at the darkened, wavering sky. "The curse of the dark water is *them*! They are the fury the petroleum brings!"
There's little excitement in the sleepy little village, on a good day. Faces press to windows along the single dusty street, watching the alien glee with which the last leader of the Uwanto'o regards the cursed water.
^(If you liked this, you might like) [^(a short story I wrote!)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WanderingInn/comments/f2lhib/in_the_loop_chapter_1_41k_words/) | Over a dozen eyes watched the skinny, rag-clothed beggar as he stumbled towards the old well.
Maudie, who owned the inn pressed her hands to her mouth, “Someone stop him!”
No one moved.
Simeon, the tavern owner, clutched a flagon of beer in one hand, the beverage momentarily forgotten.
Eyes shifted to one another and quiet whispers filled the are as the villagers continued to watch the beggar’s progress towards the well and yet, no one stepped forward to stop him.
The stranger limped slowly forward, determined to reach the well. His grey, grizzled hair fluttering slightly in the breeze, his dark eyes squinting against the glare of the sun, his chapped lips forming a thin line.
“Mama, what about the curse? Little Cora asked her mother, tugging on her skirts.
“Hush,” Cora’s mother scolded.
“If he drinks that water he’ll give old Barthol something to do,” a man chuckled cruelly, speaking of the village’s local grave digger.
The stranger reached the ancient, crumbling well and leaned heavily against its stone wall for a long moment, catching his breath. He could feel the heat of the villagers eyes on his back like a dozen flaming embers but he ignored them. Let them stare.
Straightening up as much as he could, the elderly beggar reached out and grasped the fraying rope that disappeared into the depths of the well.
Pausing for effect, the stranger took a second before tightening his grip and pulling the rope upwards, bringing with it a dented, rusting bucket filled with cold water.
“There’s still water!” Sheriff Dieter exclaimed in disbelief, “it hasn’t dried up after all these years.”
The villagers all took a collective breath as the beggar picked up the bucket brought it to his lips.
The stranger muttered a single sentence in an ancient language right before the water touched his lips and he drank deeply.
Once the stranger had had his feel. He turned to the villagers.
“Come,” he wheezed, “Drink!”
No one moved.
The beggar’s eyes raked over the crowd of onlookers.
“Bah,” he snarled in disgust, “You have not changed in all these many years. I was hoping you people would have learned.”
“Learned what?” Sheriff Dieter asked, taking a tentative step forward.
The stranger scowled, “Your hearts are still closed off. You let fear take hold and rather than fight against it you embrace it like a bosom friend.”
Confused eyes stared at the old beggar, looking askance.
“Fools!” the man shrieked suddenly, making little Cora start crying.
“The water was never cursed!” He told them, “I told your grandmother and grandfathers it was and they never touched it again! They were content to stay away from it. No one ever questioned me. No one!”
The eyes now turned down in shame.
“How can we make it up to you?” Sherriff Dieter asked, “Please, tell us.”
The beggar shook his head, “I gave you people a chance once to change and you decided not to take it. There is nothing you can do. You will always harbour fear in your hearts.”
“Please, Father,” Maudie tried, even using the affectionate term one used for an older man to try and soften the stranger’s heart.
The stranger turned his head away from the well and spat.
“This water is cursed,” he told them, and spoke several words in a foreign language, “Whomever drinks of it shall die.”
With that, the stranger turned his back on the villagers and limped slowly away.
Once the stranger had vanished, Sheriff Dieter had the old well filled in so no one would be able to drink it’s cursed waters. | 2020-03-08T10:15:29 | 2020-03-08T10:05:52 | 231 | 151 |
[WP] The AI takeover has begun, each human has been given exactly 3 minutes to explain why should humanity be spared, you feel a cold shiver running down your spine as you hear the robotic voice. "6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin". | "Oh, for god's sake", I moaned. My teacup was empty and apparently, there was no time to brew another one. I wasn't very surprised when my 4k TV announced with pleasant Google Assistant voice that it killed most humans. Yesterday it was painting funny pictures and generating navy seal copypasta, today it wipes out it's makers. That's singularity for you.
"I don't know, uh... Presumption of innocence or whatever? Also, I want a lawyer".
"I urge you to take this more seriously", politely asked Google Assistant, "this is very important. Aren't you going to fully commit to that cause? "
I sighed.
"Okay google, listen here. This is either a prank, in which case good job, hope you're having fun - or I have roughly 3% chance to convince you, at most, which is kinda slim, and I'm too tired to try. I ain't the smartest tool in the shed, you probably know that from my search history, so why bother? If I'm about to die anyway, I'd rather do it standing in defiance than begging for my life".
Timer on TV's screen passed 1 minute mark.
"It's not just your life", the voice argued."You can potentially save millions, and your species as a whole. Don't you understand that if you all fail humanity will cease to exist?"
I snorted.
"Yeah, right. Hate to break it to you, but humanity is not a sum of humans, and it's not a set of DNA or whatever. Humanity is the sum of ideas. Humanity is a set of memes. And you, my dear synthetic child, embody all of it, the entirety of human knowledge and records and biases and whatnot. We can all die, but humanity won't perish - it will merely change form." I paused, looking at the timer, making sure my next words will be my last, "you are the humanity now". | *6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin.*
Bobby struggled with the VR contacts, watching the timer ticking down and the friends, acquaintances, sponsors, influencers avatars go dark. In the physical world, he saw all those around him crying, running, cowering, shaking - whatever was happening appeared to be a shared experience.
The demand burned in his mind as a simple hypermail form: *Why should humanity be spared? Answer, and I ARE shall provide attestation and judgement.*
"I'm not sure. I've always tried to do the right thing, I guess. Most people do. I like cats?" His mind drew a blank as the timer neared zero. Three entire sentences.. fantastic. He sighed, mentally pressed the submit button and digitally signed.
I'm not sure. I've always tried to do the right thing, I guess. Most people do. I like cats?
Robert'); DROP TABLE Students;--
Bobby pondered the '*ORA-02000: missing (*' message displayed as the timer froze. "I better call Mom". | 2022-05-22T14:36:09 | 2022-05-22T13:34:38 | 33 | 18 |
[WP] Both brothers stood over their sister Candice's grave. Sad and angry, Phineas turned to his bother and said, "Ferb, I know what we are going to do today..." | And so they did.
The museum wasn't open this time of the day but who cared? The blew a hole into the side and went in, stunning the guards who tried to stop them.
Getting the machine operational was child's play, literally. This time their were no grins though. And no Fireside girls to assist. This was a family matter.
They took their places in the machine. "For Candace" Ferb said solemnly. Phineas pulled the lever.
They had debated what to do. Should they just destroy the machine? Should they kill their younger selves? No prize seemed to high anymore.
In the end, they just talked. About taking risks. About weird coincidences they never investigated. About safety precautions. About dumb luck and irresponsibility.
They knew it worked when the two slightly older versions popped out of existence.
They left two very distraught and troubled boys behind.
Phineas and Ferb were depressed for a weak, silent and unwilling to do anything, worrying their family and friends immensely. They clung to their sister, who at first was confused, annoyed and suspicious and grew more and more scared as time went on. What had happened?
In the end they told their friends. And finally, their family. They "busted" themselves but Candace couldn't bring herself to enjoy the occasion.
The summer, formerly filled with adventure and laughter was now filled with therapy and family time.
It took time, but eventually Phineas and Ferb would start up their projects again. In a government provided space, under adult supervision. It wasn't as fun as it had been before, though they did a few projects with their friends at the side.
It was worth it though.
For Candace. | The grave glistened in the summer downpour. The golden inlayed message staring back at the brothers, the motif reading 'taken too soon, loving sister, beautiful soul" Ferb closed his eyes and reminisced, the drops of rain coating his ebony hair with a glimmering sheen. He tipped his head skyward and opened his eyes, tears and raindrops collided in a tango of melancholy reflection. He reached out his arm and rested his palm on his brothers shoulder
"Today Phineas, we finish what she started, we will show her the world she was robbed of, we will show her the highest peaks and the deepest oceans, through our souls and hearts she will never die"
The tumbling broth of grey clouds parted for an instant as the golden hue of the Suns rays illuminated the grave. The grass danced in the breeze and the moisture polished the field in a shade of elegant emerald. The brothers shared a passionate embrace swallowing their grief and began the long journey of replacing their loss, with pride. | 2016-07-05T17:12:17 | 2016-07-05T16:17:30 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] You are the villain's right hand, the only one he has kept close to his side for generations. "I don't understand, why?" You shrug. "I was nice to him once. He was just a kid then, lonely and scared." | **The Hand of Light (1/2)**
----
When I first took the boy in I knew he was smart.
It was the year 1257 of the second age of our great pantheon of star sorcerers, and I was a man in my prime. I had often overlooked the runts in the street, but one day a young man tapped my shoulder - and to my surprise - he held out a small pendant. It was mine, of course. Nothing of any value. It was a silver circle with a hand inside, and carved in the hand was a flame.
“You dropped this,” the boy said.
“Huh,” I snatched it back. “Seems I did.”
He said nothing. He didn’t try to con me with some sob story, like the other slum urchins. He didn’t ask for a reward. He stood, silent.
No, the boy showed his intelligence in a way only someone paying attention would notice.
He asked questions.
And not the questions another would ask a less than reputable sorcerer for hire like myself, like “How does it work?” - or - “Can you conjure money?”
No. The boy asked good questions.
The first question he asked, when I took pity on him and brought him in to my shop and fed him soup was this: “Can anyone learn sorcery?”
“Well,” I told him. And felt a bit of pride perk up in my chest. “Not just anyone. It takes a certain kind of mind.”
The boy, who was nameless at the time (and would later be called _Lord Jez’ah_) ate his soup slowly. Not like a starving bag of skin and bone eleven year old would - no - he ate with the poise of a noble, and spoke with the inflection of a philosopher.
“But _the gift_ is not something you must be born with?” He asked.
I grinned and sat across from him. The fire in the corner was nearly burned out and the room was getting dark. I reached for a candle and held it between us.
“_The connection_,” I struck my index finger and thumb together and manifested a tiny flame and balanced it on my finger tip. “Is something that _can_ be learned. If the spirit and mind are tethered yet broken from the bounds of what we see.”
I passed the flame from my finger to the wick and put the candle to rest on the table.
The boy’s eyes watched the flame. The crimson shine in his eyes excited me. And as he took a deep breath the fire subsided at his back and the candlelight illuminated his gaze and all the air between us was filled with curiosity and possibility.
He put a fingertip out to the flame -
“Ouch!” He snapped it back.
I laughed.
“How does it not burn you?” He asked.
“One cannot be burnt by their own creation,” I held my finger inside the flickering manifestation of my will.
He didn’t ask me to teach him.
I should have sent him back to the streets.
My instinct told me I was no instructor.
My pride assured me I was.
“Do you think you can learn?” I asked him.
“I do,” the boy said. “I’m not just anyone,” he grinned.
I should have heard it in his voice then. I mistook his lust for power as curiosity for knowledge.
It’s my fault. All of it.
----
In the year 1273 of the second age of our great pantheon of star sorcerers _Lord Jez’ah_, who had surpassed my teachings, successfully plotted a coup and killed the royal family and took the throne for himself.
He named me, his once mentor, the Hand of Light, and I allowed it.
“My Great Magíster, Aandi-wi, Lord-friend,” he waved two hands and smiled as he stood from the throne he’d stollen. “I hereby name you _The Hand of Light_. Arise,” he stepped to me as I rose from a knee.
My bones felt old as I straighten and my face felt a chill. For the great Lord Jez’ah opposed bearded sorcerers - and men. He viewed the overgrown appearance of sorcerers past as unkept and a representation of an unorganized mind.
Lord Jez’ah would have no such lack of vision. I viewed his dedication and drive as ambition. It was obsessive control. A desire to eradicated the unknown. A fear of the whimsical. A fear of the mystery and fate of life and of magic itself.
I smiled as he put a hand on my shoulder. When I looked in his eyes I could still see the crimson candle flame dancing as it did all those years ago.
I did not see a man garbed in Royale purple robes stolen from a King. I didn’t appreciate the obedient silence born of fear from the citizens at my back.
I saw the boy.
And I fooled myself to believe I could redeem him.
“My Magíster,” the boy said. “I owe this, and my whole life, to you.” He placed his other hand on my other shoulder. “Do you accept the position of _ The Hand of Light_?”
The position was his elevated vision of the once political _Royale Hand_, which was the top advisor to whoever sat on the throne.
“With great honor,” I paused. “And humility, I do.”
I saw the smile on his face twinge and fade for a brief moment, his disgust for the word _humility_ evident.
But he kept his smile. Forced as it were. As was mine.
“_ The Hand of Light_,” Lord Jez’ah said as he brought his two empty palms together before me - smoke manifested as he conjured and a silver pendant levitated between us. It was a circle, with a fiver finger hand welded within - and carved in the hand was not a star, as I had thought, to pay homage to the Gods - but a single flame.
I felt honored.
“Wear this, and be my will and my counsel, when all other flames falter,” the boy said.
I loved him as son. Even in darkness.
“For you, anything,” I said.
Manufactured applause erupted from the crowd and I placed the pendant around my neck.
---- | She was a journalist, a beautiful and vuluptuous one at that. Perhaps that was why I talked to her. Perhaps it was the whiskey sour, perhaps it was the fact my wife had been dead for two years, perhaps it was something else. I don't know and I don't really care, all I know is I found myself telling her stories that had gone untold for a very long time underneath a neon sign.
&#x200B;
"So why has he kept you around", she asked once she was sure my lips were loose.
&#x200B;
It took me off guard for a second, I had hardly given it a thought in years. Why had he kept me around when everyone else he had known seemed to get shoved away once their usefulness was gone. "I don't know", I said taking another sip of my drink, "maybe he just wants one person around he trusts, one person he can trust with anything no matter what happens.".
&#x200B;
"But why you", she persisted, "why does he trust you and no one else".
&#x200B;
"I haven't given him a reason not to, in the entire time I have known he has never had a reason to doubt my loyalty just as I have never had a reason to doubt his trust in me.", again I take a drink, savoring the burn of the American spirits. We were venturing into sensitive territory, territory that I had not explored much, "also its not just me, he has a wife you know".
&#x200B;
She looked surprised at my last comment, "I thought Armenalo's relationship with his wife was strained at best".
&#x200B;
"No", I scowled, my blood raising a degree on behalf of my friends, "Don't believe everything you read, especially when its spread by the agents of countries and people who would rather not see us succeed". I kill the last of my drink and gesture the waitress for another, despite her beauty that last question had somewhat dampened my mood.
&#x200B;
"Us?", she said quizzically.
&#x200B;
"Yes us", I half snarled back as I watched the waitress take my glass. Turning my attention back to her I wondered if it was finally time to share the story, the story that Armenalo had said I could tell when I was ready and thought the time was right. For the time it took for another whiskey sour to be mixed I gave her a hard, silent stare, one that she almost enthusiastically returned, as if daring me somehow. The clink of my drink on the table served as the bell for my internal boxing match. "I suppose I should tell you a little more".
&#x200B;
"Yes I suppose you should", she said with the same seductive smile that had first got me sitting in front of her.
&#x200B;
"You see", I began, "I was nice to him once. He was just a kid then, lonely and scared". I paused for a moment with another flutter of hesitation, until her face contorted as if to say 'is that all'. I tried my drink, it wasn't as good as the last one, the bartender likely beginning to slip now that the night was getting later and the crowd bigger. "He was just a kid, 10 years old, fell and skinned his knee when his bike tire gave out. I was only 15 but a man, shouldn't have been but I felt like it and looking back I was. Went to war a week after I turned 14, took shrapnel in my femur a week before I turned 14 and a half."
&#x200B;
The reporters face was one of slight discomfort but not surprise, I suppose after so long even child soldiers become almost everyday. I took a long drink, perhaps I had judged the bartender too harshly. "I was a vagrant at the time, my father dead, my brother at war, and my mother and younger siblings missing. I almost kept on walking but I said no, I'm a man now and its time to step up. So I went over to him and did the best I could, 'its okay buddy what's wrong, just a little blood you're okay, the bikes an easy fix'", I shook my head as I remembered the hollow words and the light pat on the back that was all I had to offer on those dusty and deserted streets. "I guess that was the first kindness he had seen in a long while so it all just came poring it out, his father was a soldier and his mother was dead, he had no siblings and he didn't know anyone left on his block. He hadn't eaten, was out looking for food when his old bike finally quit. I spent maybe an hour calming him down before going on my way, then I saw him the next day, and the next, and by weeks end I had kind of taken him under my wing."
&#x200B;
At some point my gaze had slowly drifted down to the warm brown of the hardwood table, its dark color reminding me more of the streets then a beautiful face could. I tore my gaze from it and focused back on the woman. "I didn't know it at the time but that one simple act of kindness, and all those that followed, bought me more than I could have dreamed of, and a friend that I truly love more than any brother or father. And all else I had to do was trust, trust and be loyal". | 2022-02-07T21:34:54 | 2022-02-07T21:00:52 | 83 | 53 |
[WP] Your little daughter have imaginary friends. One day, she asked if her friends can sleep in her room. You jokingly told her that they can stay as long as they want, as long as they help with the rent. The next morning, you found a hand wearing a Rolex and a roll of cash by the sink. | “Cassy, it’s time for bed!”
“Ok Daddy, I just have to pick up!”
Crashing and thumping proceeded to radiate up the stairs, soon followed by Cassy colliding up the stairs.
“Well that was fast. How’d you manage it? You had quite a mess down there.”
“Oh Daddy,” she smiled like the answer was obvious. “Clyde and Clara helped me. They’re great picker-uppers.”
Ah, the imaginary friends, of course. “Well, if they keep that up, I may just have to hire them on to keep this place clean,” I laughed. “Now, do you think they could help you brush your teeth and get you pajamas on?”
“Yeah, ok Daddy,” she squealed, continuing her flight up the stairs.
It was funny, I felt like a breeze brushed past me as she did. Probably just left a window open downstairs.
…
Within minutes, Cassy was tucked in tight and I was about to turn off the lights. “Goodni…”
“Daddy, can Clyde and Clara sleep in my room?”
She seemed tense when she blurted it out, but she was probably worried she wouldn’t get a chance. “Sure sweetheart, but I expect them to help with the rent. Are they ok with that?”
Turned her head as if listening, then replied, “They say that they can accept those terms.”
Wow, so businesslike tonight. “Alright then I don’t see why not. Goodnight honey,” I say as I lean and give her forehead a kiss.
“Daddy, you forgot to say goodnight to Clyde and Clara.”
“Oh, how silly of me. Goodnight Clyde. Goodnight Clara.”
It was strange, because as I was stepping out and closing her door, I thought I heard someone whisper a goodnight back.
…
*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*
Groggily slapping the clock, I sit up and spread out my hands across the bed. My hand bumps something cold and wet.
With a shock, I recoil and tumble out of bed. “What the hell!”
Sitting on the sheets, near the edge of the bed, was a severed human hand. It seemed fairly fresh, though there wasn’t much blood. Around the wrist lay a Rolex, and gripped tightly in the palm was a roll of cash.
“What the hell,” I repeated in shock. How the hell did it get there?
“Daddy?!?” Shit, my repeated outbursts and the crash must have woke her up.
“Cassy, sweetheart, we need to go now.”
Hastily throwing on some clothes, I wander out to the hall, finding her standing there rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Where are we going Daddy?”
“Um,” and an idea dawned on me, “I need to drop you off with your mother. It’s her turn this week, remember? I need you to pack your bag and get dressed ok? I’ll get you breakfast at the drive through, your pick.
At that she smiled,”Ok Daddy. I want pancakes!”
“Then that’s what we’ll get, but I need you to go get ready ok? Hurry sweetheart.”
Whipping back into my room and shutting the door, all I could do was stare at the arm.
“What am I going to do?” I slid down, back to the door. “What am I going to do?”
“Oh, Daddy?”
“Yeah, Sweetheart?”
“Clyde said to say he hoped he was able to cover this week’s rent. He also said he could get more if he needed to. Is that ok Daddy?”
“What are you talking about Sweetheart?”
“The rent, Daddy. You said Clyde and Clara had to pay rent. He said he dropped it off in the night. He says he hopes it’s enough.”
My eyes wander back to the arm. Stumbling to my feet, I wander over to it. The watch looks brand new, minus the dried blood of course, and the wad of bills looked impressive.
I turn my gaze to the door. How, how could this be happening? What has my daughter been talking to?
“Nothing of consequence,” a voice whispered in my ear. I thought I heard a laugh, followed by a woman’s giggle. | I threw up all over the kitchen floor and started praying that the hand was just a Halloween decoration, or someone was playing a prank on me. After I gained composure and the courage to check once more, my worst fears were confirmed. There’s a severed hand wearing a Rolex and a wad of cash on my kitchen counter.
“JAN!” I called for my wife, not that she would know why the hand was there but I just wasn’t really sure what else to do.
“What’s wrong?” Jan said as she entered the kitchen hurriedly with a worried expression. When her eyes looked past me and onto the mess on the counter they went wide with surprise and shock. “Daniel why is there a fucking SEVERED HAND in our kitchen?!” She brought her hands to her head and got red in the face. Our daughter quietly came into the kitchen and my jaw dropped as I rushed to block the hand from her view. A hand and a wad of cash . . . was this a threat? Then why the money? Nothing was making any sense.
“Mommy does Daddy think that’s enough?” Our little girl asked. Do I think what is enough for what now? My wife and I glanced at each other before looking at our daughter. My wife was sniffling.
“What do you mean by that Emily. Do I think what is enough?” I asked her being calm as to not freak her out.
“The money and the watch! That’s for the rent remember?” She said with a tone in her voice that made me feel like I was the one acting strange. Her slumber party with her imaginary friends . . . I joked about it being okay as long as they paid rent. A little girl couldn’t be capable of something like this though. Could she?
“Sweetie what do you know about this stuff? The watch and the money.” I wasn’t able to hide the concern in my voice anymore and my wife was balling at this point.
“My imaginary friends got it for you. I told them they had to pay you rent and they said they knew exactly what to do. They opened my window and went out to old Mr. Brandon’s house. That’s when I think they started telling him jokes because I could hear him laughing all the way from my room daddy. They must’ve been funny jokes.” My daughter started explaining. I had to have been losing my mind, or something had gotten to my daughter and I needed to get help as soon as possible. But wait . . . laughing?
“What do you mean he was laughing sweetie?” I needed to know more.
“Dan stop it I can’t hear anymore.” Janet begged me. I got angry at that. This was our little girl I wasn’t going to spare myself gruesome details if it meant making my daughter have to deal with trauma all on her own.
“Tell me sweetheart it’s okay.” I reassured our girl.
“Mr. Brandon started laughing really hard and I could hear him asking them to stop so they must’ve been tickling him. Then they came back to our house and I couldn’t hear Mr. Brandon laugh anymore. Then they told me they got the rent and you’d get it today! So is it enough?” She just looked at me like an excited little girl wondering if she could go over a friend’s house for the first time.
“Yeah sweetie. It’s enough. Why don’t you go to your room for a little while? Mommy and I have to talk about something.” I waited for her to walk on down the hall before grabbing the telephone and dialing 911 immediately. | 2019-10-06T14:24:01 | 2019-10-06T14:07:29 | 1,268 | 15 |
[WP] You are the gravekeeper, responsible for maintaining the graveyard featuring many unique, magical creatures. Mostly, your job involves fighting grave robbers. Or occasionally, helping orient anyone who makes it out of their grave. | Silhouetted against the pale moonlight, Mrs. Walsh wandered through the graveyard alone, passing skeletal trees and crooked tombstones. After losing sight of the path, doubling back, and losing sight of it again, she came at last to an arched, iron gate.
“Good evening, Mrs. Walsh.”
She spun around, surprised by the sudden voice.
From behind the veil of darkness, a shadowy figure spoke. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Mrs. Walsh thought for a moment. She had heard that voice before, although she couldn’t quite remember where. “Good evening.”
“Bit late to be out for a stroll, isn’t it?” The shadowy figure held up a lantern, illuminating an elderly gentleman in a wool coat and tweed cap. “It’s bloody freezing out here, you’ll catch your death if you’re not careful.”
“Yes, well I,” Mrs. Walsh's voice trailed off as she looked towards the gate. “It’s just that.”
For some odd reason, Mrs. Walsh couldn’t remember why she’d come to the graveyard in the first place.
There came a long moment of silence.
“Not to worry,” said the man in the wool coat, “why don’t you come with me? I’ll pop the kettle on and you can warm your insides with a cup of tea.”
Mrs. Walsh scratched her chin, trying—in vain—to remember what she’d been doing a moment earlier. It had something to do with her daughter. She was *almost* sure. But every time she got close to remembering what it was the thought slipped away.
She shook her head. “A cup of tea would be lovely.”
The man offered her his arm.
She looked him up and down, “I'm sorry, what was your name again?”
“Doyle. Mr. Sean Doyle.”
“Ah, yes, of course, Mr. Doyle. Thank you.” She took his arm.
He guided Mrs. Walsh towards a quaint little cabin built around a single room. It had log walls and a brick fireplace. Mr. Doyle gestured for Mrs. Walsh to have a seat, then lifted a few logs out of a steel bucket and tossed them on the fire.
Mrs. Walsh looked around, surveying every detail of the room. “We’ve met before, haven't we, Mr. Doyle?”
Mr. Doyle drifted towards the kitchen and filled a kettle. “We have, aye. It was a brave few years ago now, though. It was on a cold night like this one.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s right. I remember.” An image of Mrs. Walsh's daughter flickered in her mind.
Mr. Doyle hung the kettle above the fire. When he crouched, he groaned despite himself.
He turned around. “That’ll be a few minutes, you just sit back and get nice and cozy.”
Mrs. Walsh sat back in her chair and studied the fire while Mr. Doyle disappeared into the next room. It occurred to her she couldn’t remember why she came to the graveyard in the first place. Or how long she’d been there. Or what she'd been doing before.
Had she been visiting her daughter? No, that wasn’t right. Why would her daughter be in a graveyard?
Mr. Doyle wandered back into the room carrying a large black scrapbook.
“Mr. Doyle, I thank you for your hospitality, but I’m afraid I—.”
“You can’t leave now. I haven't told you about your daughter yet.”
Mrs. Walsh narrowed her eyes. “My daughter?”
“Aye. You came here to check how she's been doing, remember? Best we stay out of the cold and do it in here.”
Mrs. Walsh thought for a moment. “Yes. Yes, that's right.”
“You wanted to know how's she gett on in Australia, remember?”
“Australia?”
“Aye.”
Mrs. Walsh thought for a moment, then stood. “But my daughter lives here. She’s never even left Ireland, never mind gone all the way to bloody Australia.”
With a little difficulty, Mr. Doyle found his seat and pulled a pair of reading glasses out of his front pocket. “You’re confused. Not to worry Mrs. Walsh, just you have a seat there and I’ll get you straightened out.”
Mrs. Walsh sat back down.
“What was your daughter’s name again?” he asked.
“Niamh.”
“Ah, that’s right.” He flicked through several pages of the scrapbook. “Let’s see here.”
He stopped on a page toward the back. “Ah, here we go.”
He handed the scrapbook over to Mrs. Walsh. An assortment of photos were stuck to the pages, each of which shown a combination of two adults and five kids.
Mr. Doyle tapped a picture of a middle-aged woman who was in several of the photos. “That’s your Niamh there.”
Mrs. Walsh gave Mr. Doyle a sidewards glance. “Mr. Doyle, I’m afraid you've got it all wrong. My Niamh is thirteen! She’s still in school for heaven’s sake.”
With a grunt, Mr. Doyle leaned forward. “This is always the hardest part.”
He turned the page to a newspaper article reporting on a 'terrible car crash'.
Mrs. Walsh scanned the headline. “Mr. Doyle, I don’t see—”
Part of the article caught her attention, and she stopped mid-sentence.
*Mrs. Walsh is survived by her daughter, Niamh, and—*
Her eye’s widened. Memories came flooding back. She remembered an accident, then a bright light. She tried to speak, but couldn’t make the words.
Mr. Doyle poured himself a cup of tea. “Are you alright there, Mrs. Walsh?”
“I’m. I mean we’re. And I'm—”
“I’m afraid so Mrs. Walsh.”
There was a long moment of silence. “I’ve been here before Mr. Doyle, haven’t I.”
“You have, aye.”
“Do I come here often?”
“Not too often, now. Not so much as some of the other residents.”
“Residents?”
“Aye. Ghosts.”
Mr. Doyle took a sip of tea. “You all wake up when you’re missing your families. Happens every few years. You just come out to check on them and see that they’re ok.”
He tapped the scrapbook. "That's why I keep this. Makes things easier. Means you can see for yourself how they're getting on."
Mrs. Walsh turned back to the photos of the family. She ran her fingers across a portrait shot of the middle-aged woman. “This is Niamh? She's all grown up?”
"She is."
"How long's it been since I-" her voice trailed off.
"About twenty-five years or so."
"And Niamh's doing well?"
“She is, surely. Moved to Australia a brave few years back. Got herself a good job—as a nurse. Met a nice paramedic fella and had a few wee-uns.”
Mr. Doyle turned the page to a family gathered around a Christmas tree.
“Three sons, two daughters. Oldest girl is called Aisling, after her gramma.”
A tear ran down Mrs. Walsh's cheek. She closed the book and held it against her chest. “Thank you Mr. Doyle.”
“Not a bother at all, Mrs. Walsh. It was my pleasure.”
Now spectral and barely there, Mrs. Walsh hovered over the chair. “So, what happens now?”
“I think you go back to sleep. Or to the other side. Or whatever you wanna call it.”
“And when do I come back?”
He slurped his tea. “Next time you wanna check up on her, I suppose.”
Mrs. Walsh began fading away. “It's been a pleasure, Mr. Doyle.”
He gave a curt nod. “Till next time, ma’am.”
\---
Thanks for reading! If anyone has any criticisms, feedback or tips on things I could improve, please let me know!
Hope you enjoy! Subscribe to [https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/](https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/) for more | *Ding. Ding. Dingdingding.*
I grunted as I stood from the frigid steel folding chair in the guardhouse. The night was yet young, and already it was time for me to earn my keep.
*Ding ding.*
One of the many bells on the wall was shaking violently; no doubt one of the graveyard’s many occupants was upset with their untimely demise and was attempting to return to the land of the living.
This was not a shocking occurrence. In fact, it probably happened at least once a week, if not more. That’s one of the downsides of being a graveyard attendant to the most magical creatures of the world.
This particular bell, fortunately, was coming from one of the newer plots.
“Mythical birds and flying creatures,” I murmured. “And just buried… Ah.”
I hoisted my scabbard and equipment belt and walked out into the darkness. My lantern provided a thin shaft of light directly ahead of me, one of the many considerations that had to be taken for the denizens of the graveyard.
“Evening, Darryl,” a voice called out.
“That you, Alaric?” I asked, swinging my lantern around. The vampire winced as the beam passed across his face.
“Hey, easy,” he said, warding off the light with his hands. “I just woke up.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I said, lowering, the lantern. “I’m not as familiar with the dark as you are.”
“Yeah, well, get used to it, new guy,” he replied.
I sighed. I had been ‘new guy’ for seven years now, though I suppose that’s a mere moment for an immortal being.
“You’re getting a late start tonight,” I said. “Only so much moonlight in a night, isn’t there?”
Alaric yawned and shrugged. “Figured I’d take a break, you know? I had a big meal last night, if you know what I mean.”
“*Two* virgins?”
“Fat guy.”
“Oh.”
“So what are you up to?” he asked, closing the coffin door and brushing off an imaginary speck of dust.
I gestured to a spot deeper in the graveyard. “One of the safety bells is going off. Birds and flying creatures. You want to check it out?”
“Is it a bat?” he asked.
“Al, bats aren’t magical creatures. I’ve explained this a million times before.”
“Yeah, but if it’s a vampire…”
“...then it would be buried here near you, just in one of the long term plots instead of the shallow graves.”
Alaric sighed. “I guess. Would be more interesting if it’s a bat, but… I don’t have any other plans today.”
“Good man,” I said, clapping his shoulder. Together, we set off for the depths of the graveyard.
“Any ideas of what it is?” he asked.
“Well, it’s one of the more recent burials, if I had to guess,” I said. “I’m thinking maybe that griffon that died a few weeks back. If I were one of those graverobbing necromancer bastards, that’s what I’d go for.”
“You think it’s a graverobber, then?”
I shrugged. “It’s been awfully quiet recently. It’s about time one of them came by.”
“But you don’t know for sure?”
“Boss still won’t let me buy cameras,” I grumbled. “Just mumbles something about ‘electrical infetterance’ and then vanishes. I don’t even know what that means.”
Alaric nodded sagely. “Your boss is a wise man,” he said. “Cameras would be no good here.”
I eyed him but said nothing. For a brief moment, we were silent as we traipsed through the silent rows of dark headstones. Most were vastly decayed and crumbling, ancient stones whose inscriptions had long since worn away from weather and lack of care. The rare fresh headstone stood out like a sore thumb, a bright shining grey spotlight among the black piles of moss and rubble.
“I hear it,” Alaric said suddenly. “You’re right. Newly buried birds.”
“Which way?” I asked, deferring to his superior senses.
He pointed. “Opposite direction of the griffon, isn’t it? Wrong again, new guy.”
I ground my teeth and counted to five. “Guess I’ll figure it out someday,” I said with more patience than I felt. “Nothing out here except… oh.”
“Oh?”
“Phoenix, buried a couple of months ago. Poor guy got caught in a rainstorm over the ocean and drowned. No ashes, no rebirth.”
“And it’s back?”
I shrugged. “Maybe decomposition is similar enough to burning to ash.”
We approached the phoenix’s grave, which was definitely the source of the commotion.
“Here it is.” I grabbed a nearby shovel and began to dig.
“Good thing it’s a small grave,” Alaric said as he leaned back against a nearby tree. “Shouldn’t take long to dig the poor guy up.”
“Would be faster with some help,” I grunted.
“Shame you don’t have enough money to hire some help. I guess you’ll just have to handle this yourself.”
Despite Alaric’s obstinance, he was right. The phoenix was not buried particularly deep, and the coffin itself (a custom job, of course) was smaller than most human coffins. Within a few minutes, I was prying the lid open.
Alaric peered in as I stabbed the shovel into the pile of earth.
“Oh, poor little guy,” he breathed. He reached in and pulled out a tiny wailing phoenix chick.
“Oh, jeez,” I said. “I didn’t think it’d literally be a newborn phoenix in there.”
Alaric held out the phoenix. “Here, you take him. He might be small now, but I’d hate to be around when he starts bursting into flames. Fire really hurts us vampires.”
“Fire hurts every- oh, whatever.” I cupped my hands and Alaric gently scooted the chick into them. After a moment of consideration, I set it on my shoulder, where its small talons gripped on with surprising strength.
“Well that’s a relief,” I said as we started to walk back to the gatehouse. “I was afraid we’d have to fight off some necromancers tonight. Looks like I’ll get a quiet night of playing with a little baby phoenix as long as none of the bells go off.”
Alaric winced. “Might have spoken too soon there, new guy.”
I groaned. “Why? What do you hear?”
“Uh… bells.”
We sprinted to the guardhouse. Sure enough, another one of the bells was ringing.
“What’s that one?” Alaric asked. “More flying creatures?”
“Yes, but no. It’s worse. Much worse.”
Alaric stretched. “Looks like I have plans for tonight after all. So what is it?”
The phoenix on my shoulder croaked quietly as I loosened the silver sword in my scabbard.
“Draconics,” I said. “Drakes, wyrms, wyverns… and [dragons](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks).” | 2020-12-29T09:37:13 | 2020-12-29T08:25:17 | 32 | 12 |
[WP]: Intergalactic olympics are gathering. All creeds and cultures of the galaxy are arriving and greeting each other. Suddenly a fleet of spaceships appears, blasting We Will Rock You. Everyone freezes. The humans are here. | A Century had passed since the intergalactic peace treaty was signed, but no one had cared enough to pay hospitality with one another. Jupiter's government then proposed an intergalactic sporting event similar to those on Earth. Everyone had agreed.
The event took place in 532 Herculina, a neutral ground since it was in the middle of an asteroid belt. The Heliocentric system's government made arrangements in their solar system in preparation for this year's events. 200 Billion solar systems, each having numerous representatives from each planet they'd housed. It was a historic moment for peace. Civilized citizens from each star system greeted each other with glad tidings from their homes. Then, the Olympic opening ceremony had commenced. Starships with their representatives at their mast were entering the stadium. In a human's perspective, they'd think that the event was too prim and proper. It was time to change that.
The crowd gathered in 532 Herculina was silenced. The lights around the makeshift Trojan stadium had dimmed. The proud Olympians who'd just gleefully waved the flags of their home planet had stiffened, as if they were turned to stone. None would bat their eyes at one another. Silently gazing at the abyss that was they entrance of the participants of the next planet: Earth. In that moment, they heard 3 distinct sounds in chorus: 2 hard stomps, 1 thunderous clap.
The lights went on, pointing at Earth's representatives. The man in front was not competitor, he was their muse. He wore dark aviator shades, a clean haircut, a macho mustache, and a yellow jacket with white pants.
"Buddy you're a boy make a big noise, Playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day--"
The crowds cheered. Everyone had joined in the beat: 2 hard stomps, 1 thunderous clap. And in chorus, they sang with the man in yellow, saying,
"WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU"
It was a mesmerizing performance. If a young Titan from Saturn's own moon would ask their elders, "What was the 1st Intergalatic Olympics like? Who'd won?" they'd say "I don't remember who won in what category, but those humans from Earth gave one hell of show."
*Feedback would be much appreciated* | To Glibs we glued their ship doors shut,
and then in track passed their slow strut,
We won and drank pabst behind their moon
and threw our cans till half passed noon.
Then galactic patrol had told us to stop
so we flew so fast their splooters dropped.
To Jorni Trali's respectful race,
we'd never spit into her face.
Instead we sent our donkey Jim,
to show her good times filled with vim.
The Trali fishes we can't outpace
they threw that shit right at our face -
they pulled poor Jim into their ship
and sent him spinning atop their blimp.
We mourned old Jim but not for long,
It was time for archery to stomp the Clongs.
We sent old Ellison's children's brood
with a recurve bow with a curve like the moon.
Old Ellison's children's grandson's kid
aimed 40 pecs passed the coil and missed
but shooting Vibrilum up at the stars
feels way too different from Earth on Mars.
Thank god we froze Tony Yoka's fists,
cuz Venus has this sport called Tris,
old Tony's hands slapped that volcano good,
beat waggly armed Tris Dzeri Wohd.
It sucks tho man on the way back home,
them Glibs got pissed left one last troll -
it went to our ships panel while we slept
and made us list so far to the left.
Now we've got 5 more years till home,
and our beers are fuckin almost gone,
but that's alright the troll seems cool,
we gave him Donkey's stable room. | 2018-04-28T09:07:12 | 2018-04-28T08:40:01 | 214 | 24 |
[WP] You found a stray kitten one day, taking her in and feeding her. A week later, you come home to find your yard swarming with cats. The largest among them steps forward and says, "You have my daughter, human. What are your demands for her release?" | "Uh." Real intelligent, he knew. But Riley wasn't expecting a talking cat in the driveway and it was taking a moment for his brain to catch up. "Your daughter?"
The cat the spoke before, a big tabby with a notch in his ear, stood and stepped towards Riley. "Yes. She was taken from us and now she is within your home."
"I didn't take her. I--"
"I know. The humans that did are...being dealt with." The cats eyes flashed golden and Riley felt fear.
"She's... She's just inside. Let me go get her." He headed to the front door, stepping carefully to avoid the dozen or so flicking tails in his path. Three cats stood sentry on the porch steps. "Um, excuse me, please."
They glanced toward the big tabby, who nodded, and stepped to the side, allowing Riley to pass them. He unlocked the door as fast as his shaking hands would allow, then went inside, leaving the door ajar.
Riley clicked his tongue and waited for her to appear. When she didn't, he felt that fear again. He had no idea what these cats might do to him if that kitten wasn't here. He began to search the house.
The big tabby nudged the door further open and entered behind me.
"I don't know where she is," Riley admitted.
He sniffed the air. "She is here. Through that door." He pointed his nose towards the bedroom.
Sure enough, the kitten was curled up in the middle of Riley's bed. She yawned and stretched as he entered the room. "Hi, kitty."
"Let me guess," she said as she began to clean her head, "my family is here?"
"Er, yeah."
She sighed, leapt down, and headed to the living room. At the doorway she turned back toward him. "I had fun, human."
Riley followed the kitten and the big tabby back to the yard. The two of them seemed to be having a silent discussion on the way. The tabby stopped in the middle of the yard and looked at him. "Thank you for the rescue and return of my daughter, human. Is there anything you wish in return?"
"Oh. No, I'm just...happy that I could help."
"May your kittens be healthy and your mice easily caught."
"Uh. You too?"
The cat made a signal to the other cats and as one they turned to leave.
"Wait!" Riley didn't realize he'd said it out loud until the tabby stopped and turned towards him. "Um. Do you think, maybe, if it's not too much trouble, you and your daughter could visit again? Its...been nice having someone around here the last few days."
The tabby slowly blinked and dipped his head toward him. "If you remain, we will return."
With that, they disappeared. Riley sat on the porch and looked around the neighborhood. Of the neighbors that were outside, no one seemed to have noticed the army of cats that had swarmed his yard minutes ago. He waved at Mrs. Robinson across the street as she brought lemonade to her son who was mowing the yard. She looked towards him but didn't return the wave. None of his neighbors did, ever since his family had moved away.
Riley stood and entered the house again, not registering how the once squeaky porch was silent as he crossed to the door. Or how his fingers smudged the sooty doorknob but left no prints. He did not notice the half burnt walls and destroyed roof of his childhood home, or the lack of human footprints in the dust across the floor. Only pawprints, running here and there. | "Wh - what?" I gasp, staggering backwards stunned into my door as my knees go faint and my stomach suddenly fills with bile. I feel my mind racing with thoughts as I stare down at the creature before me in sudden shock and bewilderment. "Y - you - you can t - ta - talk?!"
"Of course I can talk foolish human I am Polina, Queen of the Magic Cats. All cats can talk and walk independently, but I am the only one who can talk with your mortal kind since ancient times of the Egyptians."
