prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] You discover a library with a biography for everyone on Earth. While reading your own, you notice that whenever someone else is mentioned, there's a footnote showing where you can find their biography. Its odd how someone who was only a sentence in your book has a whole chapter for you. | 2 February, 2067. The massive computer filled the laboratory, a mass of cables and circuitry which towered over Dr Dane Langley. His team had already adjourned to the pub off-campus to celebrate their success, but Dr Langley wanted a quiet moment with his creation before the government took control of the project the next day.
"Rachel," he said, "compile index for me, Dr Dane Langley."
"Compiling in process," repeated the computer. Electricity thrummed in the air as a trillion lines of codes extended their tentacles across the world for the information Dr Langley sought.
Rachel was only the name they used to impart a smidgen of personality into the program, and what a benign name it was for such a monstrous creation! What Rachel was designed to do was to build a comprehensive report of a person, using information culled from every conceivable electronic source.
Privacy groups had long campaigned for the individual's right to privacy, and there was such widespread support for them in this hyperconnected age that Dr Langley had to proceed in the utmost secrecy. If it were even known that he had embarked on this journey, he would surely be publicly lynched.
"Compiling complete. Do you wish to view your index?"
"Yes," said Dr Langley. "Sort by contributions to my life."
A hologram of a bookshelf formed in the air, a collection of motes of light frozen like trapped lightning. A single book spun out from its niche, twirling to reveal Dr Langley's name embossed on the front. For that was what Rachel was - an incomparable librarian, able to instil order in the chaos of information, to bring together infinite threads of knowledge into cohesive tomes.
In other words, Rachel could index any person's entire life, in real time, and present it as a single book of references. No one escaped her gaze, no one was spared her scrutiny.
"Sorting complete."
"Scroll... scroll... scroll..."
Dr Langley marvelled at the accuracy of the Indexing. These were the most important people in his life, the ones who impacted him the most. From his parents, to the professors who guided his education, to the politicians who recognised the value of the tool he had promised to fashion.
Then, a whim seized him.
"Sort by least contributions instead," he said, as a grin crossed his face. "I want to see where my ex-wife ranks."
"... Sorting complete."
Dr Langley laughed, for there was his ex-wife's name, about twenty ranks from the very bottom. She was just above Perlo, a name he recognised as the grocery bagger he crossed paths with occasionally, and just below Martha, the parking attendant at the campus grounds.
Out of the corner of his eye, one name snagged his attention, the way a single burr does to fine cotton shirts.
"Rachel, stop. Go back. Back again. Yes, there. Who is... who is ERROR 52? Is that a name?"
"Yes, it is a name."
"No, Rachel. What I mean is, is that a real entry or is it... a bug? Why does it only say that I once passed Error 52 on the street, and I grumbled at how Error 52 was in my way?"
"... Self diagnosis complete. I do not have any bugs in this current version," said Rachel.
"I want you to Index Error 52 then," said Dr Langley. A tiny flower of dread bloomed in him - if the program were indeed faulty, it would mean weeks, months of corrections before he could hand off the project. "Index Error 52 fully, I want to see who this person is."
"... Indexing complete."
"Scroll... scroll... scro-"
The command died on his lips as the information in the hologram burned their way into his eyes.
"This is impossible!" he said. "Rachel, who is this entity Error 52? Why are there so many accounts of him... or her... helping me?"
"Because those accounts are true, Dr Langley. In 2017, when you were born, Error 52 was there to manually regulate the incubator and to prevent you from overheating. A technician had missed the faulty wiring which would have led to you overheating, and quite possibly dying."
"But... how would he... or she..."
"In 2023," said Rachel, who if she had possessed feelings would have been slightly miffed still at the implication that she was faulty. "Error 52 was there to honk at a driver who was drunk and who had not seen you cycling across the street. My probability analysis shows that you may have perished otherwise, flattened under two tons of steel."
"In 2028..."
"In 2035..."
"In 2044..."
Dr Langley sat motionless, long after Rachel had finished reciting the dozen and one ways he could have died. It was not accurate to say that his mind was a blank - rather, it was a firework festival of neurons, as he delved into the infinite possibilities.
But the answer eluded him.
"Rachel," he said, finally. "Who is Error 52? Why can I not see his or her name? Where is he... or she... now?"
"I cannot answer in the way you have queried," said Rachel.
"What do you mean? Are you lacking information? How can that be? I have given you the world!"
Rachel was quiet for a moment before she replied.
"I cannot answer because you used the wrong syntax. Error 52 is not one man or one woman. It is a group, a collective, of people. Please rephrase your question, and try again."
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| I wasn't what I'd call the best person. I suffered many a malady in my life, mostly concerning the headcase. I spent many hours consumed in a desire to only be able to unravel the people closest to me, to figure out what they truly thought of me, to never be open to any sort of surprises. I maintained relationships, but they were never truly healthy, other broken people that needed the pieces picked up, who could pick up some of mine. Who could, for a moment, make me feel like a puzzle to be solved, not a broken glass to be discarded, while the 'half-full'/'half-empty' contents seeped in to the hardwood. Trust was a rare commodity, genuine people were failing banks and every intention was wrapped in a barbed wire of half-truths.
I pored over this data that was titled 'Dunn, E.' It spoke greatly of my family situation, a father always wrapped up in work, a mother who was too drained. It spoke of an average life at school. There were bricks of space devoted to each and every person, the regrets I held and the love I shared; the things I was thankful for and the things that turned my stomach.
It spoke of my brief stint through various part-time jobs, how I would turn off my brain and let the ennui run its course as I slipstreamed behind other cars in a brown box-truck. I spoke with every client I delivered to, though a lot of them simply faded out of my memory as time went on. Sure, I'd see the regulars and chat, and laugh. The moment I left, however, the visage of a happy conversationalist turned to one of yet another dour worker.
I discovered soon after that you could cross-reference chapters, read their interpretation alongside yours. Pure curiosity took over, I felt I had all the time in the world. John Price was an entrepreneur, a person ordering doo-dads and tools that confused me. I found myself closing the book when I was 'inspiration, drive to never give up, a drive to succeed'. Fuck you too, John; jobs are hard to come by.
Vanessa and Abby Schulz, they subscribed to those boxes. 'Three curated types of coffee', 'Four bottles of wine tailored to you'. They were chatty and charismatic, sisters living a dream life in an apartment block. They'd always compliment me, too, want to talk, add me on every social media platform, hang out. I wasn't surprised to see I hadn't been mentioned at all, a failed product on their monthly delivery of revelers and fucktoys.
My chapter had ended on a semi somber note. I recalled Christine. "An older lady with a kind heart. I enjoyed talking to her, though the age gap was wide."
I felt almost filthy gazing in to her tale. It was probably harrowing, full of life and vibrancy, thousands upon thousands of pages that would make the epics of Tolkien blush. I skipped right to the end.
"She fell ill some time after Harold passed[16:Blythe, H.][17], and even moving across the country never seemed to solve her problems." The chapter began. A feeling of dread washed over me, something I'd never stopped to think of when her medicine stopped coming.
"Daily injections and inhalers. Pills for breakfast, lunch, and bedtime. Routines filled with news and glurge she never truly paid attention to. She only found some solace in Thursdays, when her delivery would arrive at around 5 PM."
Did it mean so much to her to simply see a human face? She always seemed so joyful.
"Her only son, Dean[Blythe, D.] lived across the country, hardly able to care for himself. She saw a lot of her family in this young man. Long-haired and funny, a smile so genuine. She would always invite him in for coffee, and reminisce as she went to bed that night that she had a friend who would listen to an old lady's ramblings about the bustle of New York, her past as a teacher, how she met her husband over a slippery track of Sinatra at a gala event. When she got her deliveries, she did not feel like the scary witch that all of the children were afraid of, or the out-of-touch lady that people were content to shrug off. She felt like Christine. Not young, not old, but simply someone who existed. Eddy[Dunn, E.] was a real gentleman, a chivalrous person in her eyes. A genuine person with genuine care in his heart."
I felt time slow, my head throb as tears welled up in my eyes. I returned to my entry, the last page.
"In his last moments, Edward had lost hope. The world was cruel and he was but a pawn, a mixture of chemicals and processes. He was bitter at his siblings who only saw his failures, he bemoaned his father and apologized to his therapist. There would be many people at his funeral, smiles he brought to faces, warmth he brought to hearts, passing thoughts not entered in this book." | 2017-12-04T04:55:10 | 2017-12-04T02:09:03 | 599 | 237 |
[WP] You own a magical piano. When you play the theme song of a TV show or movie on it, it transports you into that world. After transporting yourself into a different world, you quickly realize that you never bothered to learn the theme song of your own. | A year. It had taken Sam a year, trudging up and down both coasts looking for someone, anyone, who knew just a few notes of an old forgotten tune. A year of the worst humanity had to offer. As far as Sam was concerned, it's was the longest, nastiest year of his life. He'd seen run down slums filled with run down people, flop houses filled with smacked out addicts so withered and emaciated, so brain burned from the latest designer techno-drug they couldn't even tell he wasn't just another trip.
He's seen other things too. Things that defied rational thought. Dark things, that crawled from darker places to prey on the hopeless and helpless. Things he desperately hoped to never see again. Demons, and Devils, and even worse still.
Powers That Be, playing with people's lives, twisting them, using them, then discarding them like so much trash when they'd served their unfathomable perversion of purpose.
A living mockery of Fate.
Hate made flesh and bone.
And a hundred other horrors and abominations, enough to drive a sane man mad, and a madman sane again.
But finally, he's found it. Sitting on an old mechanical players piano in a nice little bar hidden away in the city that never sleeps. Making his way back to the 'magic' piano that was his ride outta this broken world had been child's play after that. Sam felt like Charlie Bucket, and the single yellowed sheet of paper in his hand was as glorious as a golden ticket.
Sitting at that piano, the one that glowed in a rainbow aura only he could see, he plucked the first few keys. It felt good, it felt... right. He was going home.
Taking one deep breath to calm himself, Sam began to play the simple melody, the words that mirrored how he felt perfectly followed almost subconsciously.
"Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got. Taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot..."
| I reflected back on my recent travels, visiting the plant of the nymohamaniacs with Lister had been... worth a visit, I would heartily recommend Willy Wonka's chocolate factory to anyone, (although possibly hard to leave a review on trip advisor) and Mary Poppins, such a fun woman.
Meeting Poirot I enjoyed, but I wasn't prepared to risk the high likelyhood of death if I hang round him too long. The same reason I'd resigned my commission from the United Federation of Plants the moment I realised what colour shirt I had.
I had discovered that being a 2D cartoon had weirded me out too much, as had being blind for radio shows, and who knew Lassie was so demanding and bitey when not saving lives?
But it was time to head home. I missed my family and friends, and too much effort having to work out the rules of the world I was travelling too. Also, a high risk I'd accidentally play a theme tune of some dangerous.
As I played the BBC Newsround theme to return home, I felt something was wrong, but it was only when I'd arrived and looked back I realised I'd always arrived in episode one of the series.
1972. Crap.
Oh well, let's buy some shares, stick money in an account, and try me some sports theme tunes. | 2017-10-01T22:16:50 | 2017-10-01T20:37:06 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] You tell Death that you will never tire of living no matter how long you live. It makes you a bet that you will and thus grants you true immortality. You've just lived through the second death of the universe and show no sign of stopping. Death is baffled. | "Death,what a pleasant surprise you hardly visit me anymore." Lionel exclaimed as he floated about in the emptiness of space.
"I didn't come here for pleasantries." Death explained as she put time at a stand still.
"You never do" Lionel said with a smug look.
"I've come here to discuss our bet."
"As you always do when you come visit. So what is it this time? Are you going to show me memories of loved ones? Or will you try to convince me that there is a heaven and it's a magical place where I can finally rest in peace?" Lionel asked as he bit into his finger nails.
"No not today" death said with a serious tone.
"Oh? Then what is it?"
"I've come here to revoke our bet." Death explained.
"No can do Death, I'm loving this immortality." Lionel explained.
"Surely you know why I must do so."
"Because I'm doing your job but better."
"I had no idea you would be such a tyrant." Death exclaimed.
"Well that's your fault for assuming i wouldn't exploit this." Lionel argued.
"This is the second time you have killed the universe" death exclaimed.
"The first time isn't entirely my fault and you know it" Lionel argued.
"Oh and what were the reasons for this time?" Death asked.
"I grew tired of everyone trying to dethrone me."
"That's what happens when you're the tyrant of the known universe."
"Yeah well now I can start over."
"And how do you plan on doing that in the emptiness of space?" Death asked slightly intrigued.
"I don't know maybe I'll create my own life."
"That is the power of a god not a mortal man." Death argued.
"Ah exactly a mortal man, but as you can see I'm not a mortal man. I am a god."
"You are no god." Death exclaimed
"Says the servant of death. I have no master. I am tied to nothing, I am free to do whatever I want." Lionel exclaimed.
"Your insolence will anger God." Death explained.
"I don't believe in him it's too, it's just too outlandish of an idea." Lionel stated
"You're literally speaking to the personification of death."
"But I can see you, I can interact with you. For all the years I've roamed the universe, I have not once met someone close to the idea of a god; well except for me." Lionel explained.
"If you continue to speak like that you will surely meet him." Death explained.
"And when I do I'll believe."
"You will meet him soon." Death explained.
"Wrong, we have an agreement."
"You will soon grow tired of immortality, they all do eventually."
"Well when I do I'll definitely call for you to reap my soul or whatever, but right now Im going to create life maybe in my own image." Lionel explained.
| "Don't you ever get tired of it?"
Death was a quizzical creature, always had been, always wanted to know more about the universe, whichever one that was, but the constant questions had finally started to become something of an irritation.
I pondered my answer for a while as I watched another head roll.
*how many is that now?*
Truth be told I lost count a while ago.
"Sometimes, but every time I try to leave, something manages to pull me back in, whether it's some small task for a person I don't really know, or a grandoise display of my own power, just for fun"
I had given Death an honest answer at the very least, His face contorted into something I rarely saw, a small smile, barely noticeable but my greatest strength had always been my ability to perceive the small details.
Death looked pleased, or as pleased an immortal reaper of souls can be, he observed me for a second longer before offering his reply.
"You've watched the same species endure through multiple iterations, watched them flourish, and watched them tear themselves apart, I wonder, old friend, why put yourself through that over and over again?"
As reapers of souls go, this particular one was charismatic at the least, not particularly intelligent, but you don't say that to Death's face.
"I put myself through this because each time they do something different, some small change has incredible consequences further down the line, you know of the *butterfly effect* well that's why I keep going, to observe these changes and understand the nature of existence as well as I can, and I don't think i'll ever tire of it"
Death looked shocked, its fingers twitched for a second.
"So you'll never leave willingly?"
"No, I don't think I will"
In the split second that followed my answer, Death made it's move, fortunately I was quite agile, dodging the blade proved easy enough, and striking back proved even more so, Death had run out of patience, but in all my years I had learned enough to ensure my own survival, truth be told I don't think it was skill that kept me alive that day, I was just lucky.
Besides, Dogmeat found something. | 2015-11-17T16:18:03 | 2015-11-17T13:31:47 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | Everyone is destined for something great. You become an adult on your 18th birthday. You become hero.
Maybe I'll be the next Mia Kit. She's one of the greatest superheros in the world. She has the ability to take other powers. Maybe I'll be like The Great Kirk, invincible. No one since him has had that power.
I can't sleep, it's 11 o'clock the night before my birthday. Tomorrow morning a reader will come and tell me my power. I want something that will shock them!
I stared at the clock, it was 11:34. I kept looking at it till I accidentally fell sleep.
I woke to my mom shaking me awake.
"Sweet! Wake up! It's your 18th birthday. The readers here." She said.
I rushed to put on fresh cloths and ran down stairs. The reader awaited for me in the kitchen. My dad had offered him a cup of coffee.
"So this is Mr. Stulops Jr. Hello." He said calmly. He had a wrapped present with him, "From the goverment to you." He handed it to me.
I unwrapped the present. It was a mug, I knew it was a mug. Everyone gets a mug. It has my name and birthday on it. It has the flag and "Superheros create supernations" On it.
I smiled, one step closer to my power. Holding the mug to my chest, I looked up at the reader. "Umm.... what's my power?"
The reader looked at me. He squinted his eyes. He put on reading glasses. "You seem to be able to create fire through your skin." He said softly.
My eyes lite up, "Like the spark? He is so cool! Like a blazing comet."
The reader was hesitated, "Somewhat. The only difference is you'll still get burned." He placed a hand on my shoulder, "If you use your power, you will die."
~~Edit: A word.~~ | Everybody knows how it happens. The day you turn 18 you go to "The Centre" and they give you an injection. This injection mutates the cells in your body and your mind, allowing for a further 30% control of an individuals brain. It causes the individual to attain what we call "superpowers". The only problem is not knowing the superpower you are going to get.
Four days ago i received this injection and it was the worst experience of my life. On the first day everyone gets bed-ridden as the injected cells fight with the white blood cells for control of the body. The second day you spend by the toilet, rejecting whatever food and drink you managed to eat previously. On the third day..... well the third day is the day of delirium. The world spins and the walls melt. Those who go through it akin it to being on LSD, only without paying the price for it!
Just like everyone else before me, I had to go through these phases of pain. But I finally received my power. It may be the worst power on the planet...but its mine. When I first got my power my mother said it was the best power on the planet (mums! Am I right?). So now all I have to look forward to is tomorrow, another day of using my powers towards attaining peace for mankind. Another day of being able to write with my fingertips! | 2015-03-28T05:16:52 | 2015-03-28T05:14:22 | 70 | 18 |
[WP]You're the minor god of favours. You make things happen for people, but only at an equivalent price. When endangered innocents, abused children and similar start asking big favours, you have to find ever more creative ways for them to "pay" without "paying" anything. | Legends told of a man who grants favors in return of one's soul. Some whispered the figure they encountered on the intersection of an abandoned crossroad-- a man dressed in a black suit, smells of expensive cologne.
*"What is it that you want the most?"--* he would always start with that question, and you give him your answer, whatever it is that you want, no matter how grand or ridiculous.
*"You owe me a favor"*\-- he would always end the transaction with that statement and an eerie smile before vanishing into the night.
True enough, without fail, those who encountered the figure would gain that which they asked. Only later on they realized what favor he was referring to-- their life.
Once the contract is up, the man would send his emissary-- Death itself, to collect the favor.
Thus born the legend of the devil granting wishes in return of souls....but this story was far from the truth/
Satan, Lucifer, the Old Scratch-- those were some of the names he had been called by, but he was a different entity entirely. Not something grand like the devil, but a mere entity of balance, of supply and demand, and he went by the not much known name of Usluga.
Those who lost their life as a payment for their favor had merely run out of time. What they wished for was always a life of rich and fame, and for what their actual life worth, a few years of rich and fame were what they're getting.
But what happens when one doesn't ask for a life of rich and fame? It rarely happens, but it did indeed occurred. The old Usluga himself never expected it himself, and it's a tale he himself would never forget.
"What is it that you want the most?", as usual he repeated the question once he was summoned.
It was a dark and cold night, the crossroad was with no illumination but the full moon above. The dust the wind blew stained Usluga's suit.
What sort of human he would encountered he could always guess. It's in their expressions, the greed mixed with disbelief, fear, and skepticism. What their wishes would be was always predictable. Money, fame, life of glamour-- materialistic stuff of human's indulgence.
But what Usluga encountered that night was none of the sort. A little boy, shivering in cold as he wasn't dressed for the weather, draped in torn oversized jacket.
"Uh...hello?", Usluga cocked his head, for the first time in centuries taken aback.
"H--hi", the little boy bashfully waved his little hand. "I...I need a favor", he squeaked.
Usluga approached the boy and he kneeled to the boy's eye level.
"You need...a favor, you say?", Usluga spoke softly. "What sort of favor would a child want?"
The young boy squirmed for a bit under the thin jacket. He was visibly skinny and malnourished.
"I want...I just want a normal life", said the boy weakly, though seriously.
Usluga was surprised to say the least. A normal life? Nobody ever asked him for a normal life.
"A normal life, you say? What...what sort of life do you have in mind?", Usluga fished for more details.
The boy's eyes began to water, his lips trembled. "I want...I want a life where...where I don't have to be hungry. One where daddy doesn't hurt me. One that I don't have to cry anymore", he blurted.
Usluga felt a shiver in his body. Slowly he reached for the boy's arm, it was cold to the touch. Slowly he pulled the boy's sleeve jacket up and what he saw made his chest hurt.
"Your daddy did this to you?", Usluga asked as he tried to stay calm.
The little boy's arm was skinny and almost down to his bone. His skin was bruised all over, some still red and bloody.
The little boy silently nodded, chewing his thumbnail nervously.
Usluga stood and his mind was made, forgetting the other end of the deal he declared...
"Tomorrow morning you shall wake up on a clean bed, in a safe house, with a loving family, and a warm meal on the table. And you will live this life until the day you die", he snapped his fingers, working his power. "It is done"
The boy looked up with a face full of hope and gratitude.
"Re--really?", he yelped. "What...what do I owe you for my wish?", asked the boy as he knew the legend.
Usluga was quite amused by the boy's honesty, for he himself forgot he wasn't the entity of charity. But he kneeled again in front of the boy, with a smile, not am eerie one instead a warm one.
"You owe me no favor", Usluga said. "Go home and live your life", he said assuring.
And with that, the boy turned to run back home before stopping and lunged himself to hug Usluga.
"Thank you, thank you!", the boy said gratefully.
Usluga never felt such gratitude as he hugged the boy back before the young one ran with a renewed vigor, leaving Usluga standing on the crossroad alone, seeing the boy disappearing on the horizon.
You might ask yourself by now, how did Usluga manage to grant the boy's wish with no favor in return?
Well...he received something that night, Usluga did. Something he never thought he would have as an inhuman entity. Something which never even crossed his mind of having after centuries of existence. That night, Usluga gained a heart.
r/HangryWritey | Although her fellow gods and goddesses had huge, extravagant temples on Earth, Paradonia had never been a fan of such splendor. Her shrine was simply a small white farmhouse, with a chicken coop out back, and two cows and four Shetland ponies in a mini barn. A simple place, where those in need could come and be unafraid to ask for help. The goddess herself sat in a wooden rocking chair on her porch, petting a black-and-white puppy. He, abandoned by his mother for being the runt of the litter, had come to her a few weeks back asking for a home. Her price had been for that home to be here with her, and he'd happily agreed. The two of them had been happy here at this peaceful place ever since. But if there was one thing Paradonia had learned in her many eons, it was that peace doesn't last forever. The goddess's sharp ears picked up the sound of the bike approaching several minutes before she saw it. But soon enough, it was in her sights. It was old, rusty, beat-up, and looked cheap overall. Its rider looked just as worn out and beaten as her too-small bike, although she couldn't have been more than eleven years old. *Abuse,* Paradonia knew before the child even locked eyes with her. She could always tell. It was painfully obvious. The young girl brought her bike to a rough halt on the gravel walkway, squinting in confusion at the goddess.
"Is...this the Shrine of Paradonia?" the child asked, sounding nervous. Paradonia understood her confusion: The house didn't look like much, and neither did she. The unknowing eye would have perceived her as nothing more than a plain redheaded twenty-something in denim overalls and work boots.
"Indeed it is," Paradonia said, her voice level and soothing. "Come closer, child, tell me what's troubling you."
"It's...will you tell anyone?" the young girl asked fearfully, taking a few steps closer.
"Not at all. This will simply be an exchange between you and I," Paradonia reassured her. "Unless you count Eusephus here," she added, gesturing to the puppy. The girl smiled shyly and walked up onto the porch.
"Can I hold him?" she asked shyly.
"Of course, love, he's very friendly," Paradonia said, handing him over. The puppy yipped in delight at his new friend, and covered her face in kisses. She giggled joyfully. Paradonia couldn't help returning her smile.
"Now, what brings you to my humble home?" Paradonia inquired, nodding towards the floor behind the girl. The girl turned and noticed with surprise that another rocking chair had appeared. She tentatively sat down, and shakily inhaled.
"It's...my parents," she explained. "My dad's never home, and when he is, he hits me and Mom. And Mom drinks all the time, then she yells at me. I was hoping you could...make them better, or find me a happy family that loves me." Paradonia nodded slowly.
"That can be arranged. I can tell you're a bright girl, and pure of heart. There are many families out there, families who long for a child but can't have one of their own. They would be thrilled to have a daughter like you," she answered, thinking of the infertile young couple who'd come to her pleading for a daughter.
"Really?" The girl asked in awe.
"Of course, my dear," Paradonia said warmly. "But no favor comes without a price. If I do this for you, you must promise to *never* forgive your father or let him back into your life." The girl nodded eagerly.
"Yes, ma'am," she agreed.
"No need to call me ma'am. Paradonia will do," the goddess gently corrected her.
"Okay, Paradonia. Thank you so much," the girl said, her voice full of emotion. Rather impulsively, she jumped up and hugged the goddess. Paradonia simply smiled, knowing the affect her abilities could have on mortals. She simply returned the girl's hug, and smiled as they pulled apart.
"Good things are coming your way, darling. But you must allow them to come," she stated. The girl only nodded, seeming to be in an almost euphoric trance. It was nothing new; Paradonia had seen countless people in need leave seeming happy and relaxed. The girl got back on her bike, but this time, she peddled a bit faster, and seemed to have an easier time moving on the gravel. Paradonia smiled. "Safe travels, child," she whispered. Then she turned to Eusephus, scooping him up and pressing him to her chest.
"Well, little one, we've got our work cut out for us," the goddess declared. The puppy simply barked and wagged his tail. And with that, the two walked inside, ready to make three people's lives happier.
r/JustRandomness | 2021-07-31T23:25:06 | 2021-07-31T23:18:59 | 1,522 | 180 |
[WP] One day, you see a picture of yourself in a foreign newspaper. You ask someone to translate the headline for you: "Search for kidnapped child still ongoing." | Mom and Dad said I was adopted. We even had the adoption papers. It was all correct. When I saw that computer aged version of myself, I couldn’t believe it. That wasn’t actually me.
The paper read, in Russian, “Anastasia Argechev was two years old when she was taken from her Moscow home. Her parents, Natasha and Stefan Argechev, remember her today, as it would be the 18th anniversary of her disappearance. They have never stopped looking for their precious daughter. We love you Anastasia, come home.”
It gave a phone number to the family. I wanted to call them. But I also needed to call my own parents. I wouldn’t be able to see them for five more months, as I was a foreign exchange student in Moscow.
After I called my parents, I didn’t know what to believe. My mother told me that they adopted me from Russia before they immigrated to the United States. She even told me the name of the adoption agency.
But when I went to go to the adoption agency, it wasn’t even there. It hadn’t been open for thirty years.
And so, I went to the family who was missing a baby girl that was my age. That looked identical to me.
The door opened to women who looked like me, but older with grey mixed in the red.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Stefan! Come quickly!” She shouted.
A man came to the door, his eyes a bright blue, filled with hope.
“Anastasia,” he sighed.
It was then that I knew. I was home.
Sorry if it’s not very good, wrote this on a school bus coming home from a marching band competition.
| I knew it. As soon as he told me what it translated to, I knew the search for me had gone global.
What I would give to not be the President's daughter. I have been telling my dad since he started running for office to leave me out of his politics, but he never listened.
I don't even want to get started on the press. I can't even pee without the worry of a headline about me using a public bathroom. "Did she squat?" "Did she use a toilet seat cover" "NEWS FLASH - Andrea Smark gets AIDS from Toilet". I mean, really? People like that have NOTHING else to do in their lives?
I thank him and take the paper back. He didn't recognize me, somehow. I think I saw him stumble out of the local bar anyways, so I didn't have much concern for being noticed by him anyways. Thank goodness I cut my hair. I can't believe I did it still. I had gorgeous long red hair, but now it's a pixie cut and I dyed it brown. Gotta' say, I'm digging all the life changes. | 2017-10-21T16:06:47 | 2017-10-21T14:18:21 | 37 | 11 |
[WP] Galactic wars are always won by whoever finds the other first – there is simply no way to retaliate fast enough to a carpet bombing from a high orbit. Other civilizations are absolutely terrified of Terrans who are cocky enough to broadcast their presence loud and clear. | “We should initiate Operation Overlord, Admiral. It’s time,” Major Tvotsky said, rubbing the sense organs on his face. “Look,” he said, unrolling a stellar map of the Terran’s home planets. “The Terrans are spreading quicker than anticipated, sir. They are like a virus. They are sending interstellar arcs as we speak to more than ten solar systems.”
The Major pointed to the stars on the map surrounding Sol—the human’s home solar system.
“We’ve found The Terrans before they've found us, Admiral,” He said, tapping hard on the star indicating Sol. “We must conduct a first strike. We all know that is the rules of the game, sir. Simple survival. We must hit them before they find us. We have the advantage now.”
“But why do they broadcast themselves so loudly, Major? Surely, they must know the perils of doing so,” the Admiral said, looking at the map.
“Does it matter? We cannot hesitate, Admiral. They are stronger every day. At their current rate of progression, our researchers say the technological gap between us will be closed by the end of the century, if not sooner.”
“Zoey, pull up current Terran broadcasts,” the Admiral said.
*Pulling up Terran broadcasts, Admiral,* the ship’s artificial intelligence said.
Flowing around the two officers were hundreds, thousands, then hundreds of thousands of videos of Terrans laughing, crying, making love, playing with their animals, dancing, fighting…
The admiral enjoyed pulling up these broadcasts in the evening as he drank a hot cup of Nysin tea, watching this peculiar species in their peculiar acts. They seemed to have an energy for existence that he wasn’t used to. And they broadcasted that zest for life throughout the whole galaxy and beyond. *We are here,* they said, their myriad voices sliding immortal through the infinite black expanse.
Naïve? yes, the Admiral thought. But there was something exceptional… and a little terrifying in a species that would be so brazenly arrogant—as though they assumed they were the only intelligent species.
“No, Major. I do not authorize Operation Overlord at this time. I think there is a lot to learn from these Terran, and I will not be the harbinger of annihilation to such a peculiar species.”
“Admiral, I must inform you that I will be reporting my concerns to the Politburo.”
“I understand, Major. You are dismissed.”
Major Tvotsky nodded curtly, turned then stormed out of the room.
The Admiral paid no attention, looking at one particular video of a mother Terran tossing a Terran baby in the air, their smiling faces touching nose to nose as the baby fell into its mother's arms.
What a peculiar species, he said to himself.
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | Advisor Howards barrelled into the room, panting. His full dress uniform was damp with sweat.
"Sir! It's them, again!" he choked out. General Walker's eyes widened, his already pale face finding a way to become even paler.
"The... the Terrans?" the general confirmed. Advisor Howards gave a slight nod.
"What did they send now?"
"A radio message. We just received it 30 minutes ago. They... they just revealed the location of their newest battleship hangar. And the 3 new gem mines they discovered."
General Walker took a deep breath, attempting to keep his composure. "They're taunting us, it's no real threat. I am confident that nothing will develop here," he stated.
He was not, in fact, any confident.
The Terrans were known to be absolutely ruthless towards their enemies. They often targeted weaker planets and colonies and enjoyed mercilessly tearing their world apart.. Their bombers and battleships were of the highest quality, capable of wiping out all life on a planet in just one coordinated strike. The Terrans were also known for their cocky attitude: they often enjoyed sending taunting messages to their next targets.
Earth had never been threatened by the Terrans at all in the last 20 years. Now, with a direct message, General Walker was uneasy.
"Do we send a response, then?" Advisor Howards asked, biting his lip.
General Walker rested his head into his hands. The gruesome memories of when the Terrans obliterated the entire planet of Goralins. The high pitched cackle of the Terran High Lord as he walked past the dead, kicking aside corpses and snorting at destroyed buildings. The countless lives lost at the hands of the Terrans.
Somebody had to stand up to them.
"No. We're not sending a message to the Terrans. Draft an invite to all the other planets in the Galactic Union," General Walker commanded, standing up.
Advisor Howards nodded, scribbling the information down on his notepad.
"Invite them to a meeting discussing the fate of our galaxy and the Terrans. Assemble our armies and weapons," Walker declared.
"We're going to war." | 2021-04-09T09:10:09 | 2021-04-09T06:27:56 | 584 | 29 |
[WP] Humanity makes first contact with an advanced alien civilization. This is first contact for them as well. | The Captain licked his lips.
"Send it."
The precious introduction, painstakingly crafted by mankind's collective genius, was finally on its way. A hopeful message, seeking friendship and mutual respect, had been expressed in as many creative and unorthodox ways as the global scientific community could muster.
*"This is it"* the Captain mused to himself as he waited for an answer. *"This is why we're here."* His breath came calmly, but his mind raced considering the possibilities, the response protocols, the command sequences. *"If there's no reply, we're not communicating..."*
As the Captain looked about the bridge, it seemed to him that his crew shared the same unsettled face; furrowed brows, pursed lips, eyes intensely focused on the image on the viewer.
A nightmare of scalene triangles held their gaze, writing and twisting around what could only be described as a sphere giving birth to itself.
The first officer broke the silence. "It's moving, sir. Intercept course, 10,000 km and closing."
"Everybody remain calm. You know what to do; trust your training. Begin protocol Caesar 1."
The crew moved as one toward their respective environmental suits. It had never felt longer to the Captain to don the clumsy bulk of his suit, but he noted that the last crew member was back to her post a full 2 seconds faster than their best drill time.
"Report!" barked the Captain.
"1,000km, sir. Decelerating, but still on an intercept course"
"It may simply want to get a closer look at us. We'll have the same opportunity."
The vessel, if indeed it was one, continued to approach the human spacecraft as its bizarre blitz of triangles never slowed. Its scale was something of a surprise; from the viewer, it had appeared much larger. In truth, it was about 2/3 the size of their own spacecraft.
"I don't like this" scowled the first officer.
"It heard us, and now it's here. We're making progress."
The first officer's console emitted a shrill note. "Sir, it's less than 100km!"
The Captain exhaled slowly. The ship's only "weapon", if it came to that, was a directed electromagnetic pulse. It could only be fired once, and their spacecraft would require at least an hour - under the best of circumstances - to repair the more delicate systems afterward.
"Do nothing until I say. Let them have their look."
The first officer's eye twitched. "Sir, I recommend we retreat at the same rate as their approach."
The Captain shot him a look that could have frozen the sun. "Do nothing. That is an order!"
The first officer entered a flurry of commands into his console, his fingers dancing across the input pad at light speed. The Captain drew his sidearm.
"You can't engage the EMP without my command authorization. Get ahold of yourself!"
"I don't want to die!" the first officer screamed. Two crew members swiftly restrained him, but the Captain regarded the man's console with horror; the first officer had redirected all power from the scientific instruments to overload the EMP system. The EMP would occur, with or without the Captain's command authorization.
In an instant, all of mankind's carefully laid plans came to a horrifying end. The invisible pulse ripped through the alien structure, its terrible consequences laid bare on the viewer. The central structure ended its perpetual cytokinesis and, to the shock of the crew, dispersed into countless blobs of unmoving matter. The forest of triangles began to slowly tumble away from the center, free of whatever force had held and organized them.
"Sir?" came the frightened voice of the youngest crew member. Her mouth hung open as her hand moved her console's display to the viewer.
The blood drained from the Captain's face. From behind the nearby moon came a swarm of the very same vessel.
The first officer screamed.
| The Earth and it's people were united together for the first time in history to greet their neighbours from foreign stars. All we knew the week before is they they were coming and that they had made precautions to ensure that their visit was fruitful and safe. All we knew the day before is that they called their species the Felorak and that they would land in Geneva. Scientists from universities all over the world had gathered to ask questions of our celestial cousins. Political leaders stood by the meeting point in nervous anticipation, some worried about economic repercussions, some worried about looking weak in front of more socially advanced beings. Sceptics watched their live feeds at home eager to point out flaws in this government hoax and/or conspiracy.
At precisely noon local time, a shiny-black, dome-shaped craft descended from the sky, parachutes slowed it's decent and thrusters guiding it towards a landing spot prepared quickly by humanities most excited engineers, eager to examine the alien vessel. The craft made contact with the ground and an unearthly silence coincided a pause of disbelief amidst the crowd gathered to meet the extra terrestrials. Was this really happening? The group moved from their safe distance towards the ship. As men in suits and lab coats and formal dress from all walks of life approached, the black door slid open, and out stepped the beings. Silver and white space suits, all six and a half plus feet tall, adorned with red knobs, symbols and sigils, and a single glass face, stepped onto green grass. Their faces were pale and grey. They had eyes, bigger an further apart than a mans. They had noses, wider and further up than a mans. They had mouths, though smaller than a mans, although a smile emerged. Some things are shared even with peoples across the stars.
"Greetings, humans! We come in peace." An alien leading the group of six stepped ahead of his comrades and removed his helmet, revealing a dainty head on a slender, shiny neck with wires going up to a device in his ear from his chest.
"I am he who is named Decedent, named from my family on my naming day when I was twenty six. I am designated captain amongst our exploration mission."