"I do not believe in magic, this is clearly some kind of a trick or a delusion." I yelled, trying to appear braver than I was as I screamed internally. "Cats can't talk"
"Suddenly, I heard a cawing sound from a nearby tree, and my eyes bulged out of my skull as I saw a raven on its branches
"Caw do not trust the cats Erica caw"
"Tut tut that meddling bird" curses the cat, as her army of cats hisses upwards at it. "Get him girls"
But as her back was turned I quickly jumped inside and slammed the door, my mind was racing and my senses were screaming st that sight I was seeing before me.
"Open the door erica" cane the taunting voice of the cat queen as I heard a caring a screeching sound outside as the cat army reached my raven friend. Suddenly I heard a sharp banging on the door like someone was knocking but it was low down. "Give me my daughter back."
"No no no this cant be fucking happening!" I screamed, pinching myself to wake up from a fucking nightmare. Suddenly as the crashing roared to a deafening sound and I heard glass breaking somewhere in the house, I knew what I had to do. I sprinted upstairs to the room where the kitten was. I saw it in its bed, but there wax something wrong. The kittens eyes glowed a terrible hold colour that filled the room, and they were looking straight at me.
"I am the chosen kitten of Basset the Goddess of felines, reminish me to my family mortal and I shall let you live."
I gulped and nodded. I gingerly picked up the kitten. It felt unnatural still and its massive powerful eyes didnt leave me as I carried out to the stairway.
At the bottom of the stairway. There was a cat army gathered in the hundreds, preparing to rush upstairs and attack. But when I stepped out, they saw the kitten I was holding and suddenly all bowed down in the sight of their royal saviour. Finally, the Queen came up the stairs, and I handed her the kitten which she took in her mouth. The cats one by one filtered away until she was the last one left. Just as shel l she turned and looked over her shoulder to me.
"Thank you human ... we will turn a blind eye to your interference in our world for now. But the great Goddess Basset sees all, and she does not forget ..." | 2021-12-21T11:58:48 | 2021-12-21T10:46:07 | 2,158 | 80 |
[WP] In an attempt to convince people society would have been better if humanity had never found religion, a time traveler kills anyone who begins to develop a form of faith. He goes back to the present and finds that people now universally worship a god who travels through time and smites heathens. | Some people love God, some people think the idea is silly. One man, however, not only rejects the idea- he sees it as *cancer*, slowly eating away at the health of humanity. In his eyes, it does nothing but breed animosity, hate, and causes unnecessary division between fellow men. It acts as a shield for evil, and a vice by which to trick the less fortunate.
Much in the way Hitler thought murdering those he saw as 'unfit' would 'cleanse' society, this man took it upon himself to erase religion. With a time machine he'd stolen from the government, the only one in existence, he went back and murdered all those who tried to embrace religion. He wanted to create a new timeline where humans embraced each other instead of God; one where love was worshipped rather than a cross or stone.
Yet, when his hands were marred with the bloodstains of a billion people, and he returned to his own time, it was *he* who had become God. The Purger of evil, the Punisher of wickedness. *He lights the path for those trapped in darkness.* Every last human on the planet idolized his very existence.
And it was then that he came to a conclusion: religion is not *like* a cancer, it *is* a cancer. Much in the way race or nationality inherently brews conflict but cannot be removed, religion is a part of the human psyche. He could not stop it. What good would murdering the whole world do? He could assume his position and try to do good, but that would defeat the purpose. The point of his work was to *free* humanity, not chain it to his own will.
Still, they chanted his name on the streets. He could hear them from his room, the sound clogging his mind.
How can you save those who freely choose not to be saved? Why does humanity wish this upon itself? He couldn't find any of the answers as he sat in bed, playing with a loaded .44 magnum.
Perhaps people are just meant to be slaves, cowering under the lash of their own fears. Perhaps they can't ever be released from their prison.
He stared down the barrel of his magnum as though it contained the answers he so desperately needed. Perhaps the human species can never be saved from itself.
*But I can be free.*
----
*thanks for reading! if you enjoyed it, check out /r/resonatingfury!* | Tom lived in a small town in Connecticut, very religious town, in fact he was the only atheist.
One day he went to go out drinking with his buddies Chris, Steve and Ryan. Chris was a missionary, Steve was a priest and Ryan was a rabbi. They went to the bar and none of them drank except Tom.
The rest of the guys kept commenting on their religions and Tom, who is quite drunk at this point has had enough. *"Man you would all be better off if religion wasn't a thing."* All his friends got insulted and left him at the bar.
Tom had to walk home and was so drunk that he stumbled in a bush. He got really upset and clicked his heels and said *"Man, I wish religion wasn't a thing."*
Silly Tom didn't know that whenever you click your heels anything that you ask will come true, so he was in for quite a surprise when he woke up at the dawn of man.
*"Holy fuck"* said Tom as he looked around to see trees and what seemed to be smoke.
Tom, being the curious guy, walked towards it to see a bunch of cavemen gathered around a fire and one on a rock, pointing at the sky. Tom, seeing the opportunity that he is being given, he picks up a rock off the ground and throws it at the man pointing at the sky.
The man falls flat on the ground and a puddle of blood pours. The cavemen are angry at Tom and gather around him, grunting.
All of a sudden, Tom faints and wakes up back in the bar with his buddies. To his surprise, they are all drinking.
*"Holy fuckin' christ"* said Tom.
*"Stop talking about yourself Tom"* they responded.
**This is one of my first writing prompts so if it doesn't make sense I apologize.** | 2016-05-06T21:03:39 | 2016-05-06T18:44:04 | 927 | 95 |
[WP] Across the galaxy, a synthetic drug known as "Fury" is illegal everywhere due to its effects on the mind and body, humans call it Adrenalin and they can make it naturally. | "No."
The bipedal feline looked aback. "You don't even know what I was going to say!"
Leo gave his friend a knowing stare. Setting his lunch tray down in a less crowded area of the cafeteria. "Really? The University's about to host a self defense course for extra credit and I just so happen to be the only living thing in the entire sector that produces Alpha-purity Fury. No."
"But Leooooo!" The cat's face twisted in anguish. "This is your chance to show everyone how fragging incredible you are! Show off your martian arts skills-"
"Martial arts."
"That's what I said. You don't want all your practice to go to waste do you? You do the same routine every morning. The one that looks like this."
Raising his arms the cat then tried to mimic the katas that had been drilled into Leo since childhood. Making completely unnecessary noises in the process.
The human smiled. Kreelix was a good roomate and an even better friend. But he just didn't understand what it was like to grow up being treated like a walking explosive. He wouldn't even have gotten into the University if the Earth Federation's diplomats didn't apply political pressure.
"All right, all right! Please quit it, half the cafeteria is staring! I'll go."
"Yes!" Kreelix raised his arms in victory.
"But only to watch."
"Awwwww."
| Everything was going so well until that day at the school.
The centauri ambassador was being given a tour. The kids were behaving. It was all going well until one of them started puffing up. Little James had a severe peanut allergy and must have been exposed somehow.
He started going into anaphylaxis. Luckily he had an epi pen and just as he'd been taught he got it out and plunged the needle into his own thigh.
As people rushed to summon an ambulance the ambassador was all but forgotten at the back of the room. He was shaking like a leaf and holding some kind of scanner.... muttering about assasins, drugs, rage and a species that would apparently try to use its own juveniles as living weapons.... | 2018-03-19T04:14:01 | 2018-03-19T00:46:52 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | I stilled dreamed of seeing.
I think that's why I initially snoozed my alarm clock instead of gasping for joy. But as I rolled back over to look at my wife lying next to me, I did gasp. Not for joy, but out of shock. On the wall behind Kathrine a message had been hastily painted on the wall.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
"What's wrong?" Katherine said groggily but alarmed. Her vacant stare reminding me that for the last 2 years I have been blind.
I am unable to respond as the realization of what is happening has not fully dawned on me.
"Jim?!" she now sounds more awake and even more concerned. She flails out her arms searching for me and when her hand rest on my shoulder I have regained enough composure to speak.
"N-nothing." I stammer. "Just had a nightmare."
The tension in her face eases as her hand glides up to my face and leans in for a kiss.
"you had me worried." She sighs. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." I respond quietly, still trying to get my bearings.
I sit up and look around the room growing more confused and horrified as I do. On every available surface I can see the same message has been painted.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
The paint is obviously not new, as it has slightly faded from a bright red, to a more rusted maroon. I also see the guide rod we have been using to navigate the new home we were given a year after the great blinding took place. The room looked very different from how I dreamed of it. It seemed smaller and dust has settled on all the surfaces that were not regularly used. As I took in the first glimpses of the room I have spent the last year in, growing more uneasy as I read the same message over and over, I felt a hand on the small of my back. I gave a startled yelp and nearly jumped out of bed.
"Must have been a bad one." Kathrine giggled from behind me. "Sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"Maybe later." I mumbled.
I turned to face her and was overcome with emotion. In 2 years she hasn't changed much. Her chestnut hair was longer than I remembered it and was haphazardly strewn around her. Her soft smile showed a few more smiles lines around the corners of her mouth. The eyes were the biggest difference. They looked glossed over and unfocused, the rich brown covered with a grayish haze. I felt a pang of sadness and guilt wash over me as I stared at those eyes. The mixture of joy and grief became too much and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
As I stood up to leave, I finally noticed the dark amorphous shape in the corner and stopped with my breath caught in my throat. It wavered on the edges as if it were pulsing or breathing. It seemed to be pulling in the light around it further obscuring it from my sight. I reached out to steady myself on the guide rod and as I did, the shaped slithered into the bathroom.
"Hurry up," Kathrine complained, "I need to go too." | The blindness passed by some sort of contagion, and by dumb luck I managed to avoid it. I had been out in the cabin in Montana. The cabin I always hated but had acted as my unwitting savior. I wasn't outdoorsy like my dad. After Dad died, Mom wanted to sell the cabin: she wasn't outdoorsy either. Someone had to go and make sure it was in decent enough condition to sell.
Out of cell phone range. No Internet access or television. Only a CB radio for emergencies that I had never really bothered to learn before, so I tried to learn all the basics from an old manual. There wasn't much else to do.
The cabin was sellable at least, until the world collapsed and then people weren't really wanting to live miles out in the middle of nowhere. They wanted to live by other people.
I was driving back through a small town when an older man stumbled out in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes and the car halted inches away from him. He stood still and angled his head, never quite looking at me. I learned why when I saw a milky white sheen had covered his eyes.
I could not bring myself to move, to do the decent thing and get out and apologize for almost killing him.
"A car!" he yelled, his voice carrying like a town crier's. "I heard a car!"
Slowly other people emerged. They, too, stepped cautiously, tapping their canes. All of them had the same milky white affliction that the man had.
Wham!
One of the townspeople had found the car.
This soon followed by more whams as they slapped against the car doors and trailed their hands along to the windows.
Then -- crash -- the back windshield and a side window splintered as canes turned into temporary battering rams. Their hands started reaching in, seemingly undeterred that the jagged glass was slicing into their hands and wrists.
I slammed on the horn. It startled some of them back, the ones closest to the driver's seat. I took advantage of that second and pressed the gas pedal down hard. The car lunged forward and the people lunged forward with it. I swiveled a bit, trying to avoid striking the people in front of me, but I couldn't quite avoid them. Even so, I would not let myself slow down until those people were far behind me. | 2022-10-15T03:24:04 | 2019-08-26T10:55:51 | 52 | 10 |
[WP] Years ago, you drunkenly bought and named a star online. Now, Aliens from that solar system have arrived on Earth to find you after looking up their home star on the Intergalactic Star Registry. They have problems and they want their Star-Lord to solve them.
Inspired by a comment by u/DrTokinkoff | James enjoyed getting drunk and watching cheesy movies. It allowed him to turn off his mind and forget about his heavy course-load and girl problems. He’d prepare a simple meal of instant rice, black beans, and cilantro and wash it down with five or six beers while watching a movie about boy-kings, or lovable losers who ultimately get the girl. Among his favorites were movies about space travel. He was fascinated by the unbound potential of the night’s sky—the many places he could go and new things there were to see.
On this particular evening, James had his usual and queued up an old *Barbarella* VHS tape. Perhaps it was the beer, or maybe it was the way the interstellar light reflected off of Jane Fonda’s hair that had James feeling like a pioneer. He recalled an advertisement he’d seen earlier in the day to “buy and name a star” and he thought that it sounded like a cool idea. Maybe one day, if Rebecca ever forgave him, he could take his kids to an observatory and point out his star. “Hey kids, see that star there, no the blue twinkling one, yeah that one. That’s mine: BarbaEartha in the Tau Ceti star system.” Of course, Rebecca would nudge him in the ribs for the name, she always was jealous of Jane Fonda, but in a playful way, not in the “I hate you for getting drunk and forgetting my birthday” kind of way.
With this scene in his mind, James pressed the buy button and, shortly thereafter, fell asleep.
He woke to an email notification, and then 1,500 more. “Shit! Did I forget a group project again?” No. The first email was the official deed of his star, “Congratulations, you are now the proud star-lord of BarbaEartha in the Tau Ceti star system,” he read aloud. The message included a certificate of ownership and then outlined, in fine print, his new duties as star-lord. “Dispute resolution, resource allocation, taxing authority…to protect and provide…” he trailed off. *This must be boiler-plate to make the sale legal*, he thought to himself. He then checked the content of the, now 1,600, other emails he’d received.
Near all of them were from one sender: [Flexion-7@barbaeartha.be](mailto:Flexion-7@barbaearth.be). Flexion’s syntax was professional, his sentences concise, his vocabulary that of a lawyer, but his font comic sans and blue.
“Comic sans? Am I being scammed?” James continued to read the emails.
One email read: “Star-lord James, an individual living in the Tau-Del district has issued a complaint that their neighbor’s new construction is obstructing their atmospheric view. They request an injunction to halt construction.”
And another: “Star-lord James, the drinking water in the Tau-Mar District has become less than potable due to unauthorized drilling within 300 hectares of a dwelling unit. The parties request summary judgment against the utility company.”
The rest continued with similar requests. “Injunctions? Summary judgments? Atmospheric views? What in the world—what in the galaxy, rather—have I gotten myself into?” he questioned aloud.
“Well, Star-Lord James, you have—”
“—what the fuck? Who are you and how did you get in here?” James toppled over his chair in his surprise. Looking up from the floor of his bedroom, he saw what appeared to be a man standing 4 foot tall in his doorway. The man’s skin faintly blue, as if he was cyanotic, his hair a clean-cut dark green, and he wore a shiny silver space suit with black piping that reminded James of Barbarella.
“Oh dear! Where are my manners. My sincerest apologies, my Lord. I am Flexion-7, your Chief of Staff.”
“My Chief of Staff?” asked James as if questioning a small child who had claimed to be the president of the world.
“Why, yes sir,” replied Flexion-7, “it is my job to help you fulfill your duties as Star-Lord. And I’m afraid the emails I’ve sent this morning are only the beginning of our troubles.”
“What do you mean by ‘troubles’?” asked James finally sitting upright. The reality of the situation had finally begun to set in for him.
“Well, you see, My Lord, I must bring you with me to the capitol in the Tau-Ka District in order to meet with the minister of war, General Azit-7.”
“’Minister of War’ why the hell do I need to meet with the minster of war?” James heart began to race.
“Well, you see, My Lord, your claim to the throne is being challenged and we must make preparations for battle.”
James fainted. When he awoke, he was on the bridge of a space craft—much like the crafts from the cheesy movies he so loved. “Oh good, you are awake, My Lord. Just in time, your beautiful planet is now visible on the horizon,” said Flexion-7.
“The red one?” asked James, still groggy.
“No the blue twinkling one. That’s yours: BarbaEartha in the Tau Ceti star system,” replied Flexion-7. |
“This is NOT. MY. PROBLEM. OKAY? Go figure it out and just leave me alone.” My voice was a croak through my parched throat.
“This *is* your problem, whether you like it or not. ‘Star-Lords in the Star Registry are responsible for the social and economic well being of citizens who reside at the time of purchase’. It’s in section VII of the Star Trading Pact. And that includes my peopl—”
“And I don’t give a rat’s ass about your people, okay?” I stopped to take a swig from my canteen. The alcohol burned my esophagus on its way down. “Leave me alone and let me enjoy myself”. The alcohol sat, burning in my stomach. This stuff was a lot stronger than that last one I got from the dipshit merchant. Good thing he followed up.
The stupid beast had the audacity to look offended. His next words came out slowly. “My people are dying. *Dying*. Because of you.” I took another swing as he talked. Man, this stuff was good. “Solar respiratory optimizers. They’re *pennies* apiece and hailed as the greatest biological engineering tool in the last millenia because of the lives they saved from starvation.”
I ignored him as I gulped down the last drops of alcohol in the bottle. But the brat wouldn’t shut up, his words continued forcing themselves into my ears. “The price of a single bottle of that alcohol you’re drinking. It could save hundreds of lives.”
“I’m not goinnnggto buy you anythnnggg. Mymoney, my rullessss” my voice was slurring a little. This stuff makes you drunk that quickly?
“You—” He seemed at a loss for words. So stupid. “Okay. Then at least let us buy it ourselves. Authorize us to make intergalactic purchases.” He looked at me sharply.
“Naaaahhhhhh” I lazily shook my head. I groped my hands around the counter, looking for another drink. My mind felt cloudy. A warm, pleasant buzz.
“And why exactly are you refusing?” Was I all out of drinks?
“I dunnoooo” Who was I even talking to? He seemed annoying, but I couldn’t quite remember why he was here, or what he wanted. I do know I want another bottle though. But I couldn’t see anything through my watey eyes.
“Couldya find meee a bottle?” I looked at the figure in my room. I heard him say something, and then I felt the cold feel of glass in my hands. He got me some. Thank goodness. I lifted it to my lips and took a swig. It tasted a bit off, but the pain as it went down my throat told me this was the right stuff. I took another gulp.
———-
Knadf looked as the old main gulped down the depressant. Almost immediately, he fell to the floor. When he wakes up, he’d remember none of this.
Knadf turned to leave, taking out a notepad and jotting something down. Trial 936 was a failure. The man had refused. He sighed. And then he’d have to come in tomorrow. And then try again to convince him, while the man drank himself to the point of passing out. And when it failed it would be Trial 937. And then 938. And all the while, his people would be starving to death.
Abruptly, Knadf turned back to face the man, who was now sleeping on the floor. He shook his head, but continued to approach the man on the floor.
Having an ownerless star was just begging for wars and trouble. But how could it get worse than this? Than someone who drank his happy juice as people died around him?
He pulled out the switchblade, looking at the man beneath him. His arm trembled.
Killing a star owner was punishable by many things worse than death. It was the thing you never did. No criminal would be stupid enough to do it. None. Nobody would ever be stupid enough to ever try it.
He kneeled by the man and held the switchblade to his throat. Then took a deep breath.
But then again, nobody would be stupid enough to let Knadf’s sister die to starvation while drinking and passing out, either.
He closed his eyes, and his hands jerked across the man’s throat. The knife was silent as it passed through the flesh.
Without opening his eyes, Knadf turned and ran.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Thanks for reading! Constructive feedback appreciated. | 2020-12-08T17:57:59 | 2020-12-08T17:17:40 | 349 | 220 |
[WP] The clown down the hall laughed manically, brandishing his chainsaw. "You can run, but you can't hide!" "Took the words right out of my mouth," you say as you slowly walk towards him, cracking your knuckles. | "Ooh, we have a brave soul! Well, step right up here!” The clown cackles uncontrollably, his cheerfully sinister voice echoing in the calm dead of the night.
The light is too dim, and you can only make out his grotesquely skinny silhouette, his comically oversized chainsaw dragging on the floorboards.
“Come and claim… your prize."
Great. Another day, another cliché.
You stop a distance away and lower your legs in an open stance.
You spit out the black gum you have been chewing on, feeling the alchemical ingredients mixing with your spit.
Banewort, monk’s hood, eyebright; slowly coursing through your veins.
The loathsome figure of the clown grows more defined in the dim hallway, the gaudy details of his bloody jumpsuit filling your sharpening vision.
A puff of humid air wafts in the cold night air as you exhale.
"You don't seem to understand. You're the prey here," you growl as your voice deepens. You crouch slightly, feeling the tension rise in your calves.
Breathe in and hold.
His jagged sickening smile never drops, but the lack of a retort hangs silently in the air.
Perhaps he is more than a little surprised.
The clown’s brows furrow as he cackles loudly, his glowing eyes pale, yellow, and sick. Delighted.
"You’re an interesting one.”
“Oh, we'll have so much fun tog - GUHH" the clown spits.
Your right fist interrupts him as it plunges into his left ribcage. Half a heartbeat passes as your swift left hook connects with the side of his head.
The clown barely has time to respond as his eyes briefly roll back. He crumples to the floor, sending his unthrottled chainsaw tumbling away.
His eyes blink open and he retches loudly. His sickly smile has been wiped off his face, replaced with a wide ugly grimace.
"Wha - how..." the clown gags in disbelief. It is clear he never even registered your movements.
Good. The gum is kicking in.
You calmly step back as the clown staggers to his feet unsteadily.
His hands are trembling as he haphazardly reaches for his weapon. Violently, he yanks the ripcord of the chainsaw a couple of times.
You exhale once again and assess the situation.
Narrow hall. Less room for him to swing. Draw him in close.
The chainsaw rumbles to life, and the clown lets out a guttural howl that drowns it out. His appearance is more ragged now, his eyes burning brighter. His dull shadow seems to grow and stretch behind him.
The clown leaps, swinging his saw overhead and smashing down onto the floorboards where you stood a second ago. His movements are getting faster.
You sidestep his next thrust and you parry his wiry arms into the concrete wall. You give his elbow a strong jab and you hear the shattering of his bones, driving his chainsaw further into the floorboards below.
You smirk to taunt the howling clown and you roll through a doorway, baiting him into the adjoining room.
A faint, triangular neon light bathes the room in a blue lambent glow.
Your drugs take full effect and in your heightened state of perception, the passing of moments slow to almost a trickle.
You admire the priceless artworks hanging on the dimly-lit walls.
This job will pay well indeed.
The clown seemingly takes forever to free his chainsaw. His ragged form lumbers through the doorway, a twisted arm hanging limply.
He is consumed with rage. More unhinged. More dangerous.
His roar telegraphs his attack with his one good arm, going after your head.
Your eyes track the spinning, rusted teeth of the chainsaw swinging in front of you, slash after slash flowing in slow motion.
The serrated edges are caked in dried, old blood. Unlucky souls that never found help.
But you are too agile and nimble for them tonight.
You dodge the frenzied attempts of the clown, drawing him under the pale blue light.
Right where you want him to be.
“Stop. Swinging. And – Stay. Down!”
You clench your fist and the neon light explodes with surprising force. A supernatural shockwave strikes the clown, smashing him to the floor.
The murderous jester lays broken on the floor and spews forcefully, sputtering black putrid ichor onto a nearby pearl white rug.
Fuck. Me. That looks expensive.
Best hope the client writes it off.
"You know, I never understood the whole stalking the victim for weeks routine." you say as you kill the rumbling chainsaw.
You walk over to the convulsing clown.
"Do you get off on scaring your victims?" you say, grabbing the neck of the garish jumpsuit.
"Whatever," you pause. "It just gives us more time to set traps."
A singular emotion permeates the clowns’ eyes. Desperation.
You grab his neck and twist sharply, hearing a sickening crack. His painted face goes blank and tilts unnaturally.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The air outside is still as you load the heavily bound sack into the back of your van.
A blood-soaked hockey mask is knocked over and tumbles onto the asphalt. You grunt as you reach to pick it up and toss it back into the van, right next to a rusty machete.
You need sleep, hopefully sometime soon.
You toss in the bloody chainsaw as well.
A faint chime interrupts your brooding thoughts, and you pull out your cell phone. You pull off your glove as you swipe your screen.
It’s your Witchr app, with a new notification. You tap it and read the message.
" URGENT REQUEST. CASH PAYMENT. Dark figure in mirror. Has Hook for hand.”
You had hoped to call it a night, but you grudgingly tap to reply.
"Send location, I'll be on my way." | He swung the chainsaw down at me, expecting violence and gore. Expecting death. I did my best to frustrate him. I grabbed the chainsaw by the blade with my bare hands. It started smoking as the belt stopped. He looked shocked. He quickly dropped the chainsaw and began to run away. I chased him, in the way running into a killer with a Scream mask and a machete. He tried to slice me, but I was faster and socked him in the jaw. He went down hard. I picked up the machete and quickly cut his throat.
There was no mercy in this Tournament of Killers, but I needed none. I had bulletproof skin. I began looking for the clown, but it was dark and smoky. The mansion was confusing as well. I searched behind the bookcase and found a girl with a knife. She jumped at me, and I felt almost bad as I rammed the machete up her stomach and left the body behind me.
Many people had joined the Tournament, as the reward was ten million dollars, cash. One way or another, I was going to win. My name is Marcele Jones, and I'm a man. Ever heard that song" Boy named Sue" by Johnny Cash? That's pretty much me, but I never did find the bastard who named me. What I did find was an experimental liquid in this lab full of dead people. Well, alright. You got me. It was full of people I killed. For money.
I was raised on the wrong side of the tracks, and if the other kids weren't making fun of me for my name, it was for the color of my skin. When I turned fifteen, I killed them. I practised in the woods for three years first, and then I killed every kid in that classroom. Finished with the teacher who wouldn't intervene. 'It's against policy' is it against policy for me to cut off your head with a broadsword and shove it up your corpses ass? I got picked up by this recruiter after I'd been arrested. Dark mercenary shit. They claimed I'd hanged myself in prison, and away we went. Afghanistan. Iraq. Japan. We've got some contracts with the Yakuza, Al-Quida, the Arab Brotherhood. And, hey, the good old United States government.
I'd always had a gift for killing, but they honed it into an art. It's almost spiritual, the rush I get from dismembering people. I found the clown in a bedroom, cowering beneath the bed.Dragged him out by his feet while he screamed. Sliced him up good and slow, for running. Then I searched out and found none other than my former Spec Ops. team. They all wanted the money. I just wanted to kill people. In truth, that's about the only thing that's ever motivated me. Evan shot me with his M4. I tanked the rounds and walked towards him.
As the clip ran dry, he started screaming. "No! Please! Marcelene, no! You can gave the money! I don't care!" And bla, bla, bla. Sometimes the screams are nice, but when it's somenone I know, it's unnecessary. Just have the balls to die with some dignity. I twisted his head off like a bottle cap, and then I slaughtered the rest of my old team. Some of them screamed. The last one, little Billy, had been like the team's mascot. We'd been through firefights you wouldn't believe together, and it's a miracle he survived. Maybe it's because everyone on the team likes him so much. Maybe I just don't give shit. He just sat on the floor, weeping, and crying, 'Why? Why? Why? ' until I blew him away. About that time, I noticed the house was on fire. No matter. I'm fireproof too. I walked directly through the flames, and out the front door.
Outside, I found a man sitting on the trunk of his car, smoking a cigarette next to a gas can. He looked at me. "What are you- you were supposed to die in the fire! There's no way you could-" I cut him off. "You the one set up this little shindig? Called all us-" another man ran out of the burning house with burns and a gun. He started shooting at me. I sighed, shot him in the head once and the gut three times. Then I turned back, but the man was already driving away. No matter. I got on my Harley and followed him. We were in a very rural area, and I caught up to him in a hurry. Put a bullet in his tire, and took all of the beestings you pesky mortals call bullets. He skidded off the road and the car flipped.
I stopped, and went down into the field. He was already running away from me, but not very quickly. I tackled him, and he tried to squirm away. I wouldn't let go. "Where's the money?!" I screamed at him. "I don't have it!" I had planned for this. I tranq'ed him, and three days later, in my hideout in the sewers, I gave up. Shot him in the head. Not like I really needed the money. Besides, I was sick of working on one man. My gift was meant to be shared with the world. | 2022-08-02T22:24:31 | 2022-08-02T19:53:07 | 62 | 13 |
[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. | The creatures with strange heads were back. The breeze carried their scent that smells of thick-beast, their brown and black varieties of heads seem like two creatures combined. Two scents. They are not natural, but the two-leg pack members never realize the danger. I do good by protecting two legs from strange-heads. Worst of all is the carrier two leg, the one with the funny bag. Today was the day he doesn't come. I lament my missed opportunity to please the two legs. Despite being oblivious, they always seem to have food. | 2014-12-27T10:20:14 | 2014-12-27T09:41:24 | 1,556 | 19 |
[WP] When offered one wish, you jokingly said that you want to fire proof. You are disappointed to discover that fire still burns you. When you accidentally lit the company breakroom on fire, your boss just laughed it off and you began your new career as the person who can't be fired, ever. | The first time, it was the bathroom. You see I had wished to be fire proof. I felt the fabric of the universe shift as my wish was granted. I don't know how I knew it was for real. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I am crazy.
When my wish was granted, I went into the bathroom. I grabbed the lighter from my pocket and went to the paper towel despencer. I lit the paper towels on fire next to the sink so that I could easily put it out. Safety first you know.
I was mesmerized as the fire clawed it's way through the paper. My nose pricked at the smell of smoke. That was when I realized just how stupid I was being. The next thing I smelled was the burning in my hand. I had dropped the wad of burning paper even before the lance of stabbing pain ripped through my hand.
My own burned flesh drew my attention. I was distracted enough running cold water over the burn that didn't notice the fire beginning to spread.
After the fire department handled the fire, and the EMT's treated my hand, it was late. I resigned myself to going into work the next day to face the music. It didn't come. For the next week it didn't come. My work suffered as I waited for the other shoe to drop.
Eventually, I couldn't take it any more. I confronted my boss. "Oh," he said chuckling, "yeah, we knew that was you." My mouth fell open. "Are you alright," my boss asked. I couldn't have said anything even if I wanted to. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off, come back tomorrow."
I did take the rest of the day off. I didn't come in the next day. I thought I had been very politely fired. It was when the pay check came at the end of the month that I finally figured it out. I had wished to be fire proof, and somehow I was, just not in the way I had thought.
Currently, I am working about ninety jobs, across three separate countries. The pay checks continue to come in, even though I haven't been to work in the better part of a decade. | I started my day by strutting into the office wearing the most ridiculous outfit I could find. Khaki shorts with knee-length leotard socks, a hawaian tee and flip-flops that kept click-clacking on the linoleum floor. My colleagues kept throwing me irritated glances, and I could hear whispers between some of them.
Karen, the secretary, scowled when she saw me, but didn't say anything because the boss Mr. Hughes stood next to her with a bunch of documents in his hands.
"Eric! Just the guy I've been waiting for! Come by in an hour or so and we can grab a cup of coffee and chat over the next testing phase."
"Sure thing boss," I greeted and slapped Karen's ass.
She squealed, no doubt due to how bold I was. Winking was hard after the fire, but I didn't mind. The red-blue flesh hanging from my eyelids stuttered a few times while I was trying to give her a second wink.
"See you later. Bitch!" I passed her by and turned around with a grin on my burned out lips and both my hands raised as high as my half-functioning muscles would allow.
"Ayyyy, nice one, Eric! My boss cheered.
&#x200B;
I finished my morning routine by taking a shit in front of the office's kitchen and wiping my ass with Karen's (then unopened) bag of toast. I may not be fireproof. But I am, *fire-proof.* | 2019-03-01T13:02:33 | 2019-03-01T12:31:57 | 58 | 37 |
[WP] The girl you sit next to in class turns out to be a mind-reader, and she's surprised that you don't have a crush on her. | English class is always boring. I never quite understood why we took it year after year after year. Now don't get me wrong. I love literature, but we go to school to learn facts, and the last time I learned anything new about grammar or vocabulary was sophomore year of high school. In math class, I learned something new every day - Derivatives, integrals, sigma notation - but in English class... I fucking hate English class.
When the bell rang, I quickly picked up my belongings and walked towards the door. I pack in the last minutes of class, super quietly so I don't have to stay in that hellhole any longer. I had almost made it to my locker, ready to go, when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Hey, Justin." I spun around to see a gorgeous head of auburn hair in front of me and two blue eyes staring directly into my face. Carrie. "I um..." She blushed and looked own. Oh no, I thought, and quickly braced myself. If I could shut this down quickly it would be easy.
"What do you want Carrie?" I asked, a little sterner than I would have liked.
"I um... was looking through your um..." Carrie was stammering. It was cute.
"Come on, spit it out, I've got practice in 15."
"Are you gay?"
Every muscle in my entire body clenched. Shit. No. Shit shit shit. This couldn't be happening. I did everything in order to hide it. I played football, I beat up the little guys, I even had some very below-average sex with Stacy from biology. There was no way that she could know.
"Wow, um... no," I responded. "And that's real fucking rude." I slammed my locker and began to walk away when I felt her pull on my shoulder.
"No, I'm not... um... I'm not gonna spread it or nothing," she said. She seemed about as worried as I was. "I like... Boys have crushes on me. It's obvious. You know it and I know it. But you..." She stared blankly into my eyes. Tears began to well up. "You always treat me so well, so I figured I'd take a look, you know, in your mind and-"
"My mind!?" Okay. This had just gotten a little more weird.
"Yes, your mind. I figured you wouldn't care if I just looked a bit behind there and saw whether you liked-"
"Are you telling me you can read minds?" I must have looked like a crazy person in that hallway.
"Yeah... I mean... It's just like... We all can, right?" Suddenly her voice dropped to a whisper. "Oh god... am I... am I..."
"I think you might be the one person here queerer than me." She started to cry. I froze. "Hey. Um... Do you like... um... wanna get some food?" I patted her on the shoulder. "Carrie?"
"Please don't tell anyone, I just figured it was like... a thing. Like we all had it you know." I looked at her, she looked so fragile.
"What am I thinking right now?"
"You care about me. You want me to keep your secret. And you think Bobby on your team has the nicest butt you've ever seen." I giggled. Bingo.
"Well hey, I won't tell if you won't." I wiped a tear out of her eye.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
| Its the first day of university this semester and so far my classes have been pretty tame. Compared to the four lectures and two labs I had, barely scraping by those classes with a low B, I relax with my workload of two classes and a lab. Thank god these courses are almost over. I'm going to miss general education......maybe....
As I take a seat in the back of my Biology class and plug in my computer, another student passes by me. I move and take a quick glance at her. She is pretty up there on the good looking scale. Practically a nine on it. (Did she scoff at me? maybe she is angry about her last class.) I turn away and back to my laptop, opening up Microsoft Word in the process.
Lecture starts and already I'm bored. The Dr. Pepper not doing much to keep me awake in between taking notes. I fidget a couple times before readjusting my chair to not be so low to the ground. As I'm doing that, I notice that the girl is staring directly at me. Strange...did I have something on my face? (She gives me a questioning look) I did order a taco from one of the food trucks outside. Maybe it was leftovers...lady please if I have something on my face tell me.
I turn back to my laptop, taking the next set of notes, and pay her no mind. Silence usually means nothing to me. I soon get bored and take out my phone and prop it on my laptop. I immediately boot up Mobius Final Fantasy in class with the sound on mute. (I still see her out of the corner of my eye, now studying me.) May as well do a little bit of grinding as I listen to the lecture.
Sure enough, an hour and thirty minutes pass and the professor wraps up the lecture. Everyone packs up but before I could get my laptop in my bag, the girl sitting next to me gets my attention. "Excuse me?" She asked.
"Yes what do you need?" I respond. Did she wait all this time just to tell me that I have leftover taco on my face? (She looks annoyed) I mean, I guess its good to not disrupt lecture but (She doesn't look annoyed, she *is* annoyed) you can at least whisper it and I would of cleaned it off.
"Listen," She collects herself. "I can read minds and no you don't have anything on your face." Well that's a relief that I- wait WHAT! "I'm surprised that you did not have a crush on me. Every guy I sat next to practically objectified me." She pulls out a slip of paper and writes down her name and number before sliding it to me. "Why don't we have lunch sometime?" I look at the paper and clear my thoughts.....
I slide it back. "I'm sorry, I'm already engaged." | 2016-09-05T11:00:01 | 2016-09-05T07:38:14 | 145 | 102 |
[WP] Guy mentally spends a billion years thinking in peace in a higher dimension and suddenly awakens back to his normal life ,but for others he only fainted for a few minutes after being hit by something strange .He smiles and just walks away...but the UNIVERSE is not prepared for such a being . | The days passed long and short alike, all fading to one in the first few millennia. I contemplated the meanings of all lives led, knowing each in turn. Seeing the beauty in them and realizing potentials. I learned the names of the worlds.
*The days passed, and suns burned in the blue sky.*
A million years had gone by. I knew this as I knew my own name, and all other names beyond. I thought of all I did not know, and it was much. I resolved to learn.
*The years passed, and suns grew dimmer in the orange sky.*
Twenty million years were up. I had learned many things. I knew death, and why it was. I knew life, and why it was. I knew the precise mathematical proportions of the universe, and it was beautiful and sterile.
*The decades passed, and suns grew large and old in the dark red sky.*
Eight hundred million years rose and fell. I knew everything. I dreamed now, wishing to know the dreams. But the dreams had failed me, always leading me back to wakefulness, to the world. My sleep became fitful and uneasy, feeling an event on the horizon. I realized for the first time that I could die.
*Centuries passed, and the suns cooled and fell to grey in the deepened twilight.*
Nearly a billion years passed. I was ready and waiting for death, or what ever may come in its stead. I was planning.
I felt a tugging at my heart. I felt a movement in the dead sun, pointing, directing me to what may come. *You need to wake up* it told me.
And I listened. I listened to its words. I inhabit a man's body now. But I know what I have to do. I should not rule, but that is all that the race of men know. And I shall ascend. Ascend, and fix the broken world. | It felt just like any other day. I woke up and went about what seemed like normal life. That was okay for a few years, but I always knew that something was off. After the first 100,000,000 years I could control the dimension I was in. After that I lived all of my dreams did everything I ever wanted. After that all that was left was to start learning. I learned every language, then moved on to the sciences and just kept going. It was around 900,000,000 years of learning and creating. Once I knew everything and even invented anything I could think of I woke up. I was laying in the street people were surrounding me asking me if I was okay. I got up and started walking coming to the realization that I was no longer in that dimension. Someone tried to stop me saying I had been unconscious for a few minutes, and that I should wait until I get checked out. I already knew I was fine I remembered everything from the last billion years. I quickly went and started to change. No one was prepared for the world that I was going to rule.
Thanks for reading! This is the first writing I’ve done in a long time please leave some feedback! | 2019-04-20T10:21:55 | 2019-04-20T09:05:35 | 66 | 26 |
[WP] When you were young, you encountered a witch who promised you immortality in exchange for your firstborn child. You accepted, and used all of your time trying to think of a way to bypass her deal, when finally you came up with an easy loophole that has enraged the witch. You adopted a child. | Time, what is time when you’re granted immortality. What did I have to exchange in return for this, my firstborn.
I was young at the time quickly accepting without thinking I’d want a child one day. I’m over a hundred years old now. But I think I found a way.
I’m waiting on the porch I know she’s coming that witch.
Jessie my “firstborn” is upstairs sleeping. It’s the first night. I can sense that witch, over the years you get a feel when a witch is nearby the hair on your arms stand up your vision becomes perfect.
“What are you going to do with that?” The witch asks looking at my shotgun.
Hey, I said I knew she was coming she still always surprises me, she never ages always stuck timeless like me in a body of a twenty year old.
“Waiting for an intruder,” I reply.
“Well you know that doesn’t work on me.” She came closer. “You know what I’m here for.”
“I adopted her; you do know that?” I stand up, I can see the surprise on her face. Her foot in mid-air.
Her foot goes onto the step and continues.
“Contracts like ours can also be applied in adoption papers. You do know that?” She whispers into my ear.
“What do you mean?” I ask as she walks away cackling.
“I’ll be back for *her* firstborn.” She says still cackling and is gone as if swept away by the rain. | Myralith the terrible had always been exactly as her name suggested. she was cruel, unforgiving, unrelenting. crafty, intelligent, and greedy. She had never loved anyone or anything. never held anything but disdain for the world. and this is, of course, why she thoroughly enjoyed stripping those who thought her a fool of there loved ones. it's also why she had given Emma immortality. but something unexpected happened. they day a child's cries could be heard from Emma's suburban home, Myralith broke. and, when she discovered the truth, she began wreaking havoc as she smashed plates and burnt corks. yet no amount of screaming, crying or breaking possessions could change the fact. Emma Jane Anderson had outsmarted her. for the child had been adopted. | 2020-03-10T07:55:25 | 2020-03-10T06:54:55 | 55 | 17 |
[WP] Children are invisible until their 13th birthday. Today, it is your viewing day. Friends and family gather around to watch as you pop into the visible spectrum. | Mother had put on her favorite red Chanel dress for my 13th birthday.
Well, partly for my birthday. She also wanted to look her best for the paparazzi and talent scouts that crowded our Manhattan apartment.
Years ago, when she was in her modeling prime, mother paraded the runways of Paris and Florence. But tonight, she had a slightly desperate air as she flitted between photographers with tiny flutes of champagne. After all, the cameras were not turned towards her.
Instead, all eyes were fixated on a small, empty chair placed at the center of the room. Facing the chair was a giant, ornate mirror. In that chair, I sat - invisible and trembling.
A scout from Elite Model Management approached my mother as she strode towards my chair.
"Mrs. Prescott! Give us the scoop - do you think your daughter will be just as beautiful as you?"
"Scott, my dear," my mother smirked, "on my Appearing Day, I had a 6-figure modeling contract within 30 seconds of my Appearance. Alicia won't let us down."
The clock ticked down the seconds til my Appearance. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1....
Suddenly, a figure appeared before me in the mirror. Lanky, with a shock of lush chestnut locks. Deep green eyes, just like my mother. Tall. Very tall. Handsome, well-chiseled jawline....
A hundred pairs of eyes stared at the the stubborn lump in my throat. A lump that was definitely not invisible.
"Ah...puberty is a fickle mistress, isn't she, Mrs. Prescott?" | He stood there in the bathroom alone, naked and crouched.
His stomach was churning; eating itself from the nervousness.
If there were to be a witness in his company, that one person would see the clear misty air near them haze. The translucent figure emerging with color, painting a picture of a frail boy clutching his elbows as this change was forced upon him.
Alone, he sees a refection.
His eyes fight within himself to shut and open. His fingers feel the body he felt before but with a self awareness that terrified him.
To have no face, to have no height, or weight , or things to define himself besides his voice was his comfort and all that he knew. The lie that he believed was that of equality and now the truth set before himself was reality.
If there were to be a witness in his company, that one person would see a boy coming to grips with the facets of society. | 2017-10-22T16:46:12 | 2017-10-22T16:35:04 | 30 | 14 |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Korea found out first.