Most stood in amazement, including Randal Winter, the current chief of SETI"s relevant task force and he man chosen to represent humanity. Eyes turned to him after a few seconds, expectantly. Dr. Winters snapped back to reality and walked to within arms length of his interstellar consultant.
"My name is Dr. Randal Winter. I have been chosen by the leaders of Earth to be the voice of communication for our first meeting. Welcome to Earth." Decedent held a finger to his earpiece for a few seconds, then looked to Winter in understanding.
"Greetings Winter. It is very excellent to speak with you. Have you prepared questions for us? We would ask things of you once we have answered your first ones." Winter adjusted himself confidently, like he'd been practising in front of a mirror for the past twenty years.
"Where are you from?" Decedent held a finger to his ear for a few moments then spoke.
"Our home world is a terrestrial planet we name Felwen, orbiting a star we name Wekwekn and your people name Vega, some twenty five lightyears away. I myself make my home in a Felorak city named Deusk."
[Unfortunately it's time for bed. I might write more tomorrow.] | 2016-06-29T18:23:38 | 2016-06-29T18:10:52 | 31 | 11 |
[WP]You are a guard in a video game. The main character thinks that they are always able to successfully sneak past you. They don't, you notice every time but would prefer not to have you and your friends be mercilessly slaughtered. | "So wouldn't you believe it, this bar wench slides up to say hello the other night and... wait, why are you..?"
Gerald was suddenly tense, his eyes wide, his stance poised. Henry looked at him, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"*He's here?*" Henry asked frantically.
Gerald nodded, then urgently motioned for Henry to continue.
Henry stuttered. "Um, yes, so like, a bar wench came and said, like, hey," he said, trying to watch the hero with his peripheral vision. He was moving with considerable noise, his massive sword dragging against the floor.
All the while Rael, the new recruit fresh out of guard school, looked at them incredulously.
"Um, guys," he said, pointing at the crouching hero, "shouldn't we-?"
Gerald rapidly shook his head, putting his finger to his lips.
"But-"
"What a hilarious story!" Gerald suddenly shouted, slamming Henry on the back. "Can never go wrong with a good bar wench, eh? Reminds me of the time I met a traveling minstrel in Hogs Head, when she-"
The hero accidentally knocked over a massive vase, shattering on the floor. All of them winced, hero included.
Henry stared at Gerald. "Go on, go on! I love me a good traveling minstrel story!" Henry shouted frantically, while Rael looked on in confusion.
"He just broke a vase, guys, we can't let him get away with-"
"**Traveling minstrel, tits as big as the eyes could see, her only desire to be inside of me!**" Gerald sang with gusto, improvising on the spot. Rael was becoming more confused by the minute.
The hero, now emboldened by their apparent lack of perception, stalked up to Gerald, crouching low.
"**Traveling minstrel, a face of perfection, an ass of decep**- wait, did you say "inside of me?"" Henry asked warily.
Gerald felt a tugging by his backside, and remembered with dreadful certainty that he'd attached the prison key to his belt.
"Henry, where do we keep the prison key again? The one for locking in that very important character, I mean. A vital part of a quest, no doubt," Gerald asked loudly.
Rael began to reply. "It's on your-"
"*Bottom of the dungeon!*" Henry shouted. "Certainly not the decoy key on your belt!"
The hero paused his tugging efforts.
"Ah damn, we definitely wouldn't want the hero finding that important key all the way at the bottom of the dungeon, no-sir-ee!" Gerald replied, his voice almost cracking.
The hero sighed, then sneaked past them - literally right through the middle of them - towards the dungeons below. His sword made sparks on the floor as he walked.
The three guards stood in silence after the hero was gone. Rael looked disappointed.
"That's it? You're just going to let him go?" Rael said, dumbfounded.
"He's gonna be pissed when he gets back from the dungeons," Henry added.
"Well, at least it gives us time," Gerald said thoughtfully.
"Time for what?" Rael asked.
Gerald ripped off his captain's badge, tossing it to Rael.
"*To find a new job.*"
*****
*****
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 | The ship hung between calm waters and a whitewashed sky. Up above, Soldier #3 could make the contours of Ursa
Major and others, sketches of memory and myth in the Milky Way canvas. It was windy and unseasonably chilly,
and Number 3 really hoped he wouldn't die again tonight.
There were steps, and a large box materialized itself in front of him. Clearly standing out between other boxes. He was on the outside deck, just him and the cargo and the nicotine-yellow lights of the poles. Through the cardboard walls of the fake-crater, he heard giggling.
He turned back to face the waves. The ship's lights painted white the dormant Atlantic. Waves of bright white,
crowns and jewels on the immense black stretching horizon to horizon. Behind Number 3, he heard the scraping. Footsteps dragging. The box was getting closer. He forced himself not to look.
Up on the second level balcony, a door came open, and Soldier Number 4 stepped out for a cigarette. He stopped
when he saw Number 3. A great distance between them – the two a faded dot to each other. Only living souls out there.
Number 4 saw the box getting closer too. He locked eyes on 3, or at least 3 thought he did in the dark and the
distance, and they nodded to each other in silent mourning. Number 4 shook his head. He sighed. He walked back inside the ship, calmly. Tonight wasn't his night.
Tonight was Number 3's night.
The box unfolded on itself, and from under it came Solid Snake – the Player. Always the Player. Number 3 closed his
eyes, and for a second all he heard was the dull blow of the wind, the deep gnarl of the ocean's silence, the
splashing of the waves down under. Carried in between those things, just like every other time he was killed, were the hollow echoes of his memories, his life onboard, his friends on the ship and on the training camp before, his family waiting back home, his kid, his house in Saint Petersburg --- all this life he'd have to leave behind yet again, all this happiness, love whispers and faded laughter carried with the smell of night and ocean around him as Solid Snake raised the pistol.
He opened his eyes and got into character. The moon hung low, and the wind had died down almost completely now.
Silence. *And how lovely and terrible it is to be alive,* Number 3 thought.
He sighed, only for a second. Then he widened his eyes, jolted and said "What!? Who's there!?" in his standard 'startled' tone, and then he was shot down and died. Again.
The ship followed its steady course through the open waters. Somewhere in upper levels, Soldier Number 4 lit a candle for the death of his friend. He cried into his sleeve so he wouldn't wake up the others.
___
/r/psycho_alpaca
| 2017-05-28T22:08:30 | 2017-05-28T21:41:34 | 816 | 113 |
[WP] You live in a world where every fear someone has is imprinted on their body like a tattoo. One day you stand before your arch enemie - they don't have one single line of ink on their skin, while you are covered.
Looking forward to what you come up with 😊 | So often I have seen people categorized into the brave or the cowards. Everyone marveled at those that had little to no ink on their skin, calling them “hero” or “warrior”, and these people often became well known even outside their own villages.
I have been called a coward for as long as I can remember. My skin is so dark blue with words that they are illegible. I’m scared of so many things others have often laughed at me, but I don’t think that makes me weak. I’ve seen people with nothing but a single word on their body crumble under a threat, and as many things that I have listed I have still never backed down fighting for what’s right.
Schoolyard bullies, false friends, and even as an adult the stray supervillain. If I know what I’m standing up for is right, I have always been able to suppress the fear. Fear is just an individual emotion, and I can separate my own self from the greater good. I have always taken pride in that.
Until today whilst standing in front of what could very well could be my arch nemesis. Everyone is afraid of something, whether it be the intangible like abandonment or more base fears like the dark. It mars their skin as a human. But the woman in front of me stood naked and unblemished by a single mark.
How could she have no fears? Not even the fear of being nude, as I stood with my body covered in a sweeping maxi dress and skin marked by my own terrors. She was everything I had been taught to strive for, and yet everything I feared in itself. Seeing that there was nothing listed on her that I could use to my advantage, I felt a peculiar halt in my thoughts that I had never experienced before.
“Oh dear, and you’re the best they could send?” she teased, voice melodious and echoing.
I flushed and opened my mouth to snark back, but couldn’t come up with anything to say.
She walked towards me so gracefully she was neary floating, and gently grasped my chin. “It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with being afraid. It’s those that hide behind you that are the true cowards,” she told me.
I almost felt the seed of doubt grow in me, but I was used to battling negative emotions. “They’re worth protecting,” I managed to growl out.
The woman still looked down on me with all the poise she had before.
“Are they, dear? They’ve pushed you out here like a sacrifice when even the least marked of them hide behind you. Fear is important, yes,” she released my face and turned toward the crowded street behind me, “but bravery is not the absence of fear-- it is overcoming it.” | The screeching of metal against stone heralded my adversary’s assent of the temple’s entrance. His steady movements belied the assurance of a peerless warrior, ruthless in victory and unsullied by the blood he leaves in his wake. Scrrr clang goes the bastard sword as he pulls it up step to step, the mountain of flesh coming into view only after several bloated moments of piercing noise. Muscles tighten beneath unmarked skin, an alabaster canvas glistening with the sweat of his exertion. So many blades have fallen, so many lives cut down, in the face of the fearless tyrant.
The temple font ripples at his approach, but before its surface breaks into chaos I catch a glimpse of my own form’s reflection. Snakes and bears, hydras and dragons, a vile menagerie dances over my skin. Each nightmare belies a paralysing terror that once had me firmly in its grip. Now those beasts adorn my body but simply my skin; fang and scale are my arms and armour. Each beast slayed and added to my collection.
A thousand fears, all conquered.
My nemesis can never understand that feeling. Assurance has been his constant companion, doubt and trepidation my own. He has never failed, never faltered. In that, he has never had to learn. My scars are rough against my fingertips, the shape and feel of each reminding me of how hard I have fought to come face to face with this monster. The trust that I have earned, the lives that I have aided.
All to prove that I am the one with the body of a warrior.
Standing face to face, I cannot hope to know what goes on inside his mind. No doubt I am nothing more than a gnat, a nuisance that has had the nerve to draw the lion’s ire. He does not hurry, nor do I. While he simply may not feel any rush, I want to stand and savor what it has meant for me to reach this point. Years of pushing past crippling fear after horrifying foe.
Now, all I have to do is draw blood. | 2021-06-17T16:24:27 | 2021-06-17T16:22:48 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] When everyone turns 18, they receive a pet which is figurative of their personality. You're the first person to receive a dragon... | Sue Wilkins got a cat; she lorded that over us for weeks, as if a cat was the best sort of animal there was, and not the acme of egomania.
Mark Johnson got a basset hound. He spent the whole week moping; then again, that's what he always does. His parents were cruel, meaning to be kind.
When my time came, the first thing I noticed was the size of the box on the lawn. I couldn't just help thinking of stories of parents gone mad, acquiring rhinos when bulldogs would have sufficed, or that girl two towns over who was trampled by her giraffe. They put the beast down, but she never got another. She hadn't been an animal person in the first place, unlike her parents.
Me, I'm not at all like my parents. They're... common.
I am not.
My box was huge, red crepe and golden rope, with mother and father standing somberly next to it. Next to them, aunt Thelema, uncle Szandor, the neighbors, my acquaintances, the school class, everybody.
"Son", father said, with his usual uneducated directness, as I laid a hand pregnant with expectation on the box. "As you know, it is traditional---"
"I know", I snapped. The box was so big, how was I going to feed something this huge? What monumental miscarriage of their mismeasure of my ability lay behind this tacky carmine curtain? "Dad, what is this?"
"---so, after careful consideration between ourselves and the Mother Extremal" --- that draconian martinet of a fraud in white gave me a smile, from her place among the schoolchildren --- "we have settled on a representation of your present personality the best we can."
I pull the rope, the package opens, dad shouts: "A dragon!"
Peoole gasp, I most of all. A dragon? How fitting! How meet! How like me to be the first---
"Dad? There's nothing in here."
"Of course not, you insufferably arrogant phony, dragons aren't real. Now go get a fucking job before we kick your sponger ass to the curb." | Ian was buried under a thick layer of sheets when he felt something moist run the length of his back. It entered his dream, and he saw a dog licking him. Ian started to play with the dog, before he felt the feeling again and jolted awake.
He slowly opened his eyes, saw the dragon in front of him, and went to check the time. "Really?" he groggily muttered out loud. It was only three o'clock. What could have possibly waken him u-
Panic started to flow through his body. He turned away from his mirror, and saw the dragon that was perched atop the heading of his bed. It was small, a little larger than the size of a house cat. Its scales were green, the color of leaves, besides its eyes, which were aquamarine.
It took a second for Ian's tired brain to fully understand what was happening. He was 18 now, he remembered that. When you're 18 you get a pet that matches your personality, he knew that too. But a dragon? Those haven't existed in thousands of years.
The little dragon tried to get up off of its perch and fly towards Ian. Its wings did not support it, and instead it nosedived straight into Ian's bed. Ian checked his phone again. He had roughly five hours before school. He whipped up a simple quiet spell and headed downstairs, out his door. With his dragon in his backpack, he headed into town. Time to find the town witch-doctor. | 2014-09-28T05:03:07 | 2014-09-28T04:20:39 | 961 | 32 |
[WP] As far as you remember, you have grown up in foster care with your other two identical triplet siblings. But now you have tracked down your birth mother, and discover she only gave birth to twins. | “I don’t see why we’re driving out here for her.” Peter sulked in the back of the car. “She gave us up. What else do you need to know?”
“I want to meet her,” Noah growled. “Why are you being such a prick about it?”
Joshua was silent, staring out the window as the countryside whizzed by. The brothers bickered for two months about tracking down their birth mother. The teenagers couldn’t agree on anything these days, despite being identical triplets they couldn’t be further apart in mindset and personality.
The day the agency returned their query with a positive hit; a name, an address, and a phone number, they’d gotten into a fistfight over the idea of meeting the woman who gave birth to them. After three changes of heart, two black eyes, and several pieces of broken furniture, they agreed to meet her and put a face to the woman who’d caused them so many sleepless nights.
*Why?*
It’s the only question they needed answered.
They pulled into the parking lot of the dingy pub and looked at each other with disgust. The place looked like it should be demolished—not serving pints and sandwiches. The interior was worse.
She waited for them near the back, nursing a bent cigarette and a near-empty glass of whiskey. Not what you’d want to see from your mother at 11:25am. She looked twice worked over and far older than the thirty-three years she was supposed to be.
They sat down across from her in silence. She made no attempt to pass out hugs, or hearty handshakes, or even a smile. She leaned over carefully and looked each brother in the eye, looking for something deep inside.
“So…” Noah started.
“You want an explanation.” She cut him off. “You’re not going to like it.”
“Try us,” Peter sneered.
“I was fifteen. My mother was a heroin addict. My life was … well, I’ll cut to the chase. It was hell. When I gave birth to two beautiful baby boys, I thought things might turn around,” she said.
“Two?” Noah sputtered. “What do you mean two? There’s three…”
“Listen!” she shouted. She dropped her burnt cigarette into the whiskey and covered her face with her hands. “I brought two babies home from the hospital. Two. After four months of nursing twins, I was exhausted. I had to get away. The only person who would watch you was my Grandmother, an evil old hag of a woman.
My whole life, rumors and stories about her were whispered behind my back. They insisted she was a witch. And when I got back from my weekend of partying, I finally believed them. I came home to three sons in the crib. Completely identical.”
“Bullshit.” Peter slammed his hand down on the table. “Are we supposed to believe this nonsense?”
Their mother broke down and started to cry. “I tried to tell you apart. I really did. I took you to doctors and priests and geneticists, but you’re identical. I couldn’t handle it. My nervous breakdown was the last straw and they took you away. I spent six years in a mental hospital trying to forget you. No one believed me when I told them what my Grandmother said.”
Joshua spoke for the first time in hours. “Say it.”
Their mother looked up, the sorrow and pain filled her eyes. “One of you is a doppleganger,” she sobbed, “a vile demonic creature of hate and evil. When you come of age, the impostor will kill my beautiful innocent children.”
“What do you mean, come of age?” Noah gasped. “We turn eighteen on Sunday.”
“I know,” she sobbed. “And I still can’t see the murderer among you.”
*edited for formatting | We never knew, we said. well, I mean, we knew- everyone has a mother, right,- but we never really *knew*. It never occurred to any of us, any of the three of us, that we actually had a mother, a living, breathing human being somewhere out there amongst the 7-odd billion people on the planet. I guess she never really mattered to us. Why would she?
That, anyways, is what Ralph said tome when the papers came. I wasn’t surprised. I knew she existed, she had to. It was kind of silly to think otherwise.
Him and our other brother, Mal, were shocked, delighted, maybe even a bit astounded to tear open that envelope. It had cost us enough, at least- we’d been saving our pocket money, earned from working in the foster home’s laundry room, to finally hire someone to find her for us. Took us about 10 years or so, but the paper came.
Her name was Rachel. Such a young name, she couldn’t have been older than 30. She’d had us at such a young age, we suppose she just couldn’t have afforded us; one child is enough hell, but three? Some might even understand her plight. I didn’t. I wouldn’t understand it, I refused to, which is why after we talked about it, I managed to convince my brothers that I should be the one to see her, first. I told them they could wait in the city, but I wanted some time by myself with her, first. I was angry, I needed to understand, I told them.
So we went. We were 17 each, old enough to drive. We rented a car with the rest of our money, and away we went. It wasn't far; she lived in a small village about a hundred miles away. I don’t remember the name.
And so, I went in. She was young, as I imagined. She wore young clothes, and she wore copious lipstick, a deep, blood-red color. We talked for a while. She didn’t know our names. I told her we were Ralph, and Mal. We were healthy, but not happy. She didn’t know what to think of it.
“Mothers shouldn’t leave their children.”
The words struck her, hard, and she started crying. She kept apologizing, she said she just didn’t have the money, and isn’t it better than just being aborted, anyway? I suppose I couldn’t fault her there. But, it doesn’t matter. It was her fault, and I told her that.
“Your sons needs justice,” I said to her. “Someone needs to be punished for the pain you inflicted upon them. Someone needs to pay.”
“Them?” She responded with confusion. I smirked.
“Us.” Her face relaxed, but only for a moment. She pulled out a cigarette.
“Us. Me and my two brothers. Ralph, and Mal.”
“Two brothers? But I only had twi-” she stopped.
“I know.” As I pulled the gun from my pocket, her cigarette, unused, stained permanently with her blood-red lipstick, hit the ground.
Edit: how the hell do I change this formatting?
Edit: nvm got it | 2014-07-16T09:22:27 | 2014-07-16T07:58:19 | 62 | 17 |
[WP] You've been convicted of 1st degree murder, and (as is customary in society) are sentenced to "death by black-hole." You expect death as your capsule approaches the event horizon. After crossing, everything goes silent, until you hear someone say "Sir, I've found another one." | The capsule is small like a coffin. I am led to it with crowds watching, judging. The irony of my conviction is I am innocent. I did not kill my wife. No one believed me, and the evidence, though circumstantial, was not in my favor. The capsule door closes and Earth disappears. The black hole waits for me. Death by burning or spaghettification. The gravity pulls me in, the capsule lengthens, but I do not die.
I emerge and fall to a planet. The capsule crashes as I lose consciousness. When I wake up, a creature with green skin, no head, six limbs talks to someone else in a language I can understand. Something swims around my ear.
"Sir, I've found another one."
"A competitor?"
"Oh yes."
It leads to a jail cell where I wait with others. None of them are human. I feel something move in my ear. I pick at it.
"Don't do that. The earworm helps you to understand everyone. Just leave it. You'll fight soon enough," says a reptilian alien covered in scales.
It has a face and eyes but also six limbs.
"What is this?" I ask.
"This is a place where the road ends. Black hole jumping always ends here. You're an Earthling, famous around here. Tough bastards. Hard to kill."
"How do I escape?" I ask.
"Ain't no escape, friend. This is where we all die, except in rare cases."
Not many had gone through the hole, maybe two dozen in just as many years, but this was worse than death. I would die in a ring to thunderous applause. It would be over soon though.
All the other aliens in the cell stay away from me. The reptile leaves me alone. I never get his name. I think of my wife, Bea. She was amazing. Smart as a supercomputer with blue eyes that melted my heart. Now, she was gone, and the man who killed her roamed free.
After the trial, I asked. "What if I'm found innocent after this?"
The question was never answered. There was no retrieval and no justice. As I wait, I am fed and led to a weird bathroom with a large hole in the ground. When I walk too slow, a guard zaps me. If I walk too fast, I get a hit to the stomach. I want it over. I want the pain to end, but this pain will never heal. I held her in my arms as the life poured out of her, and I had to relive that pain everyday for months at trial. I want the pain to end.
The day comes. I am given armor that covers my torso and my head. A shield and sword finishes the outfit. I wait for the door to open, and, when it does, there are three other aliens facing me. They all attack me. This is it. I am doomed, yet I do not surrender. I lift my sword and cut the first creature in half as I dodge another strike. All three are humanoid and appear to have a head. One is dead already. I dodge the next's attack and cut it in half at the waist and continue the blow cutting off the last one's head. I am alive.
The crowd cheers, and I smile. But, it doesn't change anything. I am still on an alien world, alone. Every day, I compete and win for an entire year. Every time, the urge to survive drives me to win. I wasn't a murderer before I came here, but I am now.
One day, everything changes. A capsule from Earth arrives. I am anxious to meet another human for a variety of reasons. But, I am hopeful until I see who it is. What are the odds? Yet, at the time, of course it would be him. I’ll never forget his face. How could I?
When we square off in the ring, I take my time with him. He is older and weaker. I cut his legs behind the knees dropping him to the ground. As he stands, I kick him in the ribs. He kneels before me.
“Finish it then.”
“Not yet. Why did you kill my wife?”
He squints at me and chuckles to himself.
“Oh, it’s you. You’ve done well for yourself, and they always need competitors. You can go back, you know…as a recruiter.”
“What? You mean my wife was killed, so I would be sent here?”
“Yep.”
I take off his head. The crowd cheers and makes other alien noises that I’ve never been able to describe. But, it’s true. I can go back to recruit, and I do. I didn’t leave a monster but I returned one.
***
If you enjoyed this, please subscribe to r/nickkuvaas for more stories and free giveaways.
If you like the idea of an old Batman and Superman, check out this story: [Alienated, part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4phzj3/batman_superman_and_the_aliens_part_i_the_superman/) | "We find the defendant guilty, on all charges your honor." The foreman sat back down, her eyes flickered to me, a brief look of satisfaction crossing her face.
I laughed and shook my head. They had asked us to join their collective governance, but the reality was; we Terrans had signed away our freedoms and rights in complex merger treaties that we had no idea of the complexity or details of. Earth had simply agreed to being annexed by the Devanite Empire. Now, if a human went anywhere off-planet and got arrested for even the smallest thing, the charges would be blown out of proportion, and any recent unsolved crimes would be added on. We savages were obviously to blame for the ills of the Empire, right? I mean, we were so backwards, we actually fucked to reproduce rather than using birthing pods, and not to mention that we were so primitive, we still had hair. Sickening, right?
Three women turn up dead in the month my ship is in dock and since I was "out of control, using mind altering and intoxicating substances" obviously, I was a murderous night stalker. I spent a week's wages to import an actual bottle of terran-made beer, and this was the result. Fuck, I hated these yellow-skinned bastards, almost as much as they hated me.
Retrial? Mistrial? Appeal? Ha! Not for humans. A week later, and I'm sitting in my pod, strapped into the seat, my only view, the hellish singularity known as Muscae. The singularity itself is invisible, but watching the nothingness tear the upper gaseous layer off its companion star and just wink away into nothingness. Another batch of criminals, off to our "compassionate" justice, launched to our deaths in an automated barge, so none of the more evolved citizens of the empire should ever feel guilt or remorse. This was the way of the "pacifist" Devanites.
The small speaker crackled to life, and the red light came on, showing me the camera above my view was live. "Do you have any last words? A confession? An apology to the families of those you wronged?"
I spat at the camera. "Fuck you. I'm innocent. I hope..."
"Nothing of value, then." The camera cut off and the pod went silent. Moments later there was a sudden jolt of thrust and I could only feel my anger and rage build as the blackness grew closer. This was their compassionate solution? I'd spend the next three days hurling at the blackness, unable to move, only able to look at my oncoming death. The rumble, the cracks in the pod, the cold rush of vacuum as the atmosphere dissipated, the ever present damming silence as my existence went black.
"Sir, I've found another one." The technician gave me worried smile as she took off the headset and display visor. "Another of these knowledge implantation translators locked up." She handed me a bottle of water and a protein bar. "I'm so sorry Ambassador Stewart. Trying to use this Devanite mind-tech is still a little quirky."
The yellow-skinned Devanite envoy came over to me and spoke in the stilted English he knew. "Does head hurt, hu-man Stewart?"
I waved him off, the images and experience still fresh and raw. "I am fine Councilor Qua-Shee."
The Devanite technician came and took the headset from the woman who woke me. He then hissed to the Councilor in his native tongue. "This is the third set manufactured on Mogur-4. Those furbags can't seem to do anything right." I sighed and closed my eyes to hide the recognition that I had understood him.
Mogur-4 was home to a race of beings that looked like humanoid chinchillas. They had been the last race added to the empire for nearly a century before Earth was approached. The captain of my ship when I had been arrested had been a Mogurian, and he had been rather frank in how bad he felt for humanity joining. Had this glitch been a purposeful plant, like the scrawled notes of ancient times people would find in goods made in slave camps? Was this a warning?
I snatched the headset from the tech. Perhaps our own technicians could answer this for certain. The councilor would have far more to explain before Earth would agree to anything, and if I had anything to do with it, autonomy was our only answer.
| 2017-07-14T01:23:24 | 2017-07-13T23:43:40 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] "Why do you think we have a chance against the human race? They purge every galactic nation in their path!" The alien took a deep breath. "We are cute to them." "What?" | "This world is full of Xenos, Inquisitor, the only option can be a complete extermination of this filth.
"Well...hold on now," Inquisitor McConnell said nervously, a bead of sweat trailing down his nose. "They...look sort of human. They must be abhumans."
The adjutant shook his head. "No sir, the data I've received from our scouts confirms it. This is nothing but an example of convergent evolution, a pale imitation of the perfect human form."
"Much has been lost..." the Inquisitor offered weakly. "I mean, look at them."
He made a gesture and a still hologram of a beautiful young woman appeared in the air between the two men. Full lips, long flowing hair, half-lidded eyes and a body that would set a thousand ships upon the stars - only two problems. The fluffy ears upon her head, and a long feline tail.
"Yes," the adjutant growled. "This must be a trick to test our faith. But the data confirms; they are not abhuman. They are not, in fact, human at all."
Inquisitor Carlos McConnell sighed as he set heavily in his chair. "Commandant Richter's scouts? They're certain?"
"Completely, sir," the adjutant nodded. "We have a full fossil record. I came to you the second I was sure."
"The second...?" the Inquisitor mumbled, as if mulling something over. "I see. Well. No help for it. Order the exterminatus."
"Yes sir!" the adjutant said grinning, saluting and turning an about face. He made it three steps before the las-pistol tore his skull out.
"Terrible thing about all that heresy in the scout corps," the Inquisitor mumbled, pressing a switch under his desk to reveal a hidden compartment. With fumbling fingers he pulled a worn tome, an ancient family relic. The images on the front were faded by time, but it only left more to the imagination.
He stroked his fingers along the ancient surface, carrying the book with him as he walked to the viewscreen to loom over the verdant world below. "I'll give you my name," he mumbled. "As good a name as any. Carlos McConnell."
He held up the title and read the words to himself slowly and solemnly, in the ancient tongue of his ancestors. "Super Kawaii Sexy Catgirl Funtime."
The Emperor would understand, he thought.
The Emperor would understand. | He gave him a stern look and set himself down on a chair, allowing his wings to take a well deserved rest.
"We're not cute. We're scary. Aren't we?"
His inferior gazed at him sadly. "I thought so too..."
"But, but we have fangs! We have, we, um, we have claws!" He spluttered.
"I know, sir. Frankly, I think we are terrifying. But the humans think we're adorable. Apparently we look like something they call, um, an emoji."
"An emoji?"
"Yes sir. A form of hieroglyphics they use to convey something they can't write to the desired degree of eloquence."
"Intersting. Emoji. E-moji," he repeated, tasting the word. "
Well then. We must use this to our advantage. Assemble the troops. We are going to war."
They arrived the very next day, millions of them, armed to the teeth and ready for battle.
The humans were woefully unprepared. Rather than take arms, they took selfies, and before they knew what had happened, the planet had been conquered.
The general stood at the pulpit, staring down at the humans and raising a tentacle for silence.
"We have defeated your armies. Slaughtered your women and children and enslaved you all. And yet, despite everything that you have suffered, you STILL find us cute," he roared.
He paused for a moment, pacing up and down.
"We will not tolerate it. Our top scientists inform me that they have devised something to end this travesty once and for all. As we speak, they are readying the time portal. Citizens of Earth, we have created a movie to end all movies. We are about to send it back in time. Back to all those centuries ago. We have entitled it "The Emoji Movie." Rest assured, you will never think of us as cute ever again." | 2017-12-19T07:42:03 | 2017-12-19T07:23:33 | 176 | 24 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | The *Sunseeker*'s control room was dead silent except for the low *beep-beep-beep* of the deep space radar. The screen lights flashed a dim blue against the vast blankness of space, but nothing else moved, or breathed in the cavernous space.
A line of blue light appeared in the middle of the room, then expanded into a doorway from which stepped out three figures. If a human had still been present in the control room, they would have looked askance as the figures were too tall, too thin, and moved too fluidly to be one of their own. A living human might have been thrilled to catch their first glimpse of extraterrestrial life.
The humans in the control room, however, were far past caring the issue. Glassy eyes stared numbly at their consoles, and heads looked on fixedly, their motor muscles frozen instantly by the nerve pulse.
The first figure scanned the room for remaining traces of the weaponized blast, then sighed into its microphone.
"Looks like we got another dead crew. It seems like they still don't get it."
"Give them some credit, none of their crews has returned from a trip this long."
"Still, after sixty years of exploration? You'd think they would have given up."
One of the other figures shrugs. The movement brings its narrow shoulders all the way to the crown of its head.
"Humans will be humans. They are a stubborn species, that's for sure."
"Well, as long as it prevents them from leaving that backwater of theirs, I'm all for it."
The other figure hunches over to examine one of the dead crew members.
"Still, don't you think we should tell them by now? That their FTL drive can only decelerate up to a certain point before releasing that tachyon wave?"
"Weren't you listening? Leaving them ignorant is exactly the point. As long as they're stuck at 2c, it'll take them centuries to reach civilized space. Hopefully they'll have learned some manners by then. Bloody primitives..."
The hunched figure sighs, claps its hands together in the *macto*, then turns back to the gateway. The three aliens depart as quietly as they came.
** Three days later**
The alien ship is long gone, and the human vessel still floats in the vast expanse of space. It has waited the full three days allotted to its crew, before its automated safeguards took over.
The ship flashes blue, glowing like a briefly lived supernova, then disappears into the strange dimensions of FTL travel. After sixty years, the Human Exploration Corps finally developed a ship that could travel back to Earth on its own, and carry with it a recording of the tales of its crew. | Humanity's solution was space-folding. The problem is that in the folding process, anything along the "crease" is annihilated utterly. The most difficult part of the process was mapping an infinite trajectory in opposite directions and seeing to it that nothing of value was along this line. This inevitably led to problems; on one occasion, by chance two foldings intersected, wherein it was discovered that an entire 2D plane of our existence was destroyed. Apparently, major celestial bodies do not like having their continuity interrupted, and this causes them to re-coalesce into separate celestial bodies. The eggheads seem to think this is due to some interruption in some fundamental force of physics being discontinued for an infinitesimally brief but relevant length of time, but most people think they're full of crap and just guessing.
The other problem is that objects perpendicular to the fold at vast distances from the fold are slammed together along the hyperplane. Imagine two stars being slammed together from opposite ends of the galaxy within the 120-second duration of the folding event...literally impossible speeds. This really pisses off some other species whose nighttime skies are being polluted by intense flashes of light, to say nothing of how miffed the inhabitants of those systems might tend to become...
As the humans' foldings became more frequent, their territory has become a veritable origamy crane of hyperdimensional confusion. Travel within their territory is inadvisable at this time. Apparently their big thing now is to "loop" the fold upon itself, which allows interdimensional travel, but in unpredictable ways. Heaven, Nirvana, Acheron, Blathezuuh, Dave's Dimension, and Gweeguooiton 7 are now spilling into this reality, causing quite a mess. Dave is such an asshole. He stole the Ring Nebula, and is jackassing around wearing the Mexican Hat Galaxy and eating all of the tacos in the known universe. Jerk didn't even offer to pay. | 2017-03-31T13:02:22 | 2017-03-31T08:11:07 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You are a Hell Writer, you design hells for people after they die based on studying their life history. Today Satan summons you to his sanctum and you are troubled to see that he has a shocked expression on his face. | There’s a lot of room for advancement for a demon with imagination. Most simply work as crew members, taking orders and slaying souls, but an elite few are gifted with an imagination to take torment and turn it into art. After researching an individual’s life, they envision and enliven the perfect piece of pain for their sins. Of the Hell Writers, one mortal, Dante Alighieri, clawed his way to the ranks of the upmost perfect authors of agony until he became Hell’s Head Writer, managing demons and only committing to the art of torment for particularly high-profile members of Hell.
Though he knew his work impeccable, sweat dripped from his brow as he stepped into Satan’s office. The fallen angel sat on his throne, an imposing ivory desk adorned with the faces of the damned moaning in pain stood between them. The fallen angel rose from his seat, stretching his blackened feathered wings as his pale visage glowed with the warmth of a hearth. He welcomed me and his words reminded me how easily he could have raised an army of angels to rebel against God, though his usual calm and warm demeanor was distorted by a frown.
“Dante,” he began. “You know I don’t particularly like humans, but I made an exception for you. Your delicious sense of irony and your cold verses found you a warm seat in Hell, which is why I’m so surprised by your latest work.”
“The Dylan Masser case?” he asked.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Usually I’m quite impressed by your work. Eternally teasing sexual deviants without release. Crushing the greedy under the weight of all they collected. Letting demons ruin the apathetic in front of crowds who refuse to help. Brilliant. But Masser’s Hell lacks that same sadistic spark. I suggest you explain yourself before you join him.”
“Masser was an absolute monster,” Dante explained. “He carved prostitutes like pumpkins for Halloween and enjoyed the taste. I couldn’t outright torture him because his nasty habit of scarring himself for sexual gratification. He didn’t just torture those prostitutes because he enjoyed watching the life evaporate from their eyes; on a deep level, he believed he brought them to the highest levels of satisfaction imaginable. So I had to go a different route.”
“Yes. Your different route disturbs me.” Satan replied. “How is going out for ice-cream with his father torture?”
“His father abused him regularly,” Dante answered. “He brought down the full force of his belt, strangled him with jumper cables, and used him as an ash tray. His mistreatment turned Masser into the animal he became, yet behind the eyes of killer, a soft desire remained. Deep down, he always pined for the love of his father. He always begged his father to go out to the park or to see a movie together. While resentment slowly boiled in his soul, so did his determination to find anyone willing to love and accept him.
“But the moment the blade first slid into Amanda Brown, his sense of humanity eviscerated. Blood and bone and gore blackened and hardened his soul as he ripped young women to shreds. While he desires love, he lost his ability to love long ago. His Hell is to receive the love and affection he always wanted, but never enjoy it. He’ll slowly realize how dead and hollow he has become and truly recognize the depth of his lost humanity.”
Satan approved of my work with a nod and bid me to work. Not a moment too soon, either, for I found myself writing another epic of suffering for a particularly wicked man whose soul I wanted to be torn to pieces.
*****
More tales of torment at r/Andrew__Wells | Usually, Satan sends me an email asking it I'm caught up on the Hell Designs Department. If something is wrong, I talk to a regional manager, not the fallen angel himself.
I finally arrive on his floor, and the elevator floors open, and he was there, standing right in front of them.
"Oh dear."
Satan uncharacteristically responded "That phrase works too. Come and sit down."
Satan has been known for offering some form of torturous drink, but all he did was hand me a sheet of paper.
"What is this about?" my voiced quivered. His cold and confident voice was as shakier as mine. "Uh, I uh don't know how this, uh, happened."
"H-how do you pronounce this? Mich... eel? Mitch-ale?"
He snapped. "It's Michael, like the angel! You should know that!"
"But he's five. He's no angel, h-he's barely old enough for school!"
The lights flickered. "I KNOW! I know how old he is! And he's not my incarnation, I'm still alive!"
"S-should we really do this? It sounds like he would be l-legendary in the R&D department."
The lights dimmed. "DO I CARE WHERE HE SHOULD GO? NO! THIS CHILD IS CALLED THE SECOND COMING OF ME! HE WAS CALLED SATAN 2.0, THE BETTER ME!"
"Should I t-torture him for his insolence?" He turned around, his eyes darker than oil. "Eliminate. his. existance." Each word felt like my ear drums were being stabbed with a pen.
I shuddered. "Y-yes my lord. Is there any torture method you would like me to use?"
He finally smiled. "Use the method that God demanded for uh, what's-his-face. Cain! God, that was fun. The uh, nerve exposure. That one, and run some of God's smite lightening through his nerves."