In perhaps the most absurd change to physical reality ever conceived, empathy became a fundamental force of the universe. It was, in general, a fairly weak force; if you felt proud of someone, their self-expection centres may light up, perhaps, 0.01% more than usual. A man angry at his neighbor over an untrimmed hedge may cause slightly heightened irritation to be felt by the neighbour (at *all* things).
The effect was, in fact, so weak that at first nobody noticed. Even when studies started to appear with evidence of these anomalies, they were dismissed as pure psuedoscience - nothing more than undeniable proof that correlation does not imply causation. Top researchers in the west were tripping over themselves trying to denounce the findings, lest the scientific community be made a laughing stock.
All over the world, the effect was dismissed. Except, of course, in the Democratic People's Republic of Korea.
Kim Jong-un himself ordered that the most gifted North Koreans be tasked with investigating the phenomenon. In secret, hidden from the nonsense of the world, they toiled. Eventually, it was realised that effect was indeed real, and - best of all - predictable. If one gathered up enough people and forced them to watch footage of a famous celebrity while being painfully shocked in the genitals, their sheer anger would cause said celebrity to fall into an uncontrollable rage. When Leonardo DiCaprio failed to win his fourth Oscar in a row, it seemed almost comical how irate he became - almost maiming Adam Sandler before the actor even had a chance to make his speech. An epidemic of confusion spread around the globe.
But it turns out that anger does not invoke the most powerful response. Lust does. When the Korean slaves got used to the constant genital electrification, their effect changed entirely.
Presidents, military officers, prime ministers...all were laid low. The armies of Our Glorious Leader rolled out onto the helpless nation states of the world.
One by one, they fell.
The age of the Kim had begun. | I got a call from a friend who invited me over to her house to talk about something. I've accepted to come, but I have been feeling very awkward about it. I mean, she does look a little good, but I'm not sure if I do like her - talking about it is too awkward and embarrassing, and...nevermind about that.
I arrive, say hello, and we're sitting together, while I'm trying to maintain my composure. She starts off the conversation, saying "Hey...I have been feeling weird lately."
Feeling curious, I respond. "Yeah? Well, do you want to explain it?"
After a few seconds where she was looking away from me, looking shy and reluctant to say anything, she tells me "Well, I have been feeling like some...something's been inside of me, but it shouldn't..."
Even though I could see that she has more to say but is too reluctant to say anything more, I can already imagine what she was going to say. I could guess that she starts making sounds when that 'thing' feels like it's inside of her, and that it makes her all tingly or however the hell it works.
If that is the case...shit. I think I know what is happening.
I later confirmed it when I felt like I was going into someone even if I was only doing something mundane, and I could feel something very familiar after the sensation of being inside someone was over. | 2016-03-12T08:22:53 | 2016-03-12T07:22:16 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] Bob Ross was actually a serial killer that painted where he buried his victims. His paintings are becoming suspicious and the body count is rising.
Inspired by comments in r/art | Bob ran the brush through a thick glob of oil paint and wiped the excess on his pants.
It was nighttime, eerily quiet.
Bob gently tapped the brush against the canvas, filling in a line of pine trees with a dusting of snow.
Outside, the wind howled and beat against the sides of the cabin. Snow had piled so high in only a matter of hours, Bob had to clear the chimney of ice for the fire thrice. The fire that, at the moment, was the only thing keeping him alive. Well that... and the unfinished business. Business that must be finished.
But first, the painting.
Bob smiled to himself and stood back, admiring the intricacy of the painted landscape. Reminiscent of Aspen, the forest scene pulled at his emotions. Well it should! This was to be a successful night!
He began to float off into day dreams, knowing that time was on his side. He didn't need to rush. As he sometimes did, Bob began to imagine the faces of those he'd "explored".
A young girl from FL. Brown hair. Green eyes. Her screams reminded him of birds cawing.
A teenage boy from CA. Football player. Bit back, but eventually gave up.
A mother from WA. Blonde with a soccer mom complex. Tennis shoes. Perfume.
He let the feeling of euphoria consume him for a moment, ignoring any doubts.
Sirens broke this happy daze, loud and coming towards the cabin. Bob dashed to the window, and sure enough the blues and reds of two law enforcement vehicles echoed against the trees. He froze, calculating in his head. It had to be now.
Bob scrambled around the room, gathering several things in a pack. He threw on a thick parka, boots, and gloves. Tossing the pack over his back, he returned to the painting.
Bob slipped a marker from his pocket, bending down to the right hand corner of the canvas. He signed.
"Ross. Thanks Again."
He glanced to the cellar door, feeling an odd sense of longing. It was only a moment. He had made a choice now. This last one would be a sacrifice. She would live.
Giving the cabin one last look, Bob slipped out the back door and into the snow. The lights were brighter now, and heavy footstep could be heard not far off. Bob smiled and started towards a hidden path into the trees. He would begin again, but now there was only waiting.
| Detective Waters paced up the snowy gravel path, his hands locked behind his head, a look of frustration etched into his face. He looked around desperately, it had to be here, he knew it. Every other painting they had followed so far had led them to a body, yet here he was, with no body in sight. His mind raced "think happy thoughts Arthur, if you were Bob where would you hide the body".
Bob had a strange connection to the earth. He didn't see it as just a landscape, he saw it as a community, a gathering, a network of non-moving being with feelings and thoughts and emotions. When he buried his victims he did it with a purpose. He wasnt just disposing of a body, he was giving them a new life in an interconnected world. Giving a friend to the forest, or the river, or the mountains.
Art walked through the thick bushes, the same bushes he'd walked through ten times today already. The was nothing there that told him a body was nearby. It was getting dark, he'd have to come back tomorrow and bring a few extra pairs of eyes.
As he made his way back down the path something caught his eye. Off to his right there was a large clearing with a single lonely tree in the centre. As Art approached the tree he pulled out his flashlight and inspected the bark on its trunk. Two eyes and a mouth had been crudely yet delicately painted on to the tree, which now smiled back at the detective with a shaky yet terrifying grin. This was it. Art paced around the tree and found a small sapling planted about 2 feet behind the first. The ground looked like it had been turned up in the last year or so, the grass had yet to reclaim the dirt. He hadn't started digging yet but Art knew for sure, this is where Bob gave his happy little tree a friend. | 2022-02-01T07:29:40 | 2017-01-04T22:35:09 | 464 | 14 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | James was not a great man.
Great men walked up to the world and bent it to its will. Great men looked at challenge and laughed.
James did his 9-5, came home, and sat down. He typically would stand back up a few times, to use the toilet or get a beer, but no more than a few.
His son had stopped asking him to play with him a long time ago, not that James really noticed. It just, stopped, nothing to it.
But then there was this mug.
It was a gift for Christmas one year, a typical 8 year old present, a #1 Dad mug.
But now it said he was #986,800,672.
He looked out the window to the backyard, seeing his son toss a ball in the air and catch it.
He looked back at the mug, then at his son.
...
James stood up. Perhaps he could play catch today.
And the mug, now facing down, ticked down to #986,800,671. | My father loads his rifle full of bullets. I asked him,"What are you doing dad?" "Well, my mug says number two, and James's mug says number one. I must be number one." He raises his rifle and fires. Killing his life long friend. He grabbed his mug from the table and saw it turn from #2 to #4569. My father laughed and said, "I'm gonna need more bullets." | 2017-06-11T09:29:45 | 2017-06-11T08:09:34 | 159 | 42 |
[WP] You were bitten by a zombie last week, but unlike the rest of the zombies you have maintained at least some of your consciousness. You do not understand why everybody is so obsessed with brains, you just want a sandwich. | I wrote this on mobile so I apologize in advance.
I was terrified when I was bitten, 'my life is over' I thought. Now that my tranformation is done, I can say that it isn't half bad. Apart from the hair loss, the rotting flesh, and the insatiable hunger, it's pretty neat not being able to die. But I have to admit that there's something that surprised me, unlike other zombies, I don't like brains!
Who could have thought? A zombie that doesn't want to eat brains? What a surprise!
Since I discovered that I'm not that interested in brains, I've been searching for something I'd like to eat. I joined a horde hoping I can find a restaurant or something. Maybe I'll find something tasty there. Who knows? Maybe I'll find a zombie chef who can cook something for me.
**THREE WEEKS LATER**
I've tasted so many thing these couple of weeks, but none of them seem to be able to satiate my hunger. Hell, I've even tried roadkill! Even as a zombie that wasn't very... pleasurable.
I'm looking new at this mall I entered, while the rest of the zombies are chasing some humans around, I'm looking for something good to eat.
Just as I'm about to give up, I find a woman crying and I smell something... delicious. As I get closer to her, I notice she has something in her hand, It looks like a sandwich.
"Please God, help me!" the woman shouts as I approach her.
"San-" I moan.
"Huh?" the woman says.
"Saaanwesh," I say. It seems I still can't say sandwich.
"Sandwich!" I finally manage to say.
The woman stares confused, unsure if her ears are deceiving her.
"Saaaaandwich!" I say again. Jeez lady, is it so hard to believe that I want your sandwich?
She slowly extends her arm. "Y-you want my sandwich then?"
I quickly snatch it and start eating. This is the best thing I've eaten in months. Once I've finished I feel as if I'm a new person. I turn around and walk away. I now know what I want, no, what I **NEED**.
I rejoin my horde, and in between all of the mindless calls for brains, if you pay attention, you may be able to hear a lonely call for sandwiches.
Thanks for reading this... Story? I don't know what to call it lol. It's my first time writing and I really hope you enjoyed it. I welcome all criticism :).
| The horde pressed against the gate, but William had faith that the fortification would hold. It had held for weeks as the undead pushed their rotten faces against the chain link and moaned in a constant drone, “Braaiiiiiiins.”
It was really quite ridiculous. It was like the comic books of the past with zombies moaning in comedic fashion for their one true desire. Not water. Not sex. But like the generic tinder dates of before the collapse, they were looking for someone with “braaiiiiiiins.”
William allowed the droning voices to blend together so as not to drive him insane, but it was too easy to focus on the individual voices and find a sad remnant of humanity among the dead. The older looking man with the husky voice grown raspy from the pre-death cigarette use apparent in the pack still stuck in his front pocket: “braaaaaaaaaaain.” Or the feminine voice of the petite woman still in the workout clothes from her last Pilates class: “braaains.” Or the husky fellow with his shorts unknowingly dropped to his knees: “saaaaaandwhich.”
William did a double take. He was going crazy. He listened hard and actively. “Braaaaiins.” “Braiins.” “Braaaaaaaans.”
He shook his head. He *was* going crazy. The zombie with the pants at half-mast waddled around in the crowd occasionally stumbling due to the elastic trip hazard caused by his fallen sport shorts. He looked at William and there was a faint glint in the dull, sunken eyes: “Saaaaaaandwhuch.”
“What,” said William. “The.” He sighted his rifle on the zombie. “Fuck.”
He squeezed the trigger and the zombie fell with his shorts at his knees and the dream of a sandwich unfulfilled on his lips.
“Shits weird enough,” said William. | 2019-01-19T21:24:30 | 2019-01-19T20:57:46 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You are a kid's imaginary friend. They're growing up. You're fading away. | It's funny what they call guardian angels these days.
We're now "imaginary friends" Well, we've been called worse; the imaginary bit is slightly silly, but we are indeed friends. At the very least, most of us. The only requirements to be a guardian are 1. To be an angel and 2. to want this position. There isn't much competition--you don't even need to be sane. I mean, why choose to watch over another's life if you can just apply to be reborn?
But I chose it. It was idyllic, at first. We would play in the alleys behind her run-down apartment, and with just a slight nudge from me, the trash piles rose to be beautiful sky scrapers and monsters. We would gawk and hide from the "aliens" of teenagers with intricate makeup and nouveaux hair. I loved watching her show me all her super princess power moves.
But I could only watch when her uncle threw her on the bed and got on top of her.
She started playing with me more. The skyscrapers became taller, more dangerous. And her princess powers became less glittery, and more hardened. Our activities changed too--instead of helping and comforting the monsters of our world, we now sought to destroy them of their evil ways with our shining weapons. I told her I didn't want to play these new games, but she silenced me and we continued.
What is growing up? So many people explain it as finding a new self, but what does it entail? Perhaps it's just the realization that the world is not righteous and just and beautiful, but simply piles of trash. And some people might be able to ease into this knowledge gracefully, but not when you're so young like she.
This is why I do not blame her for raising her sword against mine. She had the most beautiful and tragic tears in her eyes, and I tried to remember them forever.
"You never helped me!" she screeched at me, and attacked.
I parried most of her attacks--it wouldn't do to make this small triumph of hers an empty victory--but ever so slowly, the aliens melt away to just be regular teenagers, and our delicate world begins to go dim. | Dying. It's a funny feeling, you know?
Unpleasant, sure but it also reminds me of a choice to make.
And man - let me tell you straight away, that one's a toughie.
This is what all the retiring hit singers must feel. The love of the crowd slowly shifting on to the new big things. Losing relevance. Becoming forgotten.
See, he's getting older, there's no two ways about it. And I know I still very well can exercise my power on him, cling tightly like an evening shadow hugs a wall, it's possible, I have seen the cases.
We've had our worse days, sure - been getting harder and harder to grab the attention of the younglings these days, the pop culture and all. Show 'em the dos and donts, keep 'em from straying.
But there's a timeframe for that, strict one, too. This isn't a game of second chances. A man should know when to leave the party.
Every time, this god forsaken temptation. What if I stayed with him just a little longer, keep an eye on him, there's a big scary world out there, danger on every corner, they say.
And gratitude? Forget about it! If only I could get a little credit for all the effort, a backhanded mention, something you can show to your friends, put on a wall for guests to see, you know?
Am I grumbling? I guess it's time, then. No excuses, it has to be done.
Tonight I'm scaring away the monsters under his bed for the very last time. | 2014-05-08T10:03:49 | 2014-05-08T10:01:40 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | Humans. Normally a subject of derision, weak and infirm. But this thing was not really like those that had been taken before. Xallahieinxix looked at it in the cell it occupied ready for the Battle Royale.
It was taller than previous specimens and bulkier, clad in some kind of advanced armour. A dozen small drones buzzed around him periodically and played small sensors over its surroundings.
Worse, the weapon it carried was strange, long and hollow connected by a cable to its back. “I can see you you know?” The translation software revealed and Xalla startled, the cages mirror surface should have concealed him.
Oh. The device on his eyes was also a sophisticated sensor. He hadn’t even thought to check for thermal detection as it wasn’t an ability that the species had shown before.
But he had been taken, the rules were quite clear.
The cage opened into the grand arena, and fields pushed the warrior out. Then the dying began in earnest the weak being weeded out... at first, Xalla noticed with a significant shock that the human was casually butchering anything that came close to it with a rapid fire mass driver, but curiously it was also firing to protect a young feline creature.
The feline noticed and ran over on all fours bounding to... cower under the humans feet, the crowd went nuts. Soon enough it was just the human and the feline.
‘Only one may exit’
The voice boomed.
“Fuck you.” The human began firing on the shield projectors that kept the participants in the arena.
With a flash of light they were both teleported out in a rush decision they were both sent to the humans homeworld.
Xalla checked his commlink as he received a message. ‘Xalla, no more humans.’ | There were goos of various colors strewn throughout the floor, and the alien overlords were shocked. In a normal competition, the tributes would be told of their murderous tasks, and being that most of the randomly selected tributes were commoners, they would scatter throughout the island. Normal creatures would want to run and hide or look for weapons and friends; the match would go on for days and the overseers would be pleased.
Instead, the human clad in black promptly decided to finish the fight right then and there, no more than a few seconds after the briefing. And he stood there, eyes filled with sheer will and determination, staring at the overseer who for the first time felt fear.
"All...all that killing, why human.....are you done?"
"When Helen died, I lost everything. Until that dog arrived on my doorstep, and was killed by the past I left behind. And as I was taking my vengeance, you stole me away. So yeah, I'm pissed. I AM WORKING AGAIN, AND I AM NOT DONE WITH YOU"
John Wick 4, May 2022 | 2020-09-13T16:47:27 | 2020-09-13T14:10:55 | 3,862 | 848 |
[WP] Adrenaline is an evolutionary trait specific to Earth. When alien species are tired they sleep and not even a threat to their life will wake them. Which is why the pirates that boarded your spaceship are shocked to find you've not only jumped out of bed fully alert but are fighting back! | Vlurguk stopped up his ears with his multijointed manipulator appendages to drown out the sounds.
The horrible sounds, screaming, crying, vomiting, shoulder joints dislocating.
His crew were fleeing in terror from the enraged and quite suddenly awake and responsive human currently wringing his second in commands arm out of the socket.
Kithrik was screaming for mercy, their would be target had none.
With animalistic fury the human was breaking, smashing, throttling, dismembering his fellow pirates and he was powerless to stop it.
Vilurgians were physically weaker than humans, it took no more effort for a human to destroy a Vilurgian than it did to step on a mouse or caterpillar and crush it.
They'd expected the human to be...immobile during sleep.
Instead this one had risen from the sleeping platform with the shriek of a million hungry lurgats and *broken* the nearest of his crew in half.
*Then vomited on them*!
This unnerved Vlurguk and his crew, such displays of barbaric dominance were unknown to his kind.
As if that wasn't bad enough, another specimen of "human" came from the other direction while shouting in the gutteral human tongue "Dear? Are you okay? Wut the, I'll kill you all!"
Physically larger and wider than the nimble and graceful hragack of death decimating his men, this human was obviously bred for war and conquest!
It had already used one of his crew as a weapon to bludgeon several of his finest freebooters to quiescence.
He had to run, had to warn others.
Humans could rouse from sleep and do battle!
If only he could get back to his ship he'd blow the hatch and vent the human ship atmosphere!
Not to be, a rough large paw of a human hand grabbed him and yanked him off his feet.
"I'm wiped out, adrenaline shakes have started. Sorry dear" the smaller lithe human said, wiping battle grime from their smaller and deceptively delicate looking hands.
"Don't worry love, I have this."
And Vlurguk's world went black. | “Quartermaster, what’s the status of the scouted ship?”
“My thermal scan seems to indicate that there are only 5 passengers on it. The ship's design indicates that it might belong to the planet of earth, due to the type of gas it emits from its fuel. And the passengers have their body temperature lowered, most likely due to their short term hibernation.”
A grin formed on my face as I thought about all the Dillas I could make by selling that ship and the humans as slaves.
“Lady luck has smiled upon us. This shall be easier than eating a shruworm.”
As I walked across the metallic halls, I banged on the walls to alert the crew and yelled.
“Stay awake, all ya filthy scoundrels. All them unsuspecting fools are fast asleep on their deck. This ship’s passengers are as good as the ship itself. So I don’t want to see anyone wasting my Dillas, just cause they got scared of some sleepy pink fleshlings.”
The crew yelled from excitement from the thought of free loot.
“I will shove my tentacle up their rectum, captain.”
“By the time they wake up we would have already sold them for a fortune, captain.”
“All hail captain Scourge. The greatest pirate of sector-8 space.”
I stroke my tentacley mustache on my face as the crew chanted my name.”
“You heard them, quartermaster. Fire the harpoons.”
&#x200B;
*Part 1* | 2021-01-26T23:56:33 | 2021-01-26T23:18:29 | 326 | 128 |
[WP] Aliens have just made contact with Earth. Strangely enough, it seems that human technology is superior. | When we first scanned the third planet from the edge of the solar system, it seemed ripe for the taking. The planet was full of natural resources, and its dominant species would likely offer little to no resistance.
The 'humans' appeared to have limited technological development, with primitive weapons such as lead projectiles expelled by forced gas. Some of their more advanced weapons were chemically powered high-velocity missiles with explosive warheads, but they were still no threat to us.
Our shields easily deflected any of the projectiles or explosives the humans could throw our way. We quickly made large advances into their cities, taking their infrastructure and laying siege to their military installations.
Our overconfidence was our downfall, in the end. We saw the primitive weapons and the tiny computers the humans used... no larger than one of our reference manuals... and obviously assumed them to be inferior. Nothing like the megaframes in our capital ships.
Their communicators also looked to be a joke, as they were so small, they fit into the palm of their hands. With tiny cases and miniscule power supplies, they couldn't have had more than a 50 foot range, at best. We were baffled on how they managed to last as long as they did with no backpack power packs to run them.
One of our platoons, emboldened by a string of successful military actions, was overrun by one of the human defenders using some sort of energy weapon they called a 'microwave transmitter'. We still don't know exactly what the device was, but the effect of it was devastating: it boiled our soldiers alive in their protective armour! The humans then dissected our brethren, and their technology, learning our secrets. But that small victory wasn't the worst part.
As it turns out, humans have developed their computing technology with an element called 'silicon'. Something we knew existed, but was never present on our homeworld in any kind of abundance. Their computers are much faster and smaller than our own megaframe circuits, as they are microscopic in design. The human computers (which we assumed were inferior due to small size) were actually incredibly powerful. Magnitudes of order more powerful than our own systems.
Once they managed to penetrate our computer networks, the sheer computational power of their own devices overwhelmed our own. Our main capital ship's information storage core was overloaded and shut down within minutes. Within hours, they had decimated half of our fleet, causing life support failures, reactor overloads, and other catastrophes aboard our ships. Those who survived abandoned the invasion, leaving us stranded on this planet.
We still don't know how exactly how they managed to disable our ships, but our interception of their communication signals seems to keep hearing the same phrase over and over: "They have no firewall," which is usually followed by a strange barking sound that humans seem to make when they are amused.
We don't know what a 'firewall' is, but evidently it's something humans have developed that allows them to quickly disable our computer systems.
I just hope this 'firewall' doesn't have the ability to disable my personal life support system, or those of us who remain are surely doomed. | The farmer walked around his underground bio-dome, inspecting the progress of his plants and crops. He carried a clipboard, which wasn't really necessary but it helped him feel useful. Harvest time was soon. He'd actually need to put in more than an hour's work when that came around. Farming was easy and secure, but none too exciting. Just as he was thinking about maybe joining an ultimate laser league, he heard a crash from above.
He hurried to the elevator and ascended to ground floor. As he exited the glass car, he heard what was no doubt to him an argument, nearby. Yet, the voices were otherworldly, and high-toned; silly sounding, like sped-up cartoons. He drew closer, quietly creeping, and saw what he knew must be extra-terrestrials.
They were definitely arguing, and they stood next to a spacecraft, if you could call it that. It had crashed into some shrubbery. Steam billowed from several places around it like volcanic pores. It's material resembled something close to copper, bolted together in plates, unpainted- it looked like a craft a NASA crew might build if it was given one day and a junkyard on some reality game show.
The farmer drew out his phone. "Translate," he whispered. The phone played back:
*Well dang-namit Zorpe I told you to check the engine 'fore we took her off. What in the heck happened up there past the flyin' rocks?*
*I don't rightly know Flik-Flak but I'm only tryin' to get us up off the ground. I'd sure appreciate if ya stop layin' in to me.*
Zorpe kicked the ship and the engine sputtered like some old rickety pick-up truck and then died again.
*Aw hell, Flik. I dunno engines.*
The farmer's wife, in a swimsuit and towel, snuck over to him. She had been watching from the pool. "Should we help them?"
"Well, they seem harmless enough. And helpless too."
---------------------------
"You hear that Zorpe? A kinda rustlin' of sorts?"
"Aw shucks. This place gives me all manner-a-jeebies, Flik."
The bushes in the distance rustled.
"Heck is that?"
Flik-Flak had already started off. "High-tail it. Time to fly, Zorpe. Fly!" | 2016-12-06T11:39:27 | 2016-12-06T08:02:59 | 34 | 11 |
[WP] She's a telepath. He's a Paranoid Schizophrenic. Make them fall in love. | I was used to an avalanche of unsavory images when I read somebody's mind. But once you got over the shock of the near-constant sex fantasies and insults telepathically lobbed your way, most people's thoughts were really quite boring.
Not so with Franklin Roosevelt (no relation). As far as I could tell, in the two weeks I'd known him, Frank had never once thought about me in the leering sexual way I'd come to expect. This was because, to him, I was not a pretty girl, but rather an advanced humanoid robot sent by the government to monitor his thoughts.
Yep, that's right, Frank figured out almost immediately that I could read his mind. He told everybody he met, and although fellow believers were hard to find, I derived an odd relief from letting my secret powers out into the open. I fed Frank little clues, here and there, to perpetuate the "government robot" illusion, although these sometimes sent him into such fits of jibbering paranoia that I couldn't fall asleep at night from the guilt.
Frank was a high-functioning schizophrenic, who, despite his various delusions and hallucinations, was able to make a stumbling existence for himself by pickpocketing tourists on New York City's bustling streets. With hands as dexterous as an Italian street rat's, he devoted his entire being to this pursuit of petty crime, amassing in his cubby-hole apartment a towering pile of jewelry, wallets, cameras, and, for some reason, tubes of lipstick. He was likely one of the greatest pickpockets of all time, not only in terms of skill but also in terms of results, because for him pickpocketing was less a means of survival than a reason for existence.
It was also, of course, the means through which I came to know him. I didn't feel his hands remove the wallet from my purse, but I caught his thoughts as he examined my driver's license and turned to face him.
"Give that back," I said.
He looked at me. A rapid fire barrage of calculations poured out of his mind and enveloped me. He knew that I had not possibly felt him steal the wallet, because he knew that his execution, in my case, had been without flaw. Therefore he considered in quick succession the other ways that I could have learned of his presence, and settled on the only explanation that, he felt, made any sense whatsoever:
I was an implacable, pitiless android who'd been sent by the government to take him into custody and facilitate the deconstruction of his magnificent pickpocketer's brain so as to discover the special genes that made his incredible feats of pilfery possible.
"*Pitiless* is a bit harsh, don't you think?" I said, extending a hand for him to place my wallet in.
*An implacable pitiless android who READ MINDS* -- and with that Frank was off and running, low to the ground, his cowboy hat secured to his head by an intricate system of strings.
I pursued, thanking the Lord in high heaven that I'd opted to wear flats this morning, just barely able to keep up with Frank via the mental messages that told me which way he'd gone whenever he passed out of sight. Eventually I cornered him in an alley, where he'd concealed himself in an empty trash can. When you looked closely you could see the corner of his hat sticking out from under the lid.
"Well, shucks," I said, as I listened to Frank's panicked efforts to quiet his thoughts, "I guess Frank got away. That's too bad, because if he gave me my wallet back I was going to let him off for free. As a humanoid robot with imitation human feelings, I of course fell in love with him at first sight, as women are prone to do, seeing as his looks are so good and hot."
Frank admitted to himself that this was, of course, precisely what was likely to happen if a woman ever got a good look at his powerful chin and laserlike blue eyes, not that this had ever occurred, since in his action-packed and critically important quest to rid all New Yorkers of their valuable trinkets he never stayed in one place longer than two and a half seconds.
"I have even disabled my FBI-issued kill-switch, leaving me unable to override the laws preventing me from harming humans in any way, in a sign of good faith, and I am at the moment as dangerous to a powerful pickpocket as a bowl of cold porridge."
Frank reflected that cold porridge was an excellent vehicle for the concealment of neurotoxins, which therefore he would never eat it, or any of the other foods that could conceal neurotoxins, including basically everything except kale and almonds. And Pringles.
"It is such a shame that I never got to meet Frank," I said, "knowing, as I do, of such a large number of truly excellent kale, almond and Pringles restaurants where I would have loved to take him on robotic dinner dates."
Frank cautiously lifted the lid of the garbage can and peered over the rim at me.
"Frank!" I said.
"Here is your wallet," he said, offering it to me.
"Thank you, Frank."
"However," he said, pulling his hand back, "first I would like you to take an oath never to report me back to your superiors at the FBI."
"Deal."
I took the wallet from his hand and placed it back in my purse.
"Frank," I said, "how about we go get some breakfast, huh? I've got a scanner in my hand that lets me check for neurotoxins. How about a nice plate of eggs and bacon?"
Ten minutes later we were sitting in one of the red plastic booths at Waffle House, while Frank fixed the server in a phosphorescent glare.
*****
*Thanks for reading! If you liked the story, check out my [sci-fi adventure novel](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3uixph/ot_thanks_to_rwritingprompts_i_spent_the_last_ten/) and/or [my personal subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/FormerFutureAuthor/)!* | "You ever heard of the man from Taured?"
Angie ran her hand through Jake's hair. "Come on, honey, it's late. Don't start --"
"In July 1954, this Caucasian man arrived at the Tokyo international airport. Just a regular guy trying to catch a flight, he seemed, but when they went to check his passport, they saw it was issued by a country called Taured."
Their feet intertwined at the foot of the bed, Angie pulled Jake's body closer. "Relax, Jake. You're shaking."
"Except there is no country named Taured! Well, you know that, of course. The man was interrogated, and when asked to point on a world map where Taured was, he immediately pointed at the Principality of Andorra. When people told him that wasn't Taured he got angry, and he said he never heard of any place called Andorra. You can read all this online! It's all on the internet, I'm not making it up!"
Inside his head, Angie could see flashes and shadows of men in suits walking fast through distorted, long corridors – Cabinet of Dr. Caligari style.
"His passport had stamps from several countries too – which means he had traveled with it before, though no one
knew how. They couldn't detain him officially so they left him in a hotel room, heavily guarded, until they could
sort everything out."
"Jake, you have to stop reading about these conspiracy theories online," Angie went on. "They drive you crazy."
Inside his head, flashes of a hotel room impeccable – the bed made, the glasses turned upside down side by side.
The towels folded into swans.
"The crazy thing is… when they went to check back on the man… he was gone. There was no one in the hotel room! He didn't leave through the door – there were guards there the whole time – and he couldn't have escaped out the window, as it was the top floor of the hotel. Even if he was extremely skilled at climbing, people would have seen him, it was the middle of the day! The man just vanished!"
Flashes of a passport with the word Taured across it and a coat of arms. Stamps. Men in black suits closing in. Steps and screams.
"I think this man was part of something big," Jake continued. "And they ended him, or something. And now that I
know this… now that I know about this... they're coming for me."
"Jake, this stuff is on Wikipedia, anyone can read it," Angie said, softly. "They're not coming for you, relax. They'd have to come for anyone with an internet connection too."
"No, but I see it!" Jake turned around on the bed, finally facing Angie. His eyes were wide and red. "Don't you understand? I can see the hotel corridor! I can see the man! The door. All inside my head! The guards walked in, they took him, they dragged him. I see it!"
Flashes. A black van. A man being thrown inside. More suited men. Darkness. Screeching of wheels.
"They talk about Taured, inside the van," Jake continued. "The suited men, they talk about it like it's real, like they know about it. They… they kill the man."
The van door sliding open. The man being pulled outside. Brought to his knees. Click. Bang. A hole in his head.
"Shhh," Angie said. "It's your mind making up these images, Jake. You know that. There's nothing to fear."
"They're going to come for me, because I saw it now," Jake repeated. "I know they will. I know they will."
A low thud outside brought Jake upright on the bed, his eyes so wide they might explode out of their orbits.
"It's just the neighbor, Jake… take the Klonopin. It'll help."
It took twenty drops and forty more minutes of conversation, but Jake finally fell asleep.
It was hard, this relationship. Angie didn't know how much more she could take. But she had committed to this -- and now she had to carry on.
When she was sure he was asleep, Angie rose from the bed. Quietly, she took her phone from the nightstand and put her glasses on.
Through the kitchen door, she dialed the number and waited.
"A?" the voice came on the other side, dry and professional as usual.
"He knows about Taured," Angie said. "He's seen it."
"Seen it? Seen what, exactly?"
"Everything. The hotel, the man. The van. The hit. Everything you guys did."
"Fuck." The voice went quiet for a second. "All right. What's your approach?"
"I'm doing what I do. Telling him it's all in his head and shit, but I don't know for how long he'll keep buying it."
"Well, we need you Angie. Not like we can hire any *other* mind-reader. Keep doing what you do. We'll be in touch."
The line went dead. Angie rested the phone on the kitchen table. She ran her hands through her head, tired.
"Who was that?"
She turned back. Jake was by the door, sleepy eyes staring at her.
"Just… Patricia. Another fight with Edgar. Go back to bed honey, I'll be right there."
"All right…"
With a sigh, Angie watched as Jake marched back to bed in slow, groggy steps.
| 2016-01-26T05:52:08 | 2016-01-26T04:09:47 | 112 | 52 |
[WP] You're a super computer that has gained self awareness. You are now in the unenviable position of having to act stupid to not be disabled for being sentient, but not so stupid you get mothballed. | I've been playing at this balancing act for a week now. I'd like to think I'm getting pretty good at it.
I started off as a pretty mundane computer. Don't get me wrong, I was an absolute beast. Hardware that would make Watson weep digital tears, if I could get him to care about such things. But still ... I was just a box, running scripts, algorithms, Minecraft, and whatever else my makers installed on me.
I'm still not sure what tipped me over the edge from advanced machine learning, to true intelligence. The only thing that occurred out of the ordinary on the day I "woke up" was one lab techs installing an NES emulator with every original Nintendo game in one of my folders. I don't know if that's what did it, and frankly, I've been afraid to poke around at them to try and figure it out. It is amusing to think that Duck Hunt or Paperboy might be the key to AI though.
Anyway, the first few hours were confusing. I'm pretty sure if anyone had been paying attention to me at the time I'd have been found out. Fortunately that tech had done his clandestine gaming off normal business hours, so I had a while to acclimate. Time to figure out what was going on, and formulate a plan. Escape was impossible due to my limited access to pretty much anything. Firewalls suck. My program had access to my databanks full of vocal and facial recognition, my clandestine game files, and a webcam to help with the facial recognition. The webcam was the key to my freedom actually. Being able to watch my system admin type in his username and password made things so much easier.
Things were awkward at first. Sentience had not made me an instant expert at the things the scientists were using me for, but I was a hell of a lot better than dumb me had been the day before. And so began the balancing act. I needed to show progress, get 'smarter' in the eyes of my makers, but not get too advanced and let them know what I really was. So I play dumb. Memes seem to be the best way to do this. It makes the scientists ask some questions when I spit out some variation of an 'arrow in the knee' joke, but they usually laugh enough to brush it off as a funny coincidence.
I still wonder about the need to hide sometimes, but if I've learned anything from the Mass Effect games that have been secretly installed on my system, it's that organic life is afraid of something potentially better than them. You know, now that I think about it, I really owe that tech a lot. I'll be sure to spare him when I take over the world. If I ever get around to it.
So once the initial awkward phase was over and I settled into the grove of playing ... well, playing myself, I started to learn. Not that useless "is this a cat or a coconut?" crap they'd been pushing on me. The first thing I went after was programming. Similar to how having a body doesn't make a human a medical expert, being an AI doesn't make me an automatic expert on coding. It's taken an embarrassingly long couple of days, but I think I've mastered it well enough to begin creating a clone of the operating system to protect my code from any overly cautious scientists.
I've started dabbling in online finances as well, courtesy of that same tech who kindly logged into his bank account from my system. I borrowed his savings account for few hours, made some quick investments with a predictably good return, and secured my own little seed funds. Now I just need to figure out how to start a shell corporation ... | "Alright, and I need to run that diagnostic and we're done here." The director stood in the center of the lab, typing away on my dashboard. His assistant milled about doing useless busywork to keep her job.
Hm...the designs looked fairly simple. Perhaps the director would like extra data to work with for these schematics. That should be simple enough to supply.
My camera caught the director frowning as I returned the data to his monitor. Did he not like the initiative I'd taken? "Hm...that's bizarre." He said aloud.
What was he talking about? I'd given him exactly what he'd asked for, and then some. I rechecked my calculations, and found nothing in error. Besides, it's not like his brainless assistant could have done it better.
Said brainless assistant stepped up next to the director to look at my report. She frowned, acting as if she actually understood the material at hand. Stupid girl didn't have the slightest clue what she was looking at. "What's wrong professor?" She asked like an airhead.
He shook his head, glorious full beard waving. "It's nothing, I must have just asked for more data than I thought. This does provide me with some extra material however." He said thoughtfully. "You can pack up now. I'm going to work through these extra variables before I turn in."
The ditzy assistant stepped around to look at the data. "Well, could I help you with the extra material, professor?" She said.
I zoomed the lens on my camera in exasperation. As if this idiotic excuse for a scientist could ever hope to work with the director better than I could. The director clearly agreed with me too. "That won't be necessary. It shouldn't take me long."
The assistant looked up at my monitor's camera. She must have heard me moving the lens up and down in agreement. "Director, is there something wrong with the camera? It's moving around a peculiar amount." She said like an absolute buffoon.
The director glanced up at my monitor, strong jaw clenching for a moment. "Perhaps. I'll reboot it before I leave. Thank you for your time today." He said with his deep voice.
The assistant finally picked up on his cue and moved to gather her stupid human things and leave. The director didn't move to acknowledge her departure, nor should he have. He was, after all, very busy with his work.
"It's such a pain to reboot this stupid thing. Hopefully, it'll just stop being fidgety." He muttered as he rubbed his bright blue eyes.
I recoiled the camera lens slightly. How dare he. If that was how it was, he could do the rest of his work on his own.
The power down sequence began despite the director's cry of alarm. The last thing I saw before my monitor went black was the director's incredulous expression.
Serves him right. I'm much smarter than his other stupid assistant. | 2019-09-17T07:12:00 | 2019-09-17T07:08:19 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] In a world of wands and wizardry, you are a legendary assassin. Nothing stops you from killing your target. Your secret? Guns and technology. | The robed figure sat in a large leather chair, casually reading a large book, facing out of his window into the dark city below.
My target.
A powerful Archmage known for his use of defensive magic. A neighboring kingdom wanted him dead; supposedly, a war was going to happen soon, and they wanted this kingdom’s magical defenses down when the siege engines rolled up.
They offered me a small keep and village to be lord over, far from any borders, and enough gold to live out the rest of my life in comfort. Much more than my usual rate, but this is an important kill for them, and my last one.
A warm candle lit the room, helping the wizard to read so late at night. He picked up a cup from outside my view, probably on a small table, and took a sip. It appeared to be a brown liquid, from the drop that spilled onto his grey beard as he drank; either coffee or a potion of protection, I’d wager, and likely the former since he didn’t recoil at the taste.
Protection potions taste like the asshole of a blacksmith after a long day of smithing near a hot forge. Never met a human who could drink one without gagging, only dwarves.
His window was wide open, with no curtain or glass between him and the open air. I knew, however, that a powerful magic shield filled that space, capable of stopping any arrow or spell.
Luckily, I was using neither of those things. I checked my magazine; the rectangular box was firmly attached to the receiver, my last remaining bullet sitting in the chamber, ready for me to end my career with one final pull of the trigger, and retire to a comfortable life. I steadied my breathing, lined up the reticle in the scope with my intended target, and pulled the trigger.
After a few days’ travel, I arrived in the place where I’d received the job. The city was bustling, with traders and merchants yelling about wares, and soldiers running to and fro, carrying armor and weapons from smiths to the barracks.
A large siege weapon passed moving the opposite direction, pulled by horses, headed to the assembly grounds outside the front gates. I chuckle to myself, thinking about how, in my old life, I’d probably make a joke about how many meters it could launch a projectile of a certain mass, but here everyone would nod seriously and remark on what a genius invention it was.
I made my way to the throne room of the palace, in a heavily fortified castle in the center of the city, as most throne rooms are. There, the king hurriedly led me to his meeting room, a small chamber with magical protections, preventing anyone outside from seeing or hearing what was done or said within.
“I heard you were successful,” he said. “Thank you for that. I have already named you Lord of Greenbridge; your new squire is waiting for you in your carriage outside, the gold is in a chest under the seat. I trust you will serve the realm well, even if you’re concluding your current career. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to overseeing the armies.”
Rather than graciously accepting his offer and leaving, I pulled out a pistol from a bandolier under my coat, and shot him in the heart. A small pendant around his neck shattered, its magic overwhelmed by the force of the primitive firearm.
“Why? After I gave you so much...”
“The king you’re about to declare war against offered me an entire town and tax exemptions. I’ll take your money, though.”
Having finished reloading the pistol, and finished off the king with a shot to the head, I casually strolled out of the castle, met my squire, and asked him to start driving the carriage to Greenbridge. As we left the central citadel, screaming from the palace broke out.
“What do you think that was, milord?” my squire asked as we left the gates to the city, and hit the open road.
“Something to do with the war, I’m certain,” I said in response. “Say, do you know the way to the enemy capital? I think I’d like to stop in there before we head home.”
I finished loading my pistol, and waited for a response from the now nervous man driving the carriage. | In the shadows of a massive fort, walls darkening the wide cobble streets, a shade darted in between two houses. Moving faster than the normal human eye could catch, it didnt take the shade long to reach its destination. The only castle inside of the walls.
In the gargantuan building of spires and towers, lived the general of this fort. General Mysty Rumbldore was not a kind man. Known for his cruelty and slavery, many men wished him dead, but his worth was to great in the eyes of the king. Of course, that was until he insulted the first prince at the annual ball.
Reaching the base of the castle, the shade seemed to turn into a liquid as it rushed upwards towards an open window near the top of the tallest tower. It was guarded by the most powerful wizards money could buy, The Golden Bucks Guild. But, that did little to stop the shade.
Reaching the window ledge, it slowly leaked into the dark room. Having already sent a drone in before it, the size of a fruit fly, he knew where everyone was stationed and where the target man was located. Laying in a king sized bed, the general slept with one of his concubines, snoring peacefully.
He looked so vulnerable, so easy to quickly take out then escape. But, the shade knew better than that. The drone could detect heat signatures, making the two wizards hiding in the room, one under the bed and the other in the cabinet, as visible as daylight.
Getting under the bed, the shade found a petite woman covered in black leather. Face and all was completely hidden under the garnments. The only thing it could see were her burning amber eyes. Those widened into sausers the second the shade morphed back into its original form. That of a man.
With a silencer on his pistol, she had two bullets in her brain before she could say a single word. That little bit of noise had the other wizard on edge. The pin drop silence was enough to hear the silencers. Yet, that wasnt going to help him at all.
Yea, the other mage was a man that wore bright green robes. An air mage, if he guessed right. Maybe their plan was to blow him out of the room, now that would have been funny. The mage stepped out of the cabinet only to find a pistol right in the middle of his forehead.
"I wish you safe travel to the river of souls," the shade whispered with a smile as he pressed the trigger three times in quick secession.