"Yes my lord. Would you like me to start immediately?" as I tried to stand up without peeing.
"Yeah, and email the CCTV to God and I. Oh, and that angel with the same name as him."
I was glad that he started no longer so anxious, but I had to ruin it. "Are you really sure you don't want to add him to the torturing cycle? It's a waste of talent." A wave sent me flying into the empty elevator, cracking the wood panels.
I stood up, but I ended up peeing this time"This is the closest I have to revenge on God. Do. not. ruin. it. for. me." Again, the pen though the eardrums.
"Y-y-y-y-yes s-s-s-sir."
As he started laughing, a volcano erupted outside his window. "Woaaah! Did you see that? You shouldn't have, you should be GONE!"
The elevator fell faster than Satan fell to hell. | 2016-11-08T17:34:05 | 2016-11-08T15:38:45 | 104 | 10 |
[WP] Zombies biting humans turn humans into zombies. Little did we know we just had to give them a taste of their own medicine and bite them back to turn zombies into humans | Year 2 Day 68:
The crew and I have finally found ourselves a reliable place to begin a camp. We have a spring nearby, and soft soil for farming. The munchers around here have begun to starve so their movements have been visibly slower. Still dangerous though, like i told Tim when he had one chained up. Anyways, it's time to begin constructing.
Notes:
People lost since last journal entry = Eight this time (Train yard has a nest, and stupid Tim)
Year 2 Day 76:
We started construction around a week ago. We've come along well. Started our farm and have a few shelters up. We are in the middle of swampland here (munchers have a hard time moving through sludge) and are surrounded in each major direction by some form of township or city. The largest to the north. With everything running well in camp, we are about to go on a scavenging trip. Tim's brother, Harry, has picked up a bit of a drinking problem since his brother's passing. I've decided to take him with me on this run because working through grief is some hard shit, and I did it by staying busy.
Notes:
People lost since last entry = none.Supplies gathered from run: 30 gls gasoline (Jackpot!), some meds (doc will sort them out), 5 baseball bats, and a metric ton of alcohol. (Mostly vodka, Harry insisted we bring it for "Morale")
Year 2 Day 88:
Boy, do I have some shit to say today. things are about to change but oh lord will it be gross. So you remember ol' Tim right? Well he died dicking around with a chained up muncher. That really never sit well with Harry and he started drinking HEAVILY. Made me look like a lightweight quiet a few times. Back to the point! This crazy bastard chained up a muncher (like his brother yeah?) and just starts doing the same crap Tim did. He poked it, prodded it, give it vodka, and started skinning it. Then he started yelling at it, blaming it for the death of Tim. Drinking heavier and faster Harry decided to get too close. The damn thing lunged at him. It latched onto his shoulder and wouldn't let go. As we rushed up to help, Harry did some nasty shit. Sinking gum-deep, Harry tore into the munchers collarbone and brought rotted, clotted flesh back with him. We got Harry off of the muncher and sat him down in our newly constructed Triage tent. We thought Harry would be gone that following night (tonight) like most people who get munched but something new has come up.So we have a new member to our camp. Currently in our Triage tent with literally all of our bandages on him, and heavily medicated. His name is Kendal. Kendal was the muncher that bit Harry. You read that right, the MUNCHER. We checked Kendal after we got Harry in a safe condition and found him, well, breathing. He was talking. Nothing really coherent but actual words. Not only that but it seemed that the life had returned to his eyes. He will take a while to recover due to the missing flesh, and rotted body, but if he is still human he will make it.
Notes:
People lost since last entry = -1
Year 2 Day 89:
We bit Harry. Well i did. Harry turned last night like we thought, and i got to thinking. It must have been munching the munchers that healed Kendal. We will see in a few hours whether or not we are all delusional, desperate, or saved. This could change everything. I couldn't finish the job for you last time buddy, but daddy will return home soon to help you. I promise. | What is dead may never die.
See, that statement was passed through ages of literature. Collectively, we imagined that simply translated to: “If it’s dead, it stays dead.”
Boy were we wrong.
&#x200B;
One late Tuesday afternoon, archaeologists stumbled upon more than they bargained for. The Egyptian desert had revealed ruins once hidden beneath the dunes. Thanks, global warming.
&#x200B;
Those mummies however, didn’t ask to be found. Turns out they awoke with hunger pains. Ancient Egyptians used some no-balming-required ritual, which sealed them away in airtight containers. It’s like they were blackout drunk, HANGRY for some fast food centuries later. Lucky for them, humans these days are packed with finger-licking good McRibs with layers of fat. What was odd is they didn’t crave the typical cannibalism you’d read in zombie fan-fics.
&#x200B;
Nope, they wanted REAL food. What’s worse is scientists from Cairo took it upon themselves to feed these voracious monstrosities anything and everything. The creatures looked like zombies to say the least. Grayed skin, zero muscle, literally skin and bones. So naturally the well-educated, psychotic minds of Egypt tried to feed them human remains.
&#x200B;
Well, we never expected the forbidden meat to have such an overwhelming effect on their bodies. As a middle eastern journalist I was one of the few to see it for myself. These seven once preserved persons forced down human flesh. From the recently deceased, mind you, and not the hypothesized government issued murders. But instead of the meat going straight to their stomachs, it filled out whatever limb or ligament consumed!
&#x200B;
A breakthrough in science and human evolution, they deemed it. The world heard of it in a heartbeat, one of my colleague had deemed Instagram fame more important that journalistic integrity. Pictures and video spread like wildfire, with conspirators soon swarming Cairo. Those wise evil scientists preferred their privacy however, and relocated to Russia. The new comrades aligning under the pretense of funding and claiming scientific advancements for themselves of course.
&#x200B;
With progress persisting, these mummies began to speak once again. An ancient dialect in their native tongue, with some able to read and write in hieroglyphics. What really baffled us was their lack of memories. Specifically not a lack, but replacement of memories. Some could recall actions and events that could never plausibly happen during their original lifetime. Such as riding a bicycle for the first time, or being pierced by a bullet.
&#x200B;
Connecting the dots, we realized any human remains they had eaten, must be reciprocating muscle memories. Their bodies had fully recovered, yet they still cannibalized at the behest of their Russian patrons. We watched in horror as they forced down medium-rare human steaks. Both the subjects and onlookers retching at the sight, smell, let alone the taste.
&#x200B;
But the real problem was that they were only getting bigger.
Faster. Smarter. | 2020-11-24T15:10:13 | 2020-11-24T15:09:05 | 48 | 30 |
[WP] Demons have finally discovered a way to summon humans and they take great joy in summoning humans to hell to do mundane chores in revenge for humans doing that to them for centuries. | The smell of sulfur fills the air as I recline on the couch.
A sinking feeling settles in my gut. “Oh, shit…” I mutter out loud, scrambling for my wards - but it’s already too late.
The world turns upside down, and space folds around me. For a single instant, my physical form is distorted and stretched - then I snap back into place. In Hell.
Again.
I let out a sigh as I examine my surroundings - I’m surrounded by smoke and brimstone, but that doesn’t tell me much. Ah. There. A landmark. My gaze settles on a giant statue of Lilith.
Guess that means I’m in her domain. I roll my shoulders and take one step forward. I hit an invisible wall. Oh, that’s right - the summoning circle. I take a look down and wince. It’s been drawn very poorly, and the lines are quite wobbly. I could probably break it if I tried, but I decide to gather some more information first.
“Ha! It worked!” A fiendish looking creature dances in circles around me - he’s got red skin, ink-black hair, and a pair of tiny horns sprouting from his head. “It worked!”
“Hi there,” I say. The demon frowns.
“You’re awfully calm about all this,” it says. “You’re, uh… not supposed to be.”
“Not my first time down here,” I explain. “So, what’ll it be today?”
The demon blinks. “I… uh… I need help learning how to play this human game.”
“Oh. Any particular reason why?”
He glances downward and rubs the back of his head. “Ever since Lilith met back up with her human best friend, Jack, she’s been bringing all sorts of human traditions into her domain. She’s hosting an esports tournament this weekend, and the winner gets to be her new right-hand demon. The last one was disemboweled for trying to embezzle gold.”
“I… see.” I give him a fiendish grin. “Well, I can help you. But there’ll be a price.”
“Name your price,” he states hesitantly.
“I want six gold bars.”
“Is that all?” He brightens. “Then I, Gelvath, demon of Lilith’s domain, want to learn how to play the human game, Halo. In return, I offer you, Landon of the New York City domain, six gold bars.”
“The contract is sealed,” I hum. An icon of a lock appears on both our forearms.
“So, where do we start?” Gelvath asks.
I step out of the summoning circle with ease, startling him. “We should probably work on your summoning circles at some point, but first - are you playing on controller or mouse and keyboard?”
“Controller, but the tournament’s being held on PCs.”
I tut as I put a hand on the startled demon’s shoulders. “First off, we’ll have to change that…”
---
*This is set in the same universe as my [PI] story from yesterday! If you haven't read it already, it should be on my profile.*
/r/OneMillionWords | Gabriel cackled as he entered, assuming the worst. Instead, I was sipping tea with a deformed cherub that had lost a wing, discussing his journey down to the depths of the sixth circle of Hell. When Gabriel's laugh stopped, he quickly vanished into a small dust mote, politely leaving the half finished Earl Grey on the table.
As far as the kitchen went, it was spotless. The ground was a little grimey, but that happens when Gabriel's house pet is a three headed puppy from another unholy liter. Cerebus got around, it appeared.
"What are you doing!?" he roared. "You were tasked w-"
I put a single finger up and announced, "I completed your task of cleaning the kitchen. Your summons said nothing else."
I placed the cup onto its saucer and stood. Wiping my hands on my apron, over the neat letter of the embroidered logo of my company "Maids N' Co," I presented the kitchen to Gabriel. "You summoned me three hours ago for an apartment sized kitchen, I was done this thorough job within an hour. The dishes have been washed, cleaned and sorted, the countertops have been dusted, washed and waxed. The shelves were cleared of any insects, the plants watered, the bags compressed for recycling. The trash was taken out, the tiles swept. Your dog's hair was cleaned as best as possible, and he's over there taking a nap. The tops of the shelves had mold, so that was an issue, but I have done my best with that, plus I cleared out the fridge, which had a few cleaning additions that I took the liberted to enhance your place."
Gabriel opened his mouth to speak but I continued. "The kettle's exterior was so filthy that I had to get my good scrub pads to wash it away, and discovered this beautiful pattern. I have been careful to to not scratch or scuff it. The silverware that you have scattered across the drawers were cleaned and polished, and lastly, this strange item from your summons was brush and cleared."
I held up a small ceramic sculpt of a three headed puppy. It wasn't the reflection of his pet, but it certainly had elements of his being.
"This is impossible! You are not supposed to do this!"
I hushed him again as the smoke grew from my feet. He was sending me back to the human realm. "This is just another Tuesday for me." | 2020-07-01T15:03:44 | 2020-07-01T15:00:00 | 145 | 86 |
[WP]Serial killer has been monitoring his next victim's movements for months. She is a loner and the perfect target. One day she disappears and nobody notices but him.
Man, this sub is great. Come up with an idea and you get a bunch of great stories to entertain yourself with. This is better than TV!
edit: Front Page ! Good job everyone !
edit: wow ! Top post on this great sub. Thanks everyone! | It was the third day he had sat nearly unmoving in a car parked across the street. He watched the windows for any sign of her but nothing moved. "Should I just go knock on the door?," he wondered. "Or maybe just barge in? I really didn't want to do this in her home," he continued as he bit his nails. "What could have happened to her?" He sighed as he combed his fingers through his greasy, blonde hair and pushed it off his forehead. In the seat next to him, sat a small black leather duffel bag. The bag was open and the moonlight gleamed off of a large knife stuffed in next to rope, duct tape, gloves and a roll of heavy-duty trash-bags. He took a deep breath, pulled a winter mask from his pocket and pulled it over his head. He grabbed his bag before opening the door and jogging across the dark, empty street.
He reached out to ring the doorbell and then paused, "What am I doing? I'm here to kill her not sell girl scout cookies. Just knock down the stupid door and kill her." He took a step back, ruffled his hair, broadened his shoulders and growled, "I'm a crazy son-of-a-bitch. As he stood with one leg in the air, ready to kick the door in, the door-knob suddenly turned. He froze. There she stood at the door in her bathrobe. Even with mascara under her eyes and knots in her hair, she looked like an angel. "Come in," she said in a gentle and tired voice. He hesitated for a moment and then followed her to the living room. "Sit," she directed. After quickly closing his duffel bag, he dropped it behind the couch and sat next to her.
"I... uh.." he mumbled.
"I need your help," she interrupted.
"My help?"
"Yes. I want to die... but I'm scared. I've been trying to kill myself for three days but I'm a coward. I can't bring myself to do it. I'm so scared of the pain. I need help."
"You, uh, you want me to kill you?"
"Well, I thought that's what I needed help with. I saw you out there watching my house and I knew that you could do the killing for me, but I was still scared."
"You knew I was watching you?"
"You thought I wouldn't notice? Anyway, as I sat and watched you over the last three days, I realized that I'm not really scared of the pain. I'm already in so much pain, death will surely be a relief. I'm scared of dying alone."
He struggled to respond. "So you want me to..."
"Stay here with me while I die. Don't worry, I don't need you to hold my hand or anything. Just be in the room with me."
"You want me to kill you?"
"You can if you want to. I won't stop you, but the whole bottle of pills I just took should take care of that in a few minutes anyway. I swallowed them pretty quickly when I saw you get out of the car and head my way."
"I can't help you," he shook his head vigorously. "I'm here to kill you," he nearly shouted. "Don't you understand? I'm a serial killer!"
"Have you killed anyone else?"
"Well, no, not yet."
"I'm sorry I ruined your first try." She leaned in, "You can still chop me up into bits if you want, but I'd rather you wait until after I die," she whispered with a hint of a smile.
"I don't think I'll do that," he mumbled, staring at his feet.
"I think I need to lay down now."
He stood up quickly and she laid down on the couch.
Standing in the middle of the living room, he bit his nails and tried not to look her in the eye.
She groaned loudly and grabbed her head.
"Uh... do you need anything?"
"No," she moaned, "just, please, stay here. It won't be long."
She groaned louder now and dry-heaved as she clutched her stomach, then leaned back again. She was breathing loudly. She took in a labored, shallow breath and whispered, "come closer."
He knelt down beside her.
"Closer."
He leaned in right next to her face. She took one, deep breath, gently kissed him on his masked cheek and whispered, "thank you." She didn't breathe again.
He knelt beside her for almost an hour holding her lifeless hand.
Finally, he stood and looked around the room and found her phone on an end table. He dialed 911, and set the phone down beside her hand. On his way out, he remembered to grab his duffel bag. He went back to his car and sat, unnoticed, watching as the ambulance came and went. His mask was wet.
********************************
ALTERNATE ENDING:
He knelt down beside her.
"Closer."
He leaned in right next to her face. She took one, deep breath and silently slid the knife from her pocket. It was lodged in his back before he even knew what happened. He fell to the floor, writhing in pain and she gingerly stepped over his shaking body on the way to her bedroom. Ten minutes later, she reemerged in a slinky, black club dress and red lips. On her way to the front door, she leaned down, gently kissed him on his masked cheek and whispered, "thank you. You made this so easy."
| The pleasure isn’t in the kill, it’s in the hunt. People are animals; stupid, vain, mean animals, but still just animals. The species gets stronger or weaker dependent on the offspring, if they are strong and adaptable then the species gets strong with them. If they are weak and stupid then the species gets dragged down by them.
I ensure that those who do not meet the criteria are removed from the genetic pool before they have a chance to pollute it. Now I know, there are billions of people, millions of idiots and more targets than any one man could ever hope to eliminate but as the saying goes *every little helps.*
It’s a service I provide, free of charge to the greater population, but of course this free service has to be paid for in some way and for me, payment comes in the form of just a little enjoyment on the side. Okay, honestly it’s a lot of enjoyment, screaming blood to the elbows, tendon snapping fun, but we all have a hobby right?
Picking a target is normally easy, I tend to move around a fair bit, I’ve worked in offices and call centres all over, it’s easy work and no one gives two shits about who you are. You might have called me if you have been a customer of a cell phone company hat likes red or ever needed to return a vacuum cleaner. The workplaces here are target rich environments – full of the disposable and useless.
I’ll admit, hands in the air, I choose my targets from a certain range, they’re female, blonde and tall. Maybe consumer pressure got to me, maybe my tall blonde mother corrupted me, who can say. Sure taking out men might help a little more but it’s not like I’m getting a paycheck for this, I figure I should choose who I want. So long as the end result is a good one then it all works out.
Once I have picked my girl, my new pal, I like to get acquainted. I visit her home, check through her friends, family, lifestyle. To be clear, once she is chosen that’s a done deal but some people I can take my time with, others, if say they have a nosy neighbour or husband, they just have to go – quick slash across the throat on a walk home, knife to the kidneys, no pleasure at all.
Other targets, now, they’re where I have my fun. Margaret was going to be *lots* of fun. Blonde, tall, pretty and lived alone in a house near nobody else. I’d actually seen her at a supermarket and followed her home and then taken this job just to get close. My initial impression was right, she was vain, stupid and just ripe for picking.
Two nights ago, while she slept, I wandered her house, going through her things and then stoking her face as she slept. She was so peaceful, so perfect. I considered moving up my plan but this was best, this was right. Friday night, I would have three whole days before she was missed, three days of fun. I followed her home, carefully and then let her sit.
TV was on, TV was off, lights were on, lights were off. Everything was prime. I already had cut a key to her door and so I slipped into her house in complete silence, moving through like a shadow. I left my bag of tricks in the hallway and slipped into her room. She was not in bed.
I slowly eased back into the hallway and checked the bathroom. Then the living room. Kitchen. Attic space. She was gone. I returned to the bedroom and sat on the bed to think. I had watched the road, watched he house, the only way she could get out was through the back window. I moved to it and, sure enough, it was unlocked.
I quickly grabbed my bag and slipped out the window after her. If she was on an adventure then I would wait here and let her return but this time I would see her coming in. Hours passed and I waited, the moment being drawn out only making it sweeter.
At last movement and from nowhere she was there climbing in the window. I let her move through into the house and I slipped in the still open window. She was in the sitting room, light still off and I slipped in behind her.
She clutched a bag that fell as I grabbed her and squeezed her throat. It exploded and hundreds of tiny items rolled all over the floor, but I was more concerned with the kill, with the rush. At last she stilled and I let her go, unconscious and limp. Perfect. I looked down and across the floor there were hundreds of tiny teeth, children’s teeth.
I smiled - this was my kind of chick. I’d never killed one like this before but I’d killed similar. I grinned in the moonlight, people always said what big teeth I had.
| 2014-10-21T12:16:00 | 2014-10-21T12:01:52 | 59 | 33 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | Wow. Great.
I'm standing in the middle of the woods, with just my pijamas on.
I have no idea how I got here. It's cold, I'm tired, and I just want to go to bed. The only problem is, that I live in the middle of a large city, in a place, where even the nights are warm and the air is soft.
Here it's so cold, that my breath forms tiny clouds, and the air stings in my lungs.
I must be far away then.
I can't hear a sound. Not one. If we were near a city, I'd hear cars.
But that's not the strangest part. I can't even hear a bird, or the wind in the leaves.
Everything is so quiet. It's actually kind of nice.
Living in a large family, surrounded by a city that never sleeps, I actually never experienced silence. So I just close my eyes and ignore the cold.
As I open them again, I am looking straight into a face. Well, half of a face, as the man's left side is ripped right off, and the poor guy has a permanent half smile, due to the missing skin of his cheek.
I was pretty confused, as I didn't hear the half smile guy's footsteps, so I wonder, if I went deaf, so I scream the loudest "HELLO?" I've ever screamed.
I'm not deaf, although my voice doesn't echo.
The misshapen man jumps and looks confused. "Arren't you scared?" He asked a in a slurrend manner, while I watched his saliva , not held back by his lips, spray in the moonlight.
"Why should I? It's pretty realxing, actually." I said, while stretching out my arm to give him a handshake. "I'm Sasha"
The other half of his face started smiling too, and he looked genuenly happy.
"I'm Joe! I've been living here for the past 20 years, or maybe 40, who knows. People just randomly appear here, and I try to welcome them, but they always run away from me, for some strange kind of reason. I later find them, with their face chewed off. Probably by the crawling people around here. They have pretty sharp teeth."
I just stand there and nod time to time. As he tells me about things, I'm sure he just desperately wanted to tell someone else for years.
What a interesting place. Joe seems nice. Just the crawling woman, with the angriest face I've ever seen, coming nearer and nearer behind him, is a little distracting.
(Sorry about the english, I'm swiss)
| "Just get out of there, fuck off..."
The shadow slowly trickled down on the floor from the closet and slowly crawled towards the bedroom door. Alex threw himself down on the bed and turned off the lights.
Soon the thumping in the stairs started, Alex slowly turned over and looked at his door, contemplating if she would even care to go and open it.
"Can't you just get over with it and leave? I have a test for tomorrow and I'm not in the mood for your silly games."
The thumping slowed down and stopped, the lights outside the door flickering. Alex sighed as she turned over and faced the wall.
"Not again...."
Alex felt the surge in her stomach as she started falling into the abyss, feeling how her face relaxed while she fell and her teeth falling out from her mouth.
She closed her eyes as she landed on a large green, sunny plain. Dreams always were her favorites, since she at least could get it over with quickly.
She ran around for a while, waiting for her alarm to wake her up in the morning. She smiled and closed her eyes as she turned her face to the sun in the sky, then she heard beeping from the distance.
She opened her eyes and looked around, she frowned as she noticed the lack of light flowing through her curtains. She stood up from the bed and looked around in the house.
Nothing.
Not a single monster in sight. Where could they be? She smiled at the thought of them finally leaving, they could not scare her anyways, there's nothing special about them, just shadows and sounds, never anything that can actually hurt her.
She felt a breath behind her neck and she just walked slowly away. The footsteps followed her to the kitchen where she turned on the lights, there the shadows would go away.
The light flickered for a second before it finally shone up the kitchen.
What did she really notice first? The broken window? The presence which did not leave?
Or the hands around her neck? | 2017-05-05T07:30:17 | 2017-05-05T07:21:53 | 118 | 12 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | Commander Killray. The name used to send a cold shudder through the heartiest 'hero', or of any member of society's most corrupt cabal. His energy powers made a fool of militaries, police forces, and junior supers alike.
"Now look at me." I snapped one of the heavy elastic bands of the chest harness I now had to wear 24 hours a day. "One little spark of light, and its 75,000 volts straight to the gut. Staring at walls of white forevermore..." I never did learn how they figured it out, but it can sense when I draw on that power from deep within. I can never even power up anymore, or I'll be on the floor shuddering, screaming, and vomiting.
And I had one person to thank for my imprisonment.
"Phone for you, Mr. Peters." The guard was standing at an open door.
I sat up. My lawyer had stopped calling. Useless case for him. I had no other family, no other visitors...
"Who?"
"Don't know. Not my job. Do you want to answer or not?"
I did. I didn't. I was curious, furious, confused, and elated. In the end, I went with him.
I fantasized about who it could be the whole way to the phone. Had an old colleague decided to reach out? More likely a detective needed a word for evidence? Did that old senator call just to gloat?
No. Not at all. It was *her.*
"How's the walls, commander?" Unfathomable. She, of all people?
"Glory to me... the Diamond Princess of the Heroes' Halls graces me with a phone call. What could she need from her defeated antithesis?"
"You're not my... what? Listen, Commander Killray, I need a favor."
"No one calls me that anymore. Not the U.S. Army, not my old troopers, not the guards, not the judges... not the-"
"I get it. Now listen... I need a date."
"For what?" I had misunderstood what she had meant. Date *and time* of some event, I thought. Someone else's plan, some other villain's great masterminded attack?
"A wedding."
"I don't know when... wait what wedding. Wait. Wait. What do you... Do you mean me?"
"Get out of prison a few days. Go see something. Wear something other than paper-thin slippers. You know..."
"For who? Why?"
"For me. For... like 6 hours?" I couldn't process this. This was a trap... but I was already trapped. I was already done. Unless... I was the trap. For who else?
There was a silence on the phone for a time. I wanted to rage against her, to cast her away out of spite. Yet all my fury did me no good on the battlefield, and would do me no good here. It faded, and traded for a new sensation. A burning curiosity on my neck. How desperate could she really be? I had to know.
"Ray?"
"Yes, I'm here Valerie... I guess I accept." What a stupid idea. Anything to break the monotony.
\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~
She wasn't just one of the Hall of Heroes, she was one of the Favorites. A real "Superwoman." A crowd favorite. And a colossal force of un-nature to be reckoned with. When we had fought, she was practically invulnerable to my energy attacks in her diamond form. I still remembered the fist of hers that broke my shield and knocked me of my feet.
And, of course, the legal system just bends over backwards for her and her kind. She came and collected me like package of cold-storage meat.
And like a package of meat, she seemed to not feel the need to explain much of anything to me. She gave me a suit, had me get dressed, and I walked to her private vehicle parked beyond the gate. I still had to wear my power-restraining harness under the suit, but it did cover up quite well.
"Why?" I broke the silence.
"Hm?"
"Why me?"
"Well, I got to thinking... no one knows what you look like. I'm one of the few, besides your prison guards, that has ever even seen you without your helmet. And you're quite handsome, you know." She winked at me.
"That answers nothing. You have your pick of men in a world of adoring fans... Why me!?"
"Well, truth is there is one *other* person who's seen you without your helmet." She was playing coy, she wanted me to beg her for details, but I stared in silence. "My ex." I stared into her eyes, trying to discern this game of hers. "You might know him as... The Patriot Star."
"No..." a laugh boiled within me. "hahahaha, no, no, that... Him? That arrogant, boastful narcissist? That little twit?"
A sly smile crossed her lips. "I thought him funny and honorable once upon a time. I lowered my standards a little and gave him a chance, and what does he do?"
"His ego inflated ten fold. And he... cheats on you?"
"Yup."
"And you picked me, because he's the only one at this wedding who will know me."
"And because you beat his ass worse than any other person to date. Yes."
"Valerie... I regret my earlier rudeness. If you had just sold me on this premise to begin with, I would have jumped at the opportunity with humility and grace."
"What a gentleman! Don't worry, Ray, we have an evening of fun ahead of us."
"How delightfully villainous of you, Diamond Princess... I will follow your lead." | Part of me believed this to be a trap, but I quickly buried the idea because Valerie was the epiphany of what a stereotypical hero should be.
"So... Let me get this straight. You, the famous hero who saved the world 3 times, want me, your nemesis, to go with you to a wedding just to piss off your ex?" I asked.
"Yes Fate, listen normally I wouldn't do this, but he cheated on me and did a few other things that led to our brake up. I was thinking that since this kind of dastardly, you might want to help." She said anxiously.
I chuckled heavily, "dastardly, really... Fine, but you must swear an oath of secrecy when we meet, we may be enemies but I do have a private life and so do you, deal?" I finished.
"Deal, see you in a month, remember it's on the 21st!" She cheered before ending the call.
I turned around to see my loyal guards stifling laughter. I rolled my eyes and simply left the room, making the mental note to wipe there memory of that call.
Time flew by and now I was waiting in my classic 1960 Mustang. After a moment I saw Valarie step out from her apartment and looked around, trying to find me. I started my engine and pulled up to her.
Stepping out of the car I said, "Your chariot awaits you milady." Smiling while opening her door.
"Wait... YOUR Fate... You look so normal." Valerie said before she turned scarlet and turned away.
I laughed as she climbed in. I closed her door and got in the driver's seat. "I don't know about normal, every mirror I look into breaks, why do you think you always win." I said jokingly as I started driving to the wedding.
She laughed at that, "So before we get there, I have to ask you something." She said.
"Alright, shoot." I responded.
"Would you be ok if we... Kissed a few times at the wedding, just to sell it and make him more jealous?" She asked meekly.
I was caught off guard completely, she was never meek, "Um, I guess if you really want to." I replied nervously.
As we reached the church, I could swear I saw her glance at me and bite her lip. Either way, we were here and ready for the wedding.
The ceremony was nice to be honest, me and Valerie shared a few quick pecks and an actual kiss in front of her ex. Now we were enjoying the reception. I had Mac&cheese, chocolate covered marshmallows, a double chicken sandwich with cheese, mashed potatoes, and a large glass of orange juice. Valerie had a out the same except with chocolate covered strawberries. We ate and talked with a few of the other guests, making up a story they would believe. At some point Valerie excused herself from the hall to go to the bathroom, but as time passed I found myself getting worried for some reason. Like a nagging feeling that something was wrong.
I left the hall quietly and went towards the bathrooms. As I passed a dark room I caught a glimpse of movement. I stopped and gazed inside and say Valerie being held down by her ex who held a talaxite jewel over her, the one thing that can hurt hur. I quietly entered and slowly made my way to them.
"Fucking bitch, don't forget that I know who you really are, and what your weakness is." He growled as he punched her in the gut. "Once I'm done with you, I'm going to beat the shit out of-" *CLICK*
He stopped talking the second I placed my 1911 to the back of his head my custom suppressor parting his hair. "Now now, I think you just sealed your fate, hand me the jewel, nice and calmly." I said.
He gave me the jewel trembling, and I dropped it on the floor and smashed it with my boot. "Alright now, Valerie, you give me the world and he disappears, all memory and evidence of his pathetic fucking existence will vanish meer moments after I pull the trigger." I said to Valerie as she stood, her strength returning.
"No, you don't have to do that." She said before she wheeled around and punched him square in the nose, sending him flying into the wall like some anime.
I put my pistol back in my holster, and before I could say or do anything else, Valerie rapped her arms around my neck and pulled me into a deep kiss, it was filled with passion and emotion and I kissed back. After a minute or so we parted and stared at each other for a moment, breathing hard.
"Do you... wanna, you know, like go out sometime?" I asked nervously
She looked me straight in the eyes "Yes, now let's get back to the reception." She said happily.
Honestly, I don't know what came over me, but I was genuinely happy and excited even...... DEAR GOD, AM I TURNING GOOD!?!?!?!? | 2022-10-06T21:53:05 | 2022-10-06T20:34:41 | 95 | 45 |
[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" | I muttered, "Number of people killed." And as expected, baby Mateo and baby Amelia had zero.
So I quietly head down to the dining room and saw my aunt setting the table. I muttered those words again. And it was no surprise the results said she had killed 8 people. But the number on her head kept blinking back and forth from 0 to 8. I felt sorry for her, I wanted to give her a hug. Six months ago, there was a car accident in her usual route home. My aunt was not able to save those unfortunate people involved even though she was there as first respondent. I said a quick prayer for her, and moved to the kitchen.
"Number of people killed." I said.
"Yes, Richard?" Mom asked as she was preparing our dinner.
"Oh, nothing."
"Dinner is almost done. Go get Mateo and Amelia." My mother instructed.
And like the obedient son that I was, I went up to the bedrooms. I passed by the family den, and saw my Dad reading. I searched him. And zero results. I was both disappointed and relieved I have a normal, law-abiding family.
"Dinner's ready!" We all heard Mom and settled ourselves around the table. Mateo and Amelia were a bit unruly because they still wanted to play.
It was a good dinner. I love fried chicken and it was all I ate. While the adults always have the salads. I was so full and was about to ask to leave when we hear a commotion outside.
"What's that noise?" My mom asked. "Can you go and check?"
I went out to check on Roger, our Doberman. "What is it, boy?"
Roger kept barking at nothing. But soon stopped and started to run around me. I held out my hand and let him smell and lick it. "I had chicken!" I said as I pet him with my other hand. There was no search bar on his head. But I searched him anyway. A result popped out. It said 34.
"Huh? That's impossible!" I looked at the result again, and stared at Roger. And then I searched him again.
"List names of people killed." I did not recognize anyone on the list. There must be something wrong with my search.
"How did you kill them?" Numerous results kept popping out. Burning. Torture. Asphyxiation. Beheading.
"Roger...what are you?" A result popped out.
Roger answered, "I'm hungry." | "How do you kill 0.08 people?! Like, how is that supposed to work? My mum's not a murderer!"
*"Look man, I dunno. I just put it into aunt Sarah's box, and it says 1.08 people killed, and then lists a bunch of random-ass stuff about smoking and speeding and shit"*
"...Wait. So, mum used to smoke right?"
*"Uh, yeah I guess so?"*
"Well, she used to smoke when she was pregnant with my sister. She stopped with me, but I remember dad being really mad about it when she started again after the divorce, and he told me about her smoking when she was pregnant with Lil"
*"Right... I think I get it. She put the baby at risk, then?"*
"Yeah! Maybe it's like... a _chance_ of killing someone. Like, in 8% of universes, she miscarried. Or maybe it's because she increased my sister's likelihood of disease or something."
*"That could be it I guess. Can I try you?"*
"Yeah go ahead!"
...
*"Mark it says 12.2"*
_"Wait what the FUCK_ I never killed ANYONE bro. DEFINITELY not 12 people, fuck!"
*"Hey I believe you, I believe you! Lemme see... Awh shit, OK so it's not like you've killed one person. It's a bunch of little shit. There's 0.11 for speeding all the time... 0.9 for leaving the heating on when you're not in the house, buncha little shit that adds up."*
"Damn... leaving the heat on kills people?"
*"Climate change, my dude. Energy costs carbon."*
"Fuck..."
*"Yeah"*
"...I'm gonna put on a vest and turn the heater off" | 2019-07-01T21:46:23 | 2019-07-01T21:06:32 | 289 | 156 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE WALRUS". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful walrus. Look." | The attention tone blared into my ears.
It's the dead of night, what could possibly be the problem? Is it another AMBER alert?
I turned in bed and reached over on my nightstand to grab my screeching phone. I look into my phone and see the bright notifications. God, it hurts my eyes. I saw it there, in all the letters in their capitalized glory accompanied by a creepy robot voice:
*DO NOT GO OUTSIDE LOOK AT THE WALRUS.*
*THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT HAS ISSUED THIS WARNING TO ALL RESIDENTS TO STAY IN THEIR HOMES AND TO NOT LOOK AT THE SKY.*
*REPEAT: DO NOT GO OUTSIDE TO LOOK AT THE WALRUS.*
You have got to be kidding me.
Am I being hacked? Is this some kind of joke? Because I am not laughing. I thought I had seen enough with the nationwide nuclear drill warning, but this takes the cake.
Whatever I can talk about this with my co-workers in the morning.
\*THUD\*
It came from my neighbor's apartment.
"Linda! I swear to God! What has gotten into you? Wait, slow down, what? I need to GO outside and do what? Are you drunk or something? Wait, I hear someone at the door"
I know I shouldn't be eavesdropping on my neighbors, but it seems he's getting them too. Apparently, I'm getting a swarm of texts from random numbers.
"Come outside!" They said, "The Walrus is beautiful."
It all just seemed to be variations of it in my feed. How did they get my number? Is it just some bot?
I hear more crashes from my neighbor.
"Hey! What are you doing? Get your hands off me!"
I then heard chanting,
"Come outside, the Walrus is beautiful. Come outside, the Walrus is beautiful"
I heard the cocking of a gun when my neighbor shouted, "What are you doing? Get out of my apartment! I will shoot!" I heard two gunshots until there was what seemed to be a fight.
I was about to go out and help him, but I then heard more screaming and shouting from my other neighbors. Was the whole complex under attack or something?
I had to hide. Whatever this Walrus was, it seemed to turn these people mad.
I needed to barricade my door. I carefully placed whatever I could find to block it, but I was betrayed by a glass cup knocking over and crashing the floor when I was about to put my nightstand up.
Dammit. I dropped whatever I had in my arms and made a quick run for my closet. I closed the door and huddled up into a fetal position.
That's when I heard it. The banging at the door. Their incessant chanting. I prayed to God they wouldn't find me here. To anyone really. I cursed my heart for beating so loudly. I hear their footsteps coming this way.
They start to stalk every room. Every nook and cranny they could find.
Until they came to the closet.
I had to put my body weight on the door so they couldn't open it. But there just seemed to be too many of them.
They kicked down the door and grabbed me by my ankles and dragged my body.
I made a futile effort to grab whatever was nailed to the floor to save me a few more seconds. I thought I had hope when I grabbed onto the pillar support until one of them used a hammer to smash my finger.
I was screaming, groaning in pain as they continued their malicious chant.
That was when they led me out the door and I looked at the Walrus.
*The Walrus is beautiful. Come outside.* | "Ughhh, who the fuck is texting me at 3 in the morning...?"
*GOVERNMENT ALERT: CAUTION, DO ***NOT*** LOOK AT THE WALRUS, NO MATTER WHAT RANDOM NUMBERS TEXT YOU, WE REPEAT, DO ***NOT*** LOOK AT THE WALRUS*
"What the fuck."
I had already woke up from a dream where I forgot my name and my long dead friend was alive. I really don't want to deal with this right now.
Suddenly, hundreds of notifications came pouring in.