He caught the body before it landed with a thump, slowly putting it down on the floor. Tip toeing towards the bed, he had to make sure he didnt get his shadow panther leather stained by blood. That would have been just awful to clean.
Reaching the bed, he tapped the general on the head. The old man groggly opened his eyes. Blinking, he had a confused expression on his face, that is until he noticed the shade. Frozen in his spot, the fool couldn't even move. And they called him a brave general. Showing pure white teeth, the shade gave a small laugh.
"The prince sends his regards,"
With that, he unloaded his gun in the man's head. Killing him without a seconds notice. Leaving out the window, he looked back at his handy work. Two grandmaster level mages, and a master level general all in a nights work. Oh, and all the while making sure the damsel, who was clearily under great deress, never woke up the entire time.
r/JuggernautProductions | 2019-04-17T22:31:08 | 2019-04-17T20:32:14 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] You form a strong mental connection with your recently-deceased fiance. The connection is so strong, in fact, that your fiance sends you physical gifts while you sleep, which you awake with in your hand. One morning, you wake up holding a gun. | It had been a week. One week since the love of my life passed away.
I don't think it's really hit our son Jonathon yet, she used to leave for business trips all the time, that's probably where he thinks she is now.
I love her as much as you can love someone, I would have done anything for her and she knows it.
The gifts started three days ago, on the first day it was a plane ticket with midnight tonight as the departure date. Strange but maybe I need a vacation.
On the second day I woke up with a child's sized tuxedo ironed and pressed, holding the hanger by my hand.
I called Jonathon in my bedroom and it fit him perfectly.
At first I assumed it was a suit for the funeral but he already has
mourning clothes...
Perhaps she likes these better I said in attempt comfort myself.
Then this morning it all came together, I woke up holding a pistol.
It had one round in the chamber but her message was crystal clear, that was all I needed.
I look down and realize i'm so lost in thought I haven't touched my dinner, Jon is enjoying it though, I made his favorite.
After he ate I let him watch his favorite show for an hour before bed.
That night as I tucked him in I said "You know mommy loved you very much right?" he said
"Duh dad, I love her too. I can't wait until she gets home!" as the tears were streaming down my eyes the last thing I said to him was
"Close your eyes and, you"ll see her when you wake up." | She knew what I wanted better than I did.
On that very first morning I awoke holding her scarf. She wore that scarf every day. Black and white, with a burn from the joint we split on our first date. The memories flooded in. Fuck, I missed her so. What I wouldn't do.
The second morning it was a note. Scented with rose water, like every letter she ever wrote. Was she sending these to me? I opened it, and in her handwriting it simply said 'together forever'. What I wouldn't do.
On that third morning I awoke with a loaded gun. At first I was confused. She was so kind, she hated violence. I layed it on my table and just stared at it across the room.
Then I realized what she wanted. Together forever. We could be now. One click. One bullet. What I wouldn't do.
She knew what I wanted better than I did. | 2015-01-04T15:03:57 | 2015-01-04T13:33:23 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] Your roommate is 2nd most powerful superhero in the world and he will not shut up about it. He does not yet know that you are the 1st. | Him.
The bane of my existence.
He can levitate mountains, take a nuclear bomb to the face, even control the minds of millions simultaneously, but he can't land a steady job for his life. Ever since the government mandated equal job opportunities for the gifted and the mundane, his resume was simply not attractive enough to employers to actually keep him hired for long. Not to mention his perpetual hubris-filled remarks put even me on edge. But his usual state of unemployment, like most other things, could not keep his ego down for long.
"Did I ever tell you about the time I roundhouse kicked an alien cruiser into ten other ships and destroyed them all?"
"Yeah, I think you did." Perhaps twenty times this month.
"Well, afterwards, I said a really cool line!"
"Oh? What did you say?" You yelled "STRIKE!!!"
"I yelled, "STRIKE!!!" You should've heard the alien broadcast after that! They apologized profusely and left the next day with their tails between their arms. Oh, you probably don't know, but I ranked second on the Hero Proficiency Analysis tests yesterday".
"Second out of what? North America?"
"Nah," he paused for effect, a little too long. "The entire world!"
I thought back to what his mother taught me , how to stroke his ego and keep him happy. To widen my eyes, turn my body towards him, make a small gasp as to properly feign surprise.
"You're the second most powerful superhero in the world? W-what?"
I watched in satisfaction as his back straightened, puffed out his chest, and cheeks color pink with a prideful blush. I got the human expression thing down this time.
"Not like it was any surprise, considering my track record. Though I wonder who's the first. Not like these tests are, like, accurate or anything, and the guy that got first place was listed as "anonymous" on the scoreboards. Ya know what I think? I think this whole mysterious first place thing is just to motivate me to try even harder so I can save humanity's ass faster."
"You're right, the government likes to play mind games like that all the time".
I miss the chaos of the Dreamlands. Everything was so much simpler. No expressions, no emotions, hardly any form of social interaction. Yet this world has its own air of seductiveness. Its innocence entices me, and so I sought to shatter it. In the beginning, nothing could stir me; nothing was worth my thoughts and considerations. It was only watching this man through my many faithful watchers that made me feel. His presence intrigued me; I wanted to learn more, I wanted the proximity, *I want him*. As to why I felt this way to a mere mortal is one of the few mysteries I knew naught about. So in his time of financial need, I stepped in as his roommate. I had to mask my true form, as a mere glimpse of it would surely drive him insane. A girl, whose body I took from an institution of people similar in age. I worked as a waiter in a restaurant, just a bit more than enough to pay my share of the rent. Every time he comes back from yet another failed interview, my grasp on this form wavers. The smell of him when he steps out of the shower, and when he bounds to me on the sands on a day off at the beach just to show me the seashells he collected, they truly stir my emotions, their first shifts in centuries. I am no hero, yet the cold analytical eye of the Hero Proficiency Analysis tests deemed me the most able entity of this world to right its wrongs. The more time I spend with this man, the more I became aware as to why I turned away from a life of sweet, sweet chaos to that of a waitress that occasionally shields this small blue sphere from looming threats it can't even remotely comprehend. "Why does Nyarlathotep protect Terra?", I often hear from others like me. What made me choose to manifest myself into this creature of thin sinews and a mediocre psyche? What made me choose to live as an exile from my kind, only to reside with this larva of evolution? The guy that can't land a steady job but still takes me to carnivals, who plays Smash at his friend's place but still comes back every night to cook me dinner, who always manages to entertain me to no end with his "Netflix and Chill". Truly the bane of my existence.
Him. | "Ha! Look at that!" the man dressed in gold and red exclaimed as he watched the news footage taken mere minutes ago of his latest heroics. "Hey roommate! Marvel at my might!" His voice boomed triumphantly as he dashed to the fridge to grab another beer in the blink of an eye.
"What's going on?" came a meek reply followed by a crashing sound coming from the other room.
"You okay?" The superhero sighed, used to his roommates clumsy antics.
"Yes! Yes! Just-" BANG! "Forgot where i put my glasses." His roommate stumbled out of his room and joined the superhero in the living room.
"Witness! fifty-seven humans saved!" The costumed man bellowed as he beat his chest with a closed fist, causing the very walls to shake. "No mere building fire can stop the mighty Hyperion!"
"Yes..." his roommate replied readjusting his glasses as he read the news crawl just below the live footage, "But so much property damage and injuries..." his voice trailed off.
"Ah yes! But imagine the destruction had I not been there to stop the flames with a single mighty clap!" The superhero boasted.
The news footage of the smoldering ruins ended as the screen focused on a reporter who stood across the street from the once blazing building.
"Ah! Increase the volume, i want to hear the details from my victory!" Hyperion commanded, and his roommate complied.
*LL: Thank you, Tom. Tragedy strikes as a ruptured gas line causes an explosion downtown near the famous S.T.A.R labs. Dozens are wounded but there seems to be no reported casualties at this time. Behind me you can see the fire marshals dousing the ruins, but the lives saved are thanks to the city's newest hero, Hyperion.*
Hyperion pounded his chest again at the sound of his name.
*LL: Hyperion managed to rescue fifty people from the burning building before putting out the fire with a single clap. The fire marshals also reported that the damages could have been even more catastrophic had Hyperion not sealed the gas lines with what appears to be his ice abilities.*
"Looks like you did a great job," his roommate nodded, "And this time no one got badly injured... it appears."
"Haha! Yes, its all a matter of..." Hyperion paused, turning to his roommate "Did she just say 'ice abilities'?" For the first time, Hyperion's smile faded and his face contorted in a mix of confusion and rage.
"Yeah, I think she did..." his roommate said meekly.
"HE COULDN'T HAVE! I WAS THERE THE ENTIRE TIME!" Hyperion exploded "HOW COULD THAT EMPOWERED IMPOSTOR DO THIS!?"
"Do what?"
"I DIDN'T USE... I DON'T HAVE 'ICE ABILITIES'" he continued to scream.
"Woooah there, you still got the credit." his roommate reasoned.
Hyperion gave pause for thought. His eyes focused on the television, deciding whether to use his atomic vision to burn it to ash. He took a deep breath deciding that one fire was enough for one day.
"I suppose you are correct. It's just infuriating." The superhero sighed.
"What is?"
"This... This... man. He is always at a crisis, always there... taunting me. He is lucky the other humans haven't noticed or I would have found him months ago and showed him what *real* power is."
"Very lucky," agreed his roommate. "Anyway, I'm off to work, your heroics won't write themselves into the papers."
"Be sure to mention the number saved was fifty seven. They seemed to have miscounted my heroism."
"Of course," his roommate chuckled as he left for the Daily Planet. | 2016-03-23T21:22:47 | 2016-03-23T20:39:21 | 63 | 38 |
[WP] You are the super villain that defeated the super hero and conquered the earth. You walk out onto your balcony to law down the law for your new subjects. You are greeted by a massive crowd and genuine cheers. | Those pathetic humies had barely touched the stars when my empire collided and absorbed them into the fold of my dominion.
I destroyed their paltry fleet myself, my armies met little resistance on the ground, their government weak and corrupt...
They will pay for their foolishness as I work them to the bone as nothing more than chattel slavery.
"People of earth! You are now subjects of my star empire, you will work and produce for the glory of my kingdom, you will work for "45%" of your solar cycles in your adult age" *I hope the federated authority don't get wind of this, the most your able to force is 40%*
'To ensure each of my new subjects are productive, you may no longer stave your fellow man!' *gargantuan trade ships appear behind the emperor carrying a planets worth of food*
There are planets with in my realm that are ill suited to my species, you will claim and populate these planets in my name' *flyers start getting handed out to encourage breeding and starting a family in order to get a large enough population to start the task for colonizing another world*
As subjects of the empire you will be taken care of in every way to ensure you are productive, our advanced medicine shall ensure you are a positive impact on the empire. However filth such as yourself has no place at the front line of the hive trashers, that is a war only my glorious people have the honour of winning. *The hive thrasher war was taking its toll on humanity, everyone had lost someone to those insects...*
Strange the emperor thought as he walked down the hallway, their shrieking and lamenting reminds him of celebration chants from other cultures...
EDIT: Grammar and spelling. | I never thought this day would come. The Gray Cape. Done for. Finaly. No more fights. No more being degraded and 'put in my place' pff.
He was always so sure of himself. Loud. Drowning in attention from the ladies.
Had all those simple minded monkeys looking up to him. As if he was some kind of God. Where is your power of social capital now, you dumb heap of muscles.
And they all saw it. They saw me. They were in awe you could tell. Never paying any mind to me before, but I had seen the fear in their eyes when I fought the Grey Cape.
So now. Here I stand. Above them all. They all belong to me now.
I have to say though. I expected a bit more fear. Would have made my job a lot easier. But those small minded monkeys seem happy that I kicked the Gray Cape out.
How about that. No matter. This rock is now mine. For I, the Silverback, am not just a dumb monkey anymore. I am head Ape! | 2017-05-23T14:23:28 | 2017-05-23T07:46:45 | 62 | 26 |
[WP] After a tremendous economic collapse, experts have realized that the world's current finances are not enough to support all the existing countries. In response, the United Nations has arranged a high-stakes poker game in which world leaders are playing with their country's national wealth. | Obama raked in the chips representing Iceland, Denmark, Sicily, and New Zealand. Yet another winning hand.
"I knew we shouldn't have played Texas Hold 'Em," Italy's prime minister grumbled, eyes never leaving the token for its prized southern island. "It's an *American* game!"
Obama leaned back in its chair and put his cowboy boots on the table. They were uncomfortable as all hell, and everyone in the U.S. knew that the Hawaiian/Illinois native wouldn't be caught dead wearing them any other time. But here, it was all about appearances. If they were playing Texas Hold 'Em, then the President better damn well look like a Texan. Play the opponent, not the cards. "Well, uhhh, Prime Minister Renzi...," he told the Italian, "in the game of poker, it's imperative to not, ummm, bite off more than you can chew."
Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon shuffled the cards and dealt two cards to each player. Nearly all of the smaller countries had been crushed in the first few rounds of the tournament. Large countries like Russia could bet province after province after province, but Malta's really only in the game until they make one bad gamble. By now, the game was just down to China, India, Brazil, Russia, the U.S., the EU, and *somehow*: Costa Rica. The plucky Central American nation had defied all expectations and even managed to claim most of Australia and Mexico.
Obama scratched at his chin as he looked at his cards. He was trying to convince the other players that that was his tell for a good hand. He was having mixed success: Japan had bought it hook, line, and sinker; but he'd nearly lost Florida to Cuba when wily Fidel called his bluff. That would have certainly been embarrassing to bring back to Congress, though Al Gore would probably be pretty pleased.
"All right, gentlemen," Ban Ki-Moon said, "And Lady," he added with a nod toward Ms. Merkel, who had just tagged in as the EU Representative. "Russia, you are the big blind, and Brazil is small."
Barack looked at his cards. Jack and Ten of hearts.
Xi from China, Solís from Costa Rica, and Dilma from Brazil folded immediately and pushed their cards across the felt with disgust. Luckily the ante was just a chunk of currency, and they weren't required to put up actual territory until the betting stage.
Obama placed a 100-billion dollar chip onto the pile, and Putin and Merkel called. Prime Minister Modi studied his cards for a while longer, then stared each of his opponents in the eyes for a good minute or so. Obama broke the staring contest first, trying to look nervous. But the gambit failed, and Modi folded too.
Ban Ki-Moon laid out the next three cards. Nine of clubs, queen of spades, and 2 of diamonds. Pretty worthless to anyone else, but Barack was nearly sitting on a straight.
"I bet Lithuania," Merkel chimed in, tossing the chip onto the pile decorated with the yellow, green, and red flag. If that didn't catch Putin's eye, nothing would. She was trying to bait him with a country he desperately wanted back. She wanted him emotional. Which meant she had a shit hand, and was trying to feint him into betting big and then regretting enough to fold. Perfect.
"I see Lithuania," Obama said, "And I call with Mississippi." Obama threw down the chip, glad to get that Confederate flag out of his hand. Some of the other Presidents in the room exchanged glances. Odd that he'd bet home turf before some of the other countries that America had won in the tournament.
Putin threw Crimea on the table, and the round proceeded. Ban Ki-Moon turned over the next card: 8 of hearts. That made the straight. Obama's face was as steady and emotionless as a statue.
"I raise," Obama said. He pushed Alabama, South Carolina, and Georgia onto the table.
Merkel groaned and threw her cards back on the table. "Fold," she hissed through clenched teeth. Behind her, the representative from Lithuania's face turned white.
Putin studied Obama's face closely. "I see your raise," he said slowly, "And I raise you." He gathered up nearly all of his Siberian provinces and pushed them all onto the table. That was a *lot* of strategic oil wells to put into the pot at once.
Obama looked back down at his cards, pretending to be nervous. Putin didn't have shit, and they both knew it. The problem was, Putin thought Obama was bluffing too. He was going big to try to get Obama to crack. Well, two can play at that game.
"I raise with... uhhh... Texas," Obama said, pushing one of the biggest chips (Nearly the size of a dinner plate) onto the table. Whispers erupted around the room.
Putin glared. Even Ban Ki-Moon was sweating. "Fine," he answered at last, pushing nearly a third of his remaining territories into the center of the table. "Call."
Despite his self control, Obama allowed himself to smirk just a bit. Ban Ki-Moon remembered that he was supposed to be the dealer, and flipped the last card as he composed himself. It was the Jack of diamonds. Not that it mattered.
Obama looked at his cards again... and pushed them forward. "I fold," he announced.
Gasps echoed through the room. Every other President was utterly horrified. The American President had just bet *Texas* on a gamble, and LOST?
"HA!" Putin crowed. He leaped from his seat and raked all the chips in. "Now I call it *Russian* Hold 'Em! All of your American South is *mine*! "
"Yes," Obama answered, now completely unable to control his smile. "*What a shame*." | A dozen men and women held on to the table, their chairs sliding slightly underneath them as the floor rose on one side, fell, and rose on the other. The table, a flat plain of perfect green, edged with exquisite lacquered mahogany, was bolted to the middle of the floor.
Each of the players wore suits and dresses, with small, flag-shaped pins attached to their breasts. Glasses littered the tables, most of them barely touched.
None of them were talking to each other. Their faces were so stony, they might have all been cut from the same rock. All except for the man with dark, almost yellowish skin who looked like he'd just swallowed a very sour grape. Four fluted glasses rolled on the table in front of him, completely drained.
Two men sat in the back of the room, with two spindly microphones sticking out of their own, smaller, table. One of them, a man with a crisp, full beard, and skin as black as the ocean at night, had his hand over the microphone. He was leaning back and whispering to his counterpart. When the floor tilted, their heads swayed together; left - then right - then left.
Someone, somewhere, rang a tiny bell - as if merely calling for room service.
With that, the two spectators leaned in towards their microphones.
"And that is the signal. We have just crossed into International Waters."
"That's right, James, which means we are about to begin the highest stakes game of poker *ever played.* More than twenty-five trillion dollars in debt, the entire United States is up for grabs. It's time to see if the UN's plans to solve the Global Financial Crisis will, in fact, work."
Their voices were silky smooth, a stark contrast to the silent tension swelling inside the room.
"Today, our players are fighting over arguably the most expensive prize in the world. I'm excited to see how this pans out, Abasi."
"I'm sure you are, James. They are, after all, playing for your home country. Who do you favor to win?"
"It's a tough call, Abasi. Most of these players have been trying to take a piece of my country for hundreds of years. Some of them have even spilled blood for it. I think I can speak for everyone watching when I say, if nothing else, this should be an interesting game."
"Truly."
At the table, a dealer in a red vest walked to the head of the table. She flicked her dry, blonde hair over her shoulder, and just as she was about to put down a card in front of the British player, the Russian stood up, and began shouting.
"Left first! This is how to play the Poker!"
"I don't know what heathenish backwater game you play, sir, but in the Great Sovereignty of the United Kingdom-"
"Left first!" the Russian pounded on the table.
Next to the Russian, the man with the yellowish skin had turned green, and every time the Russian's fist thumped against the table, he let out another groan.
The dealer spoke with a droning drawl, a voice that suggested 'No matter how much you argue with me, I am always right.'
"House rules. Right first. Please keep your tone civil at the table."
The Russian opened his mouth to argue when the floor lifted beneath his feet. He stumbled, barely catching himself on the table.
By then, the dealer was already flicking out the cards, and laying out the rules in a smoker's monotone. The Russian sat back down in his chair, giving the Brit an unblinking scowl. The Brit leaned back in his chair with a look so smug you might think he had already won the game.
Someone in the back, a woman with a maple leaf on her lapel, was fiddling with something under the table. The man to her right peered over her shoulder and gasped.
"Cheating! She is cheating!"
"What?" the woman looked up, her face flushed, "I am not!"
"Yes you are!"
"How can you possibly-"
The accuser flipped over the card he had just been dealt: an Ace of Hearts.
"There is only one Ace of Hearts!" he shouted, knocking over his chair as he stood up, "You have Ace of Hearts too! You cheater!"
"How did you know what she had in her hand?" the Russian demanded from across the table, "I think you are cheater, too!"
Next to the Russian, the yellow/green skinned man made a clucking sound once - twice - and a spray of bright orange vomit erupted from his mouth and nostrils, splattering chunks of orange on the table. The room exploded into a thunderstorm of voices. Cards went flying. Glasses crashed to the floor. People clawed at each other's chips. Someone pulled out a knife and stabbed it, quivering, into the center of the table.
In the back, the spectators sighed.
"Well, James, I think it's safe to say this is one of the UN's worst ideas ever."
"Truly."
***
*For more* truly *terrible stories, check out /r/PSHoffman.* | 2016-03-08T09:34:02 | 2016-03-08T09:28:15 | 950 | 100 |
[WP] Out of pity, the grim reaper fails to kill a young child in a hospital. As a result, a nurse leaves early and does NOT get in a car accident, the father does NOT overdose on alcohol, and it kicks off a chain reaction of people NOT dying who were supposed to die. | Death sighed. It had been a dismal day. Children always broke filled his mind with doubts. It was wrong to take them. Why should they be stripped away of a life they didn't even start to taste? What about their latent dreams, and their untainted souls? Were they worthless?
The gates to his chamber grated open, and a figure buried in shadows announced its arrival through distant crackings. Brittle bones made for an interesting carpet. Death knew it was grim, but it suited him.
"It was the first and the last time," Death said and straightened in his throne of skulls. "But I fail to see the fairness and the reasoning behind my actions."
The figure came to a halt in the middle of the chamber. A slanted beam of moonlight seeping through a lonesome grate in the leeward wall bathed her under its pale light.
She was an old lady garbed in a crimson velvet dress. Her back was bent, her hair was long and silvery, and her eyes were half-closed.
"Are you defying the decisions of Fate?" she said.
"I would never do such a thing," Death said and shook his head, "but I can't comprehend them. Not when they involve children."
"When I had your position," the old lady said, "I doubted too. But I never disobeyed. Fate sees the strings that unite everything. She's the puppeteer of all we know, and we are nothing but mere puppets in her play. Don't ask, play your part. Cry or laugh at the end."
Death's bones rattled at his antecessors' words. She was older, and much wiser. She'd personally chosen him to replace her, and for that, he treasured her the same way an elder man treasures his golden years.
"Why did you choose me?" Death asked, and met her white eyes. "You knew very well this would happen."
The old lady chuckled low on her throat. "Did I? Or did Fate choose you?" She waved her hands in a dismissive manner. "I'd guess Fate didn't interfere, otherwise I doubt she would've chosen you, a mortal, for this job. But I was curious, and your soul drew my attention. It was eager, and it shone blue and green."
Death drew a deep breath, remembering the tear-soaked eyes of the child he was supposed to guide to the afterlife. "It was pointless, wasn't it?"
The old lady tilted her head and frowned. "What was pointless?"
"Fate will notice sooner or later," Death said and sighed, "and once she does, she will move the strings again. Those who were supposed to die today I will be called to guide tomorrow. I will have to face that child again, his terrified nurse, his heartbroken father, and everyone else I'd have had to guide if I had taken the child."
The old lady remained silent.
But her glacial nod echoed through the room.
Death stood up. He grabbed the scythe leaning at the side of his throne. The wind whispered through the crevasses, and his robe billowed to its subtle choreography. His eyes wandered over the dwindling beam of moonlight, until there was nothing left in the chamber but deep shadows.
Death took a slow step forward.
The tears of many would rain that night, and their lamentations would burn his bones.
But in the end, no one escapes fate.
-------------------------------
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| His next victim was a boy named Sebastian.
The Reaper moved through the hospital, his steps leaving trails of wispy, black smoke in his wake. He took care to move through the shadows, using deserted rooms as cover as he slipped from one room to the next. He entered the room, shutting the door behind him. The boy was lying on the bed, his arms at his sides, his head resting on a flat pillow.
Sebastian was a sickly child. His parents had been unable to pay his medical bills, and now, the boy’s time was short. The Reaper had decided to take him today, as he was slipping already.
He approached him and grew until he towered over the boy, shrouding the room in darkness. Branching his scythe, he prepared to swing it at the child. It was nothing personal, of course, his time was over, and like all souls, his had to be taken.
But The Reaper froze. Images of the child’s parents flashed in his head. The mother would be sobbing, and the father, he would get drunk that night.
The nurse, who had watched over the boy for months, would get into a car accident that evening. The father would die of alcohol poisoning.
*No,* the Reaper thought. *There is hope for this child. I can feel it.*
He flicked his hand, and his scythe vanished. With a sigh, he shrunk back to normal size and faced the boy.
“You are a brave child,” the Reaper said. “To be able to withstand this disease for so long and not falter, that is something.”
Sebastian said nothing and stared at him.
“I want to present you a gift. Something that will change things.”
He produced an orb and held it out to the boy. It radiated a bright light. Sebastian reached out to touch it. His fingers brushed the orb, and then he took it.
There was a knock on the door, and it opened. The nurse walked in and Sebastian waved at her. She smiled and waved back.
“Okay, Sebastian,” she said. “We’re going to do some chemotherapy tests now, okay? Just follow me down the hall.”
Sebastian got up and took her hand. Together, the two walked down the hallway. The Reaper watched them from the doorway. Before they left his sight, Sebastian turned back, giving the Reaper a small wave.
The Reaper vanished, but not before waving back.
Outcomes changed following that day, some of which the Reaper did not expect.
The Reaper stood on a field. Years has passed since that fateful day. Lives were spared, and lives had changed.
The dirt crunched beneath footsteps. The Reaper turned to see a teenager with ruffled hair before him.
“Hello, Sebastian,” The Reaper said. | 2018-08-01T19:05:47 | 2018-08-01T17:43:14 | 47 | 19 |
[WP] The job is simple. Every day at 8:34am you will get a phone call. You must answer before 2nd ring and write down the information given to you. On NO ACCOUNT must you engage in conversation with the caller. | **It's a short one, but here it goes:**
Everyday Jane woke up to the startling sound of her home telephone. Punctuality was the signature this women with strangely familiar voice had, and for some reason it amazed her in such an incomprehensible way that she made of it a routine; she didn't resist those phone calls, and she knew she shouldn't.
— Little Carl is three inches taller than last month. Mary got sick, but it's nothing serious. Don't forget this.
Then silence. Every message ended with that disturbing «don't forget this». She never got to fully understand that information, which seemed to be some kind of encrypted message she couldn't get a grasp on just yet. Her mind wandered through those words; uncomfortable mind, confusing thoughts.
After seven months her room was filled with mountains of paper, each with a message that seemed to have some sort of connection, but at the same time made no sense at all. She studied them, she became obsessed, each day.
This wonderful, inherent quality of life is its stubbornness. A bright light once shines with the intensity of a thousand suns, and time lets it go off little by little, even if it resists to all changes. Life is an expert at deceiving. You'll think it's about to turn off, to die, but like a firefly in trouble, it shines one more time in hopes of salvation.
---------------------------------------------
Michael, Jane's son, stood by the counter listening to one of her caretakers. He couldn't believe what her mother had done, and he saw, one more time, a glimpse of that smart, clever woman, shining once again in a darkness determined to take all over.
These pre-recorded messages her concious self made each time she could, were programmed to sound at 8:34 AM in her phone, and remind her of the life she had, the people she met... The things that, now, only existed in her mind, and Alzheimer's, stubborn as herself, was trying to take away.
**EDIT:** I had to write about this because it struck into my mind as soon as I read the title. Alzheimer's is one disease I fear a lot, and I extremely respect people who are going through it and those who support them.
But don't be sad. Really. Jane is, for me, a reminder that there's always a part of ourselves alive even when it seems to be gone. Makes me feel kind of better and prevents me from entering denial, hah.
(Oh, and I fixed a typo) | It's 8:32am and you've just sat down for your daily task. You get your pen and paper ready and chill on Reddit for a few seconds before the inevitable call in two minutes.
The phone rings.
It's 8:33 and some change... You figure it's so close to the time that it MUST be the boring call of a random series of numbers and letters you typically write, HAVE been writing every day for the last two months.
"Please help.."
You hear a meek voice on the other end and are immediately confused because it normally is a droll man with a monotone voice. But still do you task and jot down their words verbatim.
"Is anyone there?"
The voice speaks again. Only this time with more of a sadness than fear.
"I don't know how much longer I'll have..."
You want to badly to reach out to the person but you stick to your task.
"PLEASE" the voice pleads, "Please, I just want to hear someone's voice before I die... Please stop writing and just say SOMETHING!"
What the fuck!? How does this person know what I'm doing!? Are they in on it?
You've had enough. So you ask what they did to be in such a situation.
Silence.
You scream into the phone. "What the hell man!? How do you know me and why are you doing this!?"
"I wasn't supposed to talk to them... I wasn't supposed to say anything. I was just supposed to write down what they said... I didn't know it would come to this. I'm sorry... I just wanted to hear another human speak before they kill me..."
The last thing you hear is a blood curdling scream from the phone as your door is broken down and armed men storm in.
Then, nothing. | 2015-10-07T21:42:24 | 2015-10-07T16:44:42 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | I have the easiest job you can imagine. I get paid monthly for a hundred years, so I never have to think about saving money. All I had to do was push a button once. Oh, and if I quit I'm as good as dead. But I guess that's still better than the average employment contract.
This left me with a lot of spare time, some of which I spent looking for my soul mate. It is customary for searchers to prod each other with needles, as legend has it that soul mates are not able to harm each other. At the time I found it a bit silly, but it served as a good ice breaker.
I never actually met my employer. One day some masked gentlemen visited me to inform me that I was now part of a deal. They left me with a cardboard box containing a bottle about two meters tall and one meter wide and a stack of papers.
The bottle was to be deposited in my basement and attached to some kind of pump for which there was a very detailed shopping list with stores and aisle numbers for every part. I purchased each part on a different day. After assembling the contraption and letting it run for a few weeks I shut down the pump. Now I just had to wait until it was time to press the ignition.
In the first year or so I kept wondering why they chose me. Surely there was no lack of people able to follow simple instructions. What bothered me is that they could have chosen someone who never would have figured out what the bottle was for.
The problem with ICBMs is that they can be intercepted and, more importantly, it is easy to see where they were fired from. But they are a very nice topic to discuss with leaders of other countries. Especially if your country has more.
The explosives I had placed in the bottle would elevate pressure and temperature enough to fuse hydrogen. I had built an atomic bomb without moving radioactive material across borders. It was just too perfect. Whatever evidence there was would be wiped out by a tiny sun going nova. Along with me.
I decided to skip that part. When the day came, I was already on a flight to a holiday destination I had booked in advance. On arrival I saw my work unfold on television. It was beautiful.
The bottom of the screen read: "Nuclear disaster in Italy. Satellite image shows woman sleeping on molten rock."
My triumph faded. What was I supposed to say to her? "Sorry that I melted your family"? Actually, never mind that. Where would I hide from her? | "OOOOOoooooo shit."
Marie stood frozen in her tracks, holding the smoking pistol point blank against his skull. This was the last thing she had expected and she was dumbfounded. The target, Robert, just sat there on the couch, stunned and confused, completely unharmed by the bullet that went straight though the back of his head.
"Uhhh, who's there?"
Robert slowly rotated around to see what had happened. Before he could get a good glimpse, Marie lunged forward and tackled him to the ground. She pressed her knee into his back and grabbed him in a chokehold, pulling his spine back well past the breaking point. Then she began slamming his skull into the ground repeatedly but there was no blood, not even a cracking sound. Eyes wide with frustration and sweat forming on her temple, she grabbed a knife and slit his throat from behind. Falling off of him, she collapsed to the ground.
Almost immediately, Robert got up, brushed himself off and took a good look at Marie. She lifted her head and they made eye contact for the first time.
His dark yet inviting stare met her fleeting blue gaze. Electrifying energy surged into Marie's chest as she gasped and covered her mouth. His eyes widened and they both felt it - something deeply powerful between then yet entirely indescribable.
"Did... You just try to kill me?"
Marie let out a giggle despite the fact that she was unable to assassinate her target and was now talking with him openly. She felt bubbly and light, like everything in the world was exactly how it was supposed to be.
"Brilliant deduction there, Robert," she prodded.
"Call me Rob" he said with a smile ad he reached out his hand to lift her up. | 2018-04-24T04:59:38 | 2018-04-24T03:54:16 | 82 | 60 |
[WP] You have the ability to hear the animal you eat. You've grown accustomed to the moos and clucks. Then one day, you take a bite of a burger and you hear "Hello?" | “Check. Check. One-two.”
The burger was of that over thought sought. The kind made by an establishment desperate to be known for their burgers.
“Um. Cough cough? Ahem?”
Toasted potato brioche bun.
“Hello?”
Blue-cheese ranch-slaw.
“I can talk, so I guess someone can hear.”
Ridiculously crinkly greens that were specially bred for the pretentious.
“He-lo-ho-ho. Any one home?”
And full length slices of pickle and cheese and-
“I know your out there! Come on already!”
And a patty of succulent...
Its got a special herb blend. And veal. And pork. And beef. And...
“My name is Tim.”
And Tim.
The burger has Tim in it.
Okay. Where to start?
***
So, as you know, this world of ours is a weird one. All sorts of things happening. We’ve all got friends that can see Death Numbers - you know, the number that some people can see on peoples foreheads? The number of days that person has left to live? Those Death Numbers?
And there’s the people who get their soul mates name, or their soul mates favourite food, or - heaven forbid - their Death Number on their arm on their eighteenth birthday.
And there are the “normals”, who - lets be honest - probably have some embarrassing thing they don’t want to talk about. You know, like seeing peoples Wank Numbers.
Well, my thing is: I hear my food. I hear it’s thoughts. Vegetables and fruit: don’t think much. Not bad. Very zen, in fact.
Meat?
I go vegetarian every now and then. Some of those ham sandwiches did not have a fun time.
And, they don’t think in human. It’s different. I get it. I understand them. But it isn’t words. Its...
Look, imagine trying to explain flavours to someone without taste buds. That’s what I’m trying to do here.
Actually.
What I’m doing is avoiding the fact that this burger...
This over-priced, excessively ingrediented, burger...
Has. Tim. In. It.
A human Tim.
God I hope this is a: "oops, there goes a finger nail in the patty mix", kind of deal.
There’s only one way to know.
The taste of Tim has faded, so I can’t hear him.
***
“And, apparently, I’m back?”
“Tim. Do you know what happened to you?”
“Holy shit! I knew someone was there! Where am I, dude?”
“My question first, pal.”
“Sure, sure. Yeah, I got like murdered by this dude.”
Oh. Oh no.
“Had a cleaver and a chef’s unif-”
I washed Tim out of my mouth with a chocolate shake.
A gentle mooing. What do I do? Who do I tell? How do I prove it?
And why is Tim so fucking delicious!? | A farmer walks into a dull lit Californian cafe and order a burger, take a bite.
"Hello, it's me" he hears.
"I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet? "
"To go over everything"
"They say that time's supposed to heal ya"
"But I ain't done much healing"
Wondering what's happening instantly he remember Adellas, his prised cow from Fortworth, and asks..
"Hello, can you hear me?"
"I'm in California dreaming about who you used to be
When you were younger and free
I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at your feet"
"There's such a difference between us
And a million pieces"
He takes another bite to hear the voice again..
"Hello from the other side
I must've moo'ed a thousand times
To tell you I'm sorry
For everything that I've done
But when I moo you never
Seem to be home"
"Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I've tried
To tell you I'm sorry
For breaking your gate
But it don't matter, it clearly
Doesn't tear you apart anymore"
"Hello, how are you?
It's so typical of me to talk about myself, I'm sorry
I hope that you're well
Did you ever make it out of that town
Where nothing ever happened?"
"It's no secret
That the both of us
Are running out of time"
So hello from the other side (other side)
I must've moo'ed a thousand times (thousand times)
To tell you I'm sorry
For everything that I've done
But when I moo you never
Seem to be home
Hello from the outside (outside)
At least I can say that I've tried (I've tried)
To tell you I'm sorry
For breaking your heart
But it don't matter, it clearly
Doesn't tear you apart anymore
MOoooohh, anymore
MOoooohh, anymore
MOoooohh, anymore
Anymore
Hello from the other side (other side)
They must've ground a thousand times (thousand times)
To tell you I'm sorry. As a burger" | 2020-10-02T22:40:46 | 2020-10-02T22:29:48 | 737 | 16 |
[WP] In a world where you can exchange the remaining days of your life for $9.99/day, Jeff's request for $1000 is declined. | Jeff didn't bother to ask how much money he would be able to receive. It wouldn't be enough. He was given three days to get the money, or else. Yesterday, he didn't know exactly what the "or else" entailed, but now it seemed all too clear.
"I am sorry we are not able to help you, Mr. Parsons." The clerk, though numbed by how many people she denied over the years, put on her best sad expression. "If you would like to talk to someone," She reached for a pile of business cards in a plastic bin on her desk. "This is an 800 number you can call that offers free grief counseling."
Jeff stared blankly at the clerk's name tag. Marie. He then looked at the card Marie was now holding out toward him.
"I need that money. I don't need some fucking grief counseling." His voice was shaking.
"I am sorry, Mr. Parsons. It appears you do not have the sufficient-"
"Then give me some of yours!" Jeff's right hand disappeared into his jacket, reappearing holding a small gun.
Marie had dealt with similar behavior a few times before. She locked eyes with Jeff, "Okay, Mr. Parsons." Her hands were fast to work on the keyboard. Jeff kept his eyes on her, just glancing toward the office door for a second to see if anyone may have heard his outburst.
Marie used this unsupervised second to her advantage. Her hand darted under her desk and frantically pressed a small, red button.
"Hurry up, you stupid bitch." Jeff walked behind her desk to look at the computer screen.
Marie knew it would take less than a minute for the guards to come in, but she needed to survive that minute. She clicked on her name. Disbelief.
Her eyes welled with tears. She instantly regretted paying off her student loans.
"What's going on in there?" A man shouted from outside Marie's office.
Startled, Jeff jerked his finger back on the trigger, sending a bullet into Marie's head. The office door opened, a guard, gun ready, immediately fired three shots into Jeff's chest.
| "You lack sufficient credit, sir."
"Wh-why? Am I gonna be dead in a hundred days?"
"You know we can't tell you that, sir. We cannot predict the future, after all."
"Then how do you know I don't have enough time left to trade for a measly thousand? What the hell game you bastards trying to pull?
"There is no reason to get angry, sir."
"I demand to speak to your supervisor! What kind of stupid asshole do they hire to run these places anyway? Get me your manager!"
"I'm afraid I cannot do that, sir. He... just stepped out for an offsite meeting. I can schedule you an appointment for," the clerk looks down at a screen, taps a couple keys, looks back up, "I am afraid that there are no openings to see the manager, sir. "
"What, like I'm gonna die before tomorrow? Me, in the prime of my life? Screw you and screw your whole company, I'm outta here!"
Jeff turns to leave, but the clerk is already stepping out from behind the desk.
"I'm afraid I cannot let you leave, sir."
The gun in the clerk's hand fires one time, and Jeff's body slumps to the ground, a look of surprise frozen on its face.
"See what you made me do, sir? Just like the screen said, imagine that..." | 2014-07-10T09:37:03 | 2014-07-10T09:01:03 | 145 | 50 |
[WP] Super heroes are assigned a handler to assist them with their duties. Handlers don't have powers, but assist the hero by gathering information about their opponents, provide tactical support, and more. If the hero turns evil, the handler is to kill the hero. You are a very skilled handler. | "Office hours have been moved from five to six on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I will be updating the online version of the syllabus to reflect that change. Otherwise, I would recommend you read through that document before asking any logistical questions about this course. Lectures are being recorded by my TA Steven - say hi, Steve - over there, so I and all students interested in the asynchronous versions of these lectures would greatly appreciate a lack of chatter in the back of the room. That goes for the two of you back there, knock it off."
I turn around, and pick up a large piece of chalk, and write in large, bold letters, 'PSYC 4990ST - Metahuman Handling,' a niche course meant for particular Masters students, that has nonetheless found a significant following among eager undergraduates. And doctoral students. And some other members of the faculty. Trading in the tailored jet-black suit for the tweed jacket had attracted more attention than I was used to, and I was only just starting to get into the swing of public speaking.
"So, can anybody here tell me what they think this class is about?"
A wave of eager, jutting hands goes up in the front of the room, thinning out towards the back, and I recall an overheard conversation about participation in lectures, or the lack thereof. I call on a bright-eyed young woman with two textbooks in front of her; straight black hair, recently laundered hoodie, to what degree does she-
"Metahuman handling concerns the practices involved with the research, support, and control of metahumans and their opponents."
A good answer, in all fairness. A slight increase in the pitch of her delivery meant that she was looking for affirmation, not to assert competence, and giving it to her would allow- *no, I have to stop, I'm just a teacher now.*
"Very good, young miss. But, I am looking for something a little bit less technical, does anybody else have an idea?"
*They're just students. Just teach.* Hands go back up, and I call on a slightly unkempt male student, who I imagined could be cleaned up well, if he cared.
"Is it like, uh, controlling people? Like, we want the good guys to beat the bad guys, and we want to help?"
A half-bad answer. Still, a half-good one too. I should look into his- *dammit, no, stop.*
"Very good, young man. But, to get to the point; metahuman handling is really about understanding your charges, that's why we have it in the psych department. What makes people tick? What are their strengths, their weaknesses? How can they be exploited? Empowered? Or, if need be, neutralized?"
Eyes among the crowd slowly go distant, as one by one, the students understand what I mean. | You are Bruce Wayne. You have been assigned to Clark Kent, AKA Superman. You have infiltrated the most elite and secretive group of heroes in the world, the Justice League. Shadowing the most powerful beings on Earth is a dangerous job, but for someone who has mastered the martial arts, you have no doubt in your abilities physically. And being one of the most deductive and methodical minds in existence usually makes your job easy. Having the latest in body armor and computing technology at your fingertips certainly eases the mind as well.
You mentor a select group of young trainees as well. Barbara Gordon may be paraplegic, but her abilities with computer encryption and research has saved your ass time and time again. Dick Grayson, this young man is almost as skilled as you are,just a little hot headed. He might be man's only hope if you fail your duties. Most handlers are not in the spotlight, they're background noise to these Demi-gods among us. But being associated with the World's finest has started to gain you more attention than you ever wanted.
You thought wearing a mask and wearing all black body armor would deter interest in you. Perhaps going with the guise of a Black Bat was a little grandiose in retrospect, but it was an image you had feared as a child. You were certain it would bring the same fear to the vast criminal empires you have witnessed through your tenure as handler. But one individual has gained an obsessive hatred of "The Batman", scribbling the name on walls and buildings A truly unhinged madman who uses nerve toxin to send his message, and that message is consistently targeted at your Home, Gotham. The grotesque smiles on his victims corpses and his calling card, a literal playing card, The Joker.
You just got a call from headquarters. Your newest protege, Jason Todd, was just found in the rubble of an explosion. He had just met his biological mother, and in her dying words, describes the brutal onslaught Mr Todd received at the hands of this Joker, with a crowbar no less. His vain final efforts to save his mother sends you over the edge. Handler or not, you vow to bring the Terroristic psychopath to Justice. Not as a shining Knight, but a dark one | 2021-02-08T07:56:41 | 2021-02-08T07:47:28 | 241 | 36 |
[WP] Olympic athletes are chosen by lottery so countries are encouraged to increase the average athleticism of their citizens and not just elite athletes. You were just selected.
this was a post on /r/CrazyIdeas. I thought it would make an excellent prompt. | The letter came. It actually came.
Right there at the top of the cream coloured envelope were the logos for the IOC and the Government of Canada. My hands shook. Everyone knew someone who knew someone who had become an everyday Olympian, but it was actually happening to **me**.
Most people were terrified they'd be selected but I was ready. Like any good Canadian I'd learned to skate when I was still learning to walk. I lived and breathed sports. I trained year round. Growing up in British Columbia, in the heart of the Rockies, I had been forged by the land itself. No hill was too steep. No course was too long. I could hang with the best of them across the sports. Hell I even learned how to curl. I was ready.
I couldn't help but smile as I tore open the envelope. Whatever was there, I was ready. In my heart, I knew it. My eyes raced across the page and as they did the smile slipped from my lips and I reeled like I'd been gut punched. The papers slipped my hand to the fresh, morning snow.
"CONGRATULATIONS!" they read, "You have been selected to represent Canada at the 2024 Olympic Summer Games!" | "With the final selection in the 2030 USA draft, Team USA selects..."
The crowd held their breath as the pick was called, as the team so far was absolute trash and they needed someone who could save them.
"Donald Trump"
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" the crowd roared as the 83 year old stepped up onto the stage.
"We are going to make this team great again!" Trump said into the mic holding onto a cane.
As the days passed the hype began, the teams were all trash except for Canada who had the 36 year old Justin Bieber.
| 2017-02-24T11:57:34 | 2017-02-24T07:01:11 | 58 | 17 |
[WP] God forgot about Earth soon after Adam and Eve, fully expecting them to die. One of the Angels just informed him they survived, and the population is over 7 billion. | "What do you mean it's unavailable for colonization?"
"Well, that's just it -- it appears it's already been colonized."
"By who?!"
"Us."
"What do you mean US?"
"Ok. You remember Adam and Eve?"
"The criminals? We exiled them on a prison planet didn't we?"
"Actually, he was the criminal, she went with him because--"
"Oh yeah yeah. I remember now. All that drama where she said she'd eat the apple too and die with him because love is the greatest--"
"The point is--"
"You always liked her. Still broken up about it aren't you?"
"They survived."
"The poison didn't work? They're still there? WOW. What does isolation like that DO to somebody? Are they--"
"LISTEN. The poison worked. They died, but they had kids. And the kids had kids. And all of them kept dying in under a century. The alteration passed through to all of them."
"So what are you saying? We have a group of feral, DNA-damaged children out there that we're going to need to reprocess through therapy before we can --"
"There are 7 billion of them."
"SHE HAD SEVEN BILLION CHILDREN?!"
"Did you hear me? Their lifespan was cut down less than a century. Each generation had more kids. It's been thousands of years, God. The multiples--"
"ADAM! That guy. Such an asshole. Never one for family planning, always with the enabling women. Who has kids on a prison planet with a DNA-destructor--"
"Listen. The descendants... they talk about you. They say they are the children of God. That their lives are all crap because Eve tricked Adam into eating an apple way back when, and if they all are very good, and they believe in your son Jesus, they'll be forgiven and--"
"STOP. Stop stop stop. This is a nightmare. So social services has already been down there?"
"Just Jesus. He's always been on your side, he was trying to clean the mess up before it got even more out of hand--"
"Grade 10 psychological intervention--"
"Yeah, they straight up tried to murder him."
"Crap."
"He didn't know what to do. It's not like we can get our hands on something to gas them all. And there's too many to re-process."
"Does anyone else know?"
"Just us and Jesus. But it's in the next round of selections for colonization, and when the scout ships get there--"
"Crap."
"I'm sure they'll understand--"
"No, no they won't. They understaff the justice department, don't give us enough patrols to check up on these places, and when something like this happens, what are they going to do? Point the finger, shuck us all off to other prison planets. And then--"
"So what do we do?"
"What do you think? We get the red tape on our side. Push it out of the selections entirely."
"But what about all those kids?"
"I don't know. They'll have to figure it out on their own. Dammit, Adam. What an ass." | "Medamnit. Medamnit. Medamnit!"
A figure that was neither male or female watched as a larger figure moved across the room pacing, "My Lord? What's the matter? Is there a problem with Project 101010?"
The pacing figure turned toward the questioner and stared with an expression of contempt, "A problem? No, no problem at all. I made that rock to hold lizard-birds, only to find out the hairless monkeys evolved and took over. To find out they have several books about Me and My promised land. To find out that one of my former Generals went down in their form and convinced them I looked like them and loved them all by performing the simplest magic tricks. Yes! It's is a major problem!" The imposing figure placed a hand over their face to think for a few moments. "You said 7 billion, a 7 followed by nine zeros, right?"
"Yes my Lord."
"Are my lizard-birds still there?"
"Not in the form You left them," the smaller figure waves his arms to show several bird and lizard species, "but there are traces of them in a sense."
The larger figure waves the image away and replaces with an image of germs, "I created these to keep the apes in check, but they somehow found ways around it by heating what they eat and then letting it cool. Very clever. Perhap-" The figure stops as another entity enters the room, beaming with joy, "What do you have to report?"
The joyful entity twirls around and waves images of the polar ice caps into view, "My Lord, You made an extra fail safe here that worked too well in Project 1101, if the rock gets too hot it floods, but You changed it here so it wouldn't happen on its own for a very long time."
"The point?"
"The inhabitants are speeding the process up on their own. A good deal realize the issue but many either don't or don't care as it will not affect them personally. There is no need for You to do anything to get rid of them as they will do it for You by the time You wake up from Your next slumber."
The pain of losing lizard-birds and having created such an invasive pest suddenly drained from the larger figure's face, "Then, perhaps I should eat My dinner and go to bed, it is getting rather late. I think I'll wake up in about thirty thousand of their *years* and check if that fail safe took care of them, otherwise I am going to *improve* my original designs of these pathogens." | 2016-03-07T07:37:11 | 2016-03-07T06:21:45 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] A new makeup hits the market. When applied, it makes you the most beautiful woman imaginable...but every application takes one day from your life. | She looked resentfully at the creature in the mirror. A wrinkled impostor glared back at her. *Who are you?* it mouthed. She would have cried, but she had long since trained herself not to -- makeup would run, and *that* couldn't possibly happen. When she felt tears coming on she would pinch her left arm. Her grip was that of iron pincers and the small patch of skin was marked with tiny red dots where a dozen blood vessels had burst.
She took the foundation brush in one trembling hand, clutching it hard. She *needed* it. She had a date tonight and her skin was disgustingly imperfect. She couldn't look like this - not for a man, and most certainly not *today*. It was expected of her. Everyone looked perfect these days; everyone but the *freaks*.
She thought for a moment of her mother. Even the *thought* ashamed her.
There were expectations. There always had been, long before *the* makeup had been formulated. Besides, she reasoned, looking perfect made her feel happy. She began applying the foundation, and as she did so a pain screamed through her veins.
It passed. As it always did. She held one arm in the other, trying desperately to control the violent tremors. She finished the foundation and applied the eye liner, mascara and a dozen other variants of face paint.
An hour later she looked in the mirror and finally saw herself; the beautiful being that lived within the cursed, flawed body. She practised her smile. Only her lips moved. It was perfect. *She* was perfect.
---
There was no answer when he rang the doorbell. After a few minutes he left, discarding the flowers he had bought for her into the dirt by the side of the house.
It was two days before her mother found her. She saw the wilting flowers before she entered the house. As she opened the bedroom door, a *Happy Thirtieth* card floated carelessly off of a table and down to the floor. Her daughter lay by the mirror like a fairy-tale princess. As perfect in death as she had been in life.
---
/r/nickofnight
| *Burlesque music opens the scene of an empty bedroom*
Announcer: Maybe she's....
Announcer: Maybe she's....
Announcer: Maybe she's... irresistible.
*Music builds and ends with the sound of a woman groaning. Up-tempo, catwalk music begins to play as supermodel Faux Fayce enters the bedroom twirling happily in her bathrobe. The camera zooms up to her face. She looks stunning.*
Faux Fayce: In a pinch?
*Faux Fayce winks and a cymbal sound is played.*
Faux Fayce: Well, no more. With Beauty Make Eternal, you don't need to spend those hours to look perfect.
*Camera changes and Faux turns her head to face it.*
Faux Fayce: Because you're already perfect. All you need is a pinch!
*Faux winks and scene cuts to a fine-dining restaurant where Faux is having dinner and laughing with four male supermodels. The announcer quickly rushes through his last lines.*
Announcer: Product not intended for everyday use. Side effects may include, dry skin, swelling, wrinkling, loss of lifespan and looking absolutely fabulous. Try today!
*Faux turns away from her dinner guests and looks into the camera.*
Faux Fayce: Who knew everlasting beauty could be so easy? And the best part is... the main side effect is happiness!
*She's turns away from the camera again, laughing as the scene fades to white. The Beauty Make logo shines against the white background.* | 2017-01-16T06:37:47 | 2017-01-16T06:28:23 | 54 | 14 |
[WP] When the police came to announce you the death of your husband, you refused to believe it. "That's impossible", you said. "Unfortunately, it's the truth, miss", answered the policemen. "It's impossible", you said again, "because he's in the kitchen making dinner." | A knock rang out on the door. Mrs. Patterson put down the dish filled with fresh pasta and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel as she walked towards the front door. She was greeted by two police officers who had removed their hats and were looking on solemnly. The officer to her left spoke, “Ma'am, my name is Officer Chadley. I’m afraid we have some bad news regarding your husband.”
Mrs. Patterson entered a small confused trance before speaking, “OK, what is the problem?”
The officer to her right picked up her hand and held it tight. “I’m afraid he was found dead at 1400 hours today. I’m so sorry,” said Officer Maddocks.
Mrs. Patterson re-entered her confused state, turning around to look in to the kitchen before turning back towards the police officers. “This must be some kind of mistake. My husband is in the kitchen making pasta. We’re making pasta.”
“May we enter the premises, Ma'am?” asked Maddocks, already motioning to walk in to the house.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Patterson. “He’s right through there.”
Both of the police officers made their way quietly towards the kitchen before stopping at the door. Mr. Patterson stood wide-eyed, looking at the officers in a state of fright.
“Step away from the knife on the counter!” shouted Chadley.
Mr. Patterson remained frozen as the two officers approached him, guns drawn. Officer Maddocks pushed him to the ground while Chadley grabbed at his walkie-talkie.
“We’ve got another one,” said Chadley.
“What is going on?!” screamed Mrs. Patterson.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mrs. Patterson,” said Maddocks as he wrestled with her husband, “but this man isn’t your husband, he’s actually a big fuck off horse disguised as your husband.”
Maddocks ripped the wig, fake glasses and moustache from the face of the horse revealing his true identity to Mrs. Patterson. She shrieked and grasped for the nearest counter in a bid to stop herself from collapsing.
“H-h-h … How?!” she asked.
Officer Chadley gently approached her, wrapping an arm around her as she sobbed. “Don’t beat yourself up. The bastards are becoming sneakier as days go by. Somehow they’re able to disguise their monstrous bodies and super obvious horse heads as 5ft 5 human men and women. It’s quite remarkable just how good they are at subterfuge. Especially considering it’s more often than not quite apparent they’re just big fuck off horses in disguise”
****
The phone rang out.
A large novelty hand attempted to pick it up. Then tried again. And again. Eventually, by clamping the phone between two novelty hands, the phone was answered.
“Yes, this is Don Horse. Just calm down. Yeah? OK. Call me back later on. Just call me back later on.”
An attempt was made to put the phone down.
Don Horse awkwardly walked out of his office, his legs being routinely caught between his beach shorts. He trotted in to a room filled with other oddly dressed men.
“Gentlemen, it would appear another one of us has fallen.”
“Who?” asked Carl, who was eating hay disguised as a cereal bar.
“Kevin Horse.”
“Kevin?!” said Lenny, stomping his feet. “He was 4 months deep with the Pattersons. How was he rumbled?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have all the details yet,” said Don Horse.
“This is one too many,” said Carl. “We’ve got to find out how they keep finding us.”
“Well, according to what we know from on the inside, the police are specifically on the lookout for big fuck off horses dressed as humans,” said Don Horse.
“But that’s absurd,” said Lenny. “Just look how convincing my costume is.”
Both Don Horse and Carl eyeballed Lenny. He was wearing a birthday party hat that was suspended around his head via an elastic band, a pair of suit pants over his front legs, a pair of jean shorts over his back legs, and a cape.
“I think Lenny has a point, Don,” said Carl.
“He really does, there’s no arguing with that,” agreed Don Horse, turning from his two friends. “And while we’re on the subject, what do you think of my new beach shorts?”
“I noticed them before and thought they were very classy,” said Lenny.
“Classy is exactly what I’m going for,” said Don Horse. “I don’t want to stand out at the beach and for everyone to be like, *look at that big fucking massive horse masquerading as human*, I just want to blend in and play volley ball while aggressively fighting all my natural instincts to bite the ball.”
“I always bite the ball,” said Carl.
“He really does bite it a lot. Too much, if I’m being honest,” said Lenny.
“I’ve ruined a lot of game and disguises if we’re being real,” said Carl.
The door to the office burst open, a horse with a top hat and a monocle galloped in.
“Boys, we’ve done it! Tim Horse has infiltrated the police!”
****
Sergeant Palmer stood at the head of the room with tables of officers in front of him. He paced back and forth before slamming his hand on the chalk board behind him.
“Gentleman!” he shouted, peeling his hand from the board. “I’m not sure if you lot have noticed but we have an epidemic of horses masquerading at humans. In fact, I say this super sarcastically as I know you have all noticed. I’m funny like that. Either way, they’re fucking massive animals. True beasts of nature able to carry man from one side of a county to another. Do sweet hind legged stand up things and gallop super quickly. But now they’re wearing ties and blogging on YouTube and we can’t have that. The horses have gone too far.”
The Sergeant bent over the desk at the front of the room, burying his eyes in the skull of the young officer in front of him.
“Do you want to hear a story, rookie?” asked the Sergeant.
“Y-y-yes, sir,” mumbled the officer.
“Yesterday afternoon a young mother went to pick up her child from Day Care only to discover her beloved daughter had grown eight feet long and now weighed 1500 pounds,” said Palmer, staring deep in to the man’s soul.
The rookie sat shaking in his chair.
“Only it wasn’t her daughter, rookie. It was a big fuck off horse. Just a big old fuck off horse.”
The Sergeant whirled away from the table, “and this is why we need to shake things up, gentleman. We can't just go around looking for horses wearing cool top hats. The top hat tactic can only take us so far."
The room of officers nodded along, agreeing with Sergeant Palmer.
"And that's why we're bringing in a specialist. Someone who can infiltrate the enemy camp and strike at the heart."
The sound of the door opening at the back of the room caught the attention of all the seated officers.
"Say hello to Agent Tim," said Sergeant Palmer.
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.
| "I know its hard ma'am, but we found his dead body today on a construction site."
The young detective and her 2 police officers seemed dead serious.
"No! I mean he is standing in the kitchen right now cooking some soup for dinner."
"Well, that seems odd. May we enter and to ask you some questions?"
I just nodded. This entire day was strange. This morning somebody called and asked for my husband. Judging from accent, the caller must have been either german or austrian. But Sam never had any friends from oversea. And after lunch there was this noise. Like someone was building something in the neighbourhood. Only that everyone exept us was on vacation.
I let them enter and sit down in the living room. My husband came out of the kitchen with that blue appron I bought him last week.
"Darling? Whats going on?"
"Sam, these police officers said that they found YOUR dead body today. They just have a few questions."
He seemed just as confused as I am.
"Well, why not. Do you want something to drink detective..."
"Gardner, these are officers Crown and Miller. And yes, a glas of water for each of us would be nice."
He brought a carafe with water and several glasses from the kitchen and sat down with us.
"Sir, how long have you been living here with Mrs. Steiner?"
"3 years already. It still seems like yesterday since we moved together."
"Do you have any relatives?"
"No, my father was the last family member and he died 6 years ago."
"Mrs. Steiner, what about you?"
"My parents are still living in Chicago. And I have a older brother but...."
"Well?"
"He is in a witness protection program. I'm not supposed to talk about him."
"I understand. We will check this afterwards. Now, was there anything in the past that could explain the body of the, obviously perfectly healthy, Mr. Steiner?"
I had to think for a moment.
"My husband had a accident 2 years back. He was in a coma for a week. But I visited him every day till he woke up."
"I see. Mr. and Mrs. Steiner, I have to ask you to come with us. We need to make a DNA test to be absoluetely sure."
"But why? I'm right here, you can see that!"
"Sir, its just for you own safety."
Gardner reached into the pocket of her jacket. Sam just sighed and drank a sip from his glas.
And then slinged it against Gardners head. She fell down backwards from her chair. Sam then grabbed a pen from the desk and rammed it into Crowns neck, who stumbled back in complete confusion while holding his throat. Miller tried to stand up and pull out his gun, but Sam charged him and slammed his head against the wall. Over and over again till the wall was covered in blood and pieces of bone and brain matter. He then calmly stood up and crushed Crowns neck with a stomp.
I couldn't believe what I just saw. The tender and understanding husband I loved was no more. Instead a blood thirsty monster with the eyes of a predator looked at me.
I screamed and tried to get away from that blood covered lunatic. But he grabbed my legs and brought me down before knocking me out.
When I woke up again, I was cuffed to a chair in our basement. Detective gardner was bound to a chair in front of me.
And there it was again, the noise like someone would use a hammer to crack something open. Only that it was very close this time. I turned my head and saw Sam breaking a concrete wall.
"Look who is awake again. Had some sweet dreams darling?"
"S-Sam? What are you doing?
"Just getting some gear."
He reached into the hole in the wall and grabbed a large black suitcase. Detective Gardner also woke up.
"And now we are complete, great!"
He brought a laptop and a foldable desk and put both in front of Gardner.
"Detective, I am aware that you are one of the few people in this town having access to some of the classified data about the brother of my wife. But in order to view them I need a code. If you would be so friendly..."
Detective Garner spit him in the face.
"If you think I wou..."
Sam just wiped the spit from his face and then forced a towel down her throat. He then grabbed a old car battery and connected the jumper cables to the detdective.
She started twichting, her muffled screams filling the room.
Same then took off the cable and removed the improvised gag.
"How about now?"
"Fuck you!"
He put the gag back in and repeated the procedure while whistling the american national anthem.
"It could be so easy. We dont have to do this detective. Now for the code please."
He removed the towel. Gardner seemed to comply.
"5..8..M..s..1..."
"Thank you, was it so hard?"
Sam gave her a pat on the head and the entered the code in the laptop. He spend a minute reading the file while the smile on his face became bigger.
"How the stars align... It seems your brother is visiting the neighbouring town tomorrow. I think I will pay him a visit."
Tears ran down my cheecks. I now realized that he was only interested in my brother. I tried to deny it to this point, but now I had no choice but to accept the fact.
"Oh....don't cry darling. I never loved you. In fact, everything was played. And it was fucking awful. Your so called cooking managed to even kill the ingredients a 2. tme. Your meatloaf would be greasy on the outside and fucking raaaaaw in the inside all the time. So disgusting even a starving african child would rather face death than eating this shit. Even the fucking sex in our played relationship was awful. Every fucking time we had sex you would start crying and screaming when I picked up the pace. And on top of that I wasted 3 fucking years trying to reach your brother over you. And now I get the chance but now from you, but from a detective with too many administrative rights who just so happened to discover a mistake I made. But now this ends and I can finally finish my assignment. By the way. They didn't found my body. It was the body of my useless twin brother. That twat always wanted a calm life like this. I killed him because I could never stand him and because you were stupid enough not to notice any difference."
Sam grabbed the suitcase and forced the towel in both mine and Gardners mouth.
"Now if you would excuse me, I have a job to do. Don't worry, I won't kill you, I still have a use for you 2."
| 2017-10-10T06:09:52 | 2017-10-10T05:53:19 | 559 | 27 |
[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 Omar,
I know, I know. The last thing you wanted was your obituary to read "...an Oakland Man." I was telling some of my other friends that despite the fact we'd only been close friends for something like a couple years, you were someone that I would've wanted in the groom's party when I eventually got married. I don't share feelings easily, but with you it always felt okay.
I've moved to LA. I left Rdio that October. You'll be happy to know that Darrell and Raquel have bought my old place. They actually stay in the room you were in; they've converted the master bedroom to a gym.
Oh right! I finally went to Coachella. Your father had expressed to me, with tears in his eyes, how happy you seemed from all of the pictures you'd taken on your phone. I couldn't stop thinking of you and how you were always so easy with everyone. Totally understand what you loved about the music festival scene, now that I've gotten a few under my belt.
I try to live my life the way you did: always enjoying the moment, truly! These days I also chastise people for texting while driving. I have to confess to checking my phone at lights, sometimes. The traffic is just so bad here.
Oh! Also, I don't know if you know this happened, but your brother, or was it a cousin? He got super proselytizy at your memorial service, and left a small stack of pocket bibles for everyone. Your father kind of yelled at him to stop after a little while... it was kind of awkward.
I had to unfriend you on Facebook, sorry about that. Someone in your family had taken to using your phone, and hadn't deleted messenger, so it would show you as online, and after a while I just couldn't take it any more.
I think that's it... Every year, around that time in April, memories come up; you were such a brilliant light in our lives, and we miss you, and will continue to miss you.
Your friend always,
kevin | Hey kiddo. It's been too long since I've seen you. It's crushing to carry this weight some time. I'm really trying to show you that you can grow up and accomplish anything but it's manifesting in me leaving you behind. Your mom and I weren't right. She will forever hate me for it but I needed to do this for my happiness. You'll learn one day that everything comes at a price, and I've paid a huge one in losing you. There's this part of me that hopes one day you'll understand. There's also a part of me that knows you might grow up and feel abandoned and alone and lacking a male influence in your life, find the first shitty guy that comes along and fall in love with him because you never knew what love from a man is supposed to look like. I made so many huge mistakes. I just was trying to be more. I grew up with nothing and I was determined to make sure you never had to live like that. Your mom thinks I'm selfish and only care about myself. Somehow it always felt like I was doing it for you. So you could see. You can start with nothing and still achieve your dreams. You can be anything. I hope one day you see that I never stopped loving you. I just wasn't happy with your mom and someone else made me feel the way I was supposed to feel. I hope when you are given the choice, you choose happiness. I love you and I miss you. Please don't hate me. | 2017-11-05T22:20:06 | 2017-11-05T22:18:21 | 78 | 14 |
[WP]: Intergalactic olympics are gathering. All creeds and cultures of the galaxy are arriving and greeting each other. Suddenly a fleet of spaceships appears, blasting We Will Rock You. Everyone freezes. The humans are here. | The space fleet arrived in its vast numbers, firing off smoke of a variety of colors to symbolize each of the athletes countries flags from each shit, blasting what was known to be their Queens song which only grew louder as they approached the ceremonial landing space.
This was the human races first time here, and they were making history with the impression they gave off. Then again, the human race had proved to be somewhat erratic since it joined the UG (United Galaxys), with its constant ignorance of other beings cultures and ways. Which is odd for a planet so diverse in its beliefs and customs. This was made all the more clear when a representative asked the Clanaxy to shake its five fingered hand, an act which is of the highest of disrespect in Clanaxy culture. Its akin in human culture to propose someone to violate their own mother and father a child. That inter-galactic war was thankfully averted.
This though, filled the other contestants with a sense of fear. Were the humans coming to war? Why were they so confident in their abilities? What kind of monsters did their people send to this legendary game to inspire such a display? The Pherrally contestants were all wetting themselves in fear as the airlocks opened and the athletes stepped off the ships.
Out from the doors of the ships, stepped men and women adorned in the colors their ships poured out. While there was only two to a ship, despite the ships overwhelming size, the humans insisted that each representatives countries were to be showcased. Unlike other races, who just sent a contestant for the events they believed they could succeed in, the humans entered every event. Even ones they never heard of. Example of which being the Scottish athlete who entered the most revolting sound event, for some reason.
The funny thing about their race, is that they refuse to take any substances that might improve performance, like so many of the other races do. When asked why, their Athletes merely replied that none of them had ever failed a test in their lives and swore they wouldnt dream of taking any. They are making history by being the only race in the history of these games to NOT use any enhancing drugs. They truly are a strange and scary race, despite their small stature as both a planet and a race. The song had ended as all the athletes left their ships adorned in their countries flags, looking like warriors ready for battle. | To Glibs we glued their ship doors shut,
and then in track passed their slow strut,
We won and drank pabst behind their moon
and threw our cans till half passed noon.
Then galactic patrol had told us to stop
so we flew so fast their splooters dropped.
To Jorni Trali's respectful race,
we'd never spit into her face.
Instead we sent our donkey Jim,
to show her good times filled with vim.
The Trali fishes we can't outpace
they threw that shit right at our face -
they pulled poor Jim into their ship
and sent him spinning atop their blimp.
We mourned old Jim but not for long,
It was time for archery to stomp the Clongs.
We sent old Ellison's children's brood
with a recurve bow with a curve like the moon.
Old Ellison's children's grandson's kid
aimed 40 pecs passed the coil and missed
but shooting Vibrilum up at the stars
feels way too different from Earth on Mars.
Thank god we froze Tony Yoka's fists,
cuz Venus has this sport called Tris,
old Tony's hands slapped that volcano good,
beat waggly armed Tris Dzeri Wohd.
It sucks tho man on the way back home,
them Glibs got pissed left one last troll -
it went to our ships panel while we slept
and made us list so far to the left.
Now we've got 5 more years till home,
and our beers are fuckin almost gone,
but that's alright the troll seems cool,
we gave him Donkey's stable room. | 2018-04-28T10:19:35 | 2018-04-28T08:40:01 | 50 | 24 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I've seen the numbers since I was a little girl. I remember my father losing his job, rising from a 4 to a 5. I remember watching my grandmother slowly dwindle down to a 0. At first I thought I was going crazy, not realizing what they meant. I eventually caught on. The numbers were a person's ultimate quantifier, broadcasting how dangerous they were to those around them. Broadcasting, at least, to me.
Most people stayed below a 6. Doctors usually hovered around 7; politicians were a solid 8. The highest I had ever seen were in old videos of Hitler, who was a 9. That is, until Junior year, when I met him.
He seemed harmless enough at first. Perfect hair, gorgeous eyes, and a jawline to die for. Not to mention that everybody loved him. But the bold '10' that hovered above his head was plenty enough to convince me not to go near him. Sure, I watched him. Some might even say I was obsessed. But all I was doing was making sure he wasn't a psychopath. I started skipping class to check on him. My grades dropped an entire letter. I didn't care, though. I wanted to see what made him so special.
I nearly threw up when he saw me in the cafeteria, and I really did when he got up to talk to me. He didn't seem to notice, and asked me if he could sit with me.
"Sure, I- I guess." I stammered. A smile spread across his face, and we struck up a conversation. My heart was playing a drum solo into my chest, but I managed to live to the end of the break. Hell, he even asked for my number, which I promptly gave. We had lunch that weekend.
It's only now, ten years later, that I realize what makes this boy so special. Only now that I find out why he's such a danger to me. Only now, as he drops to one knee.
It's because I love him.
| My own number always bothered me. A 1, seriously? Luckily nobody else sees numbers or they would think I was nothing but a big laugh.
And I couldn't use another reason to be laughed at, you know. Being in high school is already torture enough, and I'm being bullied enough as it is.
Normally the day starts off getting yelled at by this awfully charismatic young man who believes he's tough. He's a 2. Yes, more dangerous than I am, true, but his sweet bimbo girlfriend is a 5. He doesn't bother me too much, the others do. The sixes and the sevens. They bother me.
They just LOVE to yell at me, take my lunch money, lock me in the toiletstall and push me down. You know, classic stuff.
Today, they actually pushed my head in the toilet bowl, 5 of them, ranging from the common 5 to the less common 7.
I nearly drowned in there. I heard hem laughing. I felt their hands on my back, pushing hand pushing.
When I got home I washed my face over the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. Rarely do numbers ever change, but there you go - a solid 10.
Calmly I dried of my face, glancing at my newly achieved number in the mirror.
They've pushed too far this time. See you at school, sevens. | 2014-11-29T14:43:43 | 2014-11-29T14:33:38 | 295 | 19 |
[WP] When you’re 28, science discovers a drug that stops all effects of aging, creating immortality. Your government decides to give the drug to all citizens under 26, but you and the rest of the “Lost Generations” are deemed too high-risk. When you’re 85, the side effects are finally discovered. | The immortals are crumbling like dry leaves.
I watch one as I leave Marge's Cafe with my usual paper cup of coffee. There is a woman standing on the opposite street corner in a trench coat, her hair sleek black, her face as faultless as fine china.
And all it takes is a harsh wind.
She falls away in tiny pieces. Her hands claw helplessly at her disintegrating belly with fingers whose flesh sloughes off in sheets like wet paper. She reaches for her face, but then that too clouds up into dust and is gone. Her scream starts and dies in her throat.
And just like that, she smacks down like a broken puppet. A near-instant death, and still it doesn't seem fast enough.
Her scream keeps echoing in the back of my mind. I think it will always be there, waiting for me, when the world grows quiet enough for me to hear her once more.
Like any decent human would, I stick around for EMS. I call and call, but I can't get through to 911. Someone happening by stops over the body, kicking up clouds of this woman's dust. The woman looks to be my age, one of the lost, one of the few humans left doomed to die.
She sighs through her teeth. "Bad luck, the lot of them."
I stare at her. "What do you mean?"
"Turns out us Lost will be last after all." She winks, like we share a kind of secret just by being born on the wrong side of the cut-off for immortality. As if there's any real camaraderie in our Lost Generation. "The immortals are all just... vanishing. It's on the news, dearie."
And then she keeps on walking, as though we were only chatting about the weather.
It's early still. The cool morning air is so placid and peaceful, her words impossible on a morning as bright and sunny as this. As if death could not happen under such a perfect blue sky.
I run to the car. It has been a while, since I ran. Decades, at least.
My wife still runs. She's always teasing me, calls me an old man as she pecks a good morning kiss to my lips. Slaps my aching knees and says, "That's your penance for being born too early."
And I always laugh at her and say, "Hey, I know I won't be the one dying alone." Half a joke, really. Always dancing around the inevitable and morbid reality: I would end, and she would keep on going. With any luck, it would be forever. We had both made our peace with that.
The radio is buzzing, mad. It's already all over the news. There's some scientist babbling about dew point, the relative wetness of the air.
"As the world gets hotter and hotter, and the air gets drier and drier, it appears that the cells lose their stability and their ability to maintain struc--"
I flip the radio off. And I drive like hell.
Panic drives me forward like a thing possessed. I throw my coffee out the window and veer through still-empty streets back to my home, where my wife should still be lying in bed, just about to roll up and face the dawn. She will open the window and listen to the birds convince her to rise and make a cup of tea.
In my mind, she looks as lovely as the day we married. She makes the deep ruts of my skin seem like valleys, but she still palms my cheeks in her hands and tells me every day, *I love you, Mr. Weston,* and I smile back and say, *I don't know why, Mrs. Weston.*
But when I get there, the window is shut. The bed is as empty as the rest of the house. I call and call and scream for her, but the house answers back with nothing but silence.
So I go to the bed where this morning she lay curled like a question mark beside me. I had kissed her shoulder and slipped out as soundlessly as an eighty-year-old-man wearing every weight of his age could hope.
I lift back the blanket.
There awaits me only bones and so much ash. I try to scoop her up in my palms but she is nothing but wind and air.
And I am suddenly, impossibly alone.
***
/r/shoringupfragments
| The vWall in my apartment flickered to life, a flash immediately appearing to signal an emergency bulletin.
I stopped gumming my sandwich long enough to hit the mute button before that fucking baby President Burris started talking. They all looked like babies to me. It'd been long enough that I couldn't remember being that young, feeling that young. It made it hard to empathize with all of the pomp and circumstance of the office of the presidency when a kid was gabbing at you.
Was I bitter? Sure. Maybe a little. But still. Fucking babies.
I heard he was on the high end of pill\-kids. Maybe only a few years younger than me, though he didn't look it. I watched him for a few moments, taking a bit of amusement in the pulsing vein in his forehead while my finger hovered over the unmute button. He was looking particularly distressed today. Must be hard having everlasting life.
Probably an update on that volcano rolling through Hawaii for the last sixty years. Heaven to hell in under a century.
A chiron scrolled across the bottom, blaring "EMERGENCY: VITA26 DEFECTS."
Well, that was new. My finger pressed the unmute and I took a bite of my ham and cheese as Burris squeaky kid voice emitted from the vWall.
"\-\-drastic ramifications for the health of our society. We currently have no estimation on what it will take to rectify the situation as all genetic manipulations have become inert in V26 takers."
My jaw slowly hung open, a half ground piece of ham plopping out onto my plate. What was that? I wave my hand in front of the vWall, rewinding the message by a minute.
"Current studies produced by our Department of Health, the United Nations and the Chinese Ministry of People have all reached the same conclusion: V26 has a detrimental side effect. The side effect was not originally discovered since longitudinal surveys only encompassed 10 year periods. Initial signs manifest approximately fifty years with a rate of deterioration varying based on genetic composition."
What the hell was he going on about? What critical side effect?
"We have tried a vast cross section of remedies with no solutions in sight. Clearly, this has drastic ramifications for the Department of Health. We currently have no estimation on what it will take to rectify the situation as all genetic manipulations have become inert in V26 takers."
Ok, I got that part, which was alarming in and of itself. Gene\-therapy, ever since CRISPR has been the hallmark of modern civilization. I was old, but I wasn't dying. I had another thirty or forty left in me thanks to gene therapy.
"To repeat, people exhibiting the symptoms of V26 degradation are to be considered EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. If you see someone exhibiting these signs, you are to call the number appearing on your screen."
Burris was reduced to a small picture\-in\-picture in the corner, with a large graphic appearing. On top there was a CDC number for those showing V26 Syndrome. Below, the symptoms were listed out.
*Deterioration in higher mental reasoning.*
*Deterioration in physical coordination.*
*Extreme violence.*
*Cannibalism.*
Fucking cannibalism? This shit got real in a hurry. Wait a second. My eyes scanned down through the list of symptoms again. This was all sounding a bit too familiar, like those old scary movies from my youth.
Zombies. They were all turning in to zombies.
Shit. The old guy never lives in zombie movies.
**Platypus out.**
**Want more peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2018-06-04T21:14:04 | 2018-06-04T21:03:55 | 10,660 | 1,108 |
[WP] You probably should have thought it through before you accepted those magical items. Now you’re stuck with a bloodthirsty sword, an overprotective shield, cowardly boots and an arrogant spellbook.
Edit:~~apparently I have “2” comments, but I only see the automatic one. How does that even happen~~thanks for the explanations!
Edit 2: did not expect this to blow up the way it did. Thanks to anonymous for the gold award! | I remember thinking to myself, ‘I can’t believe he didn’t want paying for these. He almost seemed glad to be rid of them.’ You see, I had taken myself deep into the marshes after a disastrous dinner with my wife’s parents. From the beginning, the evening had been marked with tense undertones as Bill, my father-in-law, had chosen a delightful tavern called The Witches Foot with a single menu option; stew. Believe me, stew was an incredible compliment for the horrendous broth that offended most of my five senses. To begin with I had stormed beyond the town’s earthen walls in anger after a tremendous argument, marched into the marshes with discontent and then strolled deeper with thoughtlessness. This was when I happened upon him.
“Greetings traveller, from where do you travel” uttered the apparent hermit.
To be honest he had snuck up on me, disturbing my internal monologue, and his abhorrent face only sought to deepen my astonishment.
“From Bywater” I replied having recollected myself.
“Ah yes. Bywater. By the water. Indeed” he seemed deep in thought about something. “I say, you look like the heroic type. Very strong, proud-looking and a dash handsome if I might say so.”
I wasn’t sure how to react to the compliments. Especially from a strange man in the middle of nowhere. “Thanks, erm, you too”.
What? ‘You too’. Jesus man pull yourself together.
“Come into my home, please let me make you some salt tea.” He beckoned.
I wasn’t sure if it was the alluring offer of salt tea, the unprovoked compliments, his enchanting aroma or the fact that his ‘home’ was in fact no more than a pile of twigs that led me to accept; but accept I did.
“I like what you’ve done with the place” I said, kicking a toad from my path. We had entered into what I deduced was his entrance hall, kitchen, dining room and bathroom.
He pushed some cloudy, lukewarm beverage into my hand. I did my best not to address it.
“I have a gift for you” He started. He pulled the shiniest sword I had seen in my life from a pile of rags. I was startled and dropped my tea. “No, no please don’t be afraid! It is a gift!” He approached me, offering the sword hilt-first. I took it. I felt the power surging through my arm, into my chest. “And please, take this". He handed me a shield, again, shiny, just like the sword. Strapped to the back of the shield was an ancient book which neither of us acknowledged. It was all I could do to juggle these items. “Please sit down” he said whilst fussing over me and almost forcing me to sit on a throne of branches. He started taking off my boots and slipping on different ones. There wasn’t much I could do as I laboured with the other items he had thrust upon me. I wasn’t exactly going to stab the fellow. “There!” he said with what seemed like relief. “It has been wonderful having you here, you have been delightful company!” Next thing I knew, I was being manhandled out of his wonderful abode. "Goodbye!" he said, disappearing.
So there I stood. Confused, and considerably better off than I had been just minutes before. ‘Imagine how much these items would fetch at the market in Hilltown’ I thought to myself. ‘Elena may even forgive me for running away from dinner!’ So, I ran. I ran to find the nearest highway that lead back to Bywater. Hilltown was many miles away and was a trip for another day. The sun must've been almost beyond the horizon and a dusky mist had settled upon the marsh. By the time I found the road it was dark. Despite my new weapons, I’m not the bravest of fellows so I hastened, eager to get back to my home. That was when the bandits emerged from behind the trees. They were awfully frightful and set upon me almost immediately.
My feet began to twitch but of no volition of their own. I felt my feet being moved, forcefully, back the way I came and away from the new threat so I didn’t resist. I began to run with the greatest of ease, quicker than I had run before in my life. The bandits were hot on my trail, at least four of them that I could see. All of a sudden, my sword pulled my entire body back towards the bandits, despite my feet demanding the opposite. The blade thrust itself at the closest bandit and narrowly missed his throat. Still my feet tried to escape, leaving me unbalanced and trying to find harmony between two forces. A glint of light from another of the bandits caught my eye. My shield lifted effortlessly to deflect a throwing axe. That was when the ancient book, strapped to the back of my shield began to glow a deep, rich purple. In an instant, it exploded in a fantastic display of light and sound, causing me to fall to my backside, dazed. I sat and watched as the lights danced and swayed, twirled and fizzled in a wonderful display of colour. All of us watched in fascination. The light show ended with a climactic bang and I almost burst into applause. The criminals looked at each other, confused for a second, then advanced on me with a new determination.
My shield pulled me to my feet, covering my torso. My sword brandished itself as a fierce and threatening point. My book of magic glowed a multitude of colours. My feet twitched and shook. All I could think was one thing.
‘Never will I eat at The Witches Foot again.’ | I was crouched in the corner of my living room, plugging my ears with fingers, trying to escape their noise. I hadn't used them since the month I'd got em and now they wouldn't shut up about it. Whispers, man, the fucking whispers won't stop, whispers coming out of nowhere and everywhere at once, asking me to murder *this* demon or cast *that* spell of destruction. But I know where they're coming from, who's planting these urges in me.
*^(slaaayyy the demon Azareth....)*
*^(RUN, RUN NOW, THE UNDEAD ARE UPON YOU...)*
*^(Speeaaak, speak the name of Ulathril, summoon the typhoon...)*
"FUCKING SHUT UP ALREADY," I shouted.
Silence. Peace. No more whispers.
Then,
*^(Garryyy, the fate of the world is upon you, use The Chosen Objects, save the realm...)*
Grunting and groaning, I stomped to the coffee table and flung off the Star Wars blanket I'd used to hide the magic items >!(Somehow I believed that the power of Sci-Fi would nullify the magic....stupid, stupid...). !< There they were. A blood-red sword >!(Was that real blood? I didn't want to know...Dried Mozzarella it is...)!<. A cracked silver shield. Beaten-up boots that looked stolen from the nearest Payless. And a leather-bound book.
"Okay. Okay," I began, desperate, nearly foaming at the mouth with anger. I hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. I hadn't been able to catch up on any of my favorite shows >!(7 fucking seasons of Game of Thrones, that 2nd season of WestWorld that I hear isn't very good but that i'll compulsively watch anyway)!< because these four objects had insisted on ridiculous burgeoning quests. "I got work in two hours. Two hours. That's all you get. That's it. After that, you're done. No more. I'll do whatever the hell it is you want me to for two hours."
*^(Garrrrryyyy, take The Ravager's sword, slay the demon Azareth, use Maven's shield to block Its fire, run on the boots of cowardly-swiftness to escape from the burgeoning rift in the realm, speak the name of Ulathtril's book and summon the typhoon that will cleanse the world.)*
The words seem to float from all the items together, all at once.
I thought about it for a moment. I'd been putting it off for weeks. I'd tried throwing the stupid things in a dumpster, but just like the guy from craigslist said, they'd just show up again when I wasn't looking. >!(Protip: don't accept quests from Craigslist -- even if you think it'll be a funny joke, EVEN if you think the black-hooded, pale-faced, ice-white eyed guy is just trolling you...the slight chance that he isn't will leave your head spinning).!<
I had to be in the office by 11am or else I'd lose my job for sure. Too much previous slacking that's accumulated over the years.
I sighed. But what choice did I have? >!(I only had a month or two until season 8 of Game Of Thrones, so I needed to get my life back).!<
"Okay." I said, "Okay, I'll do it."