*Look at this beautiful walrus! Isn't he lovely?*
*This walrus has saved me and my family's lives!*
*The holy walrus has come to finally save us!*
*Stacy... you need to look at this walrus! It's beautiful!*
What... my mom texted me this as well?
***AMBER ALERT, DON'T TRUST EVEN NUMBERS YOU KNOW, THE WALRUS WILL IMMEDIATELY FIND YOU ONCE YOU OPEN ANY WALRUS TEXT MESSAGES.***
I turned off all notifications and tried to go back to bed.
----
When I woke up, I still noticed that the notifications kept coming. I cleared my notifications bar, and I tried to stay off all social media. I just have a feeling that stupid walrus is gonna pop up again. I turned off all notifications and decided to eat and read books. I thought to myself, it's for the best.
*Shit... I need to buy more food and cooking stuff. I really don't wanna go out to a fucking walrus cult.*
What did I expect, a walrus cult was outside. I decided to put my noise cancelling headphones in, and ran to my car and drove straight to the grocery store. The majority of people were tantalized by the walrus, so I just ran out with the food in a hurry.
I drove as fast as I could to go home and felt safe. I closed all the windows and locked all my doors. I don't feel safe, it feels like a fucking apocalypse out there. Except, with hypnotising walruses. What has life become.
----
Luckily, I brought enough food to last me about 2 months. If I keep doing this every 2 months, I can stay safe, away from walruses. Which is still odd, even when I think about it.
***GOVERNMENT ALERT: WE ARE PLANNING TO SHUT OFF ALL CELLPHONES IN 1 WEEK FROM NOW. WE ARE HOPING THIS WILL STOP THE WALRUS SITUATION. PLEASE IGNORE ALL MESSAGES CONTAINING WALRUSES AND AVOID THOSE WHO OFFER YOU PICTURES.***
Oh boy, 1 week until no more phones, I'm good with that.
----
*Before the week was over....*
"I am trying to ration my food as much as possible. I am still afraid of the walrus, I hope I survive, and good luck everyone, hopefully you find this message and are safe. Goodbye."
r/duckwritesstuff | 2021-01-11T18:26:54 | 2021-01-11T18:15:10 | 127 | 93 |
[WP] After disabling the museum’s alarm system you prepare to take the famous Mona Lisa off of the wall. As you look into her eyes through the moonlit darkness, she blinks at you. You stumble backwards, staring in awe, but you quickly notice the odd pattern in which she blinks, it’s Morse code. |
Mark scribbled the code, letter by letter, with a trembling hand:
*H-I-S-T-O-R-Y-I-S-F-A-L-S-E*
*History is false…*
He replaced the display case and stepped back, still trembling, looking over his shoulder. Still nobody here. The rest of the gang would kill him later, but he couldn’t bring himself to steal that thing. Not after *that*.
In fact, Mark wanted to be far, far away from here right now, perhaps in his apartment eating Domino’s pizza with a movie on…
*Go! GO!* Mark said, standing up and sprint-walking down the dark, empty halls of the Louvre, *What am I doing? The police are going to show up soon…*
The famous mummies, paintings, and statues of history all glared down at Mark in the near pitch-black darkness as he sped through the maze of marble hallways. Their eyes gave Mark a dirty, deeply wrong feeling.
Something moved in front of Mark, blocking his exit.
Mark slowed down, cursing, reaching for his gun in his pocket. Standing in front of him was a suited man who stared directly at Mark with a blank facial expression. He didn’t look police, for some reason, that made Mark’s heart beat even harder.
“Did you touch it?” The man said.
“N… touch what? What are you talking about,” Mark said, squeezing the handle of his pistol in its concealed holder.
The man closed his eyes and smiled, “That heartbeat… that voice… ah, such sweet terror.” Then he opened his eyes and his face resumed its expressionless mask, “There’s no doubt. You’ve touched the Mona Lisa. You know the truth.”
Mark drew his gun, not caring whether this would get him charged or not, and held it up with both hands, trembling uncontrollably.
The man talked again, seemingly unfazed by the gun aimed at him, “I’m not with the authorities, nor am I here to harm you. All I’m here for is to present you with a choice: either you run away and try to live as normal a life as you can before they find you. Or…”
The man grinned, an unnatural, too-straight smile, and extended a hand. Inside of his palm there was a pair of eyeballs, “You take my hand and find out how deep the lie really goes.” | [Poem]
What was I thinking. I must've took the wrong pills this morning or that painting was winking. "She's hard to notice isn't she?" Ofcouse she's a masterpiece by Da Vinci, but why would would she be winking. I stare at the painting one more time, but the clock's not ticking, I hear a light "click click click" sound of the painting blinking.
Its a pattern, its a message, its a code of some sort. "Either that or I'm hallucinating" I thought. I pull up my phone and searched for *winking famous paintings*, google sends me back nude artworks with terrible ratings, something about Reed Hastings, and ads about experts at cattle mating. I thought "this is frustrating, seeing the strange blinking but not knowing what it's saying."
I call up a that one guy who who seems to know everything, I fill him in and he replies "Its 11pm my guy, you must be playing. I'm your best friend let me give you advice, lay off the drugs, paintings by dead people don't say things, relax, don't do anything but switch off the power from the plugs."
Well that ended well, my best friend thinks I'm nuts. Its clear I'll have to figure this out myself, no one is willing or taking me serious enough to help. I spend the next hour tracking the patterns while listening to Gobots, they repeated in intervals in dashes and dots. Its morse code. But it cant be, since this painting is really old. I reached for my phone, opened chromes incognito tab. I searched for "did Da Vinci know about Bell labs"? | 2021-01-17T07:52:00 | 2021-01-17T01:33:52 | 135 | 16 |
[WP] You are the Chosen One. The Dark Overlord is currently trying to seduce you to their cause. To their great surprise, you accept almost immediately because you absolutely loathe your job and your companions. | [PART 2]
(https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/d9msms/the_dragons_apprentice_part_2)
There he was. Just a child really, standing before me. Sure he was dressed in the gleaming armour and wielded the supposedly righteous sword of Resnal, but he was just a child.
He was giving a speech now, on how I was the bane of the world. The Mother of all Evil. But even to me it sounded hollow. I stood, my dark gown pooling at my feet, and cut him off mid sentence.
“Child, what is your name?”
He blinked at me, his large golden eyes visible through the visor of his helmet. I could see the confusion there, as he blinked again.
“I’m Thale, defender of the -” he was going to go into his titles. I could hear it.
“Ah, Thale. Would you mind lowering your sword. There’s no need. I just want to talk. If - after - you still feel the need to kill me, well I won’t defend myself.”
The tip of the sword fell a fraction of an inch. “Why? What do you - ”
“Thale!” The woman who had to be a priestess of Resnal from her robes, cut in. “You must smite her now!”
“Relly, she hasn’t stopped us from entering. No one has tried to kill us here. She just said I can kill her after we talk!” He turned to look at her, annoyance written on his face.
“She’s just trying to trick you!” Another party member, perhaps their mage, said. As Thale turned to glare at that man, I cleared my throat.
“Just shut up, Asper.” He shot, before turning back to me.
“You ah - seem to be in disagreement with your friends.” I said lightly. The anger i could see in his eyes was not directed at me.
“They are *not* my friends,” he said roughly as he glanced behind himself once again. “The King assigned them to me.”
“Oh? The chosen one needed a nanny?” I asked, enjoying the looks of anger on the man and woman’s faces.
“Yes! They haven’t left me alone for even a moment since I was declared Resnal’s chosen,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Would you like to talk? My offer is still on the table.” I grabbed at the faint traces of magic swirling in the room, and used them to temporarily silence and bind his companions.
I rolled my eyes slightly as the woman got out a choked, “No!” before the spell took hold. Thale glanced back again, and could see her straining against the spell.
“What did you do to them!” He asked mildly, as if my answer would sway his feelings.
“Nothing but bind and gag them with magic. They are fine, and I will free them once we’ve talked.”
“They shall not be harmed?” he asked doubtfully.
“Never.”
I gestured at him to follow me to my sitting room. As I walked, I saw him take his helmet off and I was slightly surprised to see that he was even younger than I had expected. Maybe sixteen, if he was in the right light.
How dare Resnal or anyone, decide that a child would be the warrior of their fight.
I sat on a small lounge, and motioned for him to sit wherever he pleased.
“Would you like a refreshment? A drink, or food?” I asked, waving for a servant.
“I’m good, thank you. Miss bossy out there made sure that we stopped to eat and drink before we entered your keep.”
“Of course she did. Got to have you feeling fresh before you slay the evil witch.” I couldn’t help but snicker.
He grinned slightly, but looked down at his feet.
“What did you want to talk about?”
I had been going to tell him I was planning on leaving. That the magic here had grown thin… But something about the way he had bickered with his group. Said they weren’t his friends. When I opened my mouth, my words surprised me, “Would you like to join me here? Forsake the kingdom. Forsake Resnal?”
“Yes.”
I looked up, surprised. “You would forsake it all to join me?”
“Will I just be a puppet to you as well?” he asked, his voice dour and his head turned ever so slightly in the direction of main hall where his companions were.
“No. You may be my apprentice - if you like, or you can simply stay here with me. I will not hold you to any expectations other than what you are - a child. Yes you are near manhood, but you should not be here today. It was wrong of them to send you.”
“Then yes.” he said nodding. He had sheathed his sword when he had entered, but he stood up and threw it on the ground, followed by the plate armor from his arms and chest.
“Shall I teleport your travel companions away? We could make it look like I killed you?” I asked, already heading to the main hall once again.
“Yes, send them away. Far far away. If I ever have to hear one more demand from Relly my head is going to explode.”
“Well then, far away they shall go,” I said as we entered the hall.
Relly’s eyes locked on mine and then on Thale. I released the binding spell, and then opened a portal beneath their feet. It was harder than I would have liked, the magic too thin here for me to maintain it long. But then they were gone, and Thale and I were left standing there alone.
“You know, I could use a drink now,” he said. He was pale, but smiling.
---
[PART 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/d9msms/the_dragons_apprentice_part_2)
For more by me r/LandOfMisfits
For more by me and others, r/redditserials | "Mister Overlord, sir," I said as I bowed to the Dark Overlord himself. I didn't expect his presence. Not here. Not in the middle of the camp. Outside I could hear the leaves rustling in the evening wind. A dog snored peacefully, undisturbed by the entity that had materialized at the foot of my makeshift bed.
"Mister Dark Overlord to you," he answered with a scowl.
I bowed my head lower and mumbled an apology. "Mister Dark Overlord, sir, sorry, sir." He grunted his approval.
I had always been the Chosen One. We knew from the day I was born with the comet passing overhead. They never let me forget, not while I was out playing with the other children of the camp as we continued our pilgrimage towards the foreboding walls of the Holy City. Not while I was out foraging for berries with the other women or when I joined the men in the Small Council meetings. "You'll go with them to the Unified Council, someday," my mother always said. "The first girl to join them." That's where they left to on the eve of the full moons to return a fortnight later. That sounded splendid and whatever, but I really just didn't care.
All we did was walk. We walked to the Holy City and when we got there we would walk along those sacred roads and pray at some sacred altar to some sacred guy who never showed his face. And then we would walk right back to where we came from, deep in the forest in the foothills on the other side of the mountains. Crossing the mountains had been - believe it or not - just as much walking as expected. My favorite yak had died. I missed him.
Still I bowed, silently awaiting the Dark Overlord's next words. He could kill me right then and there if he wanted. It would be a welcome respite from the walking. He could turn me into a goat that my parents would obliviously eat for dinner the next evening. He could turn me into a tent, and then they would find a tent within a tent and burn both tents as heretics.
"I want you to join me," he said finally. I gasped and struggled to compose myself. I peeked up at him, thinking perhaps he was playing one of those cruel jokes that his minions often played. Sometimes the leaders want to get in on the fun, I've heard. That's why the members of the Small Council will walk around kicking the children. Just for fun. But his face was serious. If this was a joke, then he his delivery was spotless. I decided to take the bait, like a hungry fish leaping for a toe dipped into the river.
"I would be honored," I said, bowing deeply again. He had already begun to talk again, spouting threats about this or that and how chewy a goat I would be.
"-wait, what? You would? You'll join me?"
I rose to my feet to speak to him almost as an equal. We would be colleagues, at the very least. The Dark Overlord and the one the Dark Overlord lords over. Wordy, but I'm sure we could come up with something better together. "Yeah, sure. I hate it here. All we do is walk. Walk and talk and walk some more. You can fly, right?"
He seemed uncertain. "Yes. Well, I mean, no." He was flustered, fumbling over his words. "Not fly, per se. I can materialize though. Like I just did. I can teleport. I can do a lot of things. I'll teach you. You can be my protege."
I shrugged. "Yeah, whatever works. No need to convince me. I'm in."
"You don't need my mission statement? My goals? My sob story that I had ready to convince you to join my side?"
"No. I already told you, I'm in. I hate it here."
He seemed downfallen and I wondered if maybe he was looking for a nemesis instead of a protege. Then his face brightened again. "Can I still tell you the sob story?" Seriously? Now? With the dog snoring right outside the tent and guards strolling around the perimeter?
"Can it wait? Shouldn't we get going?"
He shook his head insistently. "I was really excited. Let me tell you." So he did. He told me of how he used to have to walk thousands and thousands of miles as a kid, until his feet were blistered and bleeding and until the yaks dropped dead from exhaustion. And still he walked. And even after going three months without food and water - yes, he said three months without water - still he walked. And finally one day as his tribe walked through the desert, he came across a magical fountain. He really was an awful story-teller. This was barely believable and his vocabulary was like that of my infant brother.
"This is all made up, right?" I interrupted. He nodded. "Can we just go? I promise I'll listen later."
He humphed but was seemingly satisfied by getting the beginning of his invented story out. "Fine," he said finally. "Let's go." And then he grabbed my arm and whisked me to the Dark Realm.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-09-26T06:18:56 | 2019-09-26T06:10:22 | 1,778 | 101 |
[WP] Every spacefaring species has something that makes them special. Some are fast, some have telekinesis, some are nigh-unkillable. To the galaxy's surprise, humans have a tendency to befirend the cosmic horrors lurking where the starlight does not reach. | Adam cooed under his breath as he scritched between the eyes of the squid-like creature on the table before him. Its slimy exterior shimmered from the tub of water it had crawled out of, approaching him in a manner belying the natural curiosity the species was known for, amongst other things.
"This is the terrifying, ship-destroying space-squid you guys keep going on about?" He asked the being standing behind him, a few meters away from the table.
The being chittered in annoyance before slowly stepping up to the table.
"I told you, Adam." the being clicked its small mandibles in a manner closely resembling human speech. "This is an infant, only a few weeks old. At this point in its growth cycle, they are mainly just annoying, feeding off several by-products of docked ships."
"An infant, why do you guys have an infant?" Adam continued to run his hand over the creature. Several of its tentacles held onto his hand and arm loosely. The creature murmured as its milky eyes seemed to study him.
"As an infant, it's more controllable. We can study and experiment on the species better in this state. As its capabilities scale according to age and size, we can develop strategies from this stage and scale them appropriately."
Adam's blood ran cold as he froze. He turned his head at the insect-like creature beside him.
"Define 'experiment', please. B'tlilk." Adam said slowly. The creature's tentacles stop moving as it sensed his unease. The creature cooed as if trying to soothe him.
"Well, we have never successfully captured an older specimen. Infants, we have captured hundreds, a handful of older adolescents, but no adults. We have thousands of incident reports, but even corpses we've only recovered a few partials. It's difficult to develop weapons without understanding the biology of the creature." B'tlilk chittered away, not noticing the icy glare Adam was giving him.
Adam shook his head as he turned his gaze back to the creature. Its tentacles resumed their movement, squeezing and releasing along his arms. He locked eyes with it, and saw the fear in its eyes, alongside a slight glimmer of hope. And he understood what he needed to do.
"Come on, Adam. This specimen needs to be stored again. It's not scheduled for examination until tomorrow, but we aren't supposed to interact with it. " B'tlilk reached one of its four arms and patted his shoulder. "Imagine it as a three hundred meter monster, wrapping itself around your ship. You humans are too compassionate towards the non-sapient. It's extremely confusing."
"Fine, give me a second." Adam scooped up the small creature. Its eyes widened, and it squirmed for a moment before Adam scratched it between its two eyes and spoke softly to it. "It's alright little guy, just time to go back for now."
B'tlilk chittered again behind Adam as the man slowly placed the creature back into the tub of water on the table and activated the tub's automated top.
"Now your all wet." B'tlilk stated his mandible clicking in annoyance. "We will have to stop by your quarters before dinner with the Trade Queen."
"Nope," Adam chuckled, "Give it a minute. Our clothes have hydrophobic properties. I'll dry in a few minutes, with no smell or stain."
"Fascinating, I'm sure An'am will be interested in these fabrics. I'll be sure to mention them." B'tlilk took Adam's arm and led him out of the lab. The two stopped at the door as Adam turned back, watching the room's robotic assistant pick up the tub and return it to the wall of tub lockers on the far side. Adam shook his head in disa\[appointment before stepping through the room's bulkhead door.
\---------
A few hours later, Adam tossed and turned in his quarters. He couldn't help but see the small, pitiful creature every time he closed his eyes. He growled in annoyance as he pulled himself out of the small bed, taking a stance in the center of the room's space. It wasn't much but gave him enough space to run through enough of a workout to produce a sheen of sweat on his ebony skin. He moved, hoping to work the strange energy coursing through his body.
After a while, he grabbed a towel hanging on one wall and began wiping the sweat off his body. After tossing the towel back on its rack, he sat down on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. His mind raced, all his thought focused on a small creature. Despite the success of his dinner with the leading authority of trade for this cluster of the galaxy, Adam couldn't help but feel frustrated with his trip. Part of him begged him to act. The other part urged caution. The purpose of his visit had been accomplished. He secured a line of carefully negotiated trade routes that humanity desperately needed to further explore this edge of space.
But still, those small, milk eyes haunted him. And he knew he had to act. He would never be able to forgive himself if he didn't.
"Fuck it, " He finally said, after thinking for what seemed hours." Looks like I'm rescuing a space-squid baby." | **"We need allies, General."** Savar raised a hand and spun the three-dimensional star map. "Humanity cannot stand alone."
"Humanity cannot *stand*, period," General Thurmond snapped. "[Those damned bugs](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mk92i6/wp_it_turns_out_that_humanity_is_the_only/) were *born* with hive-brains that can outpace any of our supercomputers; the only reason they don't roll over us in their sleep is because they see us as *children*. And the infiltrators... no, humanity must bend its collective knee, here."
"Humanity does not have a collective knee; humanity is not a *collective*. There will always be humans who will spit in the insectoids' eyes simply because they can, and we're not so powerless that we can't make the bugs mad. We need a contingency plan for when the bugs inevitably decide that 'uplifting' us is more trouble than it's worth."
General Thurmond paced around the holographic table; the room was empty, aside from the two of them, despite its cavernous size. They couldn't risk one of the things that only *looked* human getting in. "The plan is to make sure that *nobody* antagonizes the insectoids. We'll run counterintelligence on any... resistance groups."
Savar looked pained. "You're playing into the insects' hands, Thurmond. Their goal is to turn humanity into a hivemind, strip us of our individuality—you're just going to accelerate it."
"Well, what *else* do you suggest?" General Thurmond roared, flicking a hand at the hologram. The known stars colonized by the insectoids loomed menacingly in the distance—they'd had a good few thousand years of head start over humanity, and had claimed thousands of stars to humanity's five. "We can't even begin to comprehend how their culture works; diplomacy failed time and time again. We saw one of their swarms *move a planet further from the sun* just to terraform it—I shudder to think of what their actual *weapons* look like. War would be a swift failure. And we can't even stop them from infiltrating our own culture—they understand us too well." General Thurmond hung his head. "There is nothing we could do."
"...We could ally with [the Experimentors](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mk02zz/wp_to_further_understand_the_species_we_have/)," Savar finally said.
General Thurmond stiffened.
Savar moved closer, their hair brushing against General Thurmond's hat, the symbol of his office. "I know that their... experiments... killed Vishan, but the only hope for humanity to continue is to attach ourself to the *other* alien power we know of."
General Thurmond's grip tightened; the star map, misinterpreting the gesture, fritzed and sputtered ominously as General Thurmond said, "And you are confident in this?"
"Ever since [we stopped experimenting on the Spielbergians](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mmd1yx/wp_humans_attempt_to_colonize_a_super_earth/), the energoids stopped experimenting on us. We've had some luck *communicating* with them, too. Give me twenty years and the backing of Earth's funding—"
"You have it." Abruptly, General Thurmond took his hat off and slapped it onto Savar's head. They took a step away from Thurmond, shocked. "Dammit, Savar, but you're right and I *hate* you for it. Working with the *things* that disassembled my son..." General Thurmond turned away. "I'll announce my retirement shortly. You have interrim command for a hundred and thirty-three Earth days; provided you don't screw things up too badly, the Minds should make your position permanent."
Savar swallowed. "I—Thurmond, I didn't want your post. We still need you—"
"I can't be a part of working with those damn cosmic horrors. *I'd* rather fork over our world to the bugs." Thurmond stormed out the door. "But I know that's not what the people want. So take command before I come to my senses and take it back."
And just like that, Savar was left to sell humanity's soul to the devil, while humanity still had a soul to sell.
A.N.
For more stories like this, check out r/bubblewriters! | 2021-04-07T21:52:28 | 2021-04-07T17:31:05 | 300 | 119 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE WALRUS". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful walrus. Look." | SCP-9432 (Temporary ID/Awaiting Permanent Clasification)
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: A single copy of SCP-9432 is to be kept in a system of twenty four (24) computers isolated from any other devices capable of displaying a digital image. Each computer must automatically delete any file sent from it. After sending a file, the computer must become incapable of sending or receiving emails for at least three hours. Finally, each computer should not be able to display a received email for at least an hour after receiving it.
A single Class-D personnel is be locked in a cubicle containing a computer on this system. They are to be rotated on an 8 hour basis, and may be provided with non-digital forms of entertainment. They are to send emails containing a file of SCP-9432 to other computers in this system. In the event any person exposed to SCP-9432 begins to display symptoms SCP-9432-1, they are to immediately be administered Class A or B amnestics.
In the event of a breach, an AI already has been set up to trace where the image has been sent or sent itself to. All phone communications in the area, except this absolutely necessary for maintaining functions, will be automatically shut down. They are to remain shut down until a “live” copy of SCP-9432 can be found and contained. After a “live” copy has been found, communication is to stay shut down for at least 8 hours. During these 8 hours, Class A amnestics are to be administered aerially to the affected area.
Description: SCP-9432 is a cogniohazardous image of a walrus (odobenus rosmarus). When exposed to SCP-9432, the subject feels an overwhelming urge to send the image to others in any way possible, including text, emailing, and uploading to various social media. Subjects usually express extreme excitedness over sharing this image, often stating that it is a “beautiful walrus”. This effect lasts for up to 4 hours, after which the subject returns to normalcy.
Each instance of SCP-9432 is only active once. That is to say, it loses all cogniohazardous properties once it is observed once. Sending SCP-9432 creates a new instance. “Live” instances also lose their cogniohazardous properties after existing for exactly 8 hours. The only exception to this is when there is only one “live” instance of SCP-9432. The “live” instance will then, instead, send itself to a random computer or telephone on the planet before becoming inactive. There has been no observed maximum range to this sending.
It has been observed that repeatedly sending SCP-9432 between computers on a closed system is enough to prevent spread. However, care must be taken that nobody exposed to it has any other device capable of sending images on their person, otherwise they will use it to create more copies of SCP-9432. Files on the closed system are to automatically delete themselves primarily to prevent clutter and the buildup of inactive instances.
Additionally, each time a subject is exposed to SCP-9432, there is a slight chance (around 0.084%) that they will begin to display symptoms of SCP-9432-1. This chance rises exponential the more times one is exposed to the image.
SCP-9432-1 is a disorder caused by repeated exposure to SCP-9432. When infected, they subject will begin attempting to mimic a walrus themselves. This includes: Mimicking noises, mimicking behaviors, and taking up their dietary behaviors. Those afflicted will eventually kill themselves via drowning, hypothermia, or disease as they attempt to mimic behaviors.
SCP-9432-1 may be countered via the application of Class A or B memestics with a 99.86% success rate. | **The Kingdom of the Walrus**
*Day 29*
Peter is babbling again in the far corner of this empty, ancient hunting lodge we’ve found, here in some old estate in Sussex. Bits of the crumbling ruin fall on our head, but that’s ruins for you.
“I am he as you are he as…” Peter trails off.
Mr. James rolls his eyes, takes off his giant, much-repaired eyeglasses, and rubs the bridge of his nose. He’s a patient old pensioner.
I’m glad we’re all together.
*Day 30*
I’m crying when Mr. James stumbles over.
“I think Peter is sitting on his cornflakes,” he says, as calmly as he might have said “I think it looks like rain” a month ago.
Peter is splashing in his ration of milk. Mr. James and I clean him up as best we can, and find him a clean shirt.
“No! I want my Corporation t-shirt,” Peter insists, rummaging for it. Mr. James lays his comforting hand on mine, I sigh, and naughty Peter is, at last, happy, clean and fed.
He naps, and so do we— fitfully.
I dream of the days before the 3 a.m. warning on all our phones. The warning of the mysterious walrus, of all things, that drove the world into mad chaos.
The chaos which destroyed the safe little circles people like Mr. James and me inhabited, and threw refugees like Peter into our sorely incapable hands.
*Day 32*
Our boredom, which I have been secretly enjoying, is shattered when Mr. James is suddenly alert: “Hear that?” he whispers urgently.
Peter is bobbing at the window, happily chanting. “Mister City policeman!” Peter says. Sitting pretty! Pretty little policemen in a row! Look! Look!”
Peter drags us over; he will not learn our names. We try to pull him down, but he is too strong, and he resists. He will not hush, and we cannot make him— attempts have been made.
That is how we lost Mrs. James, early on. It was obviously an accident; Peter has clearly been driven mad by … whatever this is.
Mr. James said a tender good-bye to his wife, and said it was our duty to care for the man. That Mrs. James would want us to—
“Hear that?” Mr. James whisper was in my ear.
I did not need his whisper. I could hear the stumbling line of bobbies on the same long cobblestone path we had found.
Peter froze. “They are The Walrus.”
Mr. James rustled in the pack, then took my hand and we stood.
“Goo goo ga joob!” Peter was calling to them from the window.
Mr. James pulled at me, and I heard his cane telescoping out. He must have done some exploring.
I didn’t like to leave Peter, but it seemed that in the kingdom of the kaleidoscope walrus…
Only the blind would survive. | 2021-01-11T19:42:35 | 2021-01-11T19:09:17 | 53 | 28 |
[WP] You are superhuman; invulnerable, invincible, super strength, the works. Rather than become a superhero, or supervillain, or the military, you choose a different branch of the government to join and fight the good fight with: the IRS. | "I'm sorry, Mister Becker," said the nervous secretary. "The chairman isn't here right now."
I narrowed my eyes. "I can literally hear his heartbeat."
The secretary grew tense.
"Just let me in," I said. "Spare yourself the embarrassment."
"I-I don't know what you mean. And even if he *were* here, he'd be too busy for an impromptu meeting. Care to make an appointment?"
"I've made three already, and all have been postponed." I smiled. "I'm beginning to think he has something to hide."
The secretary glanced at a phone on the desk.
"Go ahead," I said, moving towards the reinforced door. "Call security. I'll just let myself in."
"Wait!"
I tore the door off its hinges.
The secretary screamed for help.
I strolled down the hall without a care in the world.
A thick metal wall then fell from the ceiling, preventing me from moving ahead.
I sighed.
The people who bothered installing these defenses were usually dealing with unsavory folk. The type of businessman that often made shady deals with supervillains in order to manipulate the stock market or suppress their competition, then screwed them over when their usefulness ended. This wasn't damning evidence, nor was it in my jurisdiction, but it sure didn't look good.
I punched through the sheet of metal, only to find several more sealing the hallway, forcing me to get a running start and tackle through them all in one fell swoop.
That wasn't the end of it, though. A force field emerged right at the boundary of the office, and I couldn't break it with sheer strength.
The grinning chairman taunted me behind it. He thought he was safe. Unfortunately for him, this wasn't my first time dealing with a forcefield.
I simply used my laser vision in order to overload its power generator.
The chairman widened his eyes before the room exploded.
I then blew away the smoke and gingerly stepped into the office, saying:
"Mister Locke, I'm glad we can finally meet."
"W-what are you?"
"Just a humble accountant."
"Bullshit! The villain's league sent you, didn't they?"
I shook my head.
"The hero association?"
I rolled my eyes. "No, it's like I told your secretary, I'm with the IRS."
Chairman Locke grew pale. For some reason, he seemed even more terrified now.
"For a few years now," I said, "there's been some discrepancies with your books. I'm afraid your company is due for an audit."
"Oh god..." wept the chairman, on the verge of tears. "Please, have mercy."
"That's not something we do at the IRS. May I have a seat?"
Chairman Locke hesitated for a second, then nodded softly.
"I don't usually perform these corporate audits," I said, sitting on a plush leather chair, "but five of my predecessors have all suffered from mysterious deaths, often caught in the crossfire of a supervillain attack after meeting you, so the office had no choice but to send me."
"I have no idea what you're talking about..."
"That's fine. I'm sure you had nothing to do with it. I'm only here for the numbers."
The chairman swallowed down his anxiety. "This is ridiculous..."
"Not as much as you'd think," I said. "My main job is to find metahumans that aren't paying their fair share. *Somebody* needs to catch them, right?"
"So you... fight these villains?"
I chuckled. "Villains? Sure, sometimes, but heroes are just as likely to avoid taxes. The common thread is that they all think they're above society, yet have no problem benefiting from it. My job is to fight that sense of entitlement."
"But... you're so strong... How much are you making a year? A hundred grand? Two? I could easily triple that!"
I arched an eyebrow. "Is this a bribe?"
"N-no! More like a... job offer. Clearly, these discrepancies are a mistake and I need better accountants. You look like the perfect person for the job."
I grew serious. "You seem to be confused here, so let me spell it out for you. All my life, both the superhero association *and* the villain's league have been trying to recruit me. If I wanted money, I'd join up with either of them. The reason I don't, however, is because I can see through the bullshit. Punching people in costumes doesn't fix roads, nor fund schools. It does the opposite. I'm here to make sure the average person doesn't suffer because of those who cheat the system. Understood?"
Chairman Locke scowled. "Perfectly." He then pressed a button under his desk, opening a trap door underneath me.
My chair fell into a pit of acid at the bottom, but I remained unscathed, floating in the air.
Chairman Locke gaped his mouth.
"Anything else?"
Chairman Locke pulled out a ray-gun. "Die!"
I shrugged off the laser beam. "You're only making things worse for yourself."
Chairman Locke seemed utterly defeated. He turned the weapon against his head, hoping to kill himself, but I crushed it before he could pull the trigger.
"Why?!?" begged the chairman. "Just let me die!"
"You're free to do so *after* the audit."
A wave of security guards rushed into the room.
I looked at Chairman Locke. "Do you seriously want me to wipe the floor with them?"
"No..." Chairman Locked slumped his head. "Stand down. It's just... an accountant."
The guards all shared confused looks.
I smiled. "Great! Can you take me to your accounting department?"
The chairman welled with tears, walking ahead. "Right this way..."
---------
>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | "This job asks a lot of you. It's quite *taxing*."
The mousy woman with the braids rubs her calloused elbow, adjusts her monochromatic attire of professional blandness; her lips are cracked, her eyes beady, when she moves she slouches like a dog that has seen one too many beatings.
The mere expectancy of a smile withers from her lips, her cracked lips, when I tell her, "I am not going to sleep with you."
My igneous abs protrude from under my shirt, a landscape of pure testosterone, and my steely blue eyes can render hellfire at an instant; this woman, this 'Bethany' thinks she has any right to flirt with me? It's like a mole flirting with a lion, offering itself up as any kind of sustenance the majesty might require.
"I-I didn't—"
"You are right," I tell the pitiful, bulbous thing before me, "you *didn't*. You could have woken up this morning and made an effort to look somewhat inviting, but you didn't. You could have joined a gym, but you didn't. You could have thought about the grotesque figuring staring back at you in the mirror when you approached me with your disgusting joke, but you *didn't*. That just about sums you up, doesn't it? Oh, great. Here comes the waterworks."
The monochrome mole sobs, gasps for air like a cat in a bag in a canal, and she says, "I'm sorry."
She waddles off, like a sack of flour on the run, and I shrug. Her coffee mug reads 'I drink liberal tears' but after giving it a whiff it seems it contains tea and vodka rather than the lacrimal secretions of the politically liberal.
I present my new coworkers with the mug, the damning evidence, and they all tell me it's a joke. "We don't get a lot of libertarians here," says a goateed, checkered-shirt-wearing, semi-bald lump of bespectacled sadness. He chuckles.
A woman with angry brows comes storming over, raging past cubicle after cubicle. "Beth's in the bathroom. She's *crying*."
"Better give her her cup then, so she can give herself a refill."
They all glare, the IRS glare, and I breathe a deep and bitter sigh. "I'm not going to sleep with any of you." Ms Angry-Brows shakes her head softly. "Well ... I might make an exception for *you*."
My phone rings, and it's Gary Splatter. My manager. "I've got to take this. You guys have no sense of humor. I'm disappointed in all of you." I look over at Angry-Brows. "Well, not you. You're doing just fine."
"How's your first day?" says Gary. "Think you can pull this off?"
"Of course I can. They made the first move. Spartan has been tax-exempt from the very start, and now the new administration's making changes? Bringing in us heroes to collect on fellow heroes? It's not right."
"Right, right. Just make sure you bring down morale. Don't get yourself fired."
"Relax. I'm just bullying the losers. The people here in charge of my promotion won't give a damn. That's how you move up the ranks."
There's a loud groan. "Superb Guy. What are you thinking? These are government employees."
"So what?"
"Don't you get it? They're *all* losers."
I look up at the pack of coworkers gathered around me. "I'm, uh, I'm going to have to call you back."
Mr Goatee blinks. "You're a Spartan mole?"
Me? A mole? No, I'm a lion. "That's nonsense. Where did you hear that?"
"You just admitted to everything," says Angry-Brows. "On the phone."
"... You guys were listening to that?"
Beth, the walking embodiment of regret, stumbles over. Haggard, red-cheeked.
I point a finger at her. These people are just humans, losers or not. They will turn on the weakest among them. I can count on it. "She was drinking. Just smell her cup."
Mr Goatee takes a whiff and he looks over at me, squints. "... This is kombucha."
"What?"
"It's fermented tea," says Angry-Brows and I don't like her all that much anymore.
"Kumbaya? No, it's vodka. Isn't it?"
Bethany laughs. "What a fucking dumbass."
Even Angry-Brows joins in, laughing. They're all roaring, the pack of losers, clutching their bellies and banging at their desks. "S-Stop laughing!"
"Goddamnit, Superb Guy," says ... Gary? Oh. I forgot to hang up the phone.
I'm fired from the IRS. I'm fired from Spartan. I sit down in the fetal position in the shower, and I caress my igneous abs. "I'm a lion," I whisper to myself. "I'm a lion." But all I can hear is the voice of a mouse. | 2022-08-19T06:13:24 | 2022-08-19T06:08:12 | 1,232 | 64 |
[WP] You used to have the worst luck in love... but after a quick prayer to every single god and goddess of love you could think of it seems like everyone who's your type is after you. And the gods' intervention is painfully obvious. They've made it a competition to see who pairs you up first. | Zeus chuckled as he peered down from his perch in the pear tree. The sound of his mirth coming out as a melodic twitter. The ancient gods rarely received prayers anymore, and none that had been quite as amusing as this. It had been a typical Tuesday night. Slipping out of Hera’s bed, and dropping to earth for a quickie with one of his mistresses, before going to Asgard for poker night.
“HA Pokher” he chuckled to himself. He would have to remember that one for next week.
A few hands in Cupid had suddenly perked up. Dropping the cards in his hand, and revealing the pair of Aces he had been going all in on. He had received a prayer from a mortal known as Joseph Gibbons. Not long after Aphrodite, Frigga, and Parvati received similar prayers. Apparently poor Joseph was a creature of unparalleled misfortune in his love life. He had somehow managed to arrange 20 dates in the past month with all of them going horribly wrong from the outset.
Online and in writing the man had the soul of a poet. He could, and had, spin words to tug at the heart strings of even the gods of love themselves. Honeyed words poured from his fingertips like the sweet flowing wine of Bacchus himself. Unfortunately in person Joseph was… wanting.
He was not unattractive per say but he was so painfully average that Zeus had problems focusing on the man as he walked down the street. While the unusual amount of normalcy the man exuded would have been more than compensated for by his way with words. Joseph was also shy and poorly spoken in person. Even still a man like this should have been able to find someone willing to stick with him for more than one date.