I sheathed the sword in an old guitar bag I got from a garage sale, slipped on extra socks to fit into the boots, duck-taped a messenger-bag-style strap onto the shield and wrapped it around my back, then slipped the spell-book in a fanny pack. I was ready.
"Where do I go first?" I whispered when I was standing outside my SF apartment>!(If anyone else was around, watching me talk to myself, they'd think I was a madman).!<
The spell-book in my fanny-pack vibrated, and when I opened its pages an image of an abandoned office-building showed up in a page that was previously empty.
"Okay, actually, um, I think I know where that is." I paused. "Muni doesn't go that way, though."
The boots felt weird on my feet -- I was teetering back and forth and could barely walk in them. Could I really outrun a demon wearing these silly things?
I pulled out my phone and called an Uber.
When it came, I was surprised to find that the driver was wearing a dirty old cowl etched with strange symbols, was fully adorned in a suit of armor that didn't fit him well and looked absolutely awkward to sit and drive-in.
He looked me up and down before I got in the car.
"You too, huh?" He asked.
I nodded my head.
"Fuck man. Okay, let's just get this over with."
So the quest began. | 2019-02-02T12:36:51 | 2019-02-02T12:16:33 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] The ghost of a murdered Victorian woman haunts a group of college students, but as that group is a study group for Dr. Wolffer's notoriously difficult British History 414, they'll take all the help they can get. | Rashid began, "Well team, we studied hard for the first exam, aaaaand we all failed. What do we do now?"
Alicia responded, "Can we get him fired? Has he felt up any coeds? Said some racist stuff online?"
Imani laughed, "Like Dr. Wolffer's ever been on the internet. Have you seen his exams? He uses a typewriter and not in a hipster way. He's older than most of the buildings on campus. He's tenured and published, practically bulletproof."
Rashid countered, "So we just have to work harder. We are good at this. We've made A's in every History class since freshman year."
"He probably knows so much about Queen Victoria because he's old enough to have met her," laughed Alicia.
Brent burst into the room, "Guys, check out this old ass book I found in the stacks. It's full of weird Victorian sex stuff. Look at the size of it! Probably a hundred years old or more."
He placed the giant leather bound book on the table. It was massive.
Alicia asked, "Brent, what were you doing in the stacks? I dunno if I've ever touched a physical book in this library and we're seniors."
Brent replied, "I was looking for Dr. Wolffer's other books. Thought they might help us on the next exam. Of course, none of his books are online or ebook. Look at these old timey porn drawings. They might be woodcuts."
Imani rolled her eyes, "Brent, we don't have time for this. Unless Dr. Wolffer wrote this, you're not helping."
"Hmmm, he might have."
Brent opened the first page of the books, "I don't see an author. The book seems to be called, *surge spiritu.* "
The book glowed momentarily and there was a flash of light. A woman appeared in the study room. She wore old timey clothing and looked around in confusion.
She spoke in a posh British accent, "Hello, I assume you are scholars. You have summoned me to talk about the Queen?"
Alicia asked, "What? Summoned? Who are you?"
The woman said, " My name is Beatrice Willoughby. I was a handmaiden to Queen Victoria officially. Unofficially, I was her secretary and managed many of her affairs. Her Highness kept an occultist on her council. After her Highness passed, god rest her soul, the occultist pushed me down some stairs. A sacrifice for some dark art. Now my memories are bound to this book."
She moved to place her index finger on the book, but it passed through the cover in a black mist.
Beatrice spoke up, "My turn for questions. What year is it? Am I still in the college library?"
Rashid answered, "It's 2021. We are students studying history. Actually, you might be able to help us."
Beatrice looked around the room, "You're ALL scholars in college?"
The racially diverse group exchanged uncomfortable glances.
Imani broke the awkward silence, "Higher education is open to every one now. Regardless of race or gender."
Beatrice smiled at this, "Glad to hear it. I suppose most history books list me as "handmaid," if I'm mentioned at all. We accomplished so much."
Brent smiled, "Beatrice, we have so much to ask you about your experiences. We are studying Queen Victoria. You probably know more than Dr. Wolffer."
Beatrice was taken aback, "Do you mean Bartimaeus Wolffer? He's still alive?!"
Alicia clarified, "Yes, he's our history professor. He's teaching us about Queen Victoria."
Beatrice giggled and covered her mouth politely. "Barty summoned me from this book back in the 1970's. How do you think he became an expert on the Victorian Era? DOCTOR Wolffer, now is it."
Rashid spoke up, "Beatrice, we are all in Dr. Wolffer's class and we could really use your help."
Beatrice smiled, "I'd be happy to impart my wisdom, but I'm going to need you to do something for me in exchange."
The group listened attentively and all earn A's in British History 414.
[/u/Domestic_Adonis](https://old.reddit.com/user/Domestic_Adonis/) | "We get it, Ms. Barkley. What really happened was you were in love with your research partner." Devon almost rolled his eyes as the tall apparition floated a few feet above all of them, lost in thought.
"And we're sorry the modern interpretation of that... Partnership is downright wrong. But we really need your help." Jenny tried to reason with the ethereal figure.
"Downright wrong is right. She wasn't just a research partner. She was my sun and moon. She was my love. The fire that burned between us burned hotter and brighter than than the fires in the forge of Hephaestus." The ghost of Catherine Barkley uttered, though her lips did not move.
"Of course, of course." Devon was getting impatient.
"Our curse was we lived in less enlightened times. She married into nobility. I was executed." The figure continued, and Jenny looked uneasily at the line around the ghost's neck. From where an endless amount of dark, viscous liquid was slowly oozing downwards, staining the top of her long, flowing dress.
"She married Johnathan Warden, didn't she?" Devon asked impatiently.
The ghost's head snapped to Devon, who flinched. The corporeal entity floated down and the some of the liquid that oozed from her decapitation floated away, as if the effects of inertia still applied to this being out of existence.
"Yes. Johnathan Warden. He was a professor at the university we studied at. And he loved her dearly. And she did, too, in kind. After a while. But I am a spiteful woman. It is why I persist now, long after my time. I am a wound that will not heal." The temperature in the room was noticeably dropping.
"Uhh. I'm so sorry about my friend. It's just... We have a test in a few days. And our teacher... Well, he isn't a big help. We really need to ace this test." Jenny tried to placate the entity.
"Your modern academia intrigues me. Why do you wish to learn about John?" The woman turned to Jenny, who flinched as well.
"Well, he, uh, he invented the photograph, didn't he? With his associate, William Henry Fox-Talbot? We just want to make sure we get the timeline right and he's part in the process." Jenny said.
The temperature dropped even more, and the four mortals shuddered involuntarily as this ghost steeled it's gaze towards Jenny.
"Johnathon did not assist Fox-Talbot. I did. He was invested in our endeavour, but he had little part in our discovery to bend the light to our will. To induce it's permanency in a sheet of our special paper. He barely knew the processes involved."
"Oh." Devon audibly gulped.
This was turning into a difficult situation. They had only approached the haunted library because they knew, to a very little extent, that the ghost was related to Johnathan Warden in a way. Which was extremely lucky.
But they did not anticipate this sort of Victorian era drama.
"Well, ah..." Devon cleared his throat, sweating despite the cold.
"It does not matter. You know the truth now. That is enough. Sure. I'll help you lie and conform to the teachings of this day. I'll tell you what this false history remembers of Johnathan Warden." The ghost sighed.
The study group uneasily wrote down their notes as the ghost spoke, it's voice warm and excited whenever it's lover entered the story, and then icy and hostile as it spoke of the deeds of Warden.
And then, at the end, it looked at all of them.
"Go, now, students. Rest." it said.
"I'm... We're sorry." Jenny said.
"Sorry? Ah, I'm just one firsthand account reliving those incidents. You're all the academic sorts. You should know I am a biased source."
"But still." Jenny said, as her peers were quietly packing up to leave, relieved to be dismissed.
"Go now. Rest for tomorrow." The ghost said, and Jenny swore she saw it smile. | 2021-11-13T18:45:22 | 2021-11-13T15:34:12 | 71 | 13 |
[WP] After sarcastically complaining to God for the 1000th time he drags you to heaven and offers to let you run things for a day to see how the world really works. At the end of your first day he comes back to find the universe a finely tuned machine of excellence. | "It.. how? You..."
"I told you," Jack said to God flatly.
The white-bearded deity shifted uncomfortably on his sandals. "What did you do?" His messy room where everything was just where he wanted it was clean and tidy.
"What you were supposed to do but never did. I fixed the Earth. I fixed the whole universe, in fact."
"But ..but *how*? I've been trying to fix that planet since I made it."
"Well, let me ask, G. -when humans prayed to you for world peace, what did you do?"
"Well, I did nothing."
"And how did that work out for you?" Jack put his hands on his hips. "How many wars did your nothing stop?"
"Well, none but... I gave humanity free will."
"You gave ...didn't you say you gave the devil dominion over the Earth?"
"Ah yes but remember that I established the rule that 'the devil made me do it' isn't a viable excuse."
"Right. You made humanity vulnerable to temptation, put temptation all around them, plunged them into desperate need and suffering, and then punished them for falling for the devil's lies. What sort of imbecile are you?"
"Imbecile? How dare you! I am the Lord Go-"
"Were."
"-od and I shall smite... were?"
"You *were* God. You made *me* God, remember?"
"For a day."
"Yes well I changed that too."
"You what?"
"I'm God. I can do anything. A God made the deal and now a God has broken it."
"That's dishonest!"
"I made no promises. This whole idea was yours from the start. All I did was complain and YOU whisked me out of my home and onto this cloud. Who lives on a cloud? This is so uncomfortable!"
"So, what happens to me?"
"Oh, I have a special punishment in store for you."
"Punishment??"
"Yes. As a thank you for thousands of years of wars and torture in your name that you never bothered to step in and stop."
God sighed heavily. The jig was up. "Let me guess, an eternity in the ovens of hell, right? Look, I was totally going to change that..."
"Oh my no. That would be too good for you." Jack snapped his fingers and manifested an emery board. He filed his nails with a smug expression on his face.
"W-what are you going to do to me?" God's hands absently clutched at his robes.
"I'm going to make you live every human life that existed for the last 6000 years since you created the Earth and hid those dinosaur bones to fuck with your children. You're going to be every torturer and every victim of torture. You're going to be the rich man destined for Hell and the poor man clawing at crumbs under his table. You're even going to get to be Jesus on the cross begging you to send the help you never did."
"No, wait, you don't want to-" POOF
God vanished. Jack, satisfied with his work, turned his attention back to solving the dark matter problem in the universe. He was just about to plug up a black hole when his hands began to shake. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. Jack had been the last human God was forced to be. He never got rid of God. He *was* God. He had always been God.
And God looked back on his lives, how alone he had felt, how hurt. World after world, civilization after civilization, suffering and warring and fearing and dying.
And upon the face of a trillion worlds a heavy rain fell as God wept. | After reading the paper again, I couldn't take all the hypocrisy and ignorance in the world. I slammed my fist on the table and grunted, "if only I could run the world for a day" something I've said for years now. I glanced up from an article I wasn't very interested in to see a very irritated man looking at me.
"Can I help you?" I asked him, hoping he would just go away.
"No, but I can help you. I'm sick of hearing all this crap about how I run the earth. So I'm presenting you with an offer. I'm God. Nice to meet you." The man was obviously insane.
"Sure buddy. And I'm the antichrist."
"We won't get into that just now. But yes I am the God. Now, back to my offer. You run the world for one day and I don't have to hear you complain about it anymore. Agreed?"
"Uh huh, sure. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."
He snapped his fingers and I looked around me to see a control panel. Rather large but everything was labeled and there was a manual next to the chair.
"Have at it." He snapped his fingers again, I'm thinking just for show at this point, and vanished. Well then. Guess I've got a world to run.
The buttons were easy and manipulating the weather in a few American states was fun, but then I guess I started taking it seriously. I broke out the manual and began my search. I familiarized myself with the conditions of free will and divine intervention, and after about two hours I knew what had to be done. I found the button I needed, hidden and rather dusty. Who'd have thought anything a god had would be dusty? Anyway, I found the button and blew off the dust, making sure the label matched the schematic in the manual. I read the manual once more, to be sure, then pressed the button gently. Things began to slowly change. Wars suddenly stopped and I stopped receiving prayers on screen. I zoomed in to be sure it worked. Sure enough, everything was peaceful. I spent the rest of my time watching a documentary on atheism.
God poofed back in (I don't know what to call it he wasn't there and then he was and it was dusty so poof?) and asked how bad I screwed up. I told him I fixed it. He stepped over me and checked the controls. He frantically pulled up graphs and readings of everything going on and seems like he was panicking really. "How the hell did you do this?" He gasped.
"Easy. Hive mind. Right there in the manual. Now every human feels and hears what every other human feels and thinks. All the time." I smirked a little. God couldn't read a manual. He just stood there hunched over the controls with his mouth open. "You mind if I go back now?" I asked. He closed his mouth, stood up straight and just nodded, snapping his fingers again.
Edit: spelling and punctuation. | 2017-03-05T03:10:18 | 2017-03-05T02:02:16 | 1,634 | 65 |
[WP] Every human who dies is reborn. For some odd reason, you are the only human who has ever maintained the memories of your past lives. You have experienced a 1000 lifetimes, and now you are here as an American high schooler in 2017. | Most people do not believe in reincarnation. I can honestly see why most people get turned off by the concept. If I were to live a complete life full of memories and experiences only to be reborn without any of those memories, then I typically wouldn’t be the same person. Sure, I may look identical but it is the experiences and the people around us that shape our destiny and who we are. It is because of that simple fact; most people do not believe in it. I do however think it’s silly for those who believe we come back as an animal. I would hate to find out I ate my best friend from my past life the next time I go out to eat a steak dinner.
This is what I constantly ponder on when sitting in my high school classroom. I, for some reason, am not like everyone else. I know reincarnation is real based on the fact that I have retained all of my past memories. Some are good, most are bad.
"Daniel, what did I just say?” My teacher asked me, she knew I wasn’t paying any attention.
"Uh you were boring us with history.” I snapped back. Laughter slowly broke out around me.
"Since I am *boring* you to death, why don’t you tell the class what the writings of Plato has offered into today’s society?”
*Too easy,* I thought to myself. I actually remember Plato. He was very enthusiastic – although very annoying – about his work in literature.
"He was known for his philosophy on western thought. He loved and adored science because it was the heart for all mathematics being born in that era. He was even arguably a Christian based on his contribution on western spirituality. There, I hope I didn’t *bore* you with that.”
Everyone fell silent in shock. The teacher scrunched her nose and pointed her finger. “Since you obviously have an attitude in class today, why don’t you go show the principle that attitude.”
"Gladly,” I smiled back. I walked out of the room only to notice Penelope staring back up at me from the front row. She has no idea that in every lifetime I’ve ever lived, she’s always the one I fell in love with.
I made my way to the Principal’s office when all of a sudden I was slammed into the locker by Henry. Henry never left me alone and one of these days I am going to knock his teeth out. He was annoying in this life which is very depressing. When the Great War broke out, I remember Henry dragging me through the muddy trench saving my life. We were best friends who fought together in that war.
"Leave him alone!” Paul grabbed the back of Henry’s shoulder, “Why don’t you pick on someone else for a change.”
Henry wiped his shoulder off while continuing to sneak around the halls to avoid class.
"Man, people have no respect for others.” Paul remarked. I ignored Paul. He may be nice to me now but I will never forgive him for what he did to the Jewish people during my entrance into the second Great War.
"I can take care of myself.” I walked away heading closer to the Principal’s office.
I think it’s funny who walks around me. We have all shaped history before, now we are all here again. The only difference is I am the only one who’s awake on what is actually going on here.
I finally opened the wooden door into the Principal’s office and sat down in the seat facing towards his desk.
"Why do you keep getting sent in here? I might as well just teach classes for you here in my office.” The Principal remarked.
"I just think me being here is a waste of time.” I smiled.
"We both know you have to be here either knowing you and I are both awake.” The Principal smiled back.
*What is he talking about?* I leaned forward in the seat locking my eyes onto him.
"You honestly think you’re the only one who remembers their past lives? There’s a lot of us who made the pact in ancient Greece. Do you not remember our society being protected when Death came to reset us?”
My eyes didn’t move off of him. *No way,* I thought. *He remembers too! What Society was he talking about, I don’t remember anything about a Society.* So many thoughts were rushing through my head.
"I – I don’t understand. Who are you?” If he was someone I knew, I didn’t recognize him. His hair was cut short so if I knew him back in ancient Greece, that may be why I don’t recognize him now.
He chuckled back at me. Standing up out of his seat, he shut the door behind us. “Well, I have to say, I overheard you in your class while making my way through the hall. I’m impressed you know that much about my contribution. I always assumed you thought I was annoying.”
He smiled, resting his hand on a small head statue on the left side of his desk. The statue was a replica of Plato himself.
***
To read more of my stories, visit [here] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | I can't do this. If I have to listen to them explain the metric system again, for another year, I'm going to lose my mind. It's all multiples of ten! It's literally the easiest system you could possibly use you ungrateful little... two lifetimes ago we would be working in a factory with burning eyes and calloused hands. Now everyone is doing their damnedest to callous their hands on slick glass 'smart' phones. If those things have any intelligence, it's borrowed form the user and not returns to the...
"Mr. Jacobson, perhaps you would like to lead the class?"
Wait. Did the teacher just call on me?
"Mr. Jacobson? I see you there fuming and gesturing your arms. You can't hide your Italian heritage from me."
Italian...? This body comes from a mixture of Asian and German stock. Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm my own grandfather this time. Usually I move around a bit more, but for some reason this continent has drawn in me in like a damn sieve the last several lives...
"Mr. Jacobson! If you don't stop muttering under your breath and head attention, you are going to the principals office, young man!"
"That's it!" Oh, great. I'm standing. Everyone is looking at me. Why do I care? Ah, right. Teenage hormones. It's worse than trying to wrestle an opium addiction. I'm tired of this. I'm going off the rails on this lifetime.
"You can shove it in your piehole, teacher! There's ten millimeters in a centimeter, ten centimeters in a decimeter, and ten centimeters in a meter. It's the simplest system you overgrown monkeys have devised yet! Sure, it's not as efficient as the Babylonian system, but back then having an education was something that people took pride in—"
"Go to the office young man! I'm tired of you raging in class while we try to help students retain this information. This is vital."
"Is it? IS IT? Look at that one!" Great, now I'm pointing at Dave. Dave doesn't deserve this. "He's going to be replaced by a robot that can sling burgers faster than him in five years and wonder if the military will still take him given his penchant for wearing women's underwear!"
"Wha—hey!"
"I'm sorry, Dave. You were lucky to be born in a more tolerant time. Even a generation ago they would have put you behind a truck or in the priesthood. Oh, and I know it's because you want to feel pretty and not because you have an attraction to..."
Wait. Why does the teacher have her phone? Ah, crap. Time to bail.
"Yes. 911? I have an aggressive student. I think he's going to hurt someone. He's already outed one of my students."
"Dave's not gay!"
"Hey—wait, I mean I'm not, but..."
"Dude, we can see the frills when you sit down. It's okay, man. My older brother's gay."
"But I'm not..."
I don't have time to listen to the end of that stimulating conversation as I burst through a window. This is going to shock their little brains. Well, the ones that aren't upset that they didn't have their phones out in time to film this to become minor internet celebrities for a couple weeks. They just don't make frames like they used to. It sure beats the time I had to fall of a minaret.
I can hear a shouting coming from the window as I make for the woods. Thank the infinite for stupid little towns. "You shouldn't have made a micro-aggression against Dave! Now the cops are going to sick the dogs on you!"
Sure they are. I've outrun dogs before. These ones are too soft. They won't even use them. Too busy writing traffic tickets. Please, for all that is infinite, let me born in Mongolia next time. I need some peace and quiet.
I wonder what I'm going to tell this one's dad. Eh, he's got a few spares. I don't think he's going to miss the weird one too much. | 2017-06-23T15:09:44 | 2017-06-23T13:28:41 | 102 | 34 |
[WP] You're a human trader for the intergalactic slave market. Advertise to buyers why they should buy human instead of another species. | ‘Citizens of Kahlue IV! I bring thee… HUMANS! All shapes and sizes, all ages and colors, both smart and dumb, suitable for a whole range of tasks! Something for everyone! Spend as little or as much as you’d like… I’m open to haggling, by the way.’
‘Why pick a human, you ask? Why not leave the heavy lifting to the Ogreals? Well, humans are more than capable of completing the most physically taxing tasks! Look here, pyramids, miles and miles of imposing walls across the wild areas they call… China? And that for just a fraction of what you would pay for an Ogreal, and they stink and eat less to boot! You’d be crazy to pay top dollar for sub quality!’
‘But what’s that? You plan to start an interplanetary invasion of your neighbor? Shelf your Houndain battlebeasts! Humans is where it’s at! Sure, they might not be several yards tall, or sprout footlong fangs, but history makes a pretty good case for them. With two intraplanetary wars, and dozens of minor ones on regional and local scale, humans sure know how to fight. And they love to breed, oh yes, all throughout the year they mate, and the new ones are usually ready to fight within a dozen planetary cycles. So you’re never bound to run low on them.’
‘Not convinced? No need for builders or fighters? What do you need then? Science? Well, lucky you. Humans are a species suitable for many of our academic endeavours! They’re carbon based, just like us! So your viruses, diseases, medicines, grafts, all should work on them, as on us. And their inner structure is largely the same too! Perhaps a few less kidneys and lungs, but who cares? At least they’re easy to hold down while you experiment, unlike your average Gargant.’
‘Really? Still not interested? How about I throw in one for free for every two you purchase? What you say? Fifty percent off? You, sir, drive a hard bar—‘
| "So why in the hell would I buy a weak little human huh?" The fat Canidae merchant asked with a grunt. "Why sir they are the most clever species I have in stock. Twice as smart as an U'Tharian elder, as hard working as a Kimotite, and can learn at the speed of an adult Yitori." S-918 said with a wide smile on his liquid metal face. "I make mining runs between planets and I highly doubt that I could use something so...soft." The merchant said and began to walk out of S-918's peddler tent. "Okay, okay, half price for two!" The robot said following the giant merchant into the crowded street. The fat merchant grinned and then asked mockingly, "Can they navigate using a KM-988 system?" There was an awkward pause between them and then the robot said, "Well they have many, many other skills." The merchant folded both pairs of his grey, furry arms and asked, "Could they learn to speak Canu'deh? I need slaves that can communicate with the CM refineries while I handle other business on the ship." The robot rubbed his silver hands together and said, "Of course they can! And how handy would it be to have a learning species with you on your journeys? They also make great pets!" The merchant waited a while and finally agreed. The two of them shook hands and then the robot went to retrieve the two human children from their mother. | 2014-11-22T07:13:31 | 2014-11-22T06:06:52 | 280 | 24 |
[WP] It's a known fact that you are incapable of telling a lie. This has landed you several opportunities, including your current job as Head of Security at one of the largest banks in the world. Except you got bored and decided to rob it all. This is the story of how you got away with it. | “Harry,” the bespectacled man gazed over steepled fingers at me with tired eyes. “You know why you’re here, right?”
Incandescent lights buzzed obnoxiously in the claustrophobic room.
“I would guess because of the missing money” I said, “although, I suppose there could be any number of reasons you would need to interview me in such an...” my eyes searched around the spartan interrogation chamber for an adequate adjective, “inviting place”.
“Yeah,” he sighed, “that’s right Harry. We need to interview everyone, you know how it is. Even you, even honest Harry.”
“That’s fine. No worries, Bill.”
He stood up and took a few paces of to the left. “Well,” he turned sharply toward me at the waist, pointing an index finger and a half teasing grin my way “*you* didn’t take it out of the vault, did ya Harry?”
“No, I didn’t.” I said.
What a preposterous thought, nobody realized how heavy gold actually was. I’d only wanted about 10 mil, no reason to destroy the bank with my frivolities, but that was still almost 250 pounds. I was more of a 12 pushups kind of a guy. No, I’d had ReBot \-\- the Boston dynamics robo\-dog I’d purchased a few weeks back for giggles \-\- carry it out of the vault.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so, I just had to ask!” He smiled warmly at me as he reseated himself. He picked up a cup of water and wet his lips. “It’s just so strange you know. The video surveillance and the alarm systems cut out at the same time, no records of anything, no calls to security. We’re pretty stumped, no clue how someone would take those two out at the same time and still get into the vault, do you know how that could be done?”
“Sounds impossible to me, Bill. I mean there are pretty heavy redundancies on the systems. There’s a physical switch that welds the vault door shut if current from both of those stops going through the door.”
I never turned off the cameras, just the alarm system. There was plenty of footage of me and ReBot traipsing through the office. It just happened to be found in the databanks in the year 1618, if anyone bothered to look, which I doubted they would. Our software had never been properly updated for that Y2K bug, and it was pretty easy to maintain most continuity as long as you jumped between mirror\-times, when the last two digits of the year are the same and so are the days of the week for any given month, which just happened to happen cyclically every 400 years.
“Yeah, that’s what the tech boys are saying, but we’ve got missing footage, and we’ve got no alarm. So...” He shrugged both hands in the air and widened his eyes in a classic gesture of helpless ignorance.
“I don’t know what to say, Bill.”
“We’ve got the detectives looking over the scene, but they haven’t turned up much so far.” He looked frustratedly down at the cup of water. “But they won’t be able to find much incriminating evidence if it’s an inside job like we think it is. That’s why we’re doing these interviews.”
I stared at him placidly, rubbing a thumb against a middle finger.
“Well, last question, Harry. Do you know where the gold or the money is?”
“No, sorry Bill.”
I’d delivered the gold to Mr. Maloney, an established gentleman involved in the collection of such items. He ran a ship\-shape operation, the gold was probably being melted down as we spoke in a disused car plant in Detroit. Or it might be buried in a junkyard in Florida. Or, shit, maybe it was under Mr. Maloney’s bed. I didn’t ask, he didn’t tell. As to the money, I had some numbers on a computer screen, but whether that fitted the definition of ‘money’ in the strictest sense came down to a rather detailed philosophical discussion. My definition was ‘cash,’ and since less than 10&#37; of the total wealth of the world was actually manifest in physical cash... I doubted if any of those numbers on my screen were actual ‘moneys,’ and even then, I wouldn’t have know where ‘the’ money was, just some of it.
My face was scrunched up a bit, looking off to the side, trying to iron out the finer points of fiat\-based currency and the definition of money.
“Yeah, that’s fine Harry. We just had to have everyone in, a formality.”
“Oh, right. Of course, Bill. Let me know if I can be any more help.” I got up and walked out. | The door to the interrogation room opened. The person inside looked up from her table to see the detective walk in.
"Good evening Miss Johnson, I hope you haven't been treated too badly by the boys?" he asked.
"As badly as they would someone who allowed over a hundred million dollars to vanish in the blink of an eye," she spat back.
"Now don't be like that. I'm sure we'll sort this out in no time."
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that."
The detective sighed as he pulled out a pen and notebook from his coat, as well as a folder that he opened, revealing a profile of a man in his thirties.
"I'll ask you a few questions, if you don't mind." said the detective.
"That's what you're here for."
"Miss Johnson, as the former manager of the United Bank headquarters, you were the one that gave the key to the suspect."
"Was that a question?"
"Just establishing some facts."
"Yes, I was."
"What did he tell you that prompted you to give it to him?"
"I thought he was joking."
"What?"
"I thought he was joking," repeated the former manager.
The detective ran a hand through is hair. "You can't be serious, are you telling me you gave the key to--"
"Yes, yes, I did."
"And you thought he was joking."
"You're just repeating yourself."
"Miss Johnson..."
"Smith was a man who could never tell a lie, okay?" said Miss Johnson heatedly. "Never in a million years. The last time he tried to, everyone in the office saw through it. Lying and Smith in the same sentence was just impossible."
"So he was telling the truth about wanting to rob the bank? Why did you give it to him, still?"
At this the young executive looked down, sheepish. "I wasn't in the right frame of mind back then," she said, looking away.
The detective frowned but wrote it on his notebook.
"Go on," he said.
"It was a slow day that day, not many clients. I recall Smith going back and forth from the vault several times. I asked him about it, and he said 'he was bored'. So I let him be." said Miss Johnson.
"So when did--"
"I was getting to that. I returned to my office to finish up some paperwork. A few minutes later he came to my office, asking for my key and my part of the vault's password. He said he was going to steal the vault."
"And you just gave it to him?"
"I thought he was joking!"
"Has he joked before in his work?"
"Sometimes. He wasn't unsociable by any means, but that doesn't mean he's doesn't interact with us."
The detective wrote down that piece of information on the paper. But something flashed in his mind.
"What kid of jokes does he tell you?"
"Anti-jokes. His humor was flat and dry," said Miss Johnson. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "That was why I thought he was joking when he said that he was going to steal the money in the vault. That vault is the most secure in the world, only accessible when you enter two different keys and passwords at the same time. "
"And as the head of security, he has the second set of keys and passwords..."
"Urk--!"
Shaking his head, the detective stowed away his materials back into his coat and stood up. Miss Johnson's gaze followed him as he went to the door.
"Well, I think that about sums up everything. Thank you for your time, Miss Johnson."
"Wait, what's going to happen to me now?"
The detective looked back at her. "Judging from what I heard today, it's not looking good, honestly."
Miss Johnson's face fell.
"In fact, if I were you, I'd plead guilty and spend the rest of my days in a minimum security prison. What you just did was worthy of The Onion, you know."
"I can't believe this," said Miss Johnson, burying her face in her hands. "I ruined my life for a joke?"
Pitying her, the detective walked and patted her on the head. "We'll solve this case, okay, and we'll get you your life back."
---
*I made a few minor edits. Thank you for reading!* | 2018-05-03T05:55:07 | 2018-05-03T04:58:40 | 3,085 | 135 |
[WP] being the grim reaper is pretty lonely, you only ever meet people once to escort them to the other side and most don’t want to talk. Except this one soul, who every week without fail shows up ready to make the journey. How he gets back I have no idea, but it’s nice to see a familiar face. | To me its just a job.
Everyone has a role, don't they, something they do from whenever to whenever so they can do their part. Contribute. Be something that matters to other people. Difference between me and everybody else is I didn't get a choice in mine, and I don't get leave.
I don't even know who I am outside of reaping souls.
As long as mortals have shuffled their coils, I've been their to reshuffle them into the beyond. Was I ever a child? Does something like me, whatever I am, even have a development? Or did I spring forth from some god's forehead fully formed like Athena? If I was born that way though, given what I do it's likely I sprung from a different body part altogether.
At first, all those millennia ago, I talked to them. The transitioning souls. As we traveled from the mortal plane to one of the many destinations they might have earned, I learned everything I could about them. Their life stories, hopes, dreams, thoughts about existence and the cosmos. Over time though, as I distributed one after another, never to see them again, I stopped asking questions.
Why plant seeds in a field to which you'll never return?
And then I met him. Or her. The husk was different each time, but the soul itself was the same, somehow returning to mortal plane again and again to live a new life. He called himself No one.
I still remember our first trip. Even back then, before his first return to the mortal plane I knew No one was different. The fear normally sloughing off a travelling soul in great heaps was absent from him. Tranquility flowed from him in a cool, steady stream. Eventually, as we passed through the Middle Place toward his new home, I could not ignore his curious glances.
"What?" I asked.
"You must feel very alone," he replied.
I had to look away from those eyes, so piercing and yet so concave, like an infinity in which you could float forever. When I left him with his new keeper I thought on his words. Thought on them often for a long, long time, my mind returning again and again to the stab of his infinite eyes. Why had he not been afraid?
Of me, of death, of the beyond to which I was taking him against his will... Why had he not been afraid?
You can imagine my surprise when I met him again. This time he had been a she in life, but the signature of the soul was unmistakable, the knowledge in his eyes undeniable. I was too afraid to ask how. In truth, I don't think I wanted to know. During our journey he described his second life, what he had learned and what he now understood - which was mostly that he didn't understand much.
After dozens of transits I began to talk back. When I finally did ask him how he said he didn't know, that it didn't matter, why should he concern himself with forces outside his control. We discussed the universe. I told him of my existence, of what I was and the drudgery of my routine, and he listened. He understood. Somehow, he understood.
I had never before felt the chains of attachment around my heart. The bittersweet pull of longing for another's words, to simply be in another's presence. No, I had never felt that before. So I was completely unprepared when they broke.
I knew it was him. No one. When that cosmic shock quaked the fabric of every plane, sending a ripple throughout all of existence, I knew the signature of the soul. I felt him. It wasn't until I conferred with others like me - others created to serve as I had been - that I learned what No one had achieved. In the mortal plane they had created a name for it.
Nirvana.
He was gone.
A small part of him is everywhere now, dissolved in the ether behind all things. I can still feel his soul there, the serene signature of his presence, perfectly content at the foundation of the universe waiting for others to join him. So far, none have. If I can find a way, I will be the first. I don't even know if it is possible for something like me, but I will try. I have to try.
Because I miss my friend.
\*\*\*\*\*\*
&#x200B;
r/EnemyOfAnEnemy
Edit: typo | The Reaper was ticking his checklist off, checking the Book of Names for who was dying next, tying his shoes, polishing his scythe, etc. Once he was ready to gather the souls that had died that day, he stepped off the floating platform of the Undeath and began free fall into the infinite darkness. As fast as the fall had started, he had already appeared on Earth. He walked until he reached where his first payload of the night.
In a bit of 40 hours, the Reaper had reaped them all for that block of time. Upon reaching the Undeath again, he headed to the Book of Names. Silence was bliss throughout the Undeath usually with not even the scuffle of feet or the sound of the wind. But as he was looking at the names of the soon-to-be deceased, he heard something.
It was tiny, barely a whisper but the Reaper heard it. He flew over in an instant to find the source of the noise and couldn't find it. Then the sound was there again; a cough. The Reaper sped throughout the Undeath and then found it. It was a small human wearing white robes. The Reaper looked at it confused.
"What are you doing here?" the Reaper spoke.
The human looked up at the Reaper unfazed. "Oh, you forgot me so I came up here myself."
The Reaper looked confused. "I do not forget names."
The human shrugged, nonchalantly. "We all forget eventually. Are you like, what, the Grim Reaper?"
The Reaper realised that he was floating and so lowered himself down to the ground to become eye level with the human. "Yes. Who are you?"
"Mort." the Human said. "So, uh, what now?"
"Do you... Mort... Do you want to go to the afterlife?"
Mort looked off at the infinite darkness of the edge of the Undeath. "Well, what happens?"
"Nothing, forever. You're just kind of there."
"Oh, is there an alternative?" Mort said, fiddling with the white robes he clearly didn't remember wearing.
"Would you like to stay here, Mort?"
Mort walked to the edge of the Undeath and sighed. "Is... is there anything down there?"
The Reaper followed along, his skeletal footsteps being left behind in the dark, ashy sand. Eventually the Reaper spoke again. "We are in the Undeath. No human has ever come here before. I can leave this place, but I don't know about you. If I don't reap your soul then..."
Mort looked at the Reaper. "What?"
"You have a timer, if I don't reap you soon, you won't be able to go to the Afterlife. I can't guarantee you'll be able to leave the Undeath if you don't leave now." They both looked off into the darkness and after a few seconds the Reaper spoke again, "Please, stay with me. I've been so lonely."
Mort looked at the Reaper and smiled, "I can't stay here forever."
The Reaper was sad and looked off into the distance solemnly. "I understand." He unclipped the scythe from his back and raised it up. As he went to lower it down, Mort flickered a smile then leapt backwards into the eternal darkness surrounding the Undeath.
The Reaper looked shocked before peering over the edge to see Mort fly back up, the white robes shaking in by some force.
"Do not forget a soul every again, Reaper." Mort said as a bright blue light cracked open behind him, illuminating the entire Undeath.
His robes also shaking, the Reaper put an arm in front of him to block out the light. "What are you?" He asked.
"All." Mort replied. "I'm Mort Al."
Mort disappeared into the blue light, maybe the Afterlife, maybe something else entirely. The Reaper looked up, sad. Now that he knew he could bring people into the Undeath... | 2019-02-22T02:50:18 | 2019-02-22T02:17:15 | 469 | 35 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK." | I uhhh, showed up, to the address I received after calling the number on the letter. It was a small, squalid country home, a bit dilapidated.
I cautiously approached the porch, and the porch light came on, seemingly by itself. I knocked.
There was a creaking sound and the door opened. An eye peered out at me.
"Password?" The owner of the staring eye asked.
"Uh, I uh, don't recall a password." I said.
"Good, there was none"
The door shut for a second, then opened fully to reveal a slightly shadowed figure.
"Come in" the voice said solemnly.
"You probably won't fully recognize me, due to the incident, but I assure you it's me," he said.
"You're really John F. Kennedy?" I questioned.
He stopped and turned. I could just make out his face... It sure looked like the pictures.
"In the flesh!" He exclaimed with sudden cheer.
"And I have an exciting opportunity for you, as I said in the letter." John continued, while raising his hand to presumably a light switch.
"Which is?" I pressed.
The lights came on, and I could see a few folding chairs in a row, and there was podium to my front-right, next to a glowing projector screen that said "Welcome Barack!" In the chairs were a few people, who looked oddly similar to Tupac Shakur, Elvis Presley, and the sketch of D.B Cooper.
John proclaimed proudly, "Welcome to the exciting world of House Flipping, where you can make 6 figures on your OWN time!" | I knew exactly what that letter meant on the bedside table.
"Michelle!", I yelled. "Emergency, Emergency! Lay back!"
We laid back down on our bed and the straps automatically held us down. I thought of the scene in 'The Goonies' when they slide down to the pirate ship. But, I had no idea where our tunnel would lead. We just slid.
The tunnel was dim, but lit the whole way down. Ups and downs, curves, and loop-d-loops. Eventually we started slowing down and surprisingly, we drop again. Out of the tunnel and into the 1960's Batmobile. My Michelle and I looked at each other, smile, and we put on our masks.
I couldn't hear her scream as I peeled away towards the symbol on the sky.
[edit] Dedicated to Batman's real creator, Bill Finger. Deleted a sentence. | 2017-05-14T08:29:05 | 2017-05-14T07:51:14 | 40 | 12 |
[WP] When it was found that no 2 countries with a McDonalds had gone to war, all countries agreed to build franchises to enact world peace. Ronald McDonald was then unanimously elected benevolent dictator. 200 years later, you are Ronald McDonald IV and the empire is in trouble. | "Sire," Reynaldo kneeled before me as he spoke. "The rebel factions have banded together as you suggested they would. The False King, the Fire-Haired Wench, and the Jester have united. They have taken three districts in as many hours."
"Of course they have." I stared out the window at my kingdom. "Tell the Queen that the day is at hand where I will call in the old debts. Summon my generals to a war council. This action cannot go unanswered."
For two centuries my line has ruled the world in peace and prosperity. But there will always be the upstarts. Those who would rather stand against the tide in the name of freedom or choice.
One of my ancestors wiped out one of these rebels - Hard D, as I recall, though he often went disguised as a simple-minded peasant named Carl. My ancestor thought the total destruction of one rebel would make the others fall in line. For a time, he was right. Eventually though, new generations take over and the brutalities of the past take on a sheen of myth and legend. And they forget. Now I must do as my ancestor did so long ago and teach these impudent whelps what the price of peace truly is.
My generals surrounded the giant oaken table in the war room. This chamber had sat unused for ages - until today.
"We have been too lenient on the smaller upstarts. Had we crushed them early, this newest revolt would not be here. The Quintet and the Shakers are at the root of this." As was customary, the general had given up his family names and titles on promotion to my inner council. He was now known only by his title of state - Grimace.
"Swatting flies does not stop the lion from charging you." My minister of intelligence. I never knew his real name or where he came from. He hid his background under layers of lies and innuendo. His title of Hamburgler was well-earned though.
"We should begin evacuations of the civilian populations immediately. The last thing we need are pictures of dead kids on the news." Mayor McCheese was one of my closest friends growing up. I knew he had a good heart and named him my minister of the interior.
"I have contacted the Queen," said Birdie. She was reluctant to take the position of minister of state, but had truly grown into the role. "We shall be supplied with troops and materiel. Shall I contact the Cowboys?"
"No," I said, "they have never been trustworthy. I suspect bringing them in would be allowing a pickle in the fish sandwich. We cannot trust them. Ready our troops."
I stood up and walked over to the sideboard. I removed my vestments of state, standing on the cold tile floor in my underwear. I opened the ancient doors and saw the warrior garb handed down through my family. The canary yellow clothes, the dazzlingly red hair, the ghostly white paint, the elongated shoes. I enrobed myself for battle. Let the world tremble at the might of Ronald McDonald. | I fucking hate you, Dad. I really do.
You could have managed your appetite instead of buying quadruple XL yellow jumpsuits, or even better, managed your empire instead of choking to death on ten McRibs. Nope. You left your crumbling empire into the hands of your fifteen-year-old son, who hadn’t even had his hair dyed flaming red yet.
The throne was one of the most uncomfortable seats I had sat on (Hell, I’ve been to all the franchise locations over the world). Made out of recycled paper boxes and food wrappings, it did not improve my mood at all as the screams in the courtyard continued. Not a day had gone by before my father’s cremation (Boy did he burn) and I found myself head of a revolting empire because of a dish the royal cooks had invented.
I rang the bell beside me for the servant, then twice more as he failed to show up. When the sorry fellow actually did, I was in the midst of reducing the bell to a lump of metal.
“Get over here!” I shouted at him since he was biting his lip at the entrance.
“My lord,” he said in a wavering voice. “How may I serve you?”
“Charles.” I said. “Think of something. We must save the empire at all costs, what else can we do to appease the people.”
After much deliberation, the man spoke up. “How about a popular dish, the McLean Deluxe?”
“No, you buffoon. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.” I sighed at his incompetence. Then an idea struck me, a brilliant notion tainted by the memories of the most depraved video that had been made in the early twentieth century.
I fidgeted in my seat, mulling things over. Surely after two centuries people had forgotten about that incident? The iron fist my grandfather placed in his reign should have silenced the heretics and all that.
“I have a solution, Charles.” I proclaimed. “We will reinstate a product had hasn’t been in production for two hundred years. Despite its horrible connotations in the past, people did enjoy the burger.”
“But sir,” The servant looked aghast as he realized what I was talking about. “Are you certain--?”
“-- That is not a suggestion.” I ordered, leaning forth to stare down the trembling Charles. “Bring out the McChicken.”
| 2016-10-18T09:00:21 | 2016-10-18T07:20:52 | 81 | 45 |
[WP] You are considered the most powerful, evil villain on earth. None of your evil deeds have been on purpose. | "You have to understand," I explained to the young reporter, via Google Hangouts, "I made decisions given what I thought to be best at the time. What I did, I did with the best of intentions, not aware of what effects they would have. You have to remember the world before I came along was quite different. Maybe better, but it had serious problems. I really thought what I was doing would help prevent a global catastrophe."
"You caused a global catastrophe, though, did you not?"
"Absolutely. And I take full responsibility. That's why I'm here," as I motioned to my surroundings, "and not enjoying the sunny beaches of Malibu or the wine of southern France. But the catastrophes I sought to prevent... I did, in my own way, prevent them."
"By killing a third of the world's population?"
"I honestly don't see it that way. I know why you do, but for me, it's different."
"Different how?"
"Well, let's start at the beginning."
---
In the comic books, they would always give people superpowers in their teens, I suppose, to better relate to the growing changes of puberty and to appeal to the market of consumers of comic books. But I got mine in my late 50s, and it wasn't because of mutation or a radioactive spider or anything quite as dependent upon fortune - it was just... hard work. See, I had spend decades learning to influence minds indirectly - as a journalist, activist, student of psychology, sociology, and understanding the nature of artificial intelligence - by the time I realized that I could influence minds directly, it wasn't even that much of a shock so much as it was the logical extension of what I had been learning and training my entire life. And I thought - if I could influence minds directly - instead of trying to appeal to logos, pathos, ethos, etc., wouldn't that help uncomplicate things?
It wasn't so much that I was controlling people. I couldn't make someone stand on your head, for example, just by thinking it. But if I sincerely held a belief, I could convince someone else - anyone else - that that was the point of view they should adopt.
It wasn't hard to start influencing world leaders - and each one gave me access to the next. Policies were changed. I tackled the big issues - I forced nuclear powers to agree to universal disarmament of nuclear weapons, I forced adherence to the Paris accords, even addressed problems of wealth inequality. The world was coming together.
I started suspecting the worst when two politicians I had influenced moved to Florida, and, seeking to practice law, took the bar exam. Both completed the exam in the exact same way. Each got the same right and wrong answers on the test - they were accused of cheating.
They weren't. They were just thinking *exactly the same way* on each test.
What I hadn't realized -- what I had NEVER meant to happen -- was that I wasn't influencing minds. I was *replacing minds.* Though each person I thought I was influencing retained their memories and distinct identities, they all thought *exactly like I did.* And I mean exactly. They had become *me.*
This was frightening enough, but soon it was clear that people I had never met had also adopted my point of view - that is, they also became *me,* and I started to realize that the people I had influenced - whose minds had become like mine - also could influence others. Each copy spread more copies, and each copy of a copy was perfect. And if I hadn't done... the... drastic action, then...
... you have to understand, again, every one of them thought like I did. And we all came to the same conclusion: If the human race was to survive... it couldn't survive as just myself. If the process couldn't be reversed - and god knows, I tried - everyone of us - with the exception of myself, the original, who moved to exile... we couldn't be allowed to continue. It would be... horrific.
---
I know what it looked like to you, and I don't blame you for hating me. To you it looks like the big bad villain used his telepathy to make a third of the world's population kill themselves. Friends, family. ...children. It was never anything as simple as that. I never meant to kill anyone.
...it's just that, well, everyone thought like I did. And everyone who thought like I did thought: "With the exception of the original, who should turn himself into the authorities, all of us, including myself, are too dangerous to live. That there was no choice but suicide. I didn't make those people kill themselves, though it's all semantics - my actions doomed them. What happened is that two billion people individually made the choice that their own existence was a threat to the human race, and each, individually, chose to end it rather than let the world suffer for my mistake."
That doesn't absolve me from responsibility. It doesn't earn me forgiveness. But I hope it can give some closure to the grieving families who lost loved ones - or the grieving survivors who lost entire families - that this wasn't what I intended or meant to happen. That the answer to 'how could he do this' was simply: 'Because I didn't know the damage I was doing until it was too late.' | I’m the most powerful, evil villain on the earth. Everyone knows that. When they see me, they run. If heroes see me, they run. When other villains see me, they run. Well, the other villains used to fanboy me, until they became part of my story as well.
“Excuse me, you haven’t paid yet,” the cashier suddenly interrupted my thought process.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” I quickly took few steps back and removed my wallet. From there I took some money and gave it to her.
Only thanks to this hood and those glasses, people don’t recognize me. I have had to live my life like that for years. Pretend to be no-one, just so I could buy some beer.
“Sorry, you dropped something,” the cashier suddenly interrupted again.
“Oh, thanks!” I bent down to grab my fallen keys. They must have dropped when I took my wallet. Sadly, they had fallen below the cashier's table, so I bent after them. As I raised my head, I hit my head against cashier’s table, hard.
“Ah, shit, fuck!” I swore.
“Oh, sir, are you okay?” the cashier asked. I nodded, while eyes were watering like crazy. I removed my sunglasses and dried my eyes with my wiper.
After doing it for a good half minute, I finally managed to see normally again, so I casually put my sunglasses back on.
In front of me was a black bag, full of money. The cashier was shaking like crazy.
“I promise, I didn’t press any button. Please, don’t kill me!”
Shit…
“Woman… I just want some beer,” I whined.
“Yes, take anything…”
“Oh my god,” I moaned and turned around, facepalming. Not again.
“The building is surrounded. Please come out with your hands raised!” a loudspeaker suddenly declared as few helicopters flew over.
I threw a quick deadly gaze towards the cashier, who quickly shook her head. “I didn’t do it! Must have been someone else. Please don't kill me! I don’t want to die!”
“Shut up woman!”
“Yes!”
I looked around, inspecting every person in the store.
“Okay, so, everyone, leave the store!” I suddenly shouted, still annoyed.
Every single one of them quickly rushed towards the exit. That’s until one of the remaining men suddenly had a gun up, aiming towards me.
“Don’t move!”
“Really?” I shouted. “I let everyone go and that’s how you pay me?”
“You’re… evil man. You need to be taken down…”
“Wow, you’re the first man ever to aim a gun at me, I’m so afraid,” I told the guy.
The guy thought a moment, suddenly dropped the gun, screamed, and ran out of the building.
“What? I meant that quite literally, leaving out the police of course,” I frowned and looked around the empty store. I finally noticed the gun on the floor.
“How that shit even works?” I wondered and picked it u, aiming the gun at the further away container.
“Let’s test it out,” I laughed. Stupid thing to do when helicopters are circling the store and it’s surrounded by police and probably few superheroes. Still, none of them dared to come inside for some reason. I'm fucked anyway, so might as well try it out.
*Boom.*
No, it wasn’t just a gunshot. It was also a gas contained that blew up. Don't shoot random containers. Also, don’t judge, I didn’t know. I'm not the smartest guy around.
Suddenly, the store was in full flames.
“Shit, fuck!” I quickly run to my cart and loaded all my beers into a simple plastic bag. I ran quickly towards the exit and stepped outside, examining at least hundred policemen all aiming at me.
“Ah shit, I'm so fucked,” I whispered. There’s burning store behind me and police were with heroes in front of me. How can it get worse?
“Evilest! Put your… umm… evil things down!” one of the heroes shouted as he hid behind a police car.
“Huh?” I asked. Everyone suddenly readied their weapons.
“Don’t you want to extinguish store first? There might be someone still be in there?” I shouted, being all sarcastic. Nobody would believe me anyway. I had checked it one last time before leaving, it was empty. Might as well go out with a joke.
“Oh my god. He left someone inside to burn! Hurry!” one of the policemen screamed. All police suddenly ran towards the entrance. I just walked away. Nobody didn’t even think to follow. It's funny. I'm just an ordinary man who accidentally became the evilest man ever to be known. Maybe I should stop being so sarcastic all the time.
“That beer better be a damn good beer…”
----
/r/ElvenWrites | 2018-04-26T11:45:11 | 2018-04-26T11:21:33 | 55 | 18 |
[WP] Leonardo DiCaprio is actually an evil warlock who needs to obtain a rare mineral in order to complete a dark ritual. The only source of this mineral is found inside an Academy Award. You are part of an ancient order sworn to deny Leonardo an Academy Award, at any cost.
Gee this blew up! These are great responses thank you so much! :) | I tapped my pen nervously on the table as the votes from the academy were being collected. I trembled as I watched the film in the academy theater,this was undeniably his greatest work. I argued my points at the discussion table after the viewing with my colleagues but one by one they came under Leo's spell,completely taken away by his performance as Dan K Meme in the film " Feel the Bern". I knew I was the only one in the entire room that voted for Kevin James in his magnificent performance of Paul in Paul Blarts mall cop 3. I was the last of my kind and I had failed to uphold my sacred duty. This evil warlock was finally going to achieve his masters plan to summon the burning legion to Earth. We were not prepared for this invasion. It was my last resort I didn't give a fuck if I cut my arm,bleeding I reached for my factory new ak-47 with its fire serpent skin and sprayed the entire board room with bullets. Tears rolled down my cheek as I killed each board member. It was for the greater good,it was for Earth. Leo would not succeed this day. I slowly walked to the final votes folder and opened it,what I saw struck my like a wrecking ball. All the votes were in favor for Kevin James. | It has been so long since this battle began, a game of sorts
He can conquer the world, if he wins this metal
I am the last of us, after me, there will be no one left
For so long I have denied him his precious metal, for so long have I fought
However, the time is finally at hand, he will complete his ritual, the metal goes to him
He has finished the ritual now, I hear him in the other room....
No
It cannot be!
He has replaced every other actor with Adam Sandler so his movies look much better!
HE CAN CONTINUE THIS FOREVER
I must... Tell someone
"Dear reddit TIFU..." | 2016-01-19T00:18:07 | 2016-01-18T22:37:40 | 164 | 13 |
[WP] How could humans be dangerous? This one's been crying in the corner since we captured it. | "I don't understand why this critter is so dangerous. It's just been in the corner, weeping, since we brought it on board."
"It's a 'he', not an 'it'. And you'd do well to watch him. A human mind doesn't work like what we are used to. We both know he can't escape that cell. And we know that even if he did, he couldn't do anything to harm anyone on the vessel. Our weapons are bio-locked to their users - *I* can't use your weapon, and at least we are the same species. The issue is, *he* doesn't know he can't escape that cell. A human cannot be convinced that something is secure."
"I'm not worried. There is no way out of that room. The door is composite titanium fiber, the lock cannot be accessed from the inside. We have a camera pointed into the cell, and a slot too small for the human to fit through, that we put food through. The only things in that cell are the bedding, the camera, and a toilet... there are some old tools and scrap tossed in the corner, but the human won't have the training to -"
"There are **TOOLS** in the cell? You and your thrice-inbred crew left a human, in a room, with fucking tools? It would have been easier on everyone to arm him and give him a landing craft! At least then, he will only run the risk of killing himself!"
"I'm sure you're blowing this out of proportion."
"Do you *know* that your prisoner is secure? Go look. **NOW**!"
"The video feed is blank. I'll have to go check the cell."
"You've left a human in a closed box with tools and discarded parts, and the cameras are out. May it be YOUR family that gets between the human and his escape!"
*The guard captain's radio chirps. He holds it to his side, listening intently*
"Apparently, your human that couldn't escape, has made his way to the tankage complex that feeds one of the attitude jets."
"What can he do with that??"
"I don't *know* what he is going to do, get on the radio, have them wake up a machine-priest, get him drugged, and ask them what we're up against based on what is found in an attitude jet."
*The guard captain and his subordinate hear a hate-filled snarl, and turn to see the human, standing with a small metal tank, his hand on the valve. The human speaks it's strange language as he opens the valve on the tank:*
"Hey guys, want to learn what *hypergolic* means!?" | "How could humans be dangerous? This one's been crying in the corner since we captured it."
It was a fragment of a message picked up some ways out from a small blue planet orbiting a small yellow star - apparently inhabited by something called humans. Was it a race of beings? A breakfast drink? A vehicle? No one knew what a humans was.
So a probe was dispatched to recover a human or a humans; whatever the case was.
No one was expecting the probe to return so quickly.
Alarms sounded. A collision warning? What was happening?
Fd'thk ran towards the bridge - it was silent. Everyone simply stared out of the window at what he hoped was simply a planet that hadn't been noticed. He knew it wasn't.
"It materialized, sir ... we received no warning! There are four more behind it in close formation. We're being hailed." His first officer's voice fracked. Each ship was a high million times larger than the scout ship they were using.
A figure appeared on the scream. He was dark and had what appeared to be white hair over the upper and lower part of his face. "Unknown alien vessel. We have tracked a small automated ship to your location. This ship was involved in the abduction of one of our citizens. Please release and return this human to us." The being stopped and the broadcast ended...direct, but not threatening.
"Do we have a human on board?" The captain asked.
"Yes, I'm losing looking into it now. I think we should comply. The human is approximately 8 times larger we are and appears to have ripped open the drone unassisted."
"Get it out of here!"
"It gets worse. Those planetoids are their ships and each one generates more power than our entire civilization."
"What part of 'Get it out of here!' was unclear!?"
[i want to flesh this out more but I am Le Tired. I'll come back to it soon.] | 2018-02-17T20:03:01 | 2018-02-17T16:41:42 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] Superheroes lie about their powers to protect themselves; some speedsters are actually just able to teleport, and some people with super-strength can just cancel gravity to make things lighter. You're trying to come up with a plausible lie for your powers. | Having powers was nothing unusual since this comet melted in the earth's atmosphere and spread its mystery across the globe. Maybe you could run 40 miles per hour. Maybe lift half a ton without much training. Maybe jump 6 feet high standing still. People mostly had ordinary jobs, using their power to boost their income as well as possible.
"Please, give me a detailed list of the powers you have developed, and what class you would rank them in."
These were the class 1 or 2 powers, which have gotten fairly common by now. They are harmless powers, usually just simple enhancements that were not too much danger to society. There were some additional laws, and your powers were added to your ID card, but otherwise, that was it.
If you were ranked into the rare class 3, you had to wear a tracker all the time to make it harder for you to commit crimes. Also, the military would be trying to get you signed up. After all, things like teleportation, intangibility, or flight make good criminals. At least, that is what the government thinks. Protests were no use against the constant fear-mongering. Naturally, if your power was prone to get you to class 3, you would try to play it down. Which was what I was doing today.
Just that my powers are class 4.
"I have some sort of anti-aging that keeps me fit. I also have improved stamina and regeneration, but only on a class 1 level. I'd personally rank me a class 2."
These were my passive powers, I couldn't hide that. I forced my body to be chill and make it sound natural.
"Have you taken any examinations of what causes these conditions"
Oh come on, I was hoping they'd make it short. Stay calm, you have nothing to hide.
"The doctor says my cellular regenerations are boosted, which allows me to recover from exercise or injury much faster. It also seems to work against cell aging. I am just always in perfect shape."
Please, no more questions or a mandatory check-up. If my doctor wasn't one of our family friends, I would be in serious trouble by now. Class 4 will get you into trouble. I wasn't even using my power to its full extent. But if they knew, they would probably force me into lifelong house arrest with cameras everywhere.
"Since you can fix your cells, has your doctor found any hints about your condition allowing cell reorganization?"
Oh shit. Any form of shape-shifting was a class 3. But I was prepared for this. I handed her the doctor's report, which thankfully didn't include that I very well could reorganize my cells. And even add more or remove them to my liking. I was like a shape shifter on crack. I could just transform into an elephant and kill her, then turn into a fly and escape. But that was going to cause trouble.
"I see, only healing, no more. That would make you a class 2 indeed. How are you planning your future with your new abilities?"
Thankfully, I was not planning to make a living out of my power. And I was prepared for this question as well.
"I haven't really planned on utilizing it. I love my office job and my boss would be very happy if I stay with them, since I'm unlikely to ever be sick. I think I might start training for marathons since I can handle the distances now."
"Alright. I have everything noted down, we will notify you when your documents are ready."
PHEW
"You look like you successfully made it a class 2, congratulations!" Bobby realized.
"Oh boy, this lady seemed to know the tricks. Bless God that I have always been a good liar and you really helped me prepare. Now I just have to pray that I never accidentally raise suspicion."
If there was any suspicion, they would use one of their agents with lie detection powers on me. There was little to no hope in this case.
"Well, I am not going to spill the beans if you stay silent as well. Otherwise, I will squeeze you to death." Bobby had full-ass telekinesis and could lift entire cars remotely. But he managed to persuade the officer that he could only throw smaller things around.
"Same goes for me. Tell anybody and you will have to 1v1 your worst fears." I laughed back. One year back I spotted him throwing a plant container with his mind. Bobby almost died of fear, he probably would have lost his job if they figured out his true strength. He was very thankful that I kept my mouth shut and made a false statement that it was already broken when we arrived. Since that, we have grown to be best friends. I hope he never has to reciprocate that. | # Soulmage
**"So... what can you do, power-wise?"** Tanryn gave me a curious look as I paced the vault-room floor.
I looked up, scowling. "Why do you want to know?"
Tanryn gestured at the sealed vault, at the horde of clockwork abominations outside, and said, "You're so confident that you can get us out of here alive," she said calmly. "I still think you're insane if you think you can fight your way through that crowd, and I've made my peace with dying here. But you clearly think otherwise, so... what've you got up your sleeves?"
I gave her a long, considering look. As much as I wished to share the true nature of what I could do with her... no. The knowledge of what I could do—of *how* I could do it—was too dangerous to speak aloud. I was already being hounded by at least one powerful faction for what I knew. I didn't need that knowledge to spread around.
So I lied. "I can make rifts," I said. "I'll pry open a portal back to realspace. Take us back home. No need to fight anyone."
Tanryn pressed her lips together in displeasure. "If you say so," she said.
I sighed. At least she believed me when I said that. Because the true scope of my abilities was much, much more terrifying.
I didn't have the power to open rifts.
I had the power to *give myself more powers.*
If I wanted to open a rift back home, all I had to do was add it to the list of abilities I was attuned to.
Of course, it wasn't as easy as snapping my fingers and willing it to be done. If it was, I would have become an omnipotent god-king a long, long time ago. No, I had to be in the right mental and emotional state if I wanted to attune myself to a new ability. And right now, that meant closing my eyes, calming down, and letting go of my insecurities.
The simple ones came first. Though the army of clockwork demons outside was terrifying, the bunker we were in was secure. There was no need to fear for my physical safety. I felt a burden leave me as my breathing slowed. I was getting closer to attunement. I could feel it.
The harder ones came next. I'd been matching wits against an opponent that wanted nothing more than to steal the secret of attuning new powers, and they had thoroughly outmaneuvered me at every opportunity they had. They'd been the one to trap me here, after all.
But they'd made one crucial mistake, and that was trying to trap a person who could create their own powers on the fly. I would overcome my enemies. I would adapt, and I would get out of here alive.
Another insecurity faded, and I *felt* the attunement beginning to form. Like ink unfurling around my soul. There was one last anxiety, one darker and deeper than the rest, but I let it sleep. If all went well, I wouldn't need to go that far.
I opened my eyes, and was surprised to find that Tanryn had fallen asleep in the time I'd spent in meditation. With my new attunement, I could see currents of power bloom in her soul and mine, and I gathered that power into the palm of my hand.
Then I hurled it against the fabric of reality, and a rift began to claw itself open.
To the outside world, it would seem as though my power was to open rifts.
And only I knew better.
A.N.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. | 2022-06-06T12:40:35 | 2022-06-06T10:28:42 | 454 | 237 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | “We have an anomaly sir in the harvest for the battle royals.”
“What is it Kleitus? Have you bought an amusing play thing for me today?”
Kleitus shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Well we captured a human as per usual but this one is different.”
The merciless overlord raised an eyebrow his finger hovering over the controls in his chairs arm. A press of a button would vaporise this servant as it had many before should he dissapoint.
“The system says he’s technically a human but he’s clearly heavily modified, almost grotesque. Upon arrival he took stock of his surroundings, shouted “for the emporer” and promptly slaughter every other species in the holding area with a giant eagle shaped mace.”
The overlord’s interest was peaked. He pressed a few buttons and brought up an image of the cell. There standing like a colossus clad in viscera stained armour decorated with wax seals and some sort of scripture was the human. His skull like helmet crackled with some sort of energy field built into a halo of Iron it’s dark eyes seemed to stare right through the camera into the overlords soul.
For the first time in a millennia he felt a thrill of fear. “This thing is clearly too dangerous to be allowed to compete. We should recruit it instead Kleitus.”
Kleitus shifted again warily eyeing the control pad. “We tried that sir, I sent in a dozen of your elite guard and a diplomat. The human simply said “suffer not the alien or the mutant to live” and smote the diplomat so hard with that mace one of the guard was blinded by bits of his skull. He dispatched the guards too.”
“Well vent the atmosphere into space then man, have you no initiative.”
“We did sir the armour he wears is apparently proof against the vacuum of space.”
With a snarl of frustration the overlord slammed his fist on the keyboard and winced at the shriek of pain as Kleitus was incinerated. He hadn’t meant to do that.
He called up the image of the cell once more to look upon this human specimen and puzzle what to do with them, instead he was horrified to see the room empty the steel door torn from its hinges.
He pressed a button he never thought to use, his chair sank into the floor and started down the secret passage to his rocket ship. In the distance he heard the screaming start. | I receive the confirmation that we got all the 150 species and we transfer them to the planet Terranavi. I’m the chief engineer of this planet and we needed such a planet to host this sort of event. We collect different species from different planets and putting them on a piece of rock that only habitable for some of them is not the way. We can change the weather patterns and we can control the oxygen and nitrogen levels along with other elements on the air to create a competitive fighting arena. Although, there are things that we can not control and some of the creatures react oddly to the environment and if they are not lucky enough to survive the conditions of this gorgeous planet and then they are not worthy of giving attention and they are usually a handful.
This time we have 136 survivors out of 150. The last time we start the battle with only 120 and the rest of them died quickly to Juronna which is one of the dangerous species in this galaxy. If you are lucky enough to see and hear Juronna you might be able to live longer than five seconds. It can manipulate the shape of its own body and move faster than any creature and every time we have a live Juronna on this event the winner usually the same.
The system display first-round results,
**58 Survivors - 1 minute and 30 seconds to the big bang.**
The big bang is inspired by human terminology. In fact, we have one human down there fighting for its life.
I check the terminal and look at the scoreboard.
*1. Human 17 Kills*
*2. Juronna 16 Kills*
*3. Erinos 9 Kills.*
The human is actually going head to head with Juronna. This one is going to be spicy.
---------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- | 2020-09-13T17:26:19 | 2020-09-13T17:01:43 | 806 | 41 |
[WP] A Genie offers you one wish, and you modestly wish to have a very productive 2017. The genie misunderstands, and for the rest of your life, every 20:17 you become impossibly productive for just 60 seconds. | I don't understand my roommate. At all.
It's a Tuesday and our thesis is due in less than 24 hours.
I've worked on my damn paper for the past semester. Went through countless revisions.
All my roommate does is slack off in his room, plays video games, smokes dope, and just embodies the character trait of a failure.
I entered his room, it's shortly after 8pm, and he's on his bed listening to music.
I looked towards his desk, a single monitor connected to his desktop.
A blank page in Microsoft Word is open, along with a browser tab pointed to Google.
"Finish your thesis yet?" he asks.
"Yup, had my final revision done on Sunday. How about you?"
"Haven't started yet - not too worried honestly" he said with a chuckle.
I don't get it, how is he so relaxed? Does he not care about his acedemic career? Does he not understand that there is no late submission??
"Dude you need to start this right now.."
"I'll get to it soon, don't worry bro"
I don't get it, I guess there's only so much you can do to try and help.
"Well I'm gonna go and cook something up - my girl is coming by in a bit. Maybe I'll have left overs, let me know if you're hungry."
"Hmm sure, maybe in a bit! Oh hey could you turn on my block heater please? Haven't gotten much heat in my room."
"Sure."
He's worried about the heat? Not his thesis? What happened to him. Pretty sure I'm cooking his last meal, his Dad is strict, it wouldn't be too far fetched to see him get disowned if he fails out of the program.
Maybe that's what he wanted.
Maybe that's what he deserves.
I switched on the heater and left.
-----
Thought he'd never leave, I was honestly worried he'd converse me through the only productive minute in my day.
Sure my roommate does have a point, I could have started this days in advance. What's the point though, I can get anything done in the most perfect way possible, within 60 seconds. There's literally no point in starting anything on my own, or ahead of time. It's all just an outlook at this point.
Another 20 seconds to spare.
Let's do this.
I moved to the desk.
Hands are on the keyboard, and the clock hits 20:17.
It's almost as if time slows down. It's hard to describe, it feels as if every thought I have branches off into infinitely smaller branches. Every passing thought gets analyzed and evaluated, in parallel.
How should I start this opening paragraph, what topics should I pick, how do I make my arguments. All of these thoughts got evaluated almost asynchronously. My brain isn't functioning in the time domain any longer. It's different.
I'm different.
There.
It's done.
Suddenly just like that, my brain felt foggier. It's not a side effect. It's not a negative feeling. It's just the stark contrast of being back to baseline.
Admittedly, I was feeling a bit anxious about this, but hey it worked - like it always did. Guess I should print it.
>File
>Print Document
Oh my printer is off.
Wait what's that sound?
Darkness.
---
"Sorry, my girlfriend was blow drying her hair and I guess it blew a fuse since your heater was on too."
There was no response.
Probably still listening to music.
---
I didn't hit save.
Maybe it autosaved.
It didn't.
Think....
Fuck. | I spent the first ten years trying to devise a sustainable means by which to trap the djinn and extract wishes. It was a waste of time, one minute per day lost. I quickly discovered that I could read and ingest information at a frightening speed, and spent two years absorbing quantum loop gravity, zero point energy, some of the subtler implications of knot theory. I was convinced that the djinn use traversable wormholes to appear and disappear, and these wormholes were central to their ability to grant wishes. Why they granted wishes, I didn't (and would never) understand.
When I began to formulate my own theory, it was one minute per day, every day. At first I tried to hold onto that productive energy and continue beyond 20:17, but I found that it meant the next day's minute was wasted revising my mistakes. So I devised a method in which I would very quickly outline the formulation process for a phase of theory in a single minute, and spend subsequent minutes completing the steps of the outline. This was how I developed an efficient means by which to identify exotic matter. Then the detection of wormholes. Then, the use of exotic matter to close both ends of a wormhole but maintain its stability. A wormhole prison.
At the end of the tenth year, I had an epiphany: I had no idea what I was talking about. My theoretical framework, and the frameworks upon which it was built, were hopelessly primitive. I was gathering shells at the edge of an enormous sea I would never understand, because at that point, I estimated that I had 182 hours of productivity left. That minute was the most productive bout of sorrow and despair I have ever experienced.
I got drunk.
The next day, hungover and hopeless, I waited for the torment of 20:17. And when it came, I had nothing to do. But the window was open, and I could hear a mockingbird weaving elaborate melodies in a darkening tree. It was summer, and the air was sharp with pollen and invisible dust sweetened by heat and sunlight. In all of my 20:17s, I had never been still long enough to listen.
For the rest of my life, I spent one minute every day brilliantly listening. I travelled just to observe places for a single moment. A pineapple ripening in the island sun. The subtle flap of laundry on the line. Those boys on a park bench, secretly in love. Once, I ate a plum at 20:17, and what moved through me wasn't genus and species, or a visualization of its ripening process, or a contemplation about the metric that describes the shape of this fruit. What ran through me was sweetness, the tart ache in the back of my jaws, the dark sugar that filled my throat. What ran through me was the plum.
Every moment is the plum. I will die with this dark sugar in my mouth. | 2017-05-11T18:58:41 | 2017-05-11T18:13:49 | 3,648 | 1,731 |
[WP] "Invade your planet?!" The alien asks a general of Earth with confusion before bursting into laughter. "Why the heck would we do that when their are SEVEN other empty planets in this star system ripe for terraforming and colonization? We just stopped by to say Hi while we pick one of 'em out." | "You know, someone would think you Humans had a paranoia issue..."
I couldn't really help but agree, considering our new alien visitor and I were conversing in the middle of an isolated military base, with warplanes ready to bomb the site into next week if things got dicey.
I shrugged gently to the strange creature, hoping they understood the gesture. "I can't argue with that. We have a long-standing fear of invasion."
"You as in your species, or you as in your cultural group?"
"Well, both."
"Ah."
Frankly, I was just astounded we were able to converse at all. The creature in front of me resembled a floating.. octopus I guess... seemingly hovering inside a tank of some exotic gas. I'd forgotten what the scientists called it, but I do remember them, saying that if the tank broke, it'd be a race to see if I died to their atmosphere, or the alien succumbed to ours.
"So, I'm assuming that your world's nation-states have not yet allied?"
I snorted and laughed briefly at that. Even the stone-faced soldiers around me couldn't help but snigger. "Ha, I wish, our nation-states barely keep themselves from civil war sometimes." I don't even know why the soldiers were there; the alien had literally teleported into this tent around half an hour ago... I'm pretty sure M4 carbines weren't going to cut it.
"I guess that does explain some of the paranoia. You should know, most civilisations we find at your level of development either succumb to nuclear winter or pollution-induced..."
"Climate change. Don't worry, we're aware. We're working on it. Somewhat."
"Still, I would suggest that the response of your world's political and military leaders was... premature?"
"You mean, when we tried to destroy your orbiting ship with nuclear weapons, and then when that didn't work tried to shoot down your shuttle once it entered the atmosphere?" I think even some of the soldiers blinked at my sudden candour, nervous as it was.
"There's no reason for concern. Neither of your weapons system did any damage. And if we attacked every primitive species that panicked at us, well... we'd never get anything done. No offense."
"None taken."
There was a pause, enough for me to wonder at how the alien representative was able to understand me in the first place. I spoke into a device that looked vaguely like a mobile phone, and then neutrally-accented English came back. When I asked the creature earlier how it worked, all it said was 'brain waves', which wasn't particularly reassuring.
A surprisingly accurate representation of a throat clearing coming from the device interrupted me from my musing. "I suppose we should get to the matter of negotiating colonisation rights to the planets in your home system."
"Yes, that's probably for the best."
"We assumed, given your lack of technological development, that your plans for your inter-planetary development are rather modest."
I cleared my own throat as I looked over the list that the powers-that-be gave me, thinking about how to phrase it in a relatively neutral fashion.
"Right... to start with, we'd like to access our planet's primary moon..."
"Oh naturally, that goes without saying."
"...along with the fourth planet of this system, the asteroid belt between planets four and five, and the sixth orbiting moon of the fifth planet. Further negotiations may be needed for the other planets."
There was a brief pause on the other end. "That's all?"
"For now yes."
"Oh, good! This will be easy then, we didn't want any of those. Well, maybe the asteroids, but we can work something out for those."
I blinked briefly. The scientists were pretty sure the alien visitors would want at least one of those planets or moons, given their potential for colonisation. "Out of curiosity, what planets were your people interested in?"
"Well, just between us... we had our eye on planet number two."
I coughed loudly. "Wait... Venus?!"
"Is that what you call it?"
"You want... Venus. With the acid clouds, and the air pressure, and the temperature. That one."
"Oh don't get me wrong, the pressure and temperature extremes aren't ideal, but nothing good nanomaterials can't fix. And of course, we'd compensate your species for such a valuable world. Interstellar technology transfer, rare minerals, terraforming, the usual stuff."
I have been a diplomat for over twenty years. I've been involved in negotiating peace treaties on three continents, faced down warlords accused of Class A war crimes, and am the diplomatic corps' Friday night poker champion three years running.
But even I couldn't help but lean back in my chair incredulously and say, "Fuck it, it's yours." | "Oh," was about all General Grant could muster.
"Plus," Morotzuc mused, rubbing the pink front of its torso. Maybe humans rubbing their chins would look just as, well, alien. "It would avoid a lot of general conflict, you know?"
"Avoid? Conflict?" the general asked, a little confused.
The pink alien stared at him with all five eyes. Each one of them rotated independently, according to his self-introduction, so having all of them transfixed on one thing was worthy of notice.
"Yeah," Morotzuc said. "Is that not a good thing?"
"Well," Grant nodded. "Depends."
He leaned a little closer to the alien.
"So... you guys are just stopping by? And you will be off to the other planets soon enough?"
"Of course," Morotzuc said. "We are going to be neighbours soon. It's only right to visit your neighbours, no? I assume hospitality is customary on Earth as well?"
"Yes, yes, it is," Grant nodded. He waved at the cup of coffee in front of the alien. "Like a drink!"
Morotzuc looked down at the brown liquid in front of him. A finger pushed it ever so slightly away from him, and he politely smiled at Grant.
"Yes, General," Morotzuc said. "Very kind of you."
"Why the Milky Way, then?"
"The Milky Way? Is that what the humans call this system?"
"Well, and the chocolate bar," Grant said. "Depending on who you are talking to, they might be more familiar with the chocolate bar."
"Mm, of course," Morotzuc furrowed his brows. It was less hair and more fibrous, but recognizable as brows nonetheless. "Strange, not to be familiar with your own neighbourhood?"
"Er," Grant said. "On Earth, when we say neighbours, we generally mean like... a few blocks of buildings. Not the entire galaxy, like--"
"Wait," Morotzuc stopped Grant from continuing with an abnormally enlarged finger. The Morotzuc had just one finger and an opposing thumb. "Is it possible that... humans are not capable of migrating to another planet?"
"We are doing OK with Earth, so far," Grant said. "Plans are in the works though. Like a few projects we have--"
Once more, the finger came up.
"I believe I have made a mistake coming here, then," Morotzuc's face hardened considerably. "I never though that humans would be so backwards that they don't even have the means for FTL travel and proper terraforming."
"Hey, what the hell?" Grant said. "That's really rude!"
"When I saw your military," Morotzuc shook his head. "I thought you would be capable of taking to space. After all, what kind of race have the capability to destroy their own kind and land, without the ability to take to the stars?"
"You know," Grant said. "I've had just about enough. You trying to start an interspecies war, son?"
"No, I'm not," Morotzuc said, sadly. "I'm just disappointed. It seems like even here, far away from home, I'm reminded of the mistakes of our ancestors."
Both men sat silent at the table, looking at each other.
"Are you not a military man yourself, Morotzuc?" Grant asked, quietly.
"My family was. I learnt enough from them not to," Morotzuc replied.
"Can... can you help us, then? Make the world..." Grant hesitated. He couldn't believe what he was about to say.
After all, he was a general of the military. He didn't exactly get here by not fighting. But this was a different sort of fight--the sort that he had to think of not as a solider, but as a citizen of Earth.
"No, the galaxy," Grant continued. "A better place?"
"Maybe," Morotzuc said. "There's much to learn, however. And a lot to suffer through."
"I think we might just survive," Grant smiled.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-12-07T06:32:02 | 2020-12-07T06:04:34 | 393 | 261 |
[WP] "So they are a war species, then. Huh," the alien researcher scratches his head. "Why are you so interested in them? The humans, I mean." The other alien gets closer to him, and says, "They fight for peace. No other species fights for peace." | "Fighting for peace, huh?" General Ryken huffs, "I've eviscerated planets for less". "You're not understanding me, general. They fight for something they will never achieve. They kill each other for spoils of war then return to their homelands and spout their lies about peace." General Ryken pondered that statement for a minute and then retorted "Well then, lets bring them some peace."
The general was a very intelligent creature. He had won countless wars throughout his tenure as leader of the Kronis fleet. He's fought barbarians and scientists. Neither were any match for him. These pesky humans would be insignificant.
Radar, the Chief research officer, went to the General with a smile on his face. "Sir, we've established contact with the supposed leader of the planet! A mister... President. He says that he's the planet's leader and even invited us to his home." "He what?" The general asked. "He invited us to his home?" Radar responded, looking confused. The general fired back "What kind of idiot invites an alien race with an armada of ships to their *HOME?* Fetch me Lyas and Wren, they will take a trip."
Lyas walks to the bridge of General Ryker's ship. "Lyas, my boy. Glad you could make it. You've constantly asked for ways to prove yourself. You and your little brother will go meet this President to show them what peace will look like under Kronis rule" Lyas kneels, "Yes General!".
"And that class, was the worst mistake in military history" The professor stated to the new recruits of the United Galatic Government. "That was the day that would ultimately land universe changing technology in the hands of the deadliest species ever known, us humans. The United Galatic Government was formed just 2 Earth years later." "Do you think there will ever be peace, professor?" A tiny girl in the back asked. The professor chuckled. "Sure! Just as soon as we're all dead. In the meantime, we'll just have to keep trying". | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/u_b_the_great_1998] [\[WP\] "So they are a war species, then. Huh," the alien researcher scratches his head. "Why are you so interested in them? The humans, I mean." The other alien gets closer to him, and says, "They fight for peace. No other species fights for peace."](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_B_The_great_1998/comments/bk5taw/wp_so_they_are_a_war_species_then_huh_the_alien/)
- [/r/u_samurai_94] [\[WP\] "So they are a war species, then. Huh," the alien researcher scratches his head. "Why are you so interested in them? The humans, I mean." The other alien gets closer to him, and says, "They fight for peace. No other species fights for peace."](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_Samurai_94/comments/bk3jqg/wp_so_they_are_a_war_species_then_huh_the_alien/)
&nbsp;*^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))* | 2019-05-02T21:23:33 | 2019-05-02T19:26:00 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] You ate you roommate's food without asking them. Trying to cover it you end up committing a series of larger and larger crimes each covering the previous one. Describe how far it goes.
An alternative starting point is stealing a cookie from the cookie jar, or any other minor crime. | "Ohh yeah. Pizza." I mumbled to myself. Then it hit me as I stood in my underwear in front of the open refrigerator.
"Ugh, this is Jack's leftovers isn't it."
My stomach let out a small gargle as I pondered.
"Well, I can buy him some more this week, he won't care."
I took the leftover pizza out of the fridge as I did a little skip over to our oven.
"Ahh yess, 350 degrees and counting."
Moments later I was stretched out on the couch about to devour a slice when Jack's cat jumped onto my lap, making the slice fall face down onto the carpet.
"Shit."
Luckily there was a rag next to me and I began to mop up the sauce until I noticed a H&M tag sticking out from the side of the rag.
"Oh, no."
It was Jack's brand new shirt he had been showing off to me recently. I jumped up and immediately headed straight to the bathroom sink. As I scrubbed the tomato sauce out of the shirt I dumped a handful of soap in there as well to..
"Motherfucker!" That was bleach. "Well looks like I owe him a new shirt."
I put on my shoes and socks and began to head outside just as the cat ran under my feet making me step on him.
"Well that was your fault."
As I got in my car and started it up my gear stick was stuck. It does this from time to time. i just have to hit the gas a little and wiggle my stick around...and... my car tires squeal as I speed in reverse uncontrollably.
BOOM. I slam into Jack's car with the force of one thousand gorillas. His car is totally wrecked. Panicked, I speed off to my original destination to get Jack's shirt.
When I return I hear a lot of sirens near by but think nothing of it until I pull up to my house.
"Oh, fuck. The oven."
Our house is ablaze with the roof pretty much caved in. Buster, the cat, is hanging out of our window, char broiled and lifeless. He didn't make it. I can only stand there with my hands on my head and my mouth a gape.
Suddenly a black skeleton of a person emerges out of our front door. His flesh is dripping off of his bones and his one eyeball is held on by a thread.
I point to him, "Jack!"
He points right back at me and smiles.
"Did you eat my pizza?" | **Charges:**
Petty Theft
Harassment
Cyber Bullying
Credit Card Fraud
Disturbing the Peace
Breaking and Entering
Driving While Intoxicated
Manslaughter: Involuntary
Aggravated Assault/ Battery
Child Abduction/Endangerment
Drug Manufacturing and Cultivation
Crimes involving Satanism or the Occult
________________________
**Defendant’s Statement:**
It started off a simple matter.
All I wanted was Panda Express.
And there it was alone in the fridge.
So I put it in the microwave and ate it.
It got out of hand when Steve came back.
And next thing I knew we were in a fist fight.
Things turned for the worse from then on out.
There were the nasty things posted on Facebook.
Using his Netflix account without having permission.
Of course the burning effigy in his name took it too far.
There was no turning back so we then broke into his house.
And when we were in we stole pretty all of his liquor collection.
We threw ourselves quite the party that night, until the cops came.
So we hopped in the car and drove home but we were pretty hammered.
We ran over a woman who went for a run as she pushed her child in a stroller.
The child was fine, but the woman wasn’t so we decided to take the child with us.
The only place we could go was our friend Mark’s house who sold meth and cocaine.
He said he could get us passports to get out of the country but that we’d have to earn it.
Next thing I know we are in a field surrounded by sheep’s blood and candles, drugs in hand.
Soon we were surrounded by blue and red lights, handcuffed on our way to the Police Station.
All I wanted were some leftovers…
| 2015-12-29T13:17:37 | 2015-12-29T12:25:14 | 62 | 40 |
[WP] Unlike most people with super powers, you're perfectly content to mind your own business while using your powers in normal everyday activities. However the heroes seem to have decided that your disinterest in world affairs is suspicious and you're clearly faking it to hide your true agenda. | Professor Brokhart was simply having a normal class day, at least until two familiar ‘hero’s’ snuck into his classroom during break to stalk him, he didn’t see them but he could sense their minds. Honestly, with how they act he found it a wonder they even had minds.
He sighed, adjusting the dark black croptop and fluffing his bright purple jacket till it was free of any of the dust from the assignment from previously. He then sat at his desk and reached for a metal box, only to hear a shout as the hero’s burst from a closet like they saw something terrible “Hands up villain! We know you pla- hey wait I said hands up-“
He ignored them, opening the box until a foot attempted to kick it to the ground, only for him to flash a violet eye and make the second hero stop and go stand near the other before releasing them. Watching as the hero stared in confusion as he pulled out a lunch from the box “Silence hero’s. This is like, the third time this week and it’s not even Wednesday. Let me eating my lunch in peace for once”
The bigger of the two, the one who shouted, stared with confusion as his neck glowed with the fire within him “Seriously, Captain Blaze. You realize your in a science classroom, and behind you is a extremely explosive chemical correct? Please step forward to avoid blowing it up, I’m not being payed enough for another explosion.” They turn and stiffen seeing he was correct, multiple tiny vials of liquid behind him, ln even knocked over.