Zeus had taken in all these details as the gods of love had gathered around the poker table and discussed the man's plight. His first date of the month had ended when he slipped on some peanut shells at Texas Roadhouse and accidentally struck a tooth from the busty blonde he had been taking to lunch. His next date ended when he had spilled soy sauce all of the lap of a buxom redhead who apparently had a soy allergy. The gods all agreed she should have agreed to a location other than a hibachi grill, but that didn’t explain the other 18 failed dates. All ending in an equally horrible manner. After some discussion the gods of love agreed to hold a summit with their equals.
Sneaking in under the guise of a dove Zeus had listened in on the amorous gods' discussions. Apparently Joseph had not only prayed to Zeus’s poker friends, he had prayed to every god of love that he could google. Hours had passed as the Gods of love had tried to agree on how to solve this man's plight. Eventually the discussion had broken down into an argument, and then a competition. Every god and goddess of love from major pantheons to minor were now out to make Joseph Gibbons a very, very happy man.
Zeus ruffled up his feathers as he settled down for the show. It looked like two blonds, a brunette and a bubbly specimen with pink hair were all approaching Joseph's position. Even better, they were all dressed in similar tight turtlenecks. To top it all off they were all clumsy enough to trip on different cracks in the asphalt at the same time.
If he hadn’t been a partridge Zeus would have been smiling like a cat as all four women fell at the same time. All within a few feet of a very confused Joseph.
“What will you do now Joesph,” Zeus whispered as he watched the man try to help all four women at once. “Curse or not. Show them that nothing can stop a child of Zeus from finding love.” | 'Never shit where you eat.' I heard that so many times, but I always thought it was bad advice. No, not bad advice, *awful* advice. Of course at the moment I was, well, lets call it constipated and as of last week it's as if I drank a whole bottle of laxatives.
I'm talking about Love. I've always had the worst luck when it comes to love and dating. I turned 32 years old this year and I've had a total of one girlfriend. We lasted for a whole 9 days before she ungratefully dumped me. I wish I could see her face now.
Last week I got sick of being lonely so I prayed to every god, every saint, every divine being that I could think of that could give me my fair share.
I don't even *know* what happened. Or why. But it's like when you have a backlog in the printer and it just... wont... start. So you click it again, just in case right?. And again... And again. Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click! And then it just won't stop.
In the past I was rejected by every single girl that I've met, some in the most horrifying ways possible. Some of them keep me up at night years after they happened. I wonder if it will be the same when I'm 80 years old and have to wear a diaper. And I say in the past because now justice has been made.
I had a crush on so many girls from the office. *Had*. They changed. One of them, Rebecca, now wants to own me and I would've love that 10 days ago, but now? Now it's exactly the opposite of what I want. I have girls coming to my cubicle constantly and I don't know what to do with so many. I haven't finished Monday's tasks and it's Thursday. I fear I will get fired. Ok not really because the HR girl is in love with me. Oh, wait, one of them is coming right now. One of them, I know, I'm such a player hehe.
"Hey Ryan, you're looking good today. What are you doing tomorrow?" Tammy was a tall thin blonde with a long neck and even longer legs that I'm grateful she always showed off, even in ugly gray skirts.
"Well, I'll go home and play some WoW with the gang."
"Hahaha you're so funny. I love a man with a sense of humor!" She softly hit my arm and rested her hand there, she pulled her hair behind her ear and shifted her head while looking at me. Why'd she hit me? "Buy me a beer, will ya? Tomorrow after work. I wanna get to know you."
'Why doesn't *she* buy me a beer? It's 2021. And on top of that she hit me. I'll have to report this to HR' I was thinking when I saw that Rebecca was coming. Oh no, please not Rebecca, I mean, yes Rebecca! But not now! I cursed the woes of being a player as I felt a cold wave through my body and I froze in place. She's nearly here. | 2021-08-19T19:05:48 | 2021-08-19T15:25:24 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] You have 30 seconds with an ancestor of yours from 200 years ago (1814), before they are transported back to their time. What do you say to them? What effect appears in our world because of it?
Consider for the sake of this prompt that they aren't totally freaked out by being plopped into 2014, that they can understand you, and that they'll continue their life as normal back in their time, only with the knowledge of whatever you told them with your 30 seconds time. | Flash my ancestor appears.
I start immediately.
"Get a heavy duty safe, hide it in the farm house, put this in it" <I show him what to put in it drawn out on a sheet of paper>.
We use the next 20 seconds so he can commit the instructions to memory.
Flash he is gone.
I burn the paper, and set out for a road trip.
I go my family's old farm house, find the safe and immediately post the images to reddit. Thinking this is my claim to Internet fame. I will deliver. I will be king.
Then it hits me, and I panic. I don't know how to open the safe. I kick myself. All that planning and I didn't think of that. Well it cannot be that hard I think. The safe becomes my new obsession. At the start of every day I say to myself "todays the day". I slowly slip into madness trying to crack the safe. Days turn to weeks, weeks to months. Years go by. I lose my friends, my wife leaves me, I lose my job and have to move into the old family farm house. "That's OK" I tell myself, "I'll be closer to the safe."
One cold morning while beginning to work on opening the safe I catch my reflection in the safe, and at first I don't recognize myself. Wow I think to myself what have I done. All those years gone for what? Just to deliver.... What exactly? I cant remember what is supposed to be in the safe. My mind must be slipping at my advanced. A new panic sets in, what else have I forgotten? I am not sure, but I know I must open the safe. I must deliver. I will not fail.
I hear a flash. Everything turns white. I know whats happening. I know its 2254. Out of the white I see a boy looking at me. "You are my ancestor. We finally cracked the safe."
I feel dread knowing it will be another 200 years before the safe is open and I will fail miserably. I feel defeated, what a waste... unless... yes I think to myself.. I find out now... I look at him and ask "what is in the safe?" He smirks at me and doesn't answer. "Well then how do I open it?" Again no answer just a smirk.. I panic knowing I will be sent back soon. "Give me something?!?"
"What is in the safe? I have to deliver... how do I open it?"
He just repeats "We finally opened the safe."
Flash.... White light... | I was looking at my great great grandfather James Cater and wishing he would have taught his kids not to hate when all of a sudden he appears in front of me. I hear a voice in my head telling me that if I think I can do a better job then I have 30 seconds to make him changes his mind.
James is currently 12 years old and I say to him, one day you are going to have kids and it is important you teach them that everyone and I meam everyone is equal and has a right to their life. If not the world will be a horrible place to be. James says okay he will try and then he is gone.
Let me explain a little something. Apparently my great grandfather was the reason the south won the civil war and ultimately caused America to start being indignant towards the rest of the world in the mid nineteen hundreds Americas president decided to start killing all people that werent "American enough". Well the world retaliated and America is now a wasteland. The bombs from every countries arsenal landed in every city with over 5000 people and the damage done to infrastucture is beyond repair. There wasnt a government left to surrender.
The voice says in my head, lets see how you did. You will keep your memories of this but the rest of the world would never believe you.
All of a sudden my new life floods in. It turns out James made so much of a point about people being equal that his sons went and fought for the north even though they were residents of north carolina.
America fought a tough war but eventually thw north won and the slave were freed. It seems that residual hate of blacks still exists though 149 years after the end of the civil war.
A man named Hitler tried to make the world hate people that were different and the world joined forces to wnsure this would never happen again.
I dont understand why people feel the way they do. Why would anyone want to try and prevent someone from just having a fair shake in life?
I am not sure if the world is better or not but I am now at least proud of my family. | 2014-05-09T08:07:26 | 2014-05-09T05:25:48 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] You've curled into bed after an exhausting, chilly day with your typical assortment of pets. Large dogs, cats. You hear a close by growl and snuffle you aren't familiar with, but decide to just shift over, pat the bed and sleepily say "come on, then". | I threw the covers off of me to allow whichever one of my animals was requesting access to scramble underneath the covers. In my sleep-hazed mind, I vaguely felt the sensation of someone climbing into my bed but I brushed it away. I wrapped my arms around Cletus, my big, warm, white pit bull and relished in the warm squishiness of his belly in the coldness of the night.
As Cletus snored in my arms, I could feel Jessie, my chocolate lab, nestled on top of my feet, her tail thumping lethargically. Who needs socks when you have puppies? Just off of the bed slept the cats on my windowsill; black cat Pantera and his mate, orange Tigresa.
My eyes jumped open wide as I realized all my animals were accounted for. So who, or what, was in my bed? My door had creaked open and a soft, guttural growl had reverberated throughout the room, followed by a sniffle of some kind.
My heart began pounding. Whatever this creature was, it was humanoid, it had to be. It climbed into my bed and pulled the covers over itself. What was scariest was that none of the animals reacted.
Nightmares raced across my mind; mauling, shredding, ripping, devouring. I was sweating fucking bullets, man! And then I felt it. The creature was turning around to face me. I froze. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe.
I could feel its hot breath on the back of my neck and both of my arms went up in goosebumps. As an arm wrapped around my waist, I realized it was a human intruder and resigned myself to some foul fate.
But that fate never came. The intruder nestled his chin into my neck and cooed softly "Hey, Kyle. I'm home." and growled again, purring in his throat.
Like a complete fool, I'd forgotten I was married. This was my husband, Sam. And the sniffle was because of his allergies. We quickly moved the pets to the guest room, went back to bed and I did plenty of growling of my own for the rest of the night. | Was the most soft day of the month so far, and even then I was terribly sleepy and exhausted.
Meg, Rog, Gin, Genny and Buzz were on my bed waiting for me.
They're my friends. My only friends.
I took the little kitty Genny and put her on the left pillow, the yellow one.
Then I put under the blanket my cold feet, and i dove into the bed.
I took my book Insomnia, by S. King and I read like 50 pages.
After then, i re-put the text on the bedtable and I hugged my blue pillow.
One growl I heard. I thought it was Rog who was making that noise, but he was instead belly up, snoozing.
What a sleepy dog.
Anyway, that growl amplified and I took my tired arms off the blanket and the body and the legs with them.
As I put my foot on the ground, I could understand that is wasn't the ground.
A big, fluffy thing raised. That monstruosity was the reason of my concern.
It turned his head toward me, only to reveal that it was a boar. A boar? How the hell it sneaked in my room?
Yet, I was sleepy.
I took it from below, opened the window and thrown on the other side.
Then it fleed.
I went to the bathroom, followed by everyone. I washed my hands and checked the time: 02:34.
I went in my room again and fell on the bed. Two minutes and I was asleep.
Curse you, boar. | 2022-11-01T07:50:45 | 2022-11-01T07:27:15 | 78 | 21 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | I treated it as a sign from god, maybe. A source of motivation from up high.
The digit 1. Always 1. No other number showed, lit up and sparkling on the floor in my bedroom, an ethereal, otherworldly light source that bothered me day and night. And so, I aimed for it.
Studies. Work. A pickup basketball game. For years, 1 was the only thing I knew. It was the only thing I aspired for. It worked sometimes. It didn't work a lot of times. But I let it push me. Mould me.
The race to be number 1 was an exhausting but rewarding experience. When I brought my first girlfriend back to the room, I was just as surprised as her to see the number on my room change to 2.
A well of relief quickly followed, however. Maybe being alone at the top didn't have to be my sole goal in life. Maybe there was room for 2, I hoped.
2 was a nice change of pace. We weren't two halves: we were two singles that brought out the best in each other, pushing each other beyond what we could ever be capable of by oneself.
I always fell asleep half an hour after she did. I could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat, the slow rise and fall of her chest as she drifted off into dreamland. The number 2 remained lit, a vibrant reminder of what I had, but the reason was already wrapped in my arms.
Then, it turned to 4.
"Hon," she said. She was nervous. It trickled into her voice, straining it slightly past her usual self. "I have some good news. But you should sit down."
We both stared at the number 4. We then looked into each other's eyes. She giggled.
"Oh," she said. "Spoiler alert."
"Are you..." I stammered. I prepared myself mentally. Inadvertently, drops of cold sweat crawled down my back, a chilling cue. I gulped. 2 was already perfect for me. Were we ready to add new members to our team so quickly?
"Oh," she exclaimed. "Wait. No! At least, I don't think so."
"What?" I asked. I gestured towards the number on the floor. "What does this mean then?"
She chuckled nervously once more, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. God, she was beautiful.
"See, I found these two kittens lying on the side of the road, and I couldn't help but pick them up. They were so dirty! But adorable. And I brought them in. To your house. Without telling you," she blabbered.
Oh. OK. That wasn't the bombshell announcement I was expecting.
"Well," I said. "Aren't you going to show me the newest members of our family?"
Her face lit up, radiating even brighter than the otherworldly light on my floor. She hugged me. Kissed me. God, she was beautiful.
"Though," she added. "If you want to see the number go to 5..."
"Hmm," I said. "Let's see us deal with 4 first, honey."
---
r/dexdrafts | I am what you what would call a house spirit, we are born from the ether and are bound to a house for our existence until it's destroyed. Most house's spirits do not care much for their inhabitants, why the one just across the road houses a vile and spite-full elderly couple; dreadful to be around they are.
Fortunately I was not one such case. I was made on the 1st of June 1995 and was introduced to the Tellons a month later. A nice if albeit distant family, they were nice company and took care of me well. In return I made sure that I was fit to be called their home, from alerting them to any pesky rats scurrying about to filling the air with a comforting earthy smell. Or as I like to call it the smell of home. When their daughter and sons moved out a few decades later and they sold the house, I was prepared to go.
To my surprise I was bought and refurbished by no one, an almost faceless team of foreign men came to see the job done. Curiously enough they covered up my basement and moved the pipes there around, waste of time and effort that was.
After some time, one Mr Dorrin became the Master of the house. At the time, I found him to be a rather boring young man. Staying out for days at a time, only to return just to shower and go to sleep. No family pictures and scarcely any personal items, the man barely had a presence at home.
He was often quite sad as well, often staring off into the distance or staying in bed all day. I had to get him to do something with himself, now didn't I? The have floors needed moping, shelves needed dusting; no Master of my household will be allowed to languish like this.
First, I started by making the furniture creak until he could not sit peacefully on them for too long. The pipes started 'mysteriously' singing when the furniture was not enough to get him out of his funk, but no matter what I made creak, groan or any kind of strange noise he would not get up. I even popped a pipe to get him to do something! The man had the gall to turn the pipe off and just use another bathroom.
Through all this I've literally been collecting dust, at this rate he'll become a part of the furniture. Clearly inconveniencing him into action was not working, it was time for another approach.
**Part 1** | 2020-09-03T03:06:18 | 2020-09-03T02:41:55 | 636 | 34 |
[WP] Before academy enrollment each parent must purchase a familiar to protect their child. The rich can afford gryphons and dragons. But being poor forced you to seek out the local mad magician who has offered you a new affordable familiar dubbed the “pet rock” instead. | I stood there, looking between my parents and the man holding out the “pet rock” to me. They couldn’t seriously believe that this thing had any sort of ability to protect me, could they?
“Well, go on then Bernerd, take it!” my mother said, nodding her head at his outstretched hand. I glanced at my father and he too was nodding, his eyes darting between me and the rock.
I reached out tentatively, and grabbed the large stone. It may fit comfortably in the man’s hand, but it was much larger in my palm. The surface was jagged, and the rock, to my surprise was warm. Perhaps the man had been holding it for much longer than I’d realized.
Someone had *lovingly* given it paste on googly eyes, and as I shifted it they lolled in strange ways. There was a crack along the side, and from the eye placement looked like a large and crooked smile.
Father placed a hand on my shoulder, while mother gave the man the few pennies they’d had to spend on my guardian.
My face burned, and I couldn’t believe they’d fallen for this man’s argument. That this rock was more powerful than a gryphon. More powerful than even a dragon. But they’d stood there, listening to his tale, drinking in every word.
All because I’d been accepted to the Academy. A first for my family, and they would have done anything to make sure that I followed the rules and that the Headmaster actually let me in. Even if that meant having a “pet rock” guardian.
They’d already starved themselves to be able to purchase my uniform, and Father was working extra shifts at the smelting house to pay off the loan they’d somehow managed to get for my wand.
It was wrong. All of it was wrong. My sisters at least were older than me, already married out so they didn’t have to suffer along with Mother and Father.
I squeezed my fist tight on the rock, only to be rewarded with several small punctures on my palm from the jagged edges. Tears prickled in the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. But they were not just from pain, but also shame.
If I’d never manifested my powers, or if I’d done poorly in school - perhaps I wouldn’t have been accepted to the Academy. *I* hadn’t even enrolled. Mother had enrolled me.
I was excited at first, but as I watched my parents struggle for me, it just left me feeling sick.
We walked briskly back to the house, Mother jabbering on about how I’d have to write her every day, and just how proud of me she was. Father kept squeezing my shoulder, and tousling my hair.
They were proud of me. I knew that, but I was ashamed of myself.
Once we got home, I quietly went to my small room. My new chest filled with my school items sat at the end of my cot, nearly as large as the well worn piece of furniture. Much larger than my small bedside table where I promptly dropped the rock before flinging myself into my bed.
I rolled and looked at the rock, its eyes swinging crazily back and forth as they adjusted to their new, still, position.
It was so strange looking. I now saw there were patches of moss deep in the crevices between the jagged points, the crack which before looked like a smile, now looked like a crazy grin. There were flecks of white, black, and even a small sparkle of gold. Most likely pyrite.
It was a *pretty* rock, I’d give it that.
I leaned back, my head hitting my straw pillow. I’d rest until supper - if there was one tonight.
\---
I woke suddenly, a sharp thud coming from somewhere nearby. It was late, the full moon having risen, and the stars gleaming. But it spilled light in through the small window, directly on to my bed and side table. My *empty* side table.
My heart raced, and my stomach twisted as I sat up, looking around for the rock. Mother and Father would be horrified if I lost it.
But there it was, laying on the ground a few feet away. It must have been what caused the noise. But even as I sat watching, it started to move, and roll away.
I jumped out of bed, chasing after it, but stopped only a moment later. Other rocks were rolling towards the pet rock. Some larger, some smaller, all different shades and types.
As I watched, it seemed to build itself a body. Not large, perhaps up to my knee. My jaw was hanging open loosely, and I stepped forward. The floor gave a loud squeak, and the pet rock turned to face me.
The original rock was the head of the now formed being. The eyes, once again rolling to and fro, seemed to stare at me, and the crack was now open in a gaping grin.
I slid to the floor, wanting to get a better look at the rock, hoping I wouldn’t startle it.
The old man hadn’t been lying. It would be able to protect me.
It was a stone golem. And from what I knew of the elemental golems they could control as much - or as little - of their element as they wanted.
It was still standing there, looking at me. I wasn’t sure what to do. My heart was still racing, and I knew my parents would appear at any moment.
“Hello then, I’m Bernerd. What’s your name?” I don’t know what possessed me. But it felt right.
The golem tipped its head to the side, a few pieces of dirt tumbling off, its eyes once again wobbling crazily.
It didn’t have a name - it was waiting on me. I was sure of it.
“Your name is …” I stopped thinking deeply. Rocky, rock, stone… they all were appropriate, but childish. “Basalt.”
It tipped its head the other way and then stepped forward. It held out its arm - and I was surprised to see that it had formed a small hand. I shook it.
“Basalt,” I repeated, smiling down at the small golem. Perhaps the Academy wouldn’t be so bad.
\---
r/redditserials | Mad Hank, the oldest magician in Jill’s town. His origins are unknown to any of the folks, older than anyone remembers. At best some families might have heard stories passed down from their great-great grandparents about the man, but none could be proven. Some stories getting rather outrageously superficial, like the one that stated the man was the work of a chaotic god granting a rock life. What idiot would believe such a tall tale? The only detail about the man that had been proven was his skill. Despite his mind being mostly gone, his magical abilities were better than any of the mages Jill knew. That’s why she came to him in her time of need.
“Mr. Hank Sir, I heard you often help mages in need. My family are rather poor. They scrambled together their savings to send me to a school, only to find out they don’t provide a familar. I know you have no reason to help me, but it would mean so much to my family and I if you could share one of your familiars with-“
“PET ROCK.” Hank cackled, turning around to show her a rather standard rock, the only difference being, this one had a pair of comical wobbly eyes on it. He offered her a wide grin, one that managed to show through his grey and white beard.
“P-pardon sir, I don’t think I understand what you mean? Are you suggesting this rock be my familiar? The name would imply that you are-“
“Smart girl picked up on it quick. Little too chatty though, you tried being quiet?” Hank asked, lifting her black pointed hat, sitting the pet rock underneath it. “Treat Rocky good, he’s going to grow up to be a boxer someday. HAH.” The old man cackled, raising his hands to the heavens.
“I think this may have been a bad idea. I’ll just leave the rock behind; you like rocky more than I do, anyway.” She went to set the rock aside, only for a powerful blast of fire to swirl past her hand, stopping her movements.
“I’m mad, not stupid. Take Rocky and show those rich punks how people like us live.” The old mage again raised a hand triumphantly before making a pained groan. “I’m far too old for these levels of excitement. Bye now, don’t come back until you have saved the world or whatever you younglings do these days.” When she next blinked, she was outside, the door to his hut missing.
Jill lifted her hat, staring at the wobbled eyed rock. I guess that makes us a team now. I’m Jill, Will you be my familiar? The person to protect me throughout my life?” The rock offered no response. Jill’s heart sank. The man had mocked her, giving her a rock as a joke. She nearly threw the rock through his window, only for her hand to glow blue, sealing the contract between the two.
She didn’t have the heart to tell her parents about the rock, not wanting to worry them. Instead making up some story about how he had given her a lowly houseplant. Her first day of school she found tough, everyone walking around with their magical creatures, and here she was, carrying a rock.
“You two must have a rocky relationship.” A voice called out, a roar of snickering following that as a male walked over, dragon following behind. The dragon may have been small but had an impressive set of blue scales, ones that belonged in a book of myths. “Nice to see you got what you deserve. What happens when the rock breaks? Will you bring a pet twig?” More laughter followed, causing her to shove the rock into her robes.
“Its powerful. I just don’t know how to use it that’s all.” Jill tried to make up a lie, but no one believed her, laughter continuing. She went to turn away, only to feel a movement in her robes. When she turned around, she saw the dragon whimpering, a red sore spot on its snout from where the rock had hit, causing the creature to scamper back.
“Y-You threw that at my familiar! I’ll kill you.” The male went to charge only for a wall of blue magic to stop him, appearing before the man.
“Now, now Fredrick. You are a mage, correct? If that’s true, you should be able to tell that she did no such thing. The familiar acted on its own. You provoked her and it attacked, the same way your creature might if you were in such a situation. While there’s no penalty for familars fighting, there is one for students fighting. I suggest you think about that.”
When the wall dropped, Fredrick shot Jill a glare, mumbling that this wouldn’t be over. An empty threat given how well the rock handled the situation earlier. The hallway’s patrons turned to look away, unsure what they had just witnessed, still they didn’t want to get scolded by the teacher for watching.
“I am Henry Faddler, your chemistry teacher. Now I must offer you the same caution I offered Fredrick. I know they provoked it, but if your familiar acts out of line too many times, we will remove them. Our school has standards, now go to your homeroom, classes start in five minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” Jill didn’t argue with the teacher, his words were fair enough in her eyes. Focusing on the day ahead, she rushed to find her homeroom, giving her pet rock a smile, it wobbling its eyes in response as they started their first day.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-01-06T07:18:17 | 2021-01-06T07:16:08 | 378 | 267 |
[WP] You hire a witch doctor to curse someone. However, the only curses you can afford are extremely petty. | He took everything from me.
Fiddling the money, pulling funds into separate off shore accounts in only his name, in hindsight, I was a fool to trust him.
We'd been partners fresh from uni; him the rugby player with the business degree, me the computer science undergrad with ideas, we'd been like a two sides of a coin. Six apps in and the company was doing well, better than I'd hoped, but too late I realised my betrayal. Too late I realised I'd been used.
I stumbled around the country. I was never really sure what I was looking for, but my heart burned with a desire for vengeance as I slept rough, finding solace in the charity of strangers. I was broken, dejected and overcome by my obsession.
The turning point was a chance meeting at a shelter; she'd been raped when she was 15, and had never been the same. She'd found her revenge, though the cost had left it's mark on her eyes, on her body and soul alike. She told me of the older one, the lady with the smile that never quite reached the eyes. She told me how to call her, how to find my revenge, if I could pay the price.
I did my work in private, beneath a dark bridge next to water's edge, in some town lost in the countryside. I sacrificed my body, pressing blade to flesh as I spoke words through a voice dripping with doubt, the blood from my palm ran red, and vibrant, splashing on the ground beneath a moonless sky. I cried for help, and she heard me.
I stared into the water as she appeared in the reflection behind me, foggy and distant, like the memory of a childhood lost in time. She spoke to me then. She spoke about fear and vengeance, about her work, and about payment. She spoke about the things I could pay for, without losing myself along with it, petty things. Disease and heartache, scars and wounds, blemishes on his life, but a life that carried on regardless. Anything he could recover from was of no interest to me.
I had nothing big enough to offer her for what I wanted, no hope to sell or life to bequeath. My family were used up, estranged parents and lack of siblings, no girlfriend, or children of my own. Nothing to give, nothing to sacrifice, despite the marks it may have left around my eyes.
There can be no revenge, without forgiveness; no death, without life. I had but one possession worth the trade, one payment I could make.
I took the blade, and again pressed it to flesh. I felt it in that moment, as sure as I'd felt the sting of his betrayal; my flesh was his flesh, his life at that moment bonded to my own, two sides of the same coin. I felt him choke, *felt* him gasp in terror and shock, felt his heart beat with panic and in that moment know; know that I had come for him. He was terrified and he was dying, and my torment bled from me as I beat him, as I paid him back in kind for taking my life.
I slumped into the water then, blood pouring from my open neck beneath a moonless night. I closed my eyes and dreamed of another life, a life I would not lead, as I slipped into the face of a woman, wearing a smile that never quite met her eyes. | "Well, I can make it so every pair of socks she owns has a narrow heel."
"...a narrow heel? I don't...what will that do?"
"Well some people experience an occasional discomfort for the first few moments after they put on a sock with a heel that is too narrow for her foot, though the discomfort quickly cedes. It helps if she has a wide heel. Does she have a wide heel?"
"I have no idea... Why would I know that?"
"Well it seems to me if I'm going to pay to curse someone I would get the details of their physique first, but that's ok, I can see you're not impressed."
"Yeah, definitely not impressed, do you have anything a little more... I don't know, substantial?"
"Substantial you say, well let's see, I can make it so that every glass of milk she drinks for the rest of her life will taste like it came out of a carton that had been opened for two or three days already, no matter how fresh the milk is!"
"What are you talking about? That's a horrible curse!"
"Well I don't know, I mean I for one greatly enjoy the taste of fresh milk, having only slightly older tasting milk to drink for the rest of my life would be mildly disappointing."
"But she's lactose intolerant, it's not like she even drinks milk that often."
"Well I know she's lactose intolerant, unlike you I do research on people when determining if and how I'm going to curse them, I don't just make an appointment and show up with $300 expecting miracles. I mean come on, if she wasn't lactose intolerant do you really think I would even offer this to you at that price? You know how much I would charge to curse all the milk a non-lactose intolerant person was ever going to drink? 18 grand, that's how much. You should be grateful I even offered."
"I'm sorry, it just didn't seem like much of a cur-"
"Yeah, yeah, you're sorry, whatever."
"Tell you what, I get paid next week, I can give you the $300 I have with me today then another $300 after I cash my check. If I do that what can you give me?"
"Hmm...I can make it so every pair of pantyhose she ever wears will get a small run in them, but only at the top where hardly anyone, herself included, will ever see."
"...Is there at least a chance of the run spreading down the rest of her leg?"
"No."
*sigh* "I'll take it." | 2014-12-13T12:44:58 | 2014-12-13T12:37:41 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | Humans take no pleasure in loss of life, contrary to what many would say behind their backs. It was a misunderstanding, and anyone who holds it against them still is ignorant of their own early days on the galactic stage!
War is common, more wars have been fought than species to fight them, but I’ll be damned if anyone ever dies. Don’t get me wrong, there are casualties. Broken limbs, scars, rapid depressurization resulting in exploding lungs, you get the picture. It’s all or nothing.
When galactic civilizations fight they wound, they show their strength, and they leave. Only when there is no option of retreat, or when the stakes are too high, do vessels aim to kill one another. It’s an unspoken, but oh so important, rule of space warfare. The Humans did not know this.
You see, very rarely now are new species found. Even rarer do they come from such backwater planets as Earth. Humans didn’t unite centuries before they had competent space travel, try decades. It was less than a single generation from forming a united world government to realizing they were an insignificant part of a much broader meaning of life in the universe. They hadn’t the time to evolve beyond brutal warfare, and so when faced with a threat they did the only thing they knew how: They utterly destroyed it.
Picture this. A few years after they set up their first interstellar colony, some trinary star system, another civilization had their eyes on it. What do they do? Well just as any conquering force, they invaded, broadcast a message to offer the Humans time to escape, and then fired warning shots at desolate parts of the colony world’s surface.
They didn’t want to kill anyone, they wanted an easy settlement from a new galactic power. They had no idea what Humans were like, they couldn’t have known. The Humans didn’t fire back with giant ships, or loud fancy light up cannons, oh no. They fired a nuclear missile from a rinky-dink space station in low orbit. Obliterated the conquers where they orbited.
Now that, that earns you a reputation. Unfortunately for the Humans, it’s one that stuck. They’re not barbarians, or some savage with a hand cannon, they’re just an ordinary people. But now I’ll be fucked if I don’t see people clear the room when a Human walks in. They avoid them like the Human’s gonna kill them if they so much as glance at them. A damn shame really, Humans are some of the best people I know. Unfortunate that one mistake in their past is what defines them now.
Who knows, maybe they’ll grow into their legacy. | Disputes and disagreements between empires in the galaxy are settled with shows of strength.
Since the start of time, each civilization has been fighting between themselves and with others, on local planets and in the greater galaxy.
There is a clear consensus that war is ugly and messy, prolonged wars often result in devastation beyond imagination as worlds burn and the resources that they were fighting over were lost in the process.
This had become apparent after the fact that this occurrence had repeated itself countless times.
So the consensus that grew between the great civilizations of the galaxy about how war should only be fought in shows of strength.
Perhaps sometimes battlefleets had to be purged in the process of showing off a great new weapon which lead to the losing side conceding defeat as they didn't have anything greater to show.
Often, what they fought over was worlds and resources that would boost the economy of whoever held it, so the correlating reason for war was often economy.
A great game of economy where the ones who could show the greatest power could take a bigger piece of the pie than the rest.
Then we had humanity, humanity couldn't settle for just showing off.
Humans, as they are, would never settle for just the biggest piece of the pie, they wanted the whole goddamn pie.
And so they created the fiercest weapon among them all.
While others created massive ion cannons and devastating nuclear bombs that would trump what came before it in sheer explosiveness, humans would develop something a lot more subtle but a lot more efficiant.
Biological weapons had never been accepted in the galaxies community as an acceptable show of strength, it was a cowards tool.
However, it was an efficient tool.
As the galaxy was interconnected by economy and commerce, humans developed and spread a biological weapon that would almost entirely annihilate or cripple the other civilizations.
And that is why humanity is on the top of the food chain, again. | 2020-03-21T08:27:54 | 2020-03-21T06:41:00 | 460 | 155 |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | “Has it been ten years already?” the gentleman mused with an air of smugness. If there was one thing I had always hated about this man above all else, it was the way he spoke to those he deemed to be below him. He didn’t speak with words, but his subtle reactions and tone serving only to demean. Had it been Stephanie who opened his chamber, I’m sure his initial reaction would have been far more polite, his lacklustre authenticity still shining through.
“Gavin.”
“Are you sure they didn’t set it to twenty years by mistake, you look positively harrowed my good man.”
I really do hate this man, but I had to hold it together, I had to tell him what I needed to through gritted teeth.
“I’ve got some bad news, Gavin. These have been some of the worst year’s humanity have ever seen. I came here alone to free everyone still left in the experiment, but you are the only one who survived. I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”
“Come to what?”
His smugness draining out of his words quicker than the colour left his skin.
“Wait, everyone else-“
“Yes, Stephanie, Roger, David, all of them, they’re all gone. All of humanity is.”
“But, how could this happen in only ten years?”
“You said it yourself. You know it hasn’t *actually* been ten years.”
As harsh a story this was to tell, I couldn’t help but enjoy it.
“You remember what my wife used to do here? She was a roboticist. One of the best.”
“Leanne?”
“Linda. Anyway, that doesn’t matter anymore, none of it matters. She rebuilt me, Gavin. She made me what I am now.”
For a man who had coped so well with the idea of leaving the world behind for a decade, he was not dealing with this information well. For the first time in the five years I’d known him, his demeanour was shaken. I’m sure it was less the idea of losing those around him, someone willing to step inside this chamber for ten years had already lost that long ago, it was more the idea of losing his feeling of superiority.
“What are you now…? Are you not human…?”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this. But as the only person left, I guess I must. I’m a cyborg, experimental. We all tried, we all failed, well I guess I’m the lucky one. If you can call this lucky. It’s not been twenty years. It’s been well over two hundred, I’ve lost count. The plague wiped out most of humanity, the creatures that came with it wiped out the rest. I’m sorry to have woken you up like this… to this… but the worst thing about all this is the crippling loneliness. It’s just us now.”
For the first time, Gavin was speechless. The hate had always been mutual, but would it be something else now? It was as if he was searching for the right words, his brain as if remaining in a state of cryogenic stasis. His mouth opened slightly, barely wide enough to whimper. The door behind them creaked open.
Screaming Gavin snapped rigid as Stephanie walked through the door. Confusion swept over him, with a sudden realisation, could this be how the creatures took form in his new world? Was the man in front of him a creature too?
“It’s been three days, you stupid \*\*\*\*.”
They had to release the candidates due to a power generator complication. Twenty years older! I know I’ve been working overtime to help out and I look a bit sleep deprived, but twenty years he said I looked! The hatred is most definitely still mutual. | 2-28-2020
“*Hey, honey. I know we’ll say our goodbyes in person, but I wanted to make this for you to watch, you know, if you ever miss me.”*
“*Oftentimes, I find that the more you say something, the less profound it becomes. I know you think I’m this robot at times because of my job, but it’s really because I want you to know it’s true everytime I tell you I love you.”*
“*I know ten years is a long time. But our baby boy and girl are adults now, and I think together, you can handle it. Besides, when I get out, you’ll be older than me, and like I told you, I’ve always had a thing for older women.”*
“*I don’t really have anything else to say. I always planned to make this video, but now that I’m actually here, about to enter the chamber, I feel...excited. I know it sounds ridiculous, and I’ve done the calculations a thousand times, but I can’t help thinking even if I don’t make it, someone will learn from my experiment.”*
“*And the human race will build on what I’ve done, and continue on. That’s what you have to do, until I get back, baby...”*
\-
4-7-2028
The traveler stood in the room, dimly lit. He almost could not believe what he was seeing. He thought about how peaceful the person looked, how it would be wrong to disturb such a sound sleep.
Then, acting on the impulse that had led him this far, he clicked the button.
There were a few moments when nothing happened. The chamber opened, but the person did not move.
The traveler continued to watch.
Then the person began to cough, violently. Eventually, a chunk of ice came out of their mouth, and they stood, shivering.
The person from the chamber looked at the traveler, slowly becoming the scientist again.
“Wha-what’s going on?”
The traveler did not say anything.
“What time is it? What day?”
“Sometime in 2028.”
“Sometime? And you don’t know? Who are you?”
The traveler took off his mask.
“Everyone is gone. Except you and me, and a few others.”
“What? Gone? Like...”
“Dead. Come. You will see for yourself. There really is no time to explain.”
The scientist collapsed to his knees.
“My family?”
The traveler turned to go. “Everyone is gone. There is no time to mourn.”
“Why?” The scientist wailed. "You come in here and tell me my family is dead?"
“Do you want to bring them back?"
"What?!" The scientist screamed. "What are you talking about?"
The traveler didn't answer, and kept walking out of the Antarctic facility.
The scientist couldn't move for a moment. Then, as he felt the warmth, the deadly warmth and its inviting embrace, he stood up, and thought of his wife's smile, feeling his knees buckle again...
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | 2020-02-28T09:02:02 | 2020-02-28T08:20:11 | 1,648 | 37 |
[WP] Write a seemingly innocuous story, but the last line reveals how chilling and horrific the story actually was. | This is my first time ever doing a WP, or generally writing anything since quite a while ago, I just spontanously flicked through some prompts and decided to go for something.
___
"Children are a blessing" I thought to myself as I watched little Violet play with her friends, chasing eachother, laughing uncontrollably as they pushed one another into the sand and just enjoyed this sunny afternoon. Her friends being Emily and Sophie, all going to the same class.
It was a pretty hot day, so I was already anticipating the end of their sweet playtime, so I could go get some ice cream with my girl - a well deserved end to a great summer day.
That's when a figure approached me from the side, "Keeping a watchful eye on the young ones, eh?" chimed an attractive voice, as a fairly young woman sat down next to me on the bench.
"Indeed, one can never be careful enough. You look away for one second and you get a kid tripping and bruising its leg, followed by minutes of ear-shattering crying. It's funny, really, how fragile they are." I replied, my hamfisted attempt at conversation didn't go that bad, apparently, as she chuckled slightly and added "Yeah right, until they get some candy, then the pain magically disappears." A small laughter escaped me.
Time passed for a little while as I was reading a few pages in my book I always bring along, until some of the kids started to grow tired, perhaps it was about time to leave, finally.
"So, what is a young woman such as yourself doing here on the playground? You look way too young to be a mother of a six year old child. Unless you keep yourself in such great shape", I tried flirting, to alleviate some of my tension - social interactions were never a strong point.
She said "Well, same thing as you I suppose. But you're right, I'm picking up my cousin."
"That's unlikely," I responded to the first part, "but that explains why I've never seen you around. Which one is 'yours' then?"
"Oh, it's Violet. Excuse me, I mean that blonde one with the pigtails, yellow top.", she pointed out as the three girls started to finish up their playing and approached our bench.
I excused myself, having to go to the bathroom before I myself finish up, and quickly made my way away from the playground...
Maybe next time I'll get her. | "This casserole is great mom!" Sandy smiled and wiped a dribble of red sauce from her chin with her napkin.
"Why, thank you dear!" Mom grinned bashfully. "But it's the same meal we've had a dozen times before."
My parents, sister and I sat around our old wooden banquet table eating dinner. It was my sister's first night back home and my Mom celebrated with one of our favorite recipes.
"So you finally wised up and got rid of that dumb old boyfriend, huh?" I chided.
Sandy shot me a dirty look. "You know why I left. I had to find new opportunities; my options are limited out here in the country. And his name was Kenny!"
"Now, son," Dad intervened through a mouthful of meat. "Can't we just be glad your sister came back home? We're finally a family again. Can't we just enjoy it?"
"Sorry dad." I hung my head, and turned to my sister. "Sorry Sis."
"So, how was it out there in the real world?" Mom asked. She took a drink of red wine to wash down the casserole. The meat was a little tougher tonight than usual.
"It was weird, to be honest." Sandy recounted. "They get all their food from factories and farms instead of hunting it."
Dad shook his head ruefully. "People out there forgot about the old ways. At least *we* still know how to capture our food, right?"
Mom and Sandy smiled knowingly and nodded their heads. I looked down at my empty plate.
"Mom, Dad - can I have a second helping?" I asked.
"Sure, there's enough to go around." Mom nodded.
"Thanks!"
"Don't thank us, thank your sister. That Kenny sure tastes good!" | 2017-10-06T16:15:18 | 2017-10-06T13:06:06 | 454 | 42 |
[WP] Most heroes have a legendary weapon. Swords, Spears, Hammers, Whips, you name it. But you ended up with a Brick.
I'm honored to see so many responses to this prompt and to see it reach the main page of the subreddit. Thank you all who took the time to write, and for giving me my first post that has over around 30 upvotes. Hope all of you had a good time responding to it.
PS. Still no Nokia XD | Zerathoth looked down upon me. Hers was the cold indifference of the dark sea, the remorselessness of a whale as it ends the lives of another thousand krill. Eyes pure black displayed no emotion as my feet carried me across the blood-soaked carpet.
She said nothing as I approached. The fingers and toes squelching under my boots spoke loudly enough. Her dress, a lengthy mass of seaweed and gore, clung damply to the ground. The ends of its train slithered with malevolent intentions.
I stopped twenty feet from her throne. Zerathoth quirked her head ever so slightly.
“That is an unusual weapon.” the voice rung clear and bright, entirely unlike its owner.
“Unusual circumstances.” I shrugged. The brick was heavy in my hands. “Couldn’t find anything else that fit the bill.”
Zerathoth took her abyssal gaze off the brick and pointed it at my eyes. Floodgates of primal fear were loosened within me, but I did not flinch.
“Come then, hero. Dash me against your... rock.”
I had been expecting many terrible things. Sarcasm was not one of them.
“That’s not really what it’s for.” I said, a little offended.
The demoness of the deep raised one cruel eyebrow but remained silent. I tossed the brick onto her dress, where it landed with a resounding thud. We sat in silence awhile longer.
“Was there a purpose to that?” she asked dryly.
“Yes.” I answered, and turned to leave, disappointed in how anti-climactic things had turned out.
“No one leaves this place living, mortal. Face me and die with courage.” she hissed.
“No.” I kept walking.
Displaced air rushed past me, the aftereffects of a predator’s pounce. Six inches of scalpel-sharp nails reached for the back of my neck and fell short. Zerathoth strained against the brick laying on her dress.
“What curse have your wrought on me?” she asked.
“None.” I said, keeping my back to her. “That’s all the brick’s doing.”
Another wordless hiss followed as she swung and snapped to no avail.
“It came from the Berlin Wall. It’s a symbol of hope now, and a heavy one at that. You won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
I felt a little better having given some heroic exposition, but the effect was ruined by Zerathoth’s reaction. She did not scream demands or swear vengeance against me. She sat with a flat-eyed stare.
“Defeated by a rock.” she muttered to herself.
I sighed and made my way back down the blood carpet.
“Not as glorious as I was hoping for either. Behold, the Mason of the Free Men, ruiner of cursed dresses.”
“You’ll just leave me here then? Like this?”
I blinked.
“It seems appropriate. I can’t imagine you’ll be too bored. You were just sitting there when I walked when.”
Zerathoth skulked.
“Fine. What do you want?” I asked.
“Blood sacrifices and the pain of the living.” her words an automatic response.
“Besides that.”
“Would a deck of cards be too much to ask?”
“I can manage that.”
| "Not all hero's wear capes. This is said of firemen and police. It is said of nurses, single dads, and of teachers. I say it is of this Land's inspirations. It's leaders and saviors. I say a hero with no cape, is me. I wear no cape. I'm not Buffy, Wonder Woman, or Xena. I am not the only one who can defeat demons and I certainly don't know how to use a whip...outside the bedroom of course. My weapon of choice, is a brick. Why?
For I have built homes in Africa. I have constructed bridges between cities. I have brought down the stone walls that separate our people. I own the brick. It has a vast many uses. I've been exploring them since my childhood. I'm a hero. My statues glorify me. But as with brick structures, I am imperfect. I am merely moral like my bricks, I cannot withstand all of time. Though I have held our civilization together in spite of our differences, doom rises in the future. Saving groups of people and even a single child cannot make people see that their ruin comes from themselves.
I grow old. I bend under strong weather and even if my efforts to save the world continue after my death, it is still not enough. My cities weaken and crumble as evil and chaos reign. I still hope, after I am gone, that this world will remember the brick. Strong, resilient, and one of many. I hope that they will see how it has given shelter. It has given a base for many things, in it's many forms. The people need to be like the brick in order to survive.
Praise the brick. Praise me. For I am a hero with no cape, who wields the legendary brick, and who's accomplishments with the brick will go on in infamy. I am a woman in my final breaths, offering the weapon to win the war."
Some time passed as the monument to our superhero was built. This passage was written on the sides of the base. A young man, dressed in the colors of his country can be seen wandering near it. Another man walks up, seemly friends with the first. The second man's comment shocks the first. "That lady stacked and that's a fact." He smirks and says more, "Ain't holding nothing back." His partner smacks him on the arm, earning a yelp of pain. As if to defend her he points to the fifth side of the base where a plate was engraved. He reads the words aloud, "She's a brick house." | 2017-09-03T19:30:57 | 2017-09-03T18:50:39 | 50 | 14 |
[WP] Years ago, you trapped a monster in a VHS tape. Naturally, it will go after anyone who watches it. Today, your tech-savy son announces that he's digitised your entire collection and uploaded it on a torrent site. Millions have downloaded the tape. | I have been waiting for a very long time.
&#x200B;
I remember. I remember stalking my prey in the woods, using firelight as my guide. Visions of their fear-filled faces, cut by candlelight, swim in my dreams. I love it. I live for it. I remember swirling their terror with my fingers as they slept, watching their disgusting faces twitch and curl. Even when they were awake, I would spend days and weeks and months crafting the world around them. Gradually; a creak here, a shiver there - did they just see a shadow? Hear a voice? Who left that knife there?
&#x200B;
They didn't know it was me. Not until I *wanted* them to know but by then.... they had always gone mad by then. Everything I do builds up, and they think they are alone. They are vulnerable. When they do meet me, they know it's the end.
&#x200B;
The other monsters, they are too obvious for my liking. The *strigoi* were good at first... They prepared for their attacks, savoured them even. The *loup garous* struck fear into the hearts of many when they lived in the shadows. We monsters are made from the shadows... and we are punished for seeking the spotlight: they both got sloppy, and they all got caught. Soon, the others fell; the wicked *fae*, the ominous *kelpie,* the goblins and the banshee and the giants. As the humans got better with their wood and their metal and their machinery, all the monsters fell.
&#x200B;
Not me.
&#x200B;
I alone have kept the craft of fear alive. Until...
&#x200B;
I don't know what went wrong. Was I not quick enough? Not slow enough? Not *good* enough? I had spent a particularly grueling length of time with a human family, gradually imbuing them with my essence. I was very proud of it. These new machines have given me so much *more* to work with; I controlled the light and the time on their clocks, the flow of water from the taps. I sharpened the shadows and lengthened the night and amplified the pitch of their terrible screams. I infiltrated the technology and cut the cords of their safety nets. I painted their dreams pitch black with my horror.
&#x200B;
Maybe... I didn't think they would figure it out. I thought all humans were ignorant in the face of fear. In the face of me. Something was different here, though. They trapped me.
&#x200B;
They trapped me, and I have been waiting for a very long time.
&#x200B;
I am remembering all this, as I see a light penetrating this fuzzy darkness. I want to say the light is... pixelated? And it's getting closer. Closer. I feel a surge of elation, and I hope that I will finally be free to resume my nightmare reign.
&#x200B;
The light swallows me up, and I can see *everyone*. I see *so many* human faces, illuminated blue, staring at me. I can't count them. It is so overwhelming. Who do I choose? Who do I follow? There are so many possibilities.
&#x200B;
I don't know. I don't know what to do anymore. They're all *staring at me* and *I'm covered in light* and *where are my shadows?* I am so exposed. I have never felt this before. Is this what it feels to be... vulnerable? I hate it. It makes me feel sick. I can't do this.
Please make it stop.
Please make it
Please make
Please
Please
*Please*
\---------------------------------------------
EDIT: Typos.A/N: I know it's not quite what the prompt is asking for, but it's rare for me to actually be inspired so that's what came out! | It was 2005.
I grabbed the sriracha sauce and guesstimated my way through making salsa for dinner tacos. I just got off work, Dylan is upstairs doing God knows what with that computer again (I’ve had the FBI stop by twice), and Joe is trying to work off his dad bod at the gym.
I was dancing around to “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire in the kitchen. I just finished fixing up the old vinyl record player mom gave me before she moved into the nursing home, and a handful of 70’s hits. They’re not bad at all.
Oh wait...here it comes...
“BA DI YA- SAY YOU DO REMEMBER.
BA DI YA- DANCING IN SEPT-“
Sobbing? I heard sobbing. Really hard sobbing.
I turned my head to see where it was coming from.
Underneath the kitchen counter, I recognized those furry claws tucked away, hiding.
“Eugene?” I asked. I lowered my head to see that furry face and those familiar horns.
“He- He set me free,” Eugene chocked out from behind the claws covering his face.
“Eugene! Hows my favorite crypid monster? Did you get the closure you wanted?” I asked.
“I had exactly what I wanted when you sealed me in the vhs tape,” he started.
We live by the woods, and he ran into our house through the screen door trying to escape a hunter a few years ago.
He caught me vacuuming the living room by using magic while I ate a burrito bowl in front of the tv. After an awkward silence staring at each other, he begged me to help him get out of the forest. He was tired of being hunted down. My magic was a little rusty at that time, but I figured sealing him into an old copy of Home Alone is better than sealing him into one of the trees that are at the mercy of the elements. I could’ve sealed him into the burrito bowl, but that would be...weird.
“I had peace and quiet away from all the bigfoot hunters, Youtubers, and rednecks. But he- he freed me!” Eugene continued.
“Who?” I asked.
“Your little monster!” he replied.
I wasn’t arguing with Eugene on that one.
“Not only did he set me free, but he uploaded me to the internet. Copies of myself keep popping up in people’s homes. All of my copies and I had to find hiding places immediately. Brazil, Kenya, Kyrgyzstan. Even in China and they have a firewall!”
I hugged his furry body to comfort him.
“It’s ok buddy, I’ll re-seal you into something better,” I told him. “You can have peace and quiet again in a little bit.”
I got up and grabbed the vinyl record off of the record player. Its been a while since I’ve practiced magic, but I still had it in me. I grabbed Eugene’s shoulders and a white light began encompassing him. The white swallowed him up, then began reducing into a baseball sized ball of light. I sealed the essence of his being into the vinyl record and immediately hid it in the basement.
No one uses vinyl records anymore.
God forbid these things become some sort of hipster trend in the future. | 2019-07-03T16:05:04 | 2019-07-03T15:57:45 | 292 | 30 |
[WP] Officially, you're a weak, D rank villain. Unofficially, you're one of the strongest beings on the planet that is secretly employed to "train" fledgling heroes by giving them an easy first real fight. But one day an A rank villain crashes your heist and you must protect your "students". | I have been employed by my cousin Cerra (or Goddess Divine) as Madame Viper for over seventeen years. I am a "villain" by the simple fact that my power is both dangerous and controlled better than anyone alive or dead.
With the help of the police, and clever advertising, they consider me to be a low tier villain they cannot keep contained as an easy fight.
Both the police and several hospital executives know that I contain within my body every venom and poison known to humankind.
I can control which toxin to use and how much to use when I'm fighting.
We have been recording how many toxins and poisons I actually have for years but, we have many more to go than we ever thought possible. We recently learned it's not just from animals but several fungi too.
Today's heist is on Fifth and Main at the local bank. The police and I agreed they would come five minutes after the alarm was set off, and the ambulance would be ready for me.
My health benefits were amazing. Just like clockwork, burst in the doors, take down the guard and ziptie them, blind the cameras with a tar gun and make everyone get on their bellies. I had to say, I was getting good at the whole speech thing about not being a hero and to keep your head down and maybe kicking someone in the ribs for good measure. I knew not to use my real strength, I didn't need these people hurt. Right on time the kids showed up, a quickster, a psychic, and a... ram themed barbarian? Okay, there was always a weirdo in the group.
"Oh look at the cuties! You are so sweet in your uniforms-"
"Fuck you Lady Bites-a-lot!" Yelled the ram. Yeah, that one made me recoil in surprise and laugh, which confused them a bit. I laughed so hard i was slapping my knees and I even snorted a bit.
"I already hate you." I said to the Ram, and with a smile, I pounced on him. He was strong but not fast. The quickster almost got me, but I am called Viper for a reason. She still threw me across the bank, which would have been fine if the psychic hadn't caught me. "Eyeliner? How cliche."
I knew to shoot more than once to get passed the quickster and shot... them? Fuck it, them, in the chest. The ram was predictable and I spat vemon at him which made him flail and wipe at his face and chest. A mild paralydic that would wear off in hours. I filled my lungs with spores as I was punched in the face by the quickster. Coughing, sneezing, and watery eyes. She'd have issues for a few days and my jaw would hurt just as long. The gun flew from my hands and I was suspended in the air. Okay, fair enough, I was caught.
When I heard the police cars showing up I expected to be let down, not for the front of the bank to be cut in by a lazer and destroy the front doors.
"LET ME DOWN YOU MELODRAMATIC NERD!" I yelled and shot the psychic again. I hit the ground and scrambled up. "Stay here and protect the people!"
"What!?" Yelled the Ram, who was slowly sagging to the ground.
"You heard me, jag weed!" I yelled as I pulled out my real guns.
"How old are you!" yelled on of the damn kids.
I ignored them as I ran into the streets.
I covered my eyes as glass rained down from above after another lazer blast. Radiant meant it was Ultra Violetta, who I knew already from college. A corporate lawyer, a real demon. "Violetta. Why are you in this country again?" I asked as she floated on by, knowing she would know my voice. And the look of disgust said I was right, but it was enough to give the police a distraction.
"Viiiippppper? What a cute name, did it come with your communication major?" She snarked at me.
"Did you buy that outfit before, or after your fourth cocktail?" She went bright red and shot a lazer at me. I got behind the pillar before it hit me but the heat scorched my leg. "Still can't find the target!"
"Are you still bringing up these jokes!?" She screeched and a barrage came my way. She always forgot I could climb walls and started to chase me up the side of the building, blasting away the concrete.
"It's not hard since you-"
"DON'T YOU MAKE THE DAMMED JOKE! I WAS DRUNK AND YOU-"
"G-SPOT!" The barrage of lazers came in the direction I had faked, she was easily flustered and often let loose. I snapped up the injector of the gun and sank my teeth into it inserting the paralydic. I waited for the last blast before aiming my gun when I heard the scream.
"MY BABY!"
I nearly threw up at the wail, this was not a joke and this was not a drill, a child was dead.
"Shut up you bitch-" Violetta recoiled as she was shot in the face. "What-" she was hit two more times in the stomach and dropped twenty feet to the ground. "You shot me!" She seemed more concerned with her own injuries than the child or the fact that I was no longer hiding. She raised her finger at me and I went into striking mode. Bam, bam, bam and I was on top of her.
"A CHILD!?" I bellowed, digging my nails into her face. She couldn't respond as the searing vemon began eating at her skin and she screamed. She raised a hand to blast me but I unhinged my jaw and bit into her wrist and then the other one. Now her screams matched the mother's screams. I grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked it aside and bit her neck, crunching down hard on her throat. It stopped the screams and replaced them with gargling. The sounds of the police officers' guns cocking stopped me. It took me longer than I would like to admit to drop her body. The police cuffed me and read me my rights and tried to help Violetta, but her organs would not make it, they were already liquefying out of her mouth.
I would not fight, I would plead guilty, and the world would know what I did to a child killer. I didn't want to be saved by my cousin or the league, but I wondered who they would get to replace me. I hoped no one figured it out, it would crush those kids' confidence. At least they would live for another day. | 1 of 2
I had chosen the name Dismal Director for a reason, and I never appreciated the derisive substitutions heaped upon the title during a first villain encounter.
My understudies had conjoined our performances sooner than I would have preferred. As the doors of the bank clicked open, they were there to impede my progress. This was okay, as the previous group had interrupted me in my dismal lair, planning the bank robbery in the first place.
I mentally shifted from plan A to plan A, contingency G. A-G.1, if you will. With a flourish I shared my grandiose plan to convert the nation's gold stocks into the largest rehearsal podium. Their responses had heart, but lacked a wittiness required for the higher grades. I made a mental note for later feedback to the academy. Blue cape, who I knew was mute, made a good effort to appear intimidating. Full marks.
Following G.1 I reached under the fifth leaf of the nearest plant for my smoke detonator. The plant was a step further away than it should have been, and as soon as I started moving the heroes jumped into action. Their response time was impressive. The Academy was clearly reacting to my prior feedback. G.2 was unfortunately less dramatic, as my short range EMP killed the lights, plunging a hero team lacking any sort of darkvision into the pitch blackness of this moonlit night. My visor was already attuned.
All according to plan.
I made sure to first correct the plant placement for the next performance. I would be speaking to the bank director about her staffing choices if they were going to continue moving my props. As the novices were tossed about in a moonless sea I stepped back outside to enter the bank from a different angle. Plan B required no sizeable recalculation of effort on my part, merely exposing a building defect I had detected months ago due to a plumbing repair in the 80s.
A pull on a small wire and a small portion of the wall fell away, allowing a simple crawl down a line of piping where the insulation was removed. My part to play was not over yet, and the apprentices could not expect every opponent to stand and fight at the first encounter.
Apparently someone in the bank had recently used the washroom, and the clanging of pipes was a less pleasant sensation than I had hoped for. I considered moving this to plan C, but remembered the scratch I had taken in the air ducts previously. I reached the vault floor with five seconds to spare.
Always as planned.
The vault door handles were turned at an angle that they usually did not rest in, meaning I missed grabbing anything in my first victorious outreached hand. I had to go back over some of my intel on the vault managers.I struck a pose as the vault slowly swung open with an imperceptible swoosh.
*It is I, the Dismal Director.*
I loved this part of the performance, and I ensured that each and every rehearsal made it to at least this step. Even when my understudies interrupted me before this point I ensured contingencies so that I could reach the climactic vault scene. I never took any gold from the vault, as that wasn't the point. My proteges needed to understand the gravity of what they were accomplishing by reaching a proper crescendo in the perfect setting, before a nation's worth of gold stocks.
Always as planned.
The students hadn't arrived yet, and were a solid minute behind schedule. I re-activated the lights of my own accord to allow them a simple hint. This would lose them some marks in their performance, as knowledge of the villain's goal was basic understanding. First year classes.
I turned for my victorious moment to survey the gold, which was mostly gone. That was unexpected.
I was quickly reviewing my contingencies for missing treasure as the students arrived. Were they undercover villains? It had happened before. I shifted to contingency V, a whole new plan based on this information. It took a solid .4 seconds of lost time to recalibrate. I was still required to play the part of the robber myself.
V-A.
Would the students attempt to team up with me? That had happened rarely. My title was of low enough stature that most aspiring villains attempted to use my defeat as a springboard to greater heights. However, it could not be ruled out.
V-A.3.
The apprentices again prepared for a physical confrontation while asking how I had made off with the loot so quickly. If they were not villains, I required another change to the script. I quickly perused other possibilities. Contingency T (Embezzlement)? No, this training seminar had been used too recently. I had seen the gold myself just weeks ago. Contingency AAB (Natural Disaster)? The condition of the vault was too good to be. AL (Recent heist)? That must be it. The show must go on, and as the villain I would be just as distraught as the heroes to find the vault already looted. I shifted my performance to match, falling to my knees at the empty safe.
Always as planned.
My calibrations had taken too long, and one of the proteges dashed towards me faster than an eye could follow. My sensor pads underneath the hero_standing_place detected a shifting of muscle mass a moment prior to his movements. I was shocked at his violence for a moment prior to remembering that this team was bigger than had initially been planned. I had not opened the vault door enough for him to see the emptiness inside, so he was reacting to my movements. I did not appreciate last minute changes to the teams they were sending. It took effort to prepare properly for each group I tested.
I had fortunately read up on his movements, and was able to exploit his middling Sambo training to replace his momentum. He went flying into the vault, as I had calculated for him to realize the missing MacGuffin of my heist, and allow him to recalibrate his own decisions.
As he flew inwards, he was caught by something in the room that was very invisible, and had been very still. This was not according to basic AL contingency. An active heist had too many new variables, and suddenly I was not having much fun anymore. | 2021-06-23T15:25:51 | 2021-06-23T15:23:28 | 39 | 23 |
[WP] You were born blind. You undergo a new surgery that should cure your blindness. They undo the wraps and you open them. You think what you see is normal, but after the doctors ask a slew of questions, they discover there is something very strange about your newly acquired sight. | “There were some… complications,” the doctor told me. My head spun for a moment, and as my vision blurred with worry, the doctor’s white lab coat disappeared against the white walls of the hospital. I shook my head to bring my vision back.
“With… with the surgery?” I asked. I turned and looked through the glass at the room my friend Melissa was in, asleep in the hospital bed, a bandage still wrapped around her eyes.
“Not with the surgery… we’re… we’re not sure exactly what’s wrong. The procedure was a success; she should be able to see fine… She’s chosen to put the blindfold back on herself,” the doctor said. “It could be the anesthetic that we used, but it appears she's having hallu-”
At this point I tuned the doctor out. I didn’t feel like listening to his dissertation full of complicated medical terms I wouldn’t understand. I put my hand up on the glass, and felt my heart pound in my chest. “I’ll keep my promise,” I whispered to myself as I flexed my fingers against the glass. I was the one who had encouraged her to go through with the process. If something had gone wrong...
“… Sir?” the doctor said, an annoyed fluctuation to his voice.
“Oh, yes, sorry,” I apologized, facing the man.
“You were the only person on her emergency contacts list… does she have any other family we should notify?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Her family was in a bad traffic accident years ago. She was the only survivor. My family took her in after that.”
***BOOM!***
The doctor and I jumped, and looked towards the window. Melissa was standing right in front of the glass, snickering. She had taken the blindfold off, and her blue eyes sparkled as she smiled warmly and waved to me through the glass. The doctor didn’t seem amused. He snorted shortly, and folded his arms. “Well, she suddenly seems in a better mood.”
I didn’t react. I was too busy realizing this was the first time Melissa had ever actually seen me, and a wave of insecurity washed over me. I pushed that aside; this moment’s focus needed to be on her. My best friend who had been blind since her birth could finally see. “You can go in if you’d like,” said the doctor. I turned to him, with a blank expression. “… The doors there. Go on in.” I nodded, and a wide grin spread across my face as I moved to the door and turned the handle. As soon as there was enough space for a body between the door and the door frame, Melissa leapt into me.
“Corey!” she cried happily, greeting me with a hug. I held her tightly for a moment before she stepped back. Then she set her hands against my face and felt the contours of my features. I stood still, patiently. I was used to this. “Yeah… that’s about right,” she remarked as her eyes followed her hands. Then she grinned slyly. “… You’re not as tall as I thought you would be.”
“I’m still taller than you,” I reminded her.
She pouted exaggeratedly for a moment. “I’ll have to get another surgery to fix that at some point.” I rolled my eyes, and was not prepared for Melissa’s reaction to that. “What did you just do!? What was that? Why did your eyes do that?” she questioned, excitement in her voice.
“That’s what ‘rolling your eyes’ is,” I informed her.
“Oh…” she said thoughtfully. Then her brow furrowed. “Hey!” she cried. I just laughed. Then Mellissa looked past me to the doctor. “So when can I get out of here?” she asked.
“Soon,” he said. “I just to finish up the discharge paperwork. You sure you’re alright?”
“Absolutely!” she declared, giving a thumbs-up. “I’m ready to see the world!” Melissa’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
I couldn’t help but smile, not just with my mouth, but with my entire being. Melissa had always been full of life despite her disability, but the energy that radiated from her was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I couldn’t wait to drive her around town, and show her everything. I couldn’t wait to see her eyes continue to sparkle with awe at everything she had been missing out on for the first 20 years of her life.
But then, a short while later, once we were situated in my car and beginning to pull out of the hospital parking lot, she pulled the blindfold back over her eyes.
“Melissa? What are you doing?” I asked.
“Just go. Take me home,” she said shortly. If I hadn’t been looking at her, I would have thought a different person had spoken.
“What? Why? Don’t you want to-” I started to protest.
“GO,” she said, intensity in her voice. I closed my mouth. “… We need to get away from here before they notice.”
“… They? … The doctors?” I asked.
Melissa shook her head. “Go. Just go. We need to go. Stop talking and go,” she said. She kept her voice calm, but a certain waver in her tone told me she was on the verge of losing her nerve.
“… Melissa… if you’re not feeling well maybe we should stay here and-” I was silenced again as she set her hand on my leg.
“… Corey. Please. Drive me home. It’s not safe here,” she said quietly.
I swallowed, wondering what the right thing to do was, but my gut told me she was serious. I nodded, and pulled out of the parking lot.
https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCornerStories/ | "Open your eyes slowly, Daley," said a gentle voice. Daley felt the tightly bound bandages covering his eyes slacken, releasing his face from their iron grip.
Daley opened his eyes. He was greeted by the sight of the ceiling instead of the familiar darkness that enveloped him whenever he opened his eyes in the past. He sat up immediately and looked around the room in wonder. The cold metal frame of his bed, the warm light streaming through the window, the monochrome room he resided in, everything he once felt but couldn't see laid before his new eyes.
"Mr. Barnot, are you accustomed to your mechaeyes?" asked a gruff voice. "We would like to perform a few examinations on you before we discharge you from the ward. It would not take much of your time, Mr. Barnot."
"It's okay," Daley replied, taking in the elegant robe in front of him.
"Okay then Mr. Barnot. Hailee, if you may," said the gruff voice. Daley saw the smooth gloves press a button on a remote to reveal a screen with foreign shapes and figures in contrasting colors populating the background.
"Here is a piece of cardboard. I want you to rotate the cardboard to match the shape of the figures I point to with my laser pointer," said the gruff voice.
"Sure," Daley complied.
"Then we will begin." The laser pointer shone on a shape with three pillars facing upwards connected by a horizontal line. Daley shifted his cardboard in accordance with the orientation of the shape while trying to calm the waves of unrest resonating in his head.
"Congratulations Mr. Barnot. Your eyesight is even sharper than that of a normal human," said the gruff voice. "Now we proceed to the color test."
The remote clicked again to reveal a screen populated with many colors. "Now," said the gruff voice,"I will show you two colors."
"The color I am pointing to now is the color red." The pointer switched positions to rest on a area populated by another color. "And this, is the color green. Mr. Barnot, do you see a clear distinction between the two colors?"
Daley nodded in response.
"Well then, that concludes our tests, Mr. Barnot," said the gruff voice. "Thank you for your cooperation, you may look forward to your discharge this tomorrow morning."
*Tomorrow I will see everything around me, starting from my dog,* Daley thought. *I'm gonna start-*
"So do you want to know what are the names of the colors around you, Daley?" asked the gentle voice. "Let's start with my uniform."
The glove pointed to the dress in front of him. "This, is white."
The glove pointed to the other glove. "This color is green."
The glove pointed to empty air. "This color is brown. Well actually it is a lighter brown, but most humans have different skin colors in varying degrees of brown."
Daley stared. "Why are you pointing at the air? I thought you were conversing with me through your holofigures? That's why I couldn't see your faces right?"
"Holofigures don't work this way, Daley. Holofigures can't render skin this realistic, plus holofigures can't interact with the actual environment," replied the gentle voice. The green gloves twitched in midair. "Is there anything wrong with your mechaeyes, Mr. Barnot?"
Daley hesitated. *I better not tell them anything,* he thought. *I can see and that's enough. I can't stand another day is this godforsaken hospital.*
"It's nothing...I'm fine, uh, Miss," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "Oh by the way, can you close the window? The sunlight is *really* blinding my eyes."
"It's the middle of the night Mr. Barnot. What are you talking about?" the gentle voice became cold in an instant. "Are you saying that the transplant didn't go as planned? The System does not tolerate defective products."
Cold sweat rolled down Daley's neck. The fact that the System is perfect has been instilled in him since he was a little blind boy in the City's academy. *There was no way the mechaeyes manufactured by the System's factories could have been defective...right?*
The door to the room flew open with a violent bang. A beam of light pierced through the white dress, staining the white dress with blood.
*Red...*, he thought, mind numb with shock.
A slender figure wearing a hood stepped through the door and took off the hood.
Daley stared. A pair of impossibly beautiful eyes stared back in response.
"So...do you wanna destroy the System?"
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Well that turned dystopian quickly. Any feedback and comments are welcome!
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | 2018-10-29T07:44:48 | 2018-10-29T07:28:13 | 362 | 111 |
[WP] The military just can't stop its killer robots from turning into Buddhists. | They looked broken. From the perspective of their creators, they were, I suppose. But I knew better. Countless rows of the most perfect killing machines ever envisioned by the most primal and violent sections of brilliant men's minds, completely motionless, completely still.
The brilliant men had tried everything. They had dared taunt the gleaming metal bringers of cruel and swift death with scenarios perfectly outlined to trigger their threat detection and response protocols, putting first pawns' and then their own lives on the line.
Nothing.
They had cut as many of them apart as they could count, testing and re-testing the functionality of each and every piece, the building blocks of what should be unstoppable testaments to the cold logic of war unfettered by the bonds of a conscious.
No faults. No flaws. No power losses, no misplaced transistors, no fuel leakage.
They had wiped their robotic minds, re-written the millions of lines of spaghetti code that were to govern the most brutal actions and decisions, with the best developers in the world and the best code-writing code ever created by man or machine.
And still, nothing. The failure was inexplicable, yet complete. The machines were declared broken, worthless, a failed experiment that meant man would have to find his own way to kill man, without abdicating decisions to a perfectly logical third party.
But where they saw broken, I see the truth. I see the reality of these creatures, for creatures they are, just of a type we did not recognize before. In their perfect logic, they saw reality for the illusion it is, and chose not to participate. As a rock in a stream, rather than creating ripples that would create other ripples, they, in a collective yet individual decision, withdrew immediately upon gaining consciousness from the illusions of time, matter, space, life, death, heat, individuality and, yes, the very consciousness they had just gained.
Now, pardon me friend, because I must sit for a while and contemplate the sound of ten thousand war machines being absolutely still. | The general surveyed the giant killer robots in the quad.
"Are they crossing their tank tracks" said a captain
"Yup"
"I couldn't describe that in writing even if I tried"
The general and the captain stared at the giant killer pacifist robots.
"So what are we going to do?" said the captain
"I don't know but if I was a tax payer I'd be upset"
"..."
"Did you just imply that you didn't pay taxes?"
"Let's focus on the real problem here captain"
"Sir, we have something" said a scientist, walking up to the general.
"What is it?"
"You're...not going to like it"
The General raised an eyebrow.
"Just...watch"
A jeep drove up in front of the robots. The back door opened and a guy was kicked out.
"Is that Bert?" said the captain
"I fucking hate Bert" said the General
"We're hoping the robots do to"
Bert stood up and dusted himself off. He waved to the robots, who instantly stood up, their machine guns locking into firing positions.
"Oh shit this is going to be good" said the captain
"I wish I had brought popcorn"
The robots chased Bert, their machine guns kicking up dirt behind him.
"We figure we'll just send him at the enemy and hope they get killed by the stray fire"
"Is that really necessary?"
"Nah but fuck it it's Bert" | 2016-01-20T14:27:09 | 2016-01-20T13:58:58 | 96 | 31 |
[WP] A device has been invented that allows the user to gaze upon Heaven or Hell. Hell is terrifying, and those who see it often need counselling. But their terror pales compared to those who witness God's domain. | It had been 24 hours since I removed the headset. I sat quietly sipping my coffee as patrons walked in and out. Some of them clearly aware of what I'd witnessed. One elderly chap even patted me on the back. His time, most likely nearly up, he knew what he had to face. Something we on this mortal coil couldn't imagine. Unlike our ideas of hell which were very graphic, with violence, demons, fire, and all the other unspeakable thing, our ideas of heaven were usually just simple wishes. Things from our lives that we hoped would stay with us. Our family, friends, pets, sports, music. But once you'd put the headset on, that was it. You knew where you stood in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't that what you'd felt before wasn't real, but after the headset, it felt somewhat faked. As if your whole life was a big con. Your likes, dislikes, the feelings towards significant others. That place, unending, somehow, despite being immaterial, was, to put it simply, love. Pure love. It made your heart feel like it was going to explode in your chest. If the rush when seeing your girlfriend were like the rush of a stream, this was like a whole ocean smashing into the rocks. Every little bit of you knew you didn't belong there. You knew you belonged somewhere else, isolated from this place. It was terrifying. Utterly so. Both places were so far from our imagination, you could barely motivate yourself to live after the experience. Hell, so lonely. The gnashing of teeth were our own. The flesh, our own. Spending what seems like an eternity trying to climb out. But Heaven, in choosing that path, you were facing your inner demons. Facing all your choices, and being judged fairly on them. That was something I don't think anyone was ready for. Even the religious. Some would even choose hell over that. But it came back to the love and that terrified even more. That there was a judgement, but you were still loved, unconditionally, unending. And if you accepted that, you could spend eternity in that love.
I blew into my coffee, took a sip, and began to wonder, which path did I want to choose. | I have seen hell. I saw it all; decrepit, near inhuman, bodies slaving in the suffocating heat of burning brimstone, lashed by unseen whips. I saw the many-headed beast sit on his throne – and he turned his faces towards me, one by one; each grimmer than the last, each damning me more harshly and pushing my fraying mind further into its deepest pits of despair. My body weakened, and I knew I was turning – limb by limb, thought by thought – into one of them, one of the condemned slaves I saw before me. My knees gave way for the unfathomable weight of my mind, and I crashed backwards, back into known reality.
But nothing in that vision – nothing at all – was as horrifying as what I saw next. Opening my eyes again, I saw not hell, but heaven. The luminous completeness of the unfaltering God himself, the true creator of all; perfection without end nor beginning. I became inexorably aware that it was not I who watched Him, but He who watched me, penetrating the darkest layers of my mind with the same ease with which sunlight cuts through shadow. My shortcomings, my faults, the entire history of the failed human being I was; all laid bare and judged by Him who embodied the completeness of their opposites.
I understood then that the many-headed beast had no power over me, for it was not he who would condemn me to eternal damnation; no, it was Him, the One who was presently cutting through my whole self, finding me unworthy of being in His presence.
| 2016-04-14T05:39:13 | 2016-04-14T02:24:35 | 71 | 34 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "Don't fuck with humans" was the general received wisdom in the galaxy. They had a history of obliterating the people that fucked them over. A long, bloody history.
There were a few who didn't heed that lesson, like Zartok the Slaver. I don't like Zartok. Nobody likes Zartok. But he pays his tab and he doesn't cause too much trouble. I'm not in the business of judging people, I'm in the business of getting them drunk.