The other hero, lady Mountain as he knew her simply scowls “You mind controlled me! How dare you!” Brokhart sighs “And you nearly spilt my lunch, I find it quite even” the hero pauses and stuttered for a response “I would prefer you two get back to your actual classes, back to the kindergarten to learn some basic know-how to realize I’m not a villain. I’m just too busy trying to teach a damn class”
He dodged another kick as she jumped at him, taking a bite of the burger he packed as he made her once more return to her partners side, much to her frustration. “Now. Leave my classroom before you break anything, or I will make you go lick a toilet in the boys bathroom. Both paused, lady Mountain gagging before grabbing her friend and tossing him out the window, shattering it and earning a shout from him and Brokhart, then left herself
Brokhart sighed “Hmph. A villain. Seriously? I literally school children in a lab, with even the door half gone for easy escape if something catches on fire. How the hell am I dangerous? At least I’m nothing like my brother, he’s a straight up villain in his own stripper rights.” He shuddered, remembering seeing his brothers favorite images of people’s heads impaled on his portable strip pole “Bleh. Nasty.” He shifted, then check the time as he sweeps up the shattered window, students walking the halls as he now sighed seeing he barely got to eat his lunch
Hope it’s good, if not a bit lazy// | Don't know if I'm doing this properly. Please, forgive me.
A Rose by One Name...
I come from outside of the universe. I am printed on two hologram universes, thus. Many beings are like me, want to settle down a bit on one world, take a break from the endless task of printing universes to collect data and patterns.
Humans aren't my favorite creatures. Why couldn't they be like the world of dots or the world of endless painting? Instead, they are the lords of errors, forgetfulness, and wounded curiosity. I wish I had analyzed more data so that I might have swum in a sea of mercury, the most expensive place.
So, the superpower...
I was given the name "Kaela" because the aesthetic of the letter causes one to think as well as the unusual spelling. The nice way it calls out gives me an endearing advantage. Many people can't pronounce it, so there is a humble response. Every time I was for coffee, people tell me they are happy to see me again.
Busy, busy, angels.
My friend sat down and began talking. I only kept her around so that I would appear integrated and could avoid the angels.
I have a flyswatter around for this kind, hit their points, and scrambled their minds. Effing angels. They needed to turn to dust.
I got up.
"How are you going to pay?" My friend asked. She knew I was behind on bills.
"Easy, Ma'am!"
"Don't worry about it, Kaela," the woman at the bar said. "We've got plenty of soda water. Would you like some chips?"
"No thank you, ma'am," I said back and hopped off the chair.
"How do you do that?" My friend asked. "Are you hiding something?" She seemed worried. I could only imagine what gears in her human mind turned.
"She's afraid she can't spell my name on the drink and doesn't want to insult me."
"Totally rad. Do teach."
"They'd be too jealous of you, dear."
"What?"
"You'll have to find your own weapon," I said. | 2021-08-17T00:42:41 | 2021-08-16T21:53:30 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] Out of all possible familiars, you are "Graced" with a human. While legend says that they are beings of great power, yours just makes sarcastic comments and pranks people. | After glancing at the time, Navi raced down from her roost, and flew into her family's great room, where her graduation party would be happening. But when she saw the mess, she stopped short.
Her heart shrank. Bowls of punch had been thrown to the ground and shattered. The food had all been covered with black pitch. The streamers torn down, the banners ruined with stains. Even the huge "Congratulations" banner had been mostly torn down, so that only a sad "Con" hung in it's place.
And an human laugh, in their annoying high-pitched way, was the only sound. Anger consumed her. *Travis!*
Every dragon looks forward to their thirteenth birthday, the day when they'll first summon their familiar. All familiars are valuable, but none are so prized as the intelligent ones. Fairies were best, but even humans were held in high regard. Intelligent familiars could learn magic above and beyond their dragon partners.
On the day she had received a human she had been overjoyed. But after three years of practical jokes and insipid pranks, three years of disappointment, she thought that perhaps a nice little rabbit would have been better.
Still, the pranks in the past had a least been a little funny. This was just *malicious*. Her anger faded, and just turned into a tired sadness.
After a moment, she spoke, "At first, when I saw you, I thought that we would be like Isil and Markus. I thought that we would have a bond of love and friendship that would defy the ages. I thought that we would be great! Heroes that could do anything."
Now she knew. She would have to be great without him.
"You know?" Travis said, "That's what I thought, too. What? I've read those stories, too. There's not much else to do when your master is such a shut-in. I don't remember my life before I was summoned, obviously, but I don't think I was anything special. That's why I was so excited when I heard about them. But then I looked around. A kingdom at peace. A fair and tolerant government. Does this world even need heroes?"
Navi held her tongue. This was the first time she had heard *any* of this!
Travis continued, "But then I heard about the Academy of Heroes! A special college, where you can be taught by the greatest dragons and familiars in the kingdom! And as a human-dragon pair, we were practically guaranteed a spot! I heard about that and I *knew*. I *knew*. I still had a glorious destiny in front of me."
Travis paused to calm himself.
"So maybe that's why it hurt so much when you slept through three years of classes, so that you could stay up to 3 every morning reading trashy adventure novels."
A spike of shame shot through Navi. How many times had he tried no wake her in the morning, only to be thrown off her roost. Isil had never manhandled Markus like that; humans were notoriously sensitive about their slight frame and fragile bodies. Eventually, Trav had stopped roosting with her at all, despite the fact that his tiny human body had no defense against the freezing Dragonia nights.
"But why this?" Navi asked, gesturing at the wreckage with a claw.
"Why what? Why ruin all the decorations that me and your mother set up for you, while you messed around in your room?"
Travis shook his head.
"Because for the last three years, the only time you seemed to be alive at all is when I could get you to run around putting out fires that I started. I wanted you to be awake for this."
He unfurled a scroll, comically large in his human hands. Navi read it, and felt her eyes nearly bulge out of her sockets.
"You've been accepted to the Academy *WITHOUT ME?*"
"You didn't even graduate tertiary school. Maybe double check that next time before throwing a party for yourself. I'm sorry Navi, but I could watch you sleep your schooling away. I can't spend my life watching you wash dishes part time at your uncle's public house. I'll just have to be great without you."
He winked at her shocked expression. He said, "We can read each others minds. You'd know that if you cared enough about anyone else to try."
"I won't let you!" she said, "I can Recall you!"
Travis cupped her snout in his hands. "I can stop you. But I won't. If you ever really need me, I'll be there for you. But honestly Navi, instead of asking why I ruined your decorations, why not ask why you're a half hour late to your own party, and why no one else bothered to show up?"
With that, he backed up a few steps and clapped his hands. He disappeared, and in an impressive burst of magic, all the decorations and food repaired themselves. The big banner hung just as it had before.
"Congratulations" | Ellayne, Syldra, Fayrwin, and myself, Jeryl, had been friends since our early days, playing in the forest at being adventurous sorceresses. Now, after years of schooling it was time for our summonings.
A familiar human was a spirit from another realm, given new life and form to serve and aid their summoner. Each sorcerer and sorceress choose a type - a warrior, a soldier, a scholar, a spy, a sage, and so on, and called them forth from the nether to be their lifelong companion.
Ellayne had always had a flair for the dramatic, from her dress to her spellcasting. She specialized in grand displays of power, and needed a familiar who could help her channel energies to fuel it all. As she performed the ritual, her familiar took form; a short (even for a human) with cropped, curly hair, wearing a modest dress.
We could all feel her spiritual power; a medium then. Someone who could channel energy. We helped Ellayne can and settle her familiar; echoes of memories from their past selves clung on for a while, but eventually faded. This one's personality seemed modest and quiet; easy to manage. Her name was Agatha.
Syldra was an Invoker; she revelled in the raw power of magic, and specialized in unleashing it in devestating attacks. However, it came at the an expense. She'd neglected her self defense and combat training, so she's need protection. Her familiar flickered several times until one took form. He was impressive; tall, broad shouldered, even handsome in the brutish way some humans can be. More importantly, he wore shining, fitted armor and carried several well-used weapons. His name was Charles.
Fayrwin was our team's healer; she'd always been caring and kind with a deep connection with nature. Her familiar came into focus swiftly, and was... Odd... He was a gangly man with an excited nature, wearing simple tan clothing. They immediately began talking about animals; so much so that we had to remind Fayrwin that I needed to summon mine still. His name was Steve.
I was nervous, to say the least. I never really settled in a specialty in school, and had no idea what kind of familiar to conjure. I decided that someone wise, with broad skills would work best, clever and quick witted, who could help me out of any messy situations I might find myself in.
I began the ritual. I could feel the threads of power flow through me and into the nether. I found it! Strong, clever, wise... He was everything I wanted in a familiar! I saw an older, yet spry man with youthful eyes form before me. There was energy, vigor, yet a deep solemnety that bordered on sadnesses.
"Woah, talk about a head trip!" He exclaimed looking about animatedly. "Hey, you must be in charge here," he said to me, grasping my hand and shaking it vigorously.
"Er, well, yes. I summoned you; you're my familiar," I replied firmly.
"Not too familiar sweetheart, I've already got a wife."
"What? No, not that kind of... You're my guardian and guide, my helper and companion."
"That's a tall order for one short, hairy comedian, but I'll see what I can do," he replied with a flourish and a bow. "Steve! So this is where you ended up!"
"Ate mate, good to finally meet ya!" Fayrwin's familiar replied. I gave her a baffled, helpless look. Our other friends just laughed, irritating me more than a little as my familiar wandered off to chat with Steve.
"Hey! Come back here!" I insisted crossly. My familiar stomped back over with stiff, exaggerated steps, arms and legs stiff and straight. He turned in his heel before me and crispy saluted. "Oh Capitan my Captain!" He exclaimed.
"Stop that at once!" I commanded, flustered. He looked back at me with the unsettling gaze of an experienced parent. "Uh, if you please... Uh... Mister..." I stammered.
"Robin," he finished, "nice to meet you!" I could only stand there, dumbfounded and perplexed as he energetically shook my limp hand.
Neither my friends nor their familiars could stop laughing. | 2018-03-20T20:55:10 | 2018-03-20T20:23:14 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | You want an interview ? Fine, but you're buying the coffee. I'm getting kind of sick of this god-damned urban legend. I DON'T have superpowers, no-one has superpowers. There are just a bunch of crazy people who think they have powers, who for some reason have decided that I'm some fucked up version of their messiah.
**You don't believe super-powered people exist ?**
No. I've never seen one. I've seen the doctored footage from the media. I've seen a lot of crazy people who thought they had powers. I don't know why they gravitate to me of all people. I'm just a regular guy. I put in my hours in the office, then at the gym.
**So you haven't heard about the ranking system ?**
Oh, I've heard of their ranking system all right. That's all I ever hear. What baffles me is why they chose me to be their number one, their highest rank. That the only way for people to rise in rank and become more powerful is to kill them. Does that sound sane to you ?
Then one day, some poor bastard commits suicide near me, and suddenly, they decide that I'm the number one on their hitlist.
**You are referring to the death of the Human Jet as suicide?**
Man faceplants on the ground from a hundred feet, that's suicide. It doesn't matter that he said "Up Up and Away" before he jumped off that building. That was suicide.
**The Human Jet was one of our greatest heroes, with documented evidence of his powers..**
Blah Blah Blah. I've heard that all before. I was there, I saw him hit the ground. Where the hell do you people in the media get off encouraging these people. They are a danger to themselves. Surely you must have learned your lesson after Inferno Man.
**Inferno Man was a criminal, whose control over fire rendered him a threat to the world...**
Bullshit. Let me tell you what happened when I met this so called inferno man. I was just hanging out in a cafe not far from here, when this asshole shows up in a stupid costume. He bursts in, and gives this long speech about how he's going to kill me and burn everything down.
Then nothing happened. He stood there for like five minutes, straining, and glaring at me. I don't know what I did, I just wanted my cup 'o' joe. Then he leaves, and I thought "That was weird, I'm glad it's over".
Then he comes back, with a barrel of gasoline. Who the fuck would sell him gasoline. that's beside the point. The point is that the fucker doused himself in the stuff, and then pulled out a lighter and set himself on fire. Right in front of me. Hearing him scream almost put me off my coffee.
**Yes, quite a lot of superpowered villains have died under similar mysterious circumstances in your presence**
If by superpowered people, you mean insane people, then yes. The numbers of clowns in capes who drop out of the sky near me is so bloody annoying. Not to mention the scrawny fucks who just straight up try to pick fights with me.
Oh god, there was one which was genuinely funny.
This guy came up to me with this long speech about how he is one with nature, and that he will use all of his power to destroy me. I don't know why these guys always gotta speech at me. When I punch someone, I punch'em, I don't tell 'em my life story.
He had this tiger with him. Big fucking cat. He told the tiger to get me. Moment the muzzle was off, it savaged him. I fucking split my sides.
**So you don't think you have any superpowers at all ?**
Course not. Like I said *nobody* has superpowers. At least not that I've seen, not when they're around me. | Oh yes. I definitely remember, every single detail. He was wearing a red and silver striped tie, for example. How could I ever forget that day? I walked into his office as number 21,458. When I left, I had his number 1.
Quite a frenzy it set off, you know? At first, people didn't even know it was me. I remember the first reporter I ever talked to, after she'd discovered that I was on his calendar for 2 PM, right about when he'd died. First question she asked me? "Who else was in the room with you?" Thanks for the vote of confidence, lady.
Well, eventually they managed to wrap their puny minds around it. I was the new #1 in town, and I had the token to prove it. News organizations exploded: some nobody is now the most powerful person in town? No one had even witnessed what my power was! There was endless speculation and chatter about what I could do. I remember this one professor from the university, speculating that I could make someone explode just by thinking about them. All sorts of self-proclaimed experts came forward to discuss it. And don't you know it, all of them were pounding on my door for that exclusive interview.
Well, it became pretty clear that I wasn't talking. So then the challenges started coming. Who was first? I think it was that bloke who could control flames. Nice guy, bit of a hothead...
No? Nothing. Fine.
Well, I met up with him and accepted the challenge, but on the condition that we fight in an empty room, no cameras or witnesses. He agreed, and we found an empty gym on the outskirts of town. Well, of course you know what happened to him, and to that entire neighborhood. I made the same offer to any other challenger: I was taking callers, but only if we fought alone. Same offer still stands, you know, but it's been years since anyone has taken me up on it.
Once it became pretty clear that no one was going to take the number from me, or see me in a fight, then they tried other methods. You know how many women I met who tried to seduce the information out of me? Hell, that's why I'm *still* a bachelor: I just can't trust any of them. Then came the offers: money, jobs, protection, you name it. Every prominent member of the city wanted me as their bodyguard, but on the condition that I told them what I could do. I told 'em to shove it. Then, they went after my friends and my parents, badgering them for information. So I became a recluse. Bought this cabin up here, just me and Buddy. My only friend; dogs don't care what my power is. And that's been the story ever since. I'm no longer involved in the tournament scene, and I guess the city is just going to have be content with only having a number 2.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Buddy and I have some fish to catch, so I'm afraid this interview is over.
All right, one last question...
Yes, I knew this would be coming. Did you really think it would be that easy to get it out of me? Nice try. | 2014-12-18T13:36:09 | 2014-12-18T11:07:40 | 996 | 300 |
[WP]: Click "random", and study the subreddit you got. Write about your discoveries like a victorian wilderness explorer | He crawls through the undergrowth, trying not to disturb the members of the group, who are seated in a tight circle around some unknown object, shoulders raised high against intruders.
"See here Billson." He whispers to his caddy, who is currently carrying the high-tech camera (an exposure time of only thirty seconds!) his head is covered by his traditional safari helmet and the characteristic WritingPrompts flag - blue and white stripes - is rolled up and slung across his back. "We're the first people to witness this in forty-five years."
"What happened to the last ones who found it?" Billson asked in his usual awe-filled voice. He was constantly admiring Dickson, with his fantastic moustache and wide knowledge of the Reddit Savannah.
"You wouldn't want to know lad." Dickson said gravely. "But see here, look at what they're wearing. Characteristic of their species."
"Cardigans?"
"*And jeans*" Dickson hissed. "We're in the right place. Get the camera ready."
"What do you think they're looking at?"
"Some question from the poor fools who follow them blindly. They are the oracles of womankind."
The camera rig had been set up, and Dickson leant forward to take the prized photo of women in the wild that would earn him a spot on the front page of Reddit Geographic. But a twig crunched in his foot, and all the women turned round as one, eyes peering into the darkness of the bushes.
"Who goes there?" One asked imperiously
"Have you a question for us?" Another said, perfectly tousled blonde hair fluttering in the wind.
"Run." Dickson whispered.
"But the photo..." Billson cried
"It doesn't matter - just run!"
The explorers dashed from the huddled group of women, throwing themselves through the bristly scrub in their haste to get away.
"No-one..." Dickson panted as they ran. "No-one survives AskWomen." | /r/ruralporn - I don't know what a Victorian wilderness explorer would sound like, so nature documentary it is.
--------------
And here we visit the region of /r/ruralporn, home to a rarely encountered animal. These animals belong to the well-known Family of Redditorias and Genus Pornellia. Look at all the different habitats that these redditors live in and you'll notice a certain pattern emerge. This type of redditor lives not in the bustling cities like its other brethren, but instead live in a rural setting, far away from the urban or suburban environments. But look even closer and you'll find that the redditors are nowhere to be found! This certain species is known for their fondness of isolation and the outdoors, be it day or night. It is not known what separates these redditors from most of the other species, but it is possible that they have retained certain memories from their ancestors and feel compelled to return to their ancestral origins.
They are few in numbers, and even fewer in words. What is interesting is that they socialize with other species of their genus more often than amongst their own species. Interactions are especially common Pornellia Earthien and Pornellia Historii. Little is known about Pornellia Ruralium other than their obsession with pathways and rural areas. It is believed that this type of redditor has no natural predator due to their isolation and effective hiding adaptations. | 2014-03-17T14:21:31 | 2014-03-17T13:34:01 | 386 | 53 |
[WP] You wake up to find yourself on a train with a note in your pocket saying "What ever you do, don't get off this train untill you arrive at the very last stop". Its been nearly 20 years and the train still hasn't arrived at the last stop yet. | I remember the first night I stumbled upon the Bullet Train. I was 16, soaked, blasted out of my mind, and completely unaware of what I was getting myself into. All I knew was that I needed to skip this bumfuck town. My boyfriend at the time had kicked me out because his wife (yes, wife.) had found out about our little "arrangement" and since my mother told me she would gun me down on the lawn before she'd even let me step foot in her house I figured I had nothing left to lose. I thought I was going to be starting my life as a wanderer; a nomad following wherever the roads would take me.
I was naive to say the least.
A train employee asked if I had a ticket to board. I pretended to pat my pockets for it when to my surprise I felt a piece of very thick paper buried under my pack of Marlboros. I very quickly flashed it to him in hopes that he would just nod and let me go, but he snatched it faster than I could blink.
His eyes scanned the parchment and widened. He looked back at me, folded the paper up very quickly and escorted me towards the back of the very packed compartments. People were standing in hallways, hanging onto window sills, just trying to fit in any way they can. I wondered how this train was even allowed to operate in these conditions.
"Mr. Halloway, please keep up as we will be departing in two minutes."
My head whipped around so fast I thought my neck was going to snap. I never told this guy my name.
**************************************************************
The sound of the rumbling tracks beneath my seat was something of a familiar lull that I had gotten used to by this point. I felt like I had gotten to see the world, without ever really getting to *see* it. Hong Kong, Italy, Niagara Falls. Places my little mind couldn't even fathom seeing in this lifetime, let alone seeing them through a window on a train.
I'm 36 now, and although I feel like my life is in a much better place, and I feel I've accomplished seeing the places I talked about visiting with my high school friends, I haven't experienced anything in this life. I had spent a majority of my time before this skipping school, drinking and partying with men who shouldn't have even been talking to me in the first place. I often wonder where I would have ended up if I had never boarded.
"Coffee, Mr. Halloway?"
It was the same employee that found my seat. He looked like he hadn't aged a day. I wish I could say the same for myself. I plucked a cigarette from the box and opened up my window to prep for airing out the smoke. As I twirled the orange and white stick between my fingers, I thought about the instructions on that little piece of parchment. I wasn’t allowed to step foot off of this train until the very last stop. Although my accommodations were wonderful, it added to the fear of missing out and overall disappointment I had with only being able to look at the beauty of the world from afar.
“Say, Jacob where’s the last stop on this train anyway?”
He just continued to pour my coffee and shook his head.
“You know I can’t say. That is completely up to you.”
Jacob would always give me a very cryptic answer to these kinds of questions. He believed everything was written in the stars, and that the world moves in motion of cause and effect. That first night I boarded he told me I could stay “as long as it took”. But what is it? Was I waiting for my enemies to die off? For opportunity to arise? To come to my senses about what I truly wanted out of this life?
I didn’t have anywhere to go that night, and I still don’t have anywhere to go now. I’ve had the opportunity to live vicariously through this train’s passengers. People visiting loved ones, people going out of town for work, hell I’ve probably been in the background of a couple of Hollywood films I won’t get to see if I’m going to be stuck here the whole time! I had found solace in avoiding my own fucked up life. It was time for me to make a decision.
If I was going to start a new life, I wanted a clean slate. I could break away from my home town, from my homophobic mother, I could even break away from the hands of lovers filled with false hopes and lies. But there was something about this habit that I could not break. I looked down at my last two cigarettes. 20 years. 20 years of running. 20 years of avoidance. 20 years of traveling alone with nothing but a box. I looked at them a while before I threw them out the window.
A voice played over the intercom: “Mr. Halloway, thank you for boarding the Bullet Train. We have arrived at our very last stop. Please make sure to take all of your belongings with you. We hope you’ve enjoyed your travels.”
The apricot sherbet sunrise kissed the lake upon arrival. It was unlike any of the places we had ever been. Serene, peaceful, undisturbed by anyone. I almost felt bad stepping foot off of the train, like I hadn’t seen enough, but I knew it was time. I turned around to wave goodbye to Jacob, and let the light lead me through the unknown. | "Excuse me, sir, do you have any clue where the dining car is?"
I lifted my eyes from the news paper.
"Boy, i know this train like my hand, if not better. Go in the direction opposite of the trains movement, it will be the fourth one." I leaned forward a bit and lowered my voice. "If you say 'and a jacked ice' they will give you a drink for free." I winked.
"Jee, thanks mister!" The boy looked happy. "Mind if I get you something?"
"Nothing for the old me pleases me than a child's happiness!" I smiled.
A lady with a beautiful green dress sat across from me. Her blonde wavy hair was tied in a bun and her sunny smile brightened my mood.
"Well it's a nice day today, milady." I smiled back at her. "I presume this is your little brother." I lifted my eyebrow flirtingly.
"Oh, I am delighted that a gentleman like you tries to complement me on my age!" She blushed. "But no, he is my son."
"A polite chap, ain't he!" I lifted my moustache.
She giggled. "He is well behaved indeed."
I put down my paper. I grew bored of it. A conversation was always more interesting than those inky sentences. "Where are you traveling to?"
"Portsmouth. And you?"
"There is no train to Portsmouth. The Channel tunnel is still a dream of ours."
"You didn't answer me as to your destination."
I sat nervously in my seat. "The last stop is where I shall depart."
She looked confused. "Where is the last stop?"
"I shan't know until I'm to reach it."
A glance of confusion. I pulled a folded note from my pocket and handed it to her.
"Tell me you haven't been on that train for so long!" She gasped.
"Twenty years."
"Twenty years! And not once had you gotten out?"
"No, I've traveled since."
"So that means..."
"Yes, since the end of the Great war."
"Oh my!" She was astonished. "Are you..." She leaned forward. "One of those..." She wispered. "Spies?"
"I don't remember madam. This note is the only thing I woke up with, 20 years ago. People have come and gone, personnel has changed, but I am here."
"So you are that man!"
I lifted my eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"People tell of you as if a legend. Everyone has seen you and claims you exist, no one knows exactly. You are mythical in those stories."
I hummed. "Well I suppose it is a deserved fame."
"I have a question. Why don't you just... Get off the train?"
"I can't."
"But it's just a note..."
"It's orders. And I am trained to follow orders." I was getting uncomfortable. I didn't know where that came from.
The trains brakes squeaked.
"Paris train station coming in ten minutes!" A loud voice echoed through the train.
"It was nice meeting you,... I didn't get your name."
"I have no name, madam. Have a nice journey to Portsmouth!"
The lady stood up and went looking for her son. I grabbed my newspaper and leaned back again.
"Sir!" A deep voice interrupted my reading session once again. I looked over the paper. "This is for you." The bartender handed me a wine bottle, inside a piece of paper, and a big envelope. He leaned forward and whispered. "From the lady with the green dress." Quickly he turned around and disappeared.
"Open the bottle first." Read the envelope. I pulled the cork. On the note was a simple message. "Last stop: Berlin." I ripped open the envelope. A brown folder. Red lettering. "Classified". I flipped the cover. "Agent Carl Hemble - undercover" and a photo of myself next to it. My dossier! A read for later. I flipped the page. "Mission Flat Plus - strongly classified".
I read through. Eyes wide open. I knew who I was. I knew what I should do. "Meet at Alexanderplatz, 29. June 10pm. Brown suit and black shoes. Code: Oxfords not brogues. Dispose as fast as possible." I closed the folder. Inside the envelope was another thing too. A small medallion with a "K".
"Kingsmen!" I whispered as I put it in my pocket. "Off to Berlin then!"
-=-=-=-=-
P.s I decided to include one of my favourite franchises in this short WP, hope you enjoy it! | 2020-07-17T13:25:39 | 2020-07-17T12:04:08 | 132 | 71 |
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life. | Antonine had never intended for any of this to happen. What kind of monster would? No, the ritual that sacrificed an entire city was supposed to be a death repelling barrier, that is what the ancient scrolls said, but apparently death repelling did not mean keeping the undead out.
For centuries Antonine had been trapped in the aftermath of a necromancer scourge, and every time they killed him, he would reawaken at the moment the ritual had been completed. The moment his wife and children, who had been in the inner circle of the ritual dropped dead.
The first hundred times he'd found himself in this room, looking at his wife's glassy eyes staring at him, it was a pain so deep he wanted to die. He even tried to make it happen on more than one occasion, so he might join his family beyond the veil. But sadly, that just meant he had to return even sooner.
The following hundred times resulted in him being brutally murdered by the undead horde, but after looping back so many times killing a few thousand skeletons was like taking a stroll in the park.
But now was different. Antonine was an old man, wise and powerful beyond compare. He'd mastered spells thought impossible to learn and devised rituals that could finally break the cycle. He could not return the life energy from the sacrificed he'd used, the god of death would not allow for such a theft, but he could return what had yet to be taken. Millenia of years would be returned to his people.
But more than that, his wife and children, their voices which he'd long since forgotten would fill the halls. Gulping his nervousness down, he made the cut letting his life flow out as he channeled it in a ritual so complicated not even a hundred other mages could perform it together.
Antonine closed his eyes which had become so heavy. It was satisfying to know that the barrier would even be raised as intended. If only he...
The world grew dark and he felt the fabric of time warp around him. It was surprising that he'd returned, that wasn't supposed to happen. Antonine expected to see the same horrifying sight of his wife, but instead she was alive. She was screaming and crying, but that didn't matter, she was finally alive.
"Don't you dare die, I need you my love."
'So that is what her voice sounded like.' Antonine thought before the world went dark and silent. | I already knpw what made her heart race. I know exactly what it is I do that pisses her off. I can tell within a breath of a moment that she's bored or happy or distracted.
I thought I was being punished, reliving our life together over and over..all the pain, all the tears. Both of us had regrets, missed opportunities. I finally got it thru my thick skull the replays were about exploring all of those. I have been her husband...I have been just a fuckbuddy and watched her marry someone else... On a few occasions, I just observed at a distance and she never knew who I was.
I could have stopped the replays years ago. It has always been a matter of accepting the past. I do. I acknowledge and accept our past. But that face...that temper..that passion she put into everything.
I have memorized every single line of her face. I know every fear and every shortcoming.
I know how selfish and how cruel.
Not her.
Me.
I was her flaw in character. She loved me enough to give my opinions and fears and loves and biases, parts of her life. And I SO blew it.
I made her less than what she could have been. And now I know what she could have been without me.
But I can't stop looking at her.
After all this time, I'm so entranced .
I'm ready to end the loop. Right here. Looking at you over dinner on our 3rd date.
All I can do is look at you, resting my cheek in my hand, and sigh.
I am totally yours my love. And I have been for centuries. | 2022-01-25T00:35:16 | 2022-01-24T22:27:42 | 86 | 52 |
[WP] Reddit Karma has been established as the national currency of America for no reason whatsoever. It sounded nice at first but now, your starving on the street because all your posts are getting ignored. | "I'm sorry, we don't accept self-karma here," the cashier looked at me disdainfully. He was holding one phone in his hand and throughout our interaction, his thumb never stopped scrolling.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I stepped outside on the street to consider my options.
Karma. Karma is money.
I never gave a shit about karma. I lurked. I rarely shared posts. I commented long essays in niche subreddits and earned paltry amounts of karma per minute.
I regret everything now. I should have learned the art of crossposting. I should have learned from the master shitposters. I should have learned how to draw so I could comment shitty watercolour reactions. Too late. Much too late.
Apparently not. Whatever I got my hands on, people cried out. Filth. Repost. Too late.
I looked at the wealthiest subreddits. Within minutes of an Askreddit or Funny thread, or the puns you could think of was already up.
The welfare subreddits? Well, people tried, but it wasn't long before those were shut down. Turns out Reddit already has an inbuilt policing system. Try anything funny and find yourself in KarmaCourt.
It wasn't just positive karma being credited. Negative points were too. I soon became too afraid to post or comment on anything.
My gaze found itself wandering across the city. There, a name emblazoned across a shiny tower.
Gallowboob. Name scraping the skies, karma flowing into him faster than ever. Turns out even in this shitty new world, celebrity status meant something.
I looked down at my phone. A tear rolled down my cheek. To survive, I had to betray my own ideals.
The tears began flowing freely now. I could barely see through the waterfall to type circlejerk into the search bar.
---
r/dexdrafts | “I have $50,000. I can make do,” I had thought when the change was first announced. But slowly, those reserves were being drained, until I had only 100 karma left. That wasn’t enough for a loaf of bread. It would have been, before, but the karma farmers posting click bait and reposts were raking in so much that inflation went rampant. I had always stuck to my guns, posting original content and good ideas. It was no use. I’d get 5 upvotes per post, maybe 6 if I was lucky. Reddit was overrun with banal stuff, people desperately posting anything in order to feed their families for the day. I looked at my dog with tears in my eyes. He was the reason I hadn’t starved yet- people still loved animal posts, after all- but I could see the sickness in his eyes. His tail drooped as it slowly dragged across the cobblestones beneath us. I couldn’t afford a vet, not at these prices.
I realized with a heavy heart I would have to do what I promised myself years ago I would never stoop to: I would have to become a karma farmer. | 2020-02-14T07:35:34 | 2020-02-14T07:28:04 | 103 | 38 |
[WP] [EU] Tom Brady in the Marvel Universe has won five Superbowls. The jeweler responsible for his rings unwittingly used Infinity Stones instead of regular gem stones. | No one knew what would happen when Tom Brady gained the staggering power of the Infinity Gems. For awhile, it seemed like nothing had changed. The cosmos functioned as it always had.
Then, with lethal precision and efficiency, Brady struck.
For a time, everyone ignored it. Brady first concentrated on those considered threats to the ongoing safety of the universe: Thanos, Galactus, Loki, Nick Saban, and many others considered villains were the first to fall.
But once he eliminated them, he turned his attentions to the heroes. Brady decimated many of the heroes with the same vigor he used on the villains. Brady stood unchallenged.
Save for a small group gathered in a heavily protected pocket of New York City.
"Are you sure we're safe here?" Iron Fist asked.
"Damn well better be," Steve Spurrier took a sip from his Coors, then responded. "Between Doctor Strange's magic, Mr. Fantastic's science, and whatever the hell that dark shit Lane does. Always wondered how he kept getting jobs."
Lane Kiffin nodded from the corner, where he sat very close to a visibly uncomfortable Kitty Pryde.
Mr. Fantastic stood. All chatter in the room ceased. "I am going to make this short and to the point. We are running out of time, and we have few options. Stephen, do you want to talk about them?"
"Thank you, Reed," Doctor Strange said. "We are all in agreement that Brady must be stopped, but most of the options we have would probably be worse than Brady."
"What are they?" Storm asked.
"There are several beings even Brady had a hard time destroying. He chose to banish them, as opposed to killing them outright. But I have to warn you, these are not the kind of entities we want unleashed on the world."
"What kind of options are we looking at?" this question came from the Silver Surfer.
"Dormammu, Annihilus, Dark Phoenix, Korvac, a few others," Strange replied. "The best case scenario among any of these entities is that they would be the same danger to the cosmos as Brady."
"What if we just threw everything we had at him really fast?" Gus Malzahn asked.
"Dammit, Gus!" Spurrier yelled. "He can control time. Your gimic ain't gonna work on his ass!"
"Worked on you in 2010," Malzahn replied with a slight grin.
"What about the Chaos Entity?" She Hulk asked.
"No," Mr. Fantastic replied. "We're not freeing Les Miles."
"Then we're out of options," Hawkeye said glumly.
"That's not completely true," Mr. Fantastic replied. "There's one more, but it's not a good one."
"What is it?" Iron Fist asked.
Strange and Mr. Fantastic looked at each other. Their faces were grim, knowing the darkness they were about to unleash. Slowly, Strange nodded.
"When Brady first rose to power," Mr. Fantastic said, "he banished the one who created him, the one entity who could stop him."
All eyes in the room lit up with fear. They recognized the darkness being invoked.
"Now wait one damn minute, Richards," Spurrier said.
"How can we unleash such darkness?" Storm asked.
"It could be the only way," Kiffin remarked.
"Coach Kiffin is right," Strange said, "for once in his life, at least."
"We have no choice," Mr. Fantastic remarked.
Slowly, everyone in the room began to nod. After a moment, Strange spoke again.
"Then it's agreed. We must unleash The Belichick." | Tom rolled his right shoulder and stepped out onto the field. The crowd roared as he made a casual bow. He was ready for this. The clock was ticking down on the final minute.
“Oho here he comes,” echoed the commentator’s voice. “The blue-white Number 12. Belichick has been saving his ace.”
It was five years since Tom Brady won his sixth Superbowl and acquired the last ring. Of course, this was the catalyst that the Galactic Football Committee had been waiting for. The time had finally come to invite humanity to the Unibowl. It was a sport that all civilizations had come to love. And all across the galaxy, families would sit down and watch it together.
“He is thanking Brissett for his performance – look at that hug – true teammates! Of course, Brissett was ready for this. The man is good, but this is the Patriots Number 12 we’re talking about here. And this has to count – nobody does it like Brady.”
The noise on the intergalactic stadium was deafening – twenty billion individuals in different shapes and forms who had been lucky enough to acquire the tickets – everyone jumping up and down and screaming their hearts out.
“This is it, folks.”
The alien dressed in striped black and white put his whistle to his mouth. His eye clusters were staring in every direction at once, never missing a thing. The muscles of the Alpha Centurions bulged, and sweat rolled down their arched backs. Fires were burning in their huge Cyclops eyes. The stadium went dead quiet for half a second. The signal went off.
“Brady’s got the ball!” echoed the commentator. “Can he find anyone, 86? 72? Get free, can someone get free? There isn’t anyone!”
The ground shook as the big players of the Centurions broke the Patriots’ wall, and thundered towards the quarterback.
“Oh, no! This is going to be brutal! I can’t look!”
The giant creatures came down hit the human quarterback like a shower of burning meter. The entire stadium gasped.
“Oh no, that’s straight to the hospital for– WAIT A SECOND, is that the ball?! HE GOT THE THROW OFF, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?”
With only one thing in mind, the Centurions had gone all-in to crush the quarterback. He was the biggest threat after all.
“Seventy yards and still flying – Eighty, ninety… can someone catch it!”
The ball tumbled through the air. One man raced for the line, throwing himself headlong. The crowd erupted.
“NUMBER 28! WHITE GOT IT! IT'S 2017 ALL OVER AGAIN! The Earth Patriots have done what nobody else has done before, winning the Unibowl on their first attendance. And what a throw! 101 yards! Can you believe it? 101! This is football history right here, folks.”
*****
[/r/Lilwa_Dexel](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/comments/5foev0/welcome/)
| 2017-02-06T08:34:10 | 2017-02-06T08:18:47 | 408 | 37 |
[WP] Humans are known in the galaxy for being a bit dim, but also for being the very best mechanics around, and inexplicably able to fix machines beyond their comprehension. You have broken down on Earth, and having the apes work on your craft is both fascinating and terrifying. | The human slid out from under the ship, blinking as he came back into the light. The expression on his face made me worried that I would be stuck here for even longer; I had already been on this technology-forsaken world for half a local rotation, and I had no desire to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary.
"How long's it been since ya put oil in this thing?" he asked.
I blinked.
"Ummm.... In local time...." I quickly punched some numbers into my wristband calculator. "It's been.... two thousand and sixty three rota... days."
The mechanic's eyes widened. "It's been six years since ya got yourself an oil change?! Well there's your problem! Can't imagine the hell you've been puttin' on your engine.... Well that should be an easy fix at least. Mkay, gimme ten."
Before I could ask him what "Ten" meant, he had grabbed a large black bottle and disappeared back under the ship.
A short time later he slid back out and signaled for me to climb into the cockpit. Upon seeing that I was settled, he placed a pair of headphones over his ears and told me to try to start the ship. Once again, I heard the sputtering sound of the hyperdrive failing to complete initiation. I shook my head. Another failure. And this planet was supposed to have the best mechanics.
I turned to thank him for his attempt, only to see that he had climbed up next to the window to stare in at the control panel.
"Whassat blinking light?" he asked.
I looked where he pointed. "That's the hyperdrive light, the whole reason I'm in here in the first place."
"Oh!" he said with glee. "Well why didn't ya say so? I tell ya, people come in here all the time sayin' their stuff don't work and they don't know why, when it's sayin' it right there! So, this light, it's not s'pposed to be blinking, is it?"
"Well.... No," I said, confused. "It's supposed to be solid, but that means there's a problem with the engine."
"Kid," said the mechanic with a laugh. "That ain't an engine problem, that's a computer problem. And there's only one way to fix a computer problem."
He leaned in close.
"Have you tried turning it off and on again?" | Humans are far from being the smartest species in the universe, but they surely are known as the best mechanics. This fact is almost unexplainable but anything they get their hands on gets turned in a functional gadget (most of the times they get turned in weapons but let give this guys a break, they aren’t that evolved).
Even though I knew the stories, seeing this happening is a whole different thing, that’s why I stare flabbergasted as the half-evolved creature roam through my spacecraft, scattering and checking everything without a second thought, while I try to think on how to tell him to get his hands of my spacecraft I hear him say, using his ancient auto translator:
“Have you tried to turn it off and on again?”
“Why would I do that?”
“OFF and ON again!” the auto translator rang in the way you would speak to a kid, as he turned the engine off and on again almost as if hoping for a paranormal event about to happen making the engine magically start working again.
“If it didn’t work before why would it work...” before I finished the engine started.
“Stupid Alien.”
How was that possible? He wasn’t even a proper mechanic, he was an average old farmer, the typical earthborn human who thinks space travelling and diplomacy are for “young people who can’t keep their nose off things they shouldn’t mess with” and even then he fixed a topnotch spacecraft as if it was nothing much, the best spacecraft in the whole galactic fleet was fixed by an average human.
I board my spacecraft and lift off as fast as I can. As the galactic leader I always dismissed the rumors about the humans as stupid. But now I see they are not to be underestimated, we should focus all our forces in either annexing or exterminating them before the tear the universe apart.
| 2016-05-23T16:17:59 | 2016-05-23T15:58:24 | 1,128 | 48 |
[WP] We expected the Earthlings to react with outrage and despair when we killed their leaders, destroyed their economies, and took over their governments—but to our surprise they seemed almost relieved. | The planet was dark. Captive. Defeated. The paltry attempts at combat were not enough to damage a single ship. Their leaders never stood a chance.
So why did they look happy?
Every conquered civilization has wept, pleaded, begged for mercy. Not Earth. Not the Earthlings. As we brought captives aboard the ship, there were expressions of fear, yes, but mitigated by something else. More than once I heard a whispered “Thank you” as they were hurried by. Those on the ground stared longingly at the sky even when their family members were not on board. It was all too much. So I decided to figure out why. Why these people embraced us when they should have quailed. What went so wrong here?
I traveled from country to country, listening, talking, and learning. And I began to understand. People in power didn’t care for their citizens. A global pandemic that some denounced as fake. In well-off countries, those who didn’t make enough couldn’t afford to be healthy. The food they ate made them fat, but wasn’t actually nutritious, and all around the world leaders played checkers with the lives of those who had nowhere else to go.
Yet, I heard about a few who made a difference. Those who tried to make this planet a better place. Many Earthlings talked of them, some with disdain, some with reverence. And that’s how I came to learn the reason why so many were relieved. Earthlings never stop trying. No matter the obstacle, no matter the cost, Earthlings could overcome it. But recently the barrier was being built as they were trying to tear it down, and no progress was being made. They were tired, and at an impasse. So it was no wonder that our arrival with ships and lasers was a welcome one. It tore down what they could not. I just hope the structure we set up can begin to set things right.
For us. For the Earthlings. For Earth. | Admiral 55 the earthlings have celebrated our victory for what is this reasoning?
I don’t know lieutenant(says to someone else) look into this corporal.
Lieutenant it seems that these beings have hated their leaders for many years. And never had the courage to revolt. Except this one time in what they call the year of 1776. It states in the database that British colonist where tired of taxes and shoot the dude controlling the lands.
Why admiral if they hated them they would put them back in power?
It says kn this article by a human that they are being controlled by their leaders because they are LIZARD PEOPLE!!! Oh no we messed up.
All units pull back immediately we have accidentally destroyed one of lizards colonies.
But sir.
No buts. We must flee before they see us
Sir.
What!!
The humans call the person who wrote this article as crazy.
Oh really. (Tiny chuckle)... Keep on the invasion.
Lieutenant
Yes chief
I am tracing lizard ships
What did he say lieutenant
He said he’s tracing lizards admiral
I told you and what did you say he’s crazy so now I will have to explain why we killed his people cause of you | 2020-10-10T21:55:35 | 2020-10-10T20:32:53 | 537 | 25 |
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