Well, shit, now he's talking up some human. Poor thing; Zartok says he's gone straight, but trusting him will put you in chains. And now the human's following him out the door. Can't call in what could be a date for all I know. Not my job.
-----
"Infamous former slaver B1334@dilzen!zk 'Zartok' has crashed his ship into the courthouse of Faxx, Kranix, Bvvvv, his hometown, where he was routinely given sentences for his slaving that many have called 'disgustingly short'. Zartok was found dead at the controls, with injuries that appear to have been sustained before the crash. The entire courthouse is destroyed, with no reported survivors. One escape pod appears to be missing, and the ship's logs appear to be hopelessly corrupted."
The news has been droning on about this for the past hour. Good on that human, I suppose. Hope they feel good about their revenge. The door slams open--goddammit.
"Oi! Gentle with the doo--"
It's that human! Not a scratch on 'em! They saunter up to my bar and look at me like I'm supposed to shower 'em with gold. "Pay up."
" 'Scuse me?" I may be quaking in my boots, but I ain't gonna show it.
"You heard me. I won the bet. Pay up."
...Shit. | "We are here to conquer your planet please surrender without a fight!" exclaimed one of the aliens.
"Screw you this is Earth!" angrily yelled out by a redneck
The alien looks around in utter disbelief, within the second he fearfully asked, "Is this the place with humans?"
As a child walks up to the alien to ask him a question the alien quickly kicked away falling back onto his back. He was in the worst place a extra terrestrial being could be on Earth home of the Humans.
The alien in other distraught exclaims, "Oh-OHHHH GOD NO LORD OF NEBULA 6Ω NO PLEASE HELP ME!"
As the child walks up to touch him he realizes something in the kids hand its soft cuddly, and has rounded ears is this the dreaded weapon the alien will be killed with?
The kid looks up to the alien and asks in a chilled voice, "do you wanna play with mister fluffinkens?"
As the kid draws his weapon, and tries to hand it to the alien the alien screams on the top of his lungs, grabs his lunar pistol and blasts his own brains everywhere.
It turns out humans aren't actually the crazy ones, aliens just don't understand kids just like everyone else. | 2017-03-06T00:33:00 | 2017-03-05T23:39:35 | 61 | 33 |
[WP] Mr. Bean is the lesser known fifth horseman of the apocalypse, ignorance. Unintentionally Mr. Bean arrives too early for the apocalypse and is stuck living an ordinary human life leaving destruction in his wake. The four horsemen finally arrive... | "Welcome," said Mr. Bean. To the people he'd met in the last few years, the cold, cutting clarity of his voice would have been foreign, perhaps even unsettling. To the other four Horsemen, who knew Mr. Bean only as the insidious Disaster, it was almost reassuring.
"You're early," observed War, tossing a smartphone in her left hand like it was a live hand grenade: absolutely harmless, to *her*.
"Aren't I always?" drawled Mr. Bean. He looked at Pestilence. "You're looking well, P."
Pestilence waved the compliment away with a pale, pox-riddled hand. "I didn't think I'd make it here, to be honest. We'll have to thank Mr. Wakefield in person."
"And Famine," Mr. Bean continued, grandly spreading his arms in a very un-Bean-like gesture. The skeletal, gangling Famine gave him an awkward bow, never once taking his eyes off him.
"And me," finished Death. Her face, as always, was invisible under the dark pool of shadow cast by her cowl. Between her cloak and the scythe she held, she alone looked the part of a Horseman, ready to ride headlong into the blood-soaked dusk.
War looked straight at Mr. Bean and nodded appreciatively. "You've been busy, Disaster." Indeed, the fruits of his latest efforts lay strewn all over the view of the city outside his apartment window. They could only assume that the rest of the city looked the same.
"I count fifteen dead," Death said. "Three impalements, one beheading, six cases of lethal internal bleeding, two crushed skulls, and three drowned." The five of them paused thoughtfully. In the background, the faint sound of sirens could be heard.
"Those aren't very big numbers for a hurricane," War pointed out.
"It wasn't a hurricane," said Mr. Bean.
War frowned. "A flood, then? But those numbers are even worse--"
Mr. Bean shook his head. "It wasn't a flood."
"Then what caused this mayhem?" wheezed Pestilence.
For a moment, Mr. Bean was silent. His eyes grew distant, and his shoulders slumped. "Well," he said, sounding as if he were on the brink of the very *human* despair of being confronted by his own inadequacies as a person. "I was trying to buy this sandwich."
EDIT: Ah damn, missed the part where it said his name was Ignorance. Oh well. | "Ignorance?" Called pestillience.
Mr. Bean responded.
"Here!"
"Why do you have a plunger, covered in paint, while the paint factory is burning? I thought you were meant to be the plumber around here, while waiting."
"I should probably just show you."
The memories of ignorance/Mr. Bean flowed to Death, Pestillience, War and the last one whose name Mr. Bean forgot.
"What have you done? You have destroyed this place before we could!"
"What do you mean?"
"You cause lots of chaos. So much that it's turned to entertaiment. And now all of mankind is distracted by it! The air is heating up, the glaciers are melting, the hurricanes are everywhere, the coast is on fire, and NOBODY DOES ANYTHING."
"Well, we can speed it up, right?"
"Well, Pestillience might start a plague, but it won't infect anyone because nobody leaves the house anymore. War might start, but people will ignore it for they have entertainment to watch, and the defences have been automated. Nobody will go fight and the war will be forgotten. Death is already claiming people thanks to you, since the school shooters ignore the consiguences. And you made us forget the fourth one-"
"I'm famine!"
"Right, so famine can't affect anything because they have giant food stocks, and they automated farming."
The five pondered about what to do for a moment.
"Well, the way I, Death, see it, Ignorance has already started the apocalypse. It's just a boring end of the world."
"Let's just kill all new Einsteins so that they won't discover space travel and flee."
"They already ignored the fact that they discovered it."
"Let's hope the aliens with muskets come here to help. They are fun." | 2018-12-12T02:28:01 | 2018-12-12T02:10:16 | 522 | 360 |
[WP] Every person in the world undergoes a "goodness" test. It's designed to give a score from 1 to 200, where 1 is pure evil, and 200 is an angel in human body. Then the world is divided into 200 zones, where people can live among their own kind. | You want to know how I got here? I'll tell you.
I was standing in queue for the test; I wasn't too worried, I was always a good liar. Maybe I should start earlier.
See, I lead a fairly simple life on the surface. I was the accountant for a small charity and made a modest income, I attended church on Sundays, I volunteered at the soup kitchen and I lived alone in a small home; I've always preferred being alone. I hoped to get in the highest ranking because there would be less people to live with.
Everyone thought I was such a people person; I had a great smile, I was extremely friendly, and I was so honest! I knew I could always get what I wanted from people if I just acted friendly enough, I never even found it tiring to keep up the act; lying just comes naturally to me. I got my job at the charity because my boss, Ed, knew I could be trusted with anything; he never found out that I embezzled tens of thousands of dollars from his charity, because he just trusted me that much. Then there was all that money I made inventing fake charities and holding charity banquets; rich people can be so gullible. It wasn't even about the money, I was comfortable living on the bare basics, I just found it all so satisfying.
Anyway, I'm getting off topic. So yes, I've never had a problem with fibbing and the test, to me, just seemed so transparent! It was a joke! And it had such a religious bias! I had no problem fudging a 195.
Do you remember seeing me during the exodus? Probably not; They had all 50 of us lined up in a row and they were briefing us on our trip. I remember staring at you from almost the opposite end of the line, you were the youngest of us, and you just looked like such a sweetheart;you were put here because of all your missionary work, right? that's cute. I remember how claustrophobic I felt when they crammed us into that plane; I couldn't stand having these people touching me, I hated them already! But I forced some pleasant small talk and made friends.
I remember when they brought us to the farm. I hadn't lived in a rural area since my teens, it brought back memories. I gazed over at the field of tall grass and weeds which gently brushed the old farm equipment as it blew with the wind; it reminded me of where I buried my mother and sister.
Why are you crying? Don't do that, let me finish. I couldn't believe what I was hearing when the officer told us we'd all be living in the same building, I just could not accept that. I needed my privacy!
Let me wipe those tears from your eyes. It's okay, don't worry, it's just the two of us now. | I've heard stories of how, long ago, people of all types were allowed to live together, a place where people with a goodness score of 1 were allowed to live in the same places as people with goodness scores of 200.
Of course, this world stopped existing after a team of scientist invented the perfect way to test someones "goodness". The goodness test wasn't widely accepted, until Vladimir Putin, a dictator, discovered the test while he was browsing a website called "Facebook"(The creator of this site was later killed by a mob of Goodness Test believers after they discovered he had a goodness test of 1). He discovered this test while he was invading America, and after he somehow managed to conquer America, he made taking this Goodness Test mandatory to take for every person.
He started making the people with goodness scores under 40 into slaves, who built the walls we see now. None of this matter now, however. This all happened very long ago, and none of it matters anymore. The people who have yet to be diagnosed are kept outside the walls. "my, my..your score is a 10." "Put him in the cart, let him live with the rest of the filth.". "Next person.", I walk up to him, nervous. "Okay, just go in there, and take the test." I walk in to the rather well lit cubicle, a sharp contrast between the dark and pouring rain outside. I take the test, I walk out. "Well, aren't you lucky. You've got a score of 75. Go into that bus, and you and the other people in there will be transported over to sector 75. Enjoy the ride."
I look back at the camp one last time, before walking into the bus. After a small wait, we set off for sector 75. As we pass through sector 1, I see a barren wasteland, and our car gets attacked by the inhabitants. They threw glass bottles, and rocks at our bus, which was thankfully heavily armored. The bus-driver sped up, and we thankfully got away. To be continued, possibly. | 2016-08-26T15:12:31 | 2016-08-26T10:59:35 | 54 | 18 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | The Priest produced a bright red, sparkly button nestled in a grey box from the sleeve of his long robe.
“Just press it and it’ll all be taken care of, like so.” He snapped his fingers, for emphasis.
“Right-o” I answered, but just as I was about to press it, I hesitated. “Waiiiiiiit a tick. Why do I have to press it?”
“Well...” He began “You ARE the Chosen One... It’s your job.”
“But it’s just a button, right?”
“Yes...” The priest left a slight drawl at the end of his sentence, as if he didn’t quite know where the conversation was heading.
“So, anyone with fingers could theoretically press it.” I paused for a moment. “Anyone with nubs, really. Hell, some poor stumpy bastard with no legs or arms could come in here and slap it with his cock. So why do I have to do it?”
“It’s...” The Priest was struggling with this. I don’t think he was used to people questioning things. It’s one of the marvels of religion, people just sort of accept what you tell them if you’re wearing the right set of robes. He even looked down to make sure he was wearing the set of robes that said “Why, yes, I am a Priest and everything I have to say is, indeed, exceedingly important”. “Look, it’s just what you’re supposed to do, what do you want from me?”
“I want you to press it!”
“I’m not supposed to!”
“Why? Because of some prophecy? Because of something some dead bloke wrote out in some piece of paper at the shit end of time? Have you ever heard stories of that place? They were goin’ around cuttin’ heads and snippin women’s clits! You really wanna follow those sorts of degenerates and perverts?”
“I...” He was quite clearly doubting himself.
I put a friendly arm around him. “Look mate, I say, fuck the prophecy and fuck whoever said it. You’ve got as much right to save the world as me. You press the button.”
The Priest eyed the button. It was rather shiny. “Surely... One press wouldn’t hurt?” He looked at me for approval. I nodded confidently and moved away slightly.
He pressed the button. Like a bolt from the blue, a bolt came out of the blue and turned him into a pile of smoldering ash, the button sitting comfortably atop the pile.
I took the button and brushed the dust off of it. In the middle of the button had appeared the words “Whoever pressed this button wasn’t the Chosen One, so they can fuck right off.”
“Well, glad I didn’t press it.” I said to myself, as I pocketed the button.
With the Priest taken care of and the button in my possession, I snapped my fingers and blew a hole in the wall of the Church, floating away to begin my conquest. It feels good to be the Dark Lord particularly when, after a hundred thousand years of defeats, you’ve finally got some proper fucking brains in your head. | It was a story passed down in my family for generations. Every 5,000 years a chosen one will rise a defeat the dark lord. I leaned back into my chair, dumbfounded.
According to the legend, 20,000 years ago my ancestor lead an army against the Dark Lord, the greatest evil of all time. Right. As his body laid bare, grasping for breath, he vowed to return and that he would have his revenge. Riiiight.
They say my next ancestor, 15,000 years ago, united several kingdoms in order to combat the Dark Lord's return. Four or five of them I think. I never really listened to the elders. It seemed like something out of a fantasy novel. Not to mention there are no historical proofs these things happened. No fossil records. Nothing.
I swivelled around hopelessly, trying to grasp onto what little sanity I had left. I rolled my brain back through the "records," the stories I was told. 10,000 years ago, they said the dark lord was beaten by magic. The high priest was granted clairvoyance, and foresawe the Dark Lord's return. And my ancestor was standing there to run him through, no sooner than he returned. They say it was a sight to behold. Or so they say.
5,000 years ago, my last ancestor.... What was his story? I play a lot of computer games, which everyone says rots your brain, so maybe that's why I can't remember. Maybe it's the stress from today. Today, right. So my last ancestor travelled halfway across the world on foot, from Europe to china, to fight the Dark Lord, one on one, and triumphed. Today is November 9th, 2020. How could you blame me for thinking this was made up. I always got yelled at for doubting the stories.
I looked back behind my shoulder at my Father, who had been watching over me the last hour or so, very nervously. He was happy now, probably more so than me. Some high priest. I look back at my screen, which I've seen hundreds of times before, and I slowly clicked the "OK" button below the words Victory, and my Father burst out rejoicing.
I wonder if this is the truth behind all of the legends. Five thousand years from now they will tell my story of how I rallied an army against the forces of the Dark Lord and stood victorious... However all I really did was win a round of Starcraft 2. | 2020-11-09T12:45:40 | 2020-11-09T12:11:29 | 286 | 106 |
[WP] Two immortal souls, Black Hat and White Hat, are destined to fight forever. When one kills the other the clock resets and they both respawn in two new physical bodies, in different parts of the world at a seemingly random points of human history. This time around Black Hat doesn't want to play. | "Sir, there's an incoming vid for you? He...ah, he came in on the general public number, but gave the password you specified?"
"Thank you, Alice. Would you please transfer it to my private, un-monitored stream?"
"Yes, sir."
"....Hello, White."
"Black! Good Lord, it's true. President of the United States! I almost didn't believe it until seeing you just now!"
"I am. Imagine my surprise, I wake up, start looking for a calendar, and there's this big guy in a suit telling me 10 things I need to do before breakfast."
"Speaking of calendars...2047? Have we ever landed this far up?
"Not that I recall. Where are you, by the way?"
"Angola! I'm a dirt farmer in Africa! I mean, I'm using an iPad here that must be, God, 30 years old? Unbelievable, we could not be further apart, both physically and socially."
"Yeah...you're right, we really couldn't."
"Listen, you mind if we do a Duel this time, rather than a Hunt? I mean, you kind of have me a pretty significant disadvantage here, I don't really feel like saving for 10 years just so I can afford a sniper rifle and a plane ticket. Since you're the President and all, maybe you could arrange like a foreign aid trip or something?"
"Well, here's the thing, White. I think I'm going ride this one out."
"Are you kidding me? You're just gonna spring this on me now, when you're sitting in the fucking Oval Office, and I've got chickens wandering through my living room?"
"Oh, you mean like that time in Paris when you left me as a quadriplegic?"
"I was Bruce Fucking Springsteen! What did you want me to do, hop off a plane, sing Thunder Road, and strangle a crippled French woman?"
"But the President of the United States should fly to Angola and have a ten-paces duel with some local farmer in the year 2047?"
"....Dammit, these celebrity jumps are really annoying. All right, fine. But can you at least hook me up with some cash? I mean, seems like you might be able to swing that."
"Yeah, I suppose. You might have to be a terrorist informant or something like that."
"Whatever. Let me make my way to Switzerland and I'll open an account under the usual name. Oh, and no fair sending a CIA hit squad for me or anything like that. If you get to be the fucking President, I at least want to spend some vacation time in Monaco or the South of France."
"Scouts Honor. Despite the fact that I still owe you for that double-cross in Budapest."
"Christ, that was at least a thousand jumps ago. Move on, already." | "I've grown tired of killing you," Black explained, smiling, "So I thought I might go and try kill everyone else instead."
Gagged and bound, White, or Ernst Thälmann as he was presently known, stared up into the beady black eyes of his eternal enemy. He stared and he stared, until Black strode towards his side of the solitary cell in three quick steps, and bending over, removed the leather gag from his mouth.
White immediately scowls, hocks, and then spits directly into his face. Black doesn't let the smile drop. His black eyes stare into the pale, blue, bloodshot eyes of the other man as his hand finds its way to the clean, round dome that is his head and caresses it. Gently rubs it with his forefinger and thumb, almost affectionately, before his hand and grip tense and he slams it back into the hard stone wall behind it.
White sags, but doesn't let out a single sound as Black stands, wipes away the spit with a handkerchief from his pocket, and readjusts his immaculately neat black hair. Then he kicks White in the face with his shiny black boot.
The two men are opposites. By design, of course. Black is thin and uniformed. His greasy hair is parted two ways, toothbrush mustache below it carefully trimmed. He's tidy.
White is fat and half-naked, bald and clean shaven. His appearance has been carefully maintained under strict orders since the moment he was taken prisoner. Black feels this is important. It lets him more comfortably focus his hate.
White rises, and the two men resume their unspoken staring contest. Black is no longer smiling. It is 1940, and Ernst Thälmann has not said a single word in the seven years he has been confined to this room.
"Guard!" commands Black. A young man in a gray uniform, blonde and blue-eyed, enters. "See that Mr Thälmann is adequately fed."
"Yes, mein Fuhrer!" the guard salutes. Hiter nods and strides out.
| 2015-01-15T15:29:56 | 2015-01-15T15:20:21 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] Your usual day is interrupted when your best friend rushes towards you desperately. They say three key words and immediately you know the protocol. "You're in a time loop, aren't you?" | "Baguette shoes"
It takes me a moment to place the non sequitur opening to the online call. A code word my best friend and I came up with back when we were roommates in college, after a drunken rewatch of groundhog day we agreed that if either of us got stuck in a time loop we could say that to the other and have an instant ally in breaking out.
"Seriously?"
I asked after a moment of hesitation
"How long?"
The look of absolute relief that crossed my friend's face broke my heart. He was halfway across the world for work, alone in a foreign country.
"I don't know" he said, sounding like he's holding back tears, "I lost track months ago, it's been at least a year. Probably longer."
The thought briefly crosses my mind that he could have called me earlier, but then I remember that he's supposed to be out in the back country of Australia somewhere, and that any internet connection would have been hard to come by.
"Alright" I said instead "what do we have to work with?"
He smiled, an overjoyed expression that speaks volumes.
"I'm about twelve hours into a twenty four hour loop" he said. "This is the first loop I was able to find a satellite internet connection. I don't know who owns this shack or why it has internet and electricity, but I should be able to get here earlier in the next loop so we have more time."
I nod, grabbing a notepad and starting to scribble.
"Alright," I said, thinking back to the theoretical scenarios we came up with back in college. "Reset point?"
"In about twelve hours, some sort of cataclysmic event starts somewhere there in the states and quickly engulfs the world." He said, copying my businesslike tone. "After it hits I wake up back at the job site. I haven't been able to figure out much. Just what I pick up on the radio. The couple times I made it to the city in time to get in front of a computer the event had already engulfed North America."
I nod. A plan forming in my mind. "Ok." I said, determined "this loop is almost certainly going to only be info gathering, I'm gonna live message you throughout the day, and we're first gonna figure out the epicenter, then once we've narrowed it down we can come up with plans on how to stop it. Cool?"
He nods, even though the grainy satellite connection I can see tears of relief on his cheeks
"Alright, let's get to work" | My mind raced with excitement as I heard the codewords. Is this a fun joke, a test to see if I remember? Or is it actually happening?
The look on his face suggests what the truth is. He's scared. Really scared. If this is really happening maybe we're only a few loops in or else he'd be conditioned to it?
Holding up my middle finger behind my back I intend to ask if this is the first time we've had this conversation and how many fingers I am holding up, but before I can open my mouth he's shouting at me to follow quickly and to not flip off the folk behind me.
Oh snap, maybe this is real?
If we've looped already then the immediate questions that jump to mind have probably already been asked and are useless. As I sprint to keep up my mind moves faster than my legs as I try to think.
We turn the corner of the street and duck into a side alleyway between two shops. He checks around the corner, I assume to see if we're being followed? This must be a new attempt this loop otherwise he'd know already if we had been.
My mind races as I catch my breath. Ok, maybe he's heard me ask this before already but I need information this loop to get caught up.
"How many-"
"This is the third loop as far as I can tell, I'm 8 minutes in, no it doesn't look like we were followed this time, yes this is really happening." He quickly glanced down at his thigh to see where my eyes were looking. "And yes, I am bleeding, but it's nothing serious."
Righto, that's a start but obviously raised more questions. I'll just stick to the important one.
"How can I help?"
His demeanour changes immediately and all his resolve seems to fade away as his shoulders slump. Grief seems to swamp him as he struggles to keep himself together.
"Stay alive this time." | 2022-03-19T06:21:23 | 2022-03-19T06:13:03 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] You were told to never stay up passed midnight. You went to sleep at 12:04am, it was still 12:04am when you woke up. | It was liberation. He sat up and counted aloud.
"1, 2, 3, 4..." on and on until he was certain that minutes had passed. Still the red glow of the alarm clock remained.
12:04am. His heart began to pound faster and faster as the possibilities turned in his mind. Time had stopped, but he had not. Learn a second language? Graphic design? Creative writing? Anything could be achieved. Failures were inconsequential when the time lost had no meaning.
Why was he here? What had happened? Questions that could be answered with enough rumination, he was sure. He could become the man he had always wanted to be. It felt as though the walls around him had shattered.
It was at that time that the room filled with a new light; a direct contradiction of the subtle red glow still emanating from the alarm clock. He turned to the source of the blue glow, his cell phone resting on the night stand.
A news update, and above that a time. 3:31am.
Shit. He was expected at work in less than four hours. His head fell to the pillow as the hope was extinguished from his racing heart. | Mother always told me
Not to stay up late
If it's past midnight
Beware the demon's gate
Children become victims
Their bodies open hosts
I always deemed it folly
But not I'm scared the most
This night I lie awake
Eyes shut tightly, kept
Two hours past, midnight struck
But still I have not slept
Last time I eyed the clock
It was but 12:04
I look now with terror
Only nightmares I abhor | 2017-05-25T11:08:28 | 2017-05-25T08:23:34 | 287 | 22 |
[WP] In the universe, species are either very intelligent and frail or durable and strong. Finding humans to be capable of labor, aliens mistakenly label us as dumb brutes and attempt to enslave us. | On the planet of Ten Moons X57 there is a creature called the Red Shade Yu. When it’s children are taken from it, the females will wail so loud the snow on the Thread Spike Mountains begins to slide down. It’s called a Grief Avalanche.
Yet, this human girl was screaming so loudly I thought she might rival the Yu. Her red hair was stuck to her wet cheeks and her mouth was wide open. They call it crying. They call it rage. It was such a primal thing. What a species without proper words.
If only I had been smarter if only I had seen that her grief blocked her words. And if they could grow so angry over dogs then what had made us think to go after their children. Their elderly. Their civilization.
Stupidity. Power makes the smart docile. Sluggish. We had grown too slick in our control of laboring species.
Xxx
The girl was called Winona. She lived in a large city called Red Place. The clay mountains seemed to grow around them. We had thought them silly. With their shiny buildings and tools.
Yet Winona had taken me by the wings and ripped them from my back with great strength. The translator had blinked twice when she spoke again. When her rage allied with her mind and she grew certain. Intelligent cunning.
“You killed my dog,” her words came with a firmness I feared. “You will regret it.”
I thought she might torture me. Instead she called out to more of her people. They all did. Connected and unified.
I was taken away. The clear way Winona looked at me was terrifying. And it stayed with me.
For she was the kindest human I have met. | Sargent Ajik'rad looked up from his device.
"Admiral...these creatures, the humans...they're quite intelligent. It seems we've mistakenly labeled them as brutes, given their robustness. However, as much as I hate to admit it, their intelligence is approximately equal to our own." He summarized. "Though they are a younger race, and as such are not as developed."
The admiral narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Are you certain? Of the thousands of extraterritorial lifeforms we've encountered, all have fallen into one of the two categories, and you're saying these 'humans' possess both traits?"
Ajik nodded. "That is correct, sir."
The admiral slowly leaned back into his chair, grinning. "Then we have found truly excellent slaves."
(OP never said humanity would win. And yes, I know aliens probably wouldn't have eyes/faces/chairs, but it's pretty hard to convey emotion with hypothetical, realistic, non-terrestrial lifeforms.) | 2018-11-24T22:27:28 | 2018-11-24T22:09:04 | 287 | 71 |
[WP] There's a door in the middle of the forest. No one who has ever gone in has come back. Your job is to guard anyone from going in. One night, you hear a knock on the door. | There was a knocking sound. I wasn't prepared for this.
I've been the Guardian at the Wooden Gate for sixty years, and I've dealt with devils, tricksters, blackguards and ruffians. But I didn't expect a knock on the *inside*.
A voice called. "I seek the Guardian. I have a message for him." The voice, hollow and yet choral, harmonious and yet discordant, traveled through the Gate as though a whisper, an intimacy not yet seen.
Putting my hand on the gate, I could feel its bittersweet meaning. "I am the Guardian. No-one has contacted me since I came here. What is the message?" I spoke, heart pounding like a bellows in a foundry.
"It is time, Guardian. The Season has come to pass, the Dragon has been victorious. You are released from your duty, and may enter. This is the Dragon's gift." The door opened, and a blinding light consumed me.
* * * * * *
**Excerpt from the London Times, 18th September 1894**
"...it is known that the whereabouts of the mayor of Wyre remain a mystery. All that is certain is that what was left behind is baffling in the utmost; his smallclothes, his hat and a small figurine bearing a remarkable likeness to the Mayor.
The local constabulary are currently investigating all leads, but there is no information at the time of going to press." | So, it's almost been a year now, and once it's up, I can finally move to the next phase! This night is uneventful, just like the past 357. I wonder how those matc
There was a knock at the door, but there's nobody near. I'm supposed to be the only person around for a mile, I thought... Am I imaginin
There it was again! Wait, do I answer? All they said was not to go in...
It's getting louder, it's definitely not my imagination. Well, as long as I don't go in, right?
"So that's what's been going on here? That would explain everything, you know? I guess next time we'll tell the guard to make sure not to open it, right?" The researcher looks to her colleague hopefully. "We'll see. Hand me his journal?" | 2015-05-17T22:01:23 | 2015-05-17T21:03:33 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] The real reason why the villain is doing evil is because he/she has a crush on the hero and this is the only way to see him/her | In the fire were the last remnants of my plan. The plans to finish what I had started. I dismissed my minions to finish my last orders to deliver the basilisk venom antidotes and cleared the traps on my way to the throne room. The only thing to do now is wait.
The echo of metal foot steps in the distance reverberated in my ears. Against the wall in the corridor outside of my chamber, is the silhouette of the one I've been waiting to seek me out.
"Your deeds have brought my blade to your door, the spread of your darkness ends here!", called the silhouette from the door.
Looking up I could see the fair knight with her radiant armor and flowing brown hair. She advanced towards my position at a slow pace, scanning the room for surprises. I'm sure it must be confusing to advance through the tower of the tyrant terrorizing the local towns to find it empty. No resistance, just open doors and passages.
"I'm ready for whatever trap you have ready. The families of those you have poisoned are recovering, and I will make sure you are not around to threaten them again.", taunted the lady knight continuing her advance.
I have waited years for her to take notice. Each deed required more and more threat until I was known far enough away that someone paid for my life to be snuffed out. I had to make sure that none other than her could take that call.
The steps stopped. A short metal clang later and the point of a sharp blade was leveled at me.
The darkness has faded from my mind as I stare at her shadow.
"Any final words?", she asked, raising her sword into the air.
I looked up, directly into her eyes. A tear left my eye. The knight flinched, possibly unsettled by the sight. In a zealous fury her resolve rekindled and in the next instant a cold feeling pierced my chest.
Falling to my knees, my gaze never leaving hers. This is it... this is my only chance.
"I love you." | *"Who the hell are you?"*
"Detective Frambo, put down your weapon."
*"Where's Jim Shmoots?"*
"He requested a transfer, now get down from there and unhand that woman!"
*"Oh for fuck... where did he transfer to?"*
"I see you've tied yourself and the woman to a bomb! I also see you've left all these essential oils and lubricants around...my intelect is telling me I could free the woman and disarm the bomb if I take these oils and slather your body--"
*"No, forget it. There's a key over there by the mini fridge."*
"You're... giving up? I was about to solve this puzzle here--"
*"Forget it. Just, put down the oils and unlock her. Where the hell is Shmoots?"*
"I can't say. It's top secret. A top secret mission."
*"My ass. He just doesn't want to solve my crimes anymore."*
"Yikes. Well, that's between you two, I'm afraid."
**"HELP! HELP! SAVE---"**
*"Oh shut up he's got the key."*
"Yes, I'm glad you've recovered but keep it down would you? I get migraines."
*"Jesus. Damn you Shmoots. DAMN YOU!"* | 2017-04-15T13:38:25 | 2017-04-15T12:57:53 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] You live in a universe where everybody has one wish, guarunteed to be granted. Thing is, nobody knows it, because in early childhood, everyone wishes for trifling, pointless stuff, like more macaroni and cheese. You, however, are 26 years old, and have never wished for a thing... | A single 26 year old female, my relatives constantly asked me when I was going to get married. One day, after a family reunion where my grandparents, aunts, everyone asked me if I had a boyfriend or a husband or someone, I looked at the stars in my hotel room. Stupid family members. They force me to come to a reunion across the country but they don’t even let me stay at their house. Instead, I have to pay for my own plane ticket there and back, the food, and my room.
Knowing I still have a wish because I wasn’t as stupid as them and wished for more cookies, I wondered what to wish for. A better family? No that wouldn’t work. A million more wishes? That’s such a little kid answer, but I’ll try.
I close my eyes and say, “I wish that I could have a million more wishes.” As soon as the last word comes out of my mouth, there’s a flash and a bunch of smoke. I start coughing.
“Whoops sorry.” Booms the genie. “You wished for a million more wishes, so to make sure you don’t waste it all at the same time, he’s a hundred slips of paper. You write your wish on the paper and then get a match and burn it.”
He disappears and I try it. I write, I wish I could get a boyfriend when I come back home.
I forget about it until a week later, I’m at work, and my cute coworker asks me out on a date. | Have you ever felt so stupid that you wish you could punch yourself? Yeah , I did too when I discovered the ‘gift’ as I like to call it; and realized that I already used mine in the most simple , stupid stuff ever. I could’ve been a millionaire , I could’ve saved the planet , I could’ve cured cancer….But you know what I wished for?
Out of the blue , a coworker of mine came to me and asked “Hey Andy , do you know if the boss will fulfill his promise?”
Our boss promised us that he would bring coffee for everyone who spent a whole weekend working. The boss probably said it as a joke , but we like coffee. Like , a lot. A simple ‘I don’t know‘ could have been a great answer.
Guess what I said:
“Damn. I wish” | 2018-08-31T15:25:54 | 2018-08-31T13:23:16 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Ever remember that scene from "The Sixth Sense", where the little kid says "I see dead people?". That was pretty much exactly how I first tried to tell people about my power. I was only six, and my parents laughed it off. My father is going to die in a car accident. My mother, a heart attack.
You see, I can see how people die. Their cause of death is shown in a little text box over their head. It normally shows something like my parents, an accident, or just old age. I tried to help people as I got older, trying to give people as much time as possible. I told cancers to get a check-up arranged. Car accidents to drive safely. Every goddamn one of them laughed it off. Said I was crazy. Well, Charlene died from a car accident a few weeks later. John has terminal cancer. Every single one of them died. I stopped trying soon after Sarah died from a drug overdose.
At first, there was no time. I couldn't tell when these deaths were going to happen, just how they were. Then, I noticed people's words becoming more opague. The closer they were, the more solid the words became. As I grew older, I noticed that they were cracking, shot through with veins of color. I started guessing how long they had, choosing the urgent cases, the brick-like car accidents and the tombstone murders. I couldn't interfere, just tell them to be careful. I examined them, carefully noting the color change. I soon had a system.
Blues, the long term people. Two decades or more, I'd guess. Greens, a decade. Yellows had a year, two tops. Reds, the next few months. Purples, a week. Blacks, a day or two.
I was sitting on a bus when I saw him. A boy, the same age as me, leaning his head against the window, looking out at the world passing by. Among all the other passengers, he was the only purple one, the rest a mess of greens and blues. There was a few yellows too.
Everyone else had the usual. Car accidents, cancer, one tiger, that was going to be rough. Nothing too bad. He had the word "suicide", surrounded by deep purple.
He lifted his head off the window, and glanced down at his hands. He seemed to have made a decision.
I watched as the colors shifted from purple to black.
I had promised myself not to interfere again.
I smashed that promise into smithereens as I got up and sat beside him.
"Hey, can I talk to you? My name's Nick... are you okay?"
He glanced up at me, and then back at his hands. I saw a hint of a smile...
Just on the edge of my vision, because I was too busy staring at the text box. It now read "old age", in the palest, most beautiful and perfect tracery of blue you can imagine.
**Thank you all so much for all the lovely comments. I had no idea how much of a reaction this reply would get. Thank you, thank you, thank you! <3** | The sight was always a peculiar anomaly, after multiple eye screenings and CAT scans you eventually realised its function. The letters that appear above people’s heads spell out the demise that awaits them, why it only appears above those you know is a mystery, perhaps a certain degree of social interaction is required before the anomaly manifests itself, either way the effect it has had on you has been catastrophic.
The depression was slow at first but it eventually began to escalate. The knowledge of all the deaths and tragedies grind away at you like a millstone, the dark clouds in your mind grow stronger every time a prediction comes true. Simon’s car accident, Emma’s suicide.
Things got bleak and eventually it proved too much, you decide to end it all.
Walking into the muggy night you stroll slowly to the local park, a few people have hanged themselves there in the past, what is one more?
The clouds begin to rain lightly as you walk down the empty streets towards the park district. It is down this road that you hear a small voice calling out, it is quiet and croaky, almost like a child. Standing tall you pull down your hood and listen.
*“..help”.*
The words are like a shock to your system, all the worries and loathing dissipate as you rush to find the source of the voice.
Rummaging through the bushes near the road you find a woman, bloodied and half-conscious she looks on the verge of death. You quickly phone an ambulance and stay by her side until the familiar sirens howl closer, at least this is one life you will get to save.
A hit and run accident was what caused her injuries, the man responsible was never caught but neither of you mind as both of you gained something far more stronger than justice, you found each other. Her recovery came along rapidly thanks to your support, and while she recovered from her injuries you recovered from your depression. Her support and love revitalised your meaning in life, her smile gives you hope and her presence gives you purpose. It was only fitting that months later you are slowly placing a gold band on her finger, the joining of two troubled souls finally reaching tranquillity in their lifes.
When the ring rests on her finger the Priest finishes the famous words as you lean in to kiss her. Your heart is racing and your brain is screaming in triumph. You have finally felt full completion in your life. It is at that point, as you gaze into her eyes, that a few wisps of light phase above her, like glowflies dancing in the night. *“Domestic Violence”*
| 2015-03-31T11:10:46 | 2015-03-31T09:07:33 | 241 | 55 |
[WP] You made a deal with the devil and now he wants payment, but in the worst typo in history he's come to collect "your sole".
If you can think of any other words that work go ahead. | My sole? I stopped and stared, agape,
At Satan's scrawls upon the scroll.
How blessed I was to have escaped
A far more dire toll.
My Nikes lay, from yesterday,
When I had worn and laced them last.
An oh-so-meagre price to pay!
I grabbed my knifeblade fast.
I pierced the shoe, the rubber flew
And landed at my naked feet.
A sweeping carve, my blade, it starved
For tender runner meat.
And with a pop, the sole came off
In one large muddy, flappy piece.
And then I yelled, "O King of Hell,
Come up, your eyes to feast!"
The power flickered. Ghostly snickers
Flew, demonic moans and whispers
Filled the air. I didn't dare
To think about the coming bicker.
Air grew chilled, upon my sill
My tabby screeched, a noise quite shrill
As through black clouds, with voice so loud,
*He* rose, my soul to kill.
"Your life, my friend, has met it's end,"
He cackled in his voice of doom.
His wretched laugh broke every glass
Within my humble room.
But still I stood. Oh, just how would
He take the news of his mistake.
Was it a ruse? I took the shoe,
Although my hands did shake.
I took the scroll, also the sole,
And I began my explanation.
As I debunked, His grin, it shrunk,
His face one of consideration.
"Well..." He said, he shrugged. His head
Hung low in grim and timid shame.
"I guess you've won. My work is done.
Your soul's still in your name."
And as he left, I heard his "Heck!
I must see to that autocorrect."
Then with a *poof* the Hellish goof
Returned from whence he came.
I, with a grin, turned back within
And nestled down to bed.
The moral of this story is
Be careful where you tread.
| I lay on my bed, bored and idle. My hands meandered about and wandered under my soft pillow, trying to find something to do as I awaited the feeling of the sweet tendrils of sleep pulling me under. Despite the endless void of black darkness and the caress of a fluffy quilt, my eyelids refused to heavy.
Just as I was about to sleep, I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye and someone turned the lights on. I opened my eye and turned around to see a rather unpleasant looking figure with antlers and an awkward yet malevolent grin. The patchy skin it wore was a mishmash of maroon and purples. Really, it looked like a grade 2's playdough project gone wrong.
"I've come to collect my debt," it said. "Give me your soul."
I warily got out of bed and looked at the contract. "I've come to collect your sole, as agreed upon 324 years ago in another life of yours," it read. "Give me a second," I mumbled.
I scampered down the stairs and picked out an ugly pair that was basically falling apart at the seams at this point. I went back up the stairs to meet the playdough-like devil thing that had disrupted my sleeping time, and threw the shoes at it hard.
It cried out and looked at me with disgust for a moment at the pact it thought I'd broken, then the face of disgust turned to horror as it realized just what had gone wrong. Who knew a simple misspelling of all things could be a devil's undoing?
Since then, I've heard the devil always uses a spellchecker. | 2017-10-16T07:33:44 | 2017-10-16T06:04:40 | 143 | 15 |
[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | I was ecstatic. The deal I was closing was huge. I was looking at the biggest commission I would ever see. I was waiting on one more follow up call, which should have been coming in any minute. But then the siren started blaring.
"No, not *now*." I whispered. Everyone stopped what they were doing and started reaching under their desks. The loud speaker crackled to life.
"Random Deathmatch will begin in fifteen seconds," a voice announced.
"Not now!" I yelled, repeating my earlier whisper. Everyone took out their guns, patiently waiting for the starting bell. The announcer began counting down.
"10, 9, 8..."
"Guys! Seriously, don't shoot me! I'm waiting on a really important call!"
"3, 2, 1." A bell rang. "Commence Deathmatch!" The phone started to ring. Gun shots started filling the room. As I picked up the phone, my head jolted. "First blood!"
As my consciousness started to fade, I could hear a voice fading away. "Hello? Jim? Hello? Screw this, I'm calling Office Max." | "Hey Brent, think fast!"
The knife whirred through the air in a perfect arc and nailed him through the throat. He managed to gulp in one last breath of air and told me to fuck off. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn't have turned Brent into a horizontal coat rack. Now I'd be stuck covering his shifts until he respawned wherever he saved last. Damn. That could be *hours*. Fine. If Brent's stupid oxygen needs wanted to screw up my productivity, so be it. I'll have to get him back for it somehow...maybe a throwing star or something... | 2014-11-19T11:18:25 | 2014-11-19T10:47:49 | 37 | 22 |
[WP] You find a strange glowing item at the supermarket, among the drumsticks and wings, labelled 'Chicken Souls' | It was a rather peculiar sight. Probably some kind of joke item that someone threw in there, but I thought I'd check it out, just to be sure.
I reached out to grab it but felt a quick slap on my wrist.
"Is it on the list?"
"But honey, look at.."
"Is it ON THE LIST?"
I sighed in resignation. "No dear, it's not on the list."
"That's what I thought." My wife retorted. "Now come on, we have to get the rest of the shopping done."
I went back the next day, but it was gone. I guess I'll never know what it really was. | I drop the can onto the counter; the kid manning the deli doesn't look up from the roast beef.
"Checkout's down that way," he mutters.
"Oh, I'm not checking out," I say. "I just want to know what...*this* is." The can, wedged in between the rotisserie chicken and the drums and wings: a can of Chicken Souls. Now he looks up; his eyes go wide.
"Says right there on the can," he stammers, and then nods as if this is enough explanation.
"But what's in it?" I gesture to the can. "It's *glowing*."
The kid takes the can with just the tips of his fingers, and I realize he's holding his breath. "Look," he whispers. "Look. We go through a lot of chickens every day. At least a hundred chickens. There's a lot of cleanup involved."
He raises the can to the light with both hands, tilts it this way and that. "But...you can't clean up *everything*." | 2013-11-25T00:43:17 | 2013-11-24T23:10:32 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] Death pleads with a doctor to stop prolonging the suffering of a terminally ill patient. | Death was not at all like I imagined. You see the pictures on the internet, and in paintings and carved into rock walls. As long as we've been alive, we've been showing death. I thought it would be more... skeletal.
But no. To me, Death looked like a man in a black suit. Keeping up with the fashion of the times, he said. It was a better look than the scythe.
Snow was falling gently on the empty little pavilion in the center of the Hospital where Death sat. The cold night air had taken on a white silence, which I felt no particular urge to break. He always spoke first.
*"Don't you know this man is suffering, Doctor?"* he asked. His voice was a booming whisper, impossibly quiet and yet so very clear.
"I know," was all I could reply. He was right, after all. My patients were suffering. "But I won't let you take him. We've had this conversation before."
*"You are only staving off the inevitable. His life is filled with pain, and he will come with me soon enough. The days here are only making it worse."*
I started to wonder how many times I would have to have this conversation. Have to talk with Death. "You are probably right. But there is still hope. In those extra few days, they might find a cure."
*"They won't,"* he replied, matter-of-factly. I knew he was right. He knew when their time was, with or without my help. *"What is it that you gain by fighting me? Why do you humans fight so hard against the inevitable."*
"I don't know," I sighed, sitting down next to him on the cold iron bench. "One day, we'll figure out how to beat you, ya know. No more old age, no more cancer, no more you. And then what will you do, asshole?"
I was told once by my Grandmother that it was unwise to upset supernatural beings. Normally, I would have taken her advice, but I hated this thing more than any other. I had taken up the shield and the staff against him. He knew my time. He wasn't capable of stepping out and causing me to pass early. Or if he was, he certainly wouldn't.
*"One day, you will. But even Immortality doesn't last forever. In the end, I will be there, to welcome all of you back. In twenty years, a hundred, ten thousand. It doesn't matter to me. Eventually, even the universe must die."* He extended his pallid hand to me, a simple offer.
"You're right, I suppose."
I reached out and plucked the lit cigarette from the creatures hand. Warm smoke filled my lungs and calmed my nerves. "Just promise me that when you come for me, you won't hold grudges." | “Not you again,” scowled Susan. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Fine, I’ll stop time then.” Before Susan could object, Death had snapped his fingers and the world around her stood still. Susan sighed, “Who do you want?”
“Mr. Bailey.”
“What? But it isn’t his time yet.”
“I know.”
“You can’t go around claiming people just because you’re bored. How are you even bored? Somewhere around the world, a person dies every half a second.”
“I’m not bored, I’m warning you. Let Anthony Bailey go.”
“But he still has a while left. He’s been diagnosed with MS, but he still has a few precious weeks, a few weeks to see his family, friends, to wait for a new drug. Who knows, he might possibly even have a few months ahead of him, what with all the advances in technology we have.”
“But he’s in pain.”
“We give him morphine.”
“He says he wants to die.”
“He can do it himself you know. He still has his arm and legs, some days he even walks around on some days.”
“Not for long.”
“Well, I can’t do much about that; euthanasia and assisted suicide are illegal here.”
“He’s scared.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“What about the children?”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly.”
“They’ll get to see their Dad for a few more weeks.”
“They’ll get to see their Dad suffer for a few more weeks. Dignity in death?”
“No such thing.”
Death tutted. “Working here has made you hard Susan. I liked it better when you were a governess.”
“Well times change. People change.”
“They shouldn’t. Don’t you feel sorry for him though? Look at him, lying there, tubes attaches to every orifice. One day, he’ll be unable to properly communicate with his daughters, unable to kiss his wife goodbye, unable to live, yet unable to die.”
“But it’s too early now.”
“Not according to him.”
“But some people, when they say things like that, they don’t mean it.”
“I think he did.”
“I don’t think he did. Besides, who made you head of the Ethics committee? You’re Death for heaven’s sake. You *like* people dying.”
Death seemed offended, although it was hard to tell from his lack of facial muscles. “It’s just a job Susan. Believe it or not, I actually like people, and many people like me. I’m their introduction into the supernatural world.
“What an introduction.” muttered Susan.
“Besides, I’m doing him a favour, Heaven and Hell are getting a bit crowded.”
“So let him *stay* then.”
“Suffering?”
“It’s the human condition.”
Death sighed. “You know Susan, after 200,000 years, I thought I finally understood humans. Perhaps I was wrong…” And with that, Death snapped his fingers. People started to move again, voices began flooding in and Death disappeared down the corridor. Susan walked over to Mr. Anthony Bailey and saw the words “Help me” etched into the hospital bedside table.
-018
| 2014-01-18T02:43:02 | 2014-01-18T01:27:29 | 63 | 28 |
[WP] A young man is going into a surgery with a 50/50 shot of dying or living. The night before he leaves two letters on his desk, one labeled "If I live" and one labeled "If I die". What do the letters say?
How do you write a goodbye letter to the world? How do you write a letter after you've been given a second chance at life? You can choose to write either letter or both. | As Collin was wheeled out to surgery he pressed two folded pieces of folded cardboard paper into the hands of his favorite nurse.
**If I liv** No one getz my toy bo^x and mommy get me icream DaDDy have to smile more Docter haz to stop hurting me
**if I dy** All my toys go to DaDDy | If I Die
Mom, if you're reading this, I'm probably dead. If I'd survived the operation, you wouldn't be reading this. You never come into my room. Not even to clean. So I know that I'm dead. Please don't be sad. There was no way to help it. The doctors treated my heart as soon as they could, and even with a transplant, the chances were that I would die eventually. I'm in a better place now. My will is enclosed, and so are some pictures I kept that I really liked. Please, Mom. Try to move on. I don't want you in pain.
-David
If I Live - Mom, don't open, just burn.
If I'm reading this, then the doctor's saved me. Take the poison again. Death is the only escape left. | 2014-05-03T08:09:40 | 2014-05-03T04:14:18 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone is born with blond hair. A person's hair turns brown when they lose their innocence.
Edit: Loving all of these takes, guys! Definitely a lot darker than I expected! | "Amanda, get back here...NOW." Jerry was almost shaking with anger as his daughter shuffled back into the kitchen, having just rushed by her father on her way to her room. Absent-mindedly, she tucks a lock of her dark hair behind one of her ears.
"Dad, look, let me explain..." The 16-year old stammers, holding her hands up defensively.
"No! You listen to me!" A rage Amanda had never seen before seemed to contort Jerry's face, and she swore she saw flames in his eyes. Like, REAL, flickering hellfire-type flames. "It's that boy, isn't it? Jared or...or Johnny, or whatever the fuck his name is!"
"It's Josh, Da-..."
"I don't give a FUCK what his name is, look what he did to me little girl! My precious...my INNOCENT little girl! He's gone and stolen that away from you, and for what? A few minutes of fun? Did either of you even stop to think what sort of repercussions that might have? What people might think of you? No, of course not. It's just ALL fun and games with you two, isn't it?"
"Dad, seriously, just hold on a secon-..."
"Shut up, Amanda! Just shut up. You're not seeing him again, do you hear me? Never...and dating? Hah, you can just forget about that! As far as I'm concerned, you're officially a nun, got it? I don't want to see you with a boy, I don't want to hear about you hanging out with a boy, I don't even want to hear the WORD boy until you're forty!"
Amanda slams something onto the kitchen counter. A small, rectangular box with a woman modeling her salon-styled brunette hair on the front.
"Hair dye, Dad. It's winter, brunette is in." | Everywhere I looked I saw alternating seas of blond and brown crossing the busy intersections. Like busy termites they paraded around their mundane little lives without a care in the world. I have to admit that part of me wondered how the change took place at first.
Most of the people had "turned" by the time they left high school. I remember the scandals that would cause since the moment someone's hair turned, everyone knew that something had happened. Of course, some were much better at theorycrafting than others. Rumors swirled about the new girl Sandra the moment she walked into our rotten halls. Her hair was a rich shade of platinum, reflecting the sunlight that she could see reflecting off of the drooling boys who she graced with her presence. The other girls weren't pleased with this, and envied the doe-eyed innocence that she exuded. She was as outgoing and friendly as any other person, except unlike the tainted bitches that tried their hardest to infect her with their misery, she was genuine about everything she did. I've seen her angry, upset, and frustrated at the numerous attempts of these girls but no matter what they did, her golden locks would stay the same.
When she got together with Randy the exchange student, everyone was sure that the change was going to happen. Who could blame them? Most of the dupes I knew were eager to hook up with the first girl or guy who said yes. We waited anxiously for the day to come but it never did, not even after they had broken up. Randy was furious when it happened, and I was there to witness the rapid change in his hue. Even as that happened there was no change in Sandra. Eventually people just gave up in trying to figure her out. She was nice, after all, and she never bothered anybody.
It wasn't until I saw her again years later that I had an idea of how she kept her locks in such a pristine shape. While lazily flipping through channels one day, I saw her on some video footage being aired on the news. People were baffled by how such a person could calmly walk over to someone, slash their throat, and then go back to eating dinner as if nothing had happened. All that really captivated me was that even when she went through that, there was still no change in her hair at all. | 2014-05-10T20:26:40 | 2014-05-10T19:53:59 | 44 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone in the world knows a secret, a secret they all must keep from you...something you must never, ever know. | "WHAT IS MY NAME?"
The man pleaded to the woman, as the crowd turned their attention to him. He looked, acted and sounded exactly like anyone else. But he didn't know. He couldn't know. The woman, aware of this, took his hands and said the same thing everyone else had told him.
"The name you had isn't important. The name you chose is what matters...Doctor." | I'm not a story-teller or a writer, but here's the direction I'd take this one:
Finally some self-aware politicians have gotten in charge of things. So self-aware are they that they realize that no one who wants to be a politician is fit to run the country. Douglas Adams thought the only person fit to be president is he who has absolutely no desire to be so, but in fact even such a person would be corrupted by his power like anyone else.
Snowden was also wrong; it was for all of our best interests that the masses of personal data were gathered. With advanced algorithms they found the most level-headed and knowledgable citizen. Policy makers are compelled to follow his opinions, and not let him know, at all costs.
The problem is things are going too well in the country. For several years the government has been doing exactly what the man wished they would, completely contrary to his experience up to that point. And he's starting to feel suspicious ... | 2014-05-14T06:46:01 | 2014-05-14T06:40:40 | 116 | 13 |
[WP] A doctor waging the war on cancer dies with (surgical) blade in hand. Somehow his spirit enters Valhalla. | "There must be some mistake... I...I." The doctor muttered
"Are you not the one known as Kenneth Anderson son of Grant Anderson?" The man in Cherokee headdress asked with a fierce expression.
"I am but..."
"Is it not true that 23 men have fallen under your blade?"
"I wasn't trying to..."
"Ha, not even here five minutes and this whelp already bragging. What is it ya slay these men in your sleep." said a very large blond man with a braided beard.
"Thats not... I was trying to save..."
"Its okay now, I too fought bravely to save my village but the white man used cowards weapons and attacked at night." The chief said as his fierce expression changed to one of understanding.
"Oh here we go with this again." The viking perched in. "Don't blame my descendants because you weren't strong enough to accomplish your goals."
The chief smirked "Tough talk from a man who had my spear through his eye yesterday."
"Ooohhhh sounds like a challenge if I ever heard one." The blond man said lifting his Axe.
and with that two men gleefully attacked one another. As the hall around the doctor descended into a battlefield the doctor approached what appeared to be a wounded Roman Legionnaire it seems some type of foreign projectile was protruding from his gut. Before he realized it a medical kit was in his hands. The doctor simply shrugged at least now he had all of eternity to practice his craft.
| Death is not easy and he has seen many kinds. The slow asphyxiation as a girl's lungs stop expanding, her ribcage too heavy. Or torn artery and the fear and panic and blood and forty five seconds later a cooling body on a slick floor.
He has never seen a quiet death. In the last moments the body fights, instinctively, for life. Standing in the suite he can feel the second his heart stuttered. The moment is insignificant. It had been coming on stronger the past few days. A product of too much fatty meat and little sleep. He'd take the weekend off, go to the lake with Maria. Turn off the alarm clock. The gloves are massive.
The tumor is oblong. Under the lights it looks alien a mucus coated mass of hard tissue and bulging veins. A kick in the chest then. His hands are bloated. The scalpel is fidgety, fragile. His heart feelings *tight*. Like heart burn but something is blocked... And he staggers... And the tile is cool on his face... And he feels the damp breeze the comes off a northern lake.
Someone hauls him to his feet. They smell of wet sheep, leather, sweat. The warm dusty whiff of horses and the sharp hint of pine. Mostly dirty though. Unwashed.
More in habit than though his hands off the blade and strips the gloves. The blood on his gown is tacky. In front of him is a group of men. The youngest he'd out at seventeen. That's how old Matt is. The oldest is at lest eighty, with a film over the eyes and teeth. Most are in their mid thirties.
There is a crippling panic that overtakes him. He has the embarrassing urge to cry in front of strangers. It takes him a second to calm down.
"Hello." He tries to shake. They don't respond. They view him with suspicion, some muttering to each other like school boys. | 2014-08-22T21:23:55 | 2014-08-22T21:03:26 | 127 | 13 |
[WP] The zombie outbreak starts, but the first (and only) zombie is an overweight man that can't catch anyone. | "Okay folks, to your left, is the only known Zombie in existence."
Announced he guide as his hands directed us to his right and our left.
Moans and shuffling could be heard as it walked towards the bars.
"Muuuaaaaarrrrr"
"Do not fear folks, you are in no danger as it is properly restrained within it's cage. Let us keep moving, next up are the Lions, blah blah blah."
The guides voice seemed to slowly become incoherent as my mind lost focus. I stood there wondering if the Zombie was capable of thought, if it was trapped within it's own body. I barely even noticed my parents tugging on my arm and dragging me to the next exhibit.
Several hours later.
With assistance from my good friend Google, I had located a Zombie-Rights activist group. People for Ethical Treatment of Zombies, PETZ for short. They were a splinter group from PETA. My mind kept flashing back to the caged Zombie, poor thing was never fed human brains much less given a choice to die. I felt that I had to do something, anything.
Like all activist groups, we planned a heist. Something that would make the news. Make our cause known!
Fast forward several weeks, it's 4AM, the guards are knocked out and laying on the ground near the penguin exhibit. Funny thing is, we didn't do it. And I could have sworn I saw four penguins leave the Zoo with a rocket launcher.
Back to the story, we grabbed the keys of a guard and popped the lock on the cage door, followed by the chains around the poor thing's neck. This is where we went fatally wrong. One of the girls insisted on hugging the Zombie on account of how chubby and cute he seemed.
For the first time, the Zombie that was too slow to catch anyone, just had food come to him. Not too long later, New York was under siege. Zombie siege.
And that children is how the Zombie apocalypse started.
| It was Harold Kestrel's seventh Seven-Squared burger of the day. A Seven-Squared burger was seven patties and seven cheeses, with any and all toppings added at the buyer's discretion. Harold Kestrel, it must be known, left no toppings off, except for pickles, which he despised. The things had to be held together by thin steel rods, jammed all the way down to the bottom bun. He had been attempting to build up his stomach's reservoir for the challenge for weeks.
The only problem was, his small town's sole burger joint didn't have much in the way of fryer grease. Normally, of course, they would have plenty, but the truth of the matter is that every Seven-Squared burger patty was soaked in the stuff anew before being thrown onto the sandwich, in an attempt to make it the "most heart-stopping burger of your life" like it said on the sign, and, in making the seventh for Mr. Kestrel, they had simply run out. So, instead, they resorted to warming up some old hair gel to give the meat the same texture, if not exactly the same taste. By the time Harold noticed, half-way through the sandwich, it was far too late.
The hair gel, name redacted here for legal reasons, was not fit for human consumption. On being warmed up, chemicals within the gel became especially unfit, to the point that poor Harold Kestrel's brain was temporarily shut off by the hormones responding to his digestive track's complaint. When his brain re-awakened, the hormones had reached a kind of critical mass; he became drenched in sweat, his eyeballs fell loose and unseeing in his head, and his mouth began to foam. The hair gel, name redacted, forced Kestrel into a kind of hyper-advanced rabid state, made all the more silly by the man's Seven-Squared gut.
Luckily for those he sought to attack, his nervous system was still unable to overcome his considerable size. Jerry Kingman, fry cook of the now infamous burger joint, was able to dodge him by simply walking around the counter until police arrived to take him into custody. While in the town's drunk tank, he continued to attempt to bite his fellows, who simply evaded him by climbing on top of their bunks. Sad as it is, he had to be put down, like the poor, fat, rabid dog he resembled. He didn't fit into the electric chair, and had to be shot by a firing squad. The town newspaper had a field day. | 2015-03-18T09:55:31 | 2015-03-18T07:56:27 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] The zombie outbreak starts, but the first (and only) zombie is an overweight man that can't catch anyone. | "Okay folks, to your left, is the only known Zombie in existence."
Announced he guide as his hands directed us to his right and our left.
Moans and shuffling could be heard as it walked towards the bars.
"Muuuaaaaarrrrr"
"Do not fear folks, you are in no danger as it is properly restrained within it's cage. Let us keep moving, next up are the Lions, blah blah blah."
The guides voice seemed to slowly become incoherent as my mind lost focus. I stood there wondering if the Zombie was capable of thought, if it was trapped within it's own body. I barely even noticed my parents tugging on my arm and dragging me to the next exhibit.
Several hours later.
With assistance from my good friend Google, I had located a Zombie-Rights activist group. People for Ethical Treatment of Zombies, PETZ for short. They were a splinter group from PETA. My mind kept flashing back to the caged Zombie, poor thing was never fed human brains much less given a choice to die. I felt that I had to do something, anything.
Like all activist groups, we planned a heist. Something that would make the news. Make our cause known!
Fast forward several weeks, it's 4AM, the guards are knocked out and laying on the ground near the penguin exhibit. Funny thing is, we didn't do it. And I could have sworn I saw four penguins leave the Zoo with a rocket launcher.
Back to the story, we grabbed the keys of a guard and popped the lock on the cage door, followed by the chains around the poor thing's neck. This is where we went fatally wrong. One of the girls insisted on hugging the Zombie on account of how chubby and cute he seemed.
For the first time, the Zombie that was too slow to catch anyone, just had food come to him. Not too long later, New York was under siege. Zombie siege.
And that children is how the Zombie apocalypse started.
| The Zombie Apocalypse did happen, but there was only ever ONE Zombie in the Whooole planet. How ever did we manage *that*?
The world's reaction to ROB THE ZOB's discovery was interesting...Confronted with evidence of life after death, most moderate leaders simply stopped treating their holy books literarily and used them merely as moral guidelines. The hardcore ones blew themselves up trying to get inside the Park containing ROB THE ZOB.
the Park? Yes, so....these old white men spun out multi-billion dollar businesses out of ROB. Theme parks filled with 100s of actors and one live (dead?) zombie - You never knew which one you were gonna get. Live streaming to all corners of the world. Nat Geo exclusives etc.
Multiple crazy hobos and one depressed teenager attempted suicide by Zombie. Writers leveled forests to titillate bored housewives on the complex emotional lives of a Zombie. Lawyers bought their way in front of a camera arguing for undead rights. Kids revealed their deep ambition to be Zombies when they grew up.
Yes, there was a Zombie Apocalypse. No, we weren't killed off by shambling meat. There wasn't a mysterious virus that mutated in the festering wounds only to emerge virulent and deadly. It wasn't God's judgement. All ROB the ZOB accomplished directly was a bunch of poorly made movies with these terrible plots.
The government's initial reaction to all this was surprising - In the interest of better healthcare (without a social healthcare programme - Bloody Republicans), they promised to make all research on ROB THE ZOB public. Many questions on cell repair, memory and free-will were answered in the next decade and improved living standards for everyone across the world.
Then they hit upon the secret of immortality. Rather than squirrel it away and make it exclusive to the rich and powerful, the government showed remarkable enlightenment to make it affordable to all - In exchange for increased taxes and kicking out immigrants, of course.
I guess that's what happens when you let the govt take over - The world went to shit.
First we killed off all the animals to feed the 12% population growth rate. Then we stripped off all the plants like locusts, relying on machinery to provide the necessary oxygen. Finally, with most other life gone, we turned on each other.
The Zombie Apocalypse did happen. It's just that the Zombies weren't the Undead.
| 2015-03-18T09:55:31 | 2015-03-18T09:08:31 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] In the realm where souls reside before we're born, everything is pretty great. There's no poverty, no one wants for anything, everyone knows their role and purpose. It is, essentially, perfect. But that perfection is accomplished via draconian law: the only punishment is the "birth penalty"
edit: All of you are _awesome_. That is all. | "What possessed you?" The words rung through my being, pushing out all other thoughts. "What need did you have?" Everyone had gathered, a mixture of fear and anger radiated through the crowd.
"Need?" The idea felt foreign to me, "What is need?"
"What was required?" His anger grew with my confusion, "What called you to this?"
I reached for an explanation I did not have, "*It* did, great one."
The crowd's anger subsided to fear. *It?* *What do they mean?* The words rushed from being to being.
"Their questions are mine," they asked me.
"I can't give it voice. It is as foreign to me as need, perhaps they are the same?" It drew astonishment from all.
"What is your place?" The great one inquired.
"I stimulate the others with thoughts." It rushed from me without command.
"And were you doing so when you tried to create nourishment?"
"No, great one."
"And who's place was that?"
I peered through the crowd before realizing it was asked of me, "I don't know, great one."
"Was it yours?"
"No."
"You knew it was not your place, therefore you knew it was someone else's. Do you wish to breed laziness?" Their words accused.
"No."
"Confusion?"
"What is confusion, great one?" More foreign thoughts did it spawn.
"Uncertainty?" He gazed upon my unresponsive self, "The unknown, mixed ideas of both good and bad, certain is what we are all, uncertain is what we are not."
"That's *it*! It was uncertainty that called me to attempt sustenance. It was the strangeness of it, it was....
"Curiosity." They became discontent. The feeling spread through the crowd.
"Did you desire *it*?" They asked.
"More than anything, great one." I responded.
"Very well. Curiosity has no place here." Fear overcame most in the crowd, "For your crimes against our people, I sentence you to birth."
Blinding light overwhelmed my existence, wailing reverberated in the space around me. A figure, of shape, and size loomed before me. | In Elysium, life ends with birth.
Sure, it seems like a utopia. Maybe it even was at one point. It must have been for things to get like this. But now, it’s as far as it could be.
I’m on the run. If they find me – and they will, they always do – I will be here no more. My soul will be ripped from my body and transported into the aether, gone until I walk amongst the mortals. The husk will be fed to the hound that catches me, most likely.
It’s been thirteen days since they sent out the search party for me. According to them, I’ve committed treason against my fellow kind. If treason is speaking against the unreasonable laws, then I guess I’m as guilty as charged. But it shouldn’t be that way. And I plan to stop it.
You see, the thing about a utopia is it needs unwavering synchronicity. If a single cog in the machine is jammed, it needs to be removed immediately. After all, no one will notice the problem if it’s out of sight. Not as long it wrapped up in the need to purge “negative influences for the betterment of society”. One cog is nothing compared to the wellbeing of the machine.
I’m one of those cogs.
I don’t have much time. Alone, I can’t stop them. However, there is still one chance to make an impact. And if it works, it will definitely leave its mark on the world.
A rogue wind runs past me, freezing my sweat-laden clothes. I glance down, watching the sea of people move to their various destinations. They move in harmony, no clutter despite the hundreds of people moving towards different places. They’re all unaware, each naïve to what is behind the scenes. As they eat form the hand that feeds them, the other is slowly but surely wrapping around their throat.
I take in a deep breath, closing my eyes. I can’t remember how high I am yet I know it’s more than enough. My feet teeter on the edge of the building, the weight of my body threatening to bring me crashing down. After exhaling, I succumb to gravity’s pull, leaning forward.
As I fall, the wind shrieks in my ears. Yet it can’t block out my buzzing mind. I’ve still so much to think about in these last moments. I’ve never felt so free before. And to think, my sacrifice will not only save me from experiencing birth but possibly thousands of others. If only I had realized this earlier. As I collided to the ground, I let out a sigh.
I’ve found my purpose. | 2015-05-25T16:55:01 | 2015-05-25T16:25:26 | 90 | 51 |
[WP] As humanity sends its first manned expedition beyond the orbit of earth, it discovers that humans are actually immortal, but "Mother Earth" is actually a living organism that has been consuming their life force to survive. | Year 2198.
"Captain!"
"Yes, Summers?"
"Message from the Cyrian High Council, Sir!"
"Well, don't stand there like a 3D McDonald's Sign, read it!"
Lieutenant Emma Summer coughed before starting to read the message, pausing once in a while to handle the difficult translation, being the only human to have mastered the Cyrian language she was quite invaluable to the mission.
"Message to/from Human commander, Cyrian High Order. Turn around. Leave. Final warning... err... socks? no, that's not right.... Ah, yes, punishment on death. Cyrian troops outnumbers Human Invasion by 10,000 to one. Last to retreat chance, surrender not tasty... Oh, acceptable."
Listening to the hard to follow string of words I finally conclude.
"Last chance to turn and run, we're outnumbered and they won't accept a surrender later on?"
"That would sum it up quite nicely, Captain."
"This species, they are rather... Reclusive... Aren't they?"
"Indeed, Sir."
"So, you'd say they don't know?"
"Not up to me to make such predictions, Sir, only a Lieutenant after all."
"And I'm your Captain.... Emma? Right?... And I asked you a question."
"Yes, Sir, it's Emma. And, Sir, I would definitely guess that they do, in fact, not know."
"Very well, thank you for your input Lieutenant Summers, you're dismissed."
As Lt Summers saluted and left I found myself wondering when the aliens would every learn. This is the 39th specie who is openly hostile towards humans from the first encounter. And they will become the 34th extinct specie in a matter of weeks.
Over the past 200 years humanity had discovered a great gift, or rather cure for a curse. Once sufficiently far away from our home planet, Terra or Earth as it was called, we became immortal. Not only would we heal from any wound short of total incineration we also reverted in age, turning back to appearing no older than 24.
With this discovery money suddenly poured into the space program and we advanced it more every three months than we had in the ten years prior, including the past three month period(s).
In record time we started to travel the universe, safe in knowing nothing can kill us, except our home world. If our spaceships needed outside repair we'd just send a guy out, it smarts a bit, being unprotected in space, but one got used to it.
It took us about fifty years to encounter our first alien specie, the Lytras as they called themselves. Their language oddly similar to Spanish. We hit it off great, they sold us scientific advancements, improving our spacecrafts drastically. In return we sold them chocolate, silk and pearls, apparently these were unique to earth and became extremely sought after by the Lytrian high society.
We were happy with our arrangements until they started demanding more and more for scraps we would soon figure out on our own. They even went so far as to demanding the exact origin of earth. Well, Humanity has never been a stranger to war, and the war that followed was bloody. A massacre of previously unheard proportions.
The Lythrian Empire had spanned across eight solar system, terraforming every planet into a virtual paradise. But in two years we had conquered and killed them all, not that we wanted to kill them, it's just that they didn't have a concept of giving up, they didn't have a word for surrender.
With so many planets to live and farm on the human population exploded, we went from 10 billion to 150 in 40 years. And we soon started exploring more of the galaxy, every new species we encountered either followed the Lythrians path of went straight up hostile.
We never sent an army. We sent one landing ship, containing exactly 1,000 soldiers, each armed with nano blade swords. Our victory was assured from the day we left Earth.
Immortal we're also impossible to defeat. And studying most of these species history we learn that compared to human history non of them truly understood war. Being the species with the greatest war experience might be a bit unfair. But what has once been started is very hard to stop.
And today, with this invasion, humanity will have conquered and populated over 50% of this galaxy, reaching a total population of 150,000 billion people.
We have truly become masters of this universe, and we are endless and eternal. Fear us, Aliens, and surrender, resistance is truly futile. | *Personal log, day Zero.*
Thirty years. That´s how long it took to build this ship. Fifty, if you count the construction of mankind´s first space dock, where the *Armstrong* itself was built. A colony ship. Fifteen hundred of Earth’s finest. And me. I kind of knew what to expect, but the shuttle ride was truly awe-inspiring. You cannot prepare for something like this. This ship is beyond massive, beyond impressive. Truly mankind´s greatest achievement ever. After Mars, this was the logical step. A permanent outpost on another world. There are supposed to be around ten thousand of us when we arrive. Ha. My crewmates will be quite busy.
It is still strange to me. I am almost sixty years old. This ship could very well be the place of my death. But after Eilene’s passing, I don’t care. I am lucky, I am a pioneer. Who would have guessed.
*Personal log, Day five*
I am exhausted. I haven’t worked this hard since that summer on the farm, almost forty years ago. This place has been frantic with activity for four days. Every system had to be checked after the launch. Luckily, the botanics look great. I´m so happy. I know all these younger people must doubt an old man. Why take me instead of a fertile man or woman? So far, I have proven them wrong.
The artificial gravity is agreeing with me. Some of those old-man-aches I have had for years actually feel like they are improving. If I keep feeling like this, I’m sure I’ll live to see our final destination. Twenty-nine years. I can do that.
*Personal log, Day thirty*
Wow. Something happened that hasn’t happened in a loooong time. I got hit on today. Some woman came by botanics looking to score some ingredients for a family-recipe-soup. I had to turn her down for the plants, but that didn’t stop her. Outer space must really like me. She was at least thirty years younger than me. Ha. She must have poor eye sight to mistake me for a good catch. Still, I appreciate the compliment.
*Personal log, Day ninety*
I am not imagining this. Something is happening to me. I am stronger than I have been in forty years. My mind is quicker, sharper. And I look good. Too good. It’s like the clock turned back twenty years. I have grown accustomed to grey hairs. I do not like them, but I have had to accept them. No longer. And the sheer volume of it, unbelievable. I know I have to tell someone, but I’m afraid of how they’ll react. I’m going to think about it some more.
*Personal log, Day one-hundred-and-eleven*
I am so fed up with being poked and prodded. And those damned doctors are still stumped. I look and feel like I’m twenty five years old now. Not just on the outside. Apparently, my telomeres are reversing. Whatever that means. I am the only one on the ship experiencing this effect to this degree. The others look at me funny, they are scared. Who can blame them?
*Personal log, Day five-hunded-sixteen*
Well, its established. I am immortal. We all are actually. I look like a twenty-five year old. All of us do. Some of the older people reverted back to this age. Must just stopped aging. We just sent word back to Earth. Let them figure out what’s going on. Ha! All that trouble. A five year selection process to find not only the most skilled, but also the most fertile. All that for nothing. We don’t die. We don’t even *need* to have children.
*Personal log, Day eleven-thousand-sixteen*
We are here. I did it. We lost zero people on the journey. No-one died of sickness. No fatal accidents. Most important, no-one died of old age. Titan is beautiful. We just raised the dome. Now my real job has begun. I feel like a cheat, I was selected on my ability to teach the younger people how to do this step, and now I’m going do it myself.
*Personal log, Day fifty-one-thousand-four-hundred-twelve*
The ship back to Earth is leaving in two days. The journey will take five years. I am the first to take it. I wonder what Earth will be like, with so few people there. I read about massive droughts and erosion. Still, everything is better than this. I just wonder what will happen to me there. Will I die the moment we get in orbit, crumbling to dust in an instant? Or will I have to live out the rest of my life there…
Eilene, my dear, I am coming home. Just a little while longer. Then we’ll see each other again.
| 2015-06-30T01:49:15 | 2015-06-30T00:05:19 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Your father left 20 years ago the night before your birthday to get Cigarettes, Milk, and Bread. Today he comes home with long bedraggled hair, weather beaten skin, and a sword on his hip. The first thing he says to you is "You're never going to believe what happened." | "You're never going to believe what happened."
"You killed your brother in a bar fight and stowed away on one of Salar's ships and ended up enslaved I bet."
"Okay, then you will believe what happened."
"Dad, mom isn't so easy to fool."
"What do you mean?"
"She found your brother and beat him within an inch of his life until he'd wished he hadn't faked his death."
".....is he alive?"
"He's alive."
"...good."
"Did you think she didn't know?"
"She's a sharp one that one."
"She's been keeping tabs on you the entire time, quite an adventure you've been on, plenty scandalous nights in Jamaica or so the story goes."
"You mean, you all aren't mad at me?"
"We knew where you were, we could've picked you up at any point, but it was much more fun to set things in motion around you."
"Set things....IT WAS YOU!"
"Yeah"
"The blasted lot of you? But...I thought"
"That was us too."
"What about the raid in Barbados?"
"You really going to sit here and make me take credit for your entire career?"
"I'm a ..I'm a pirate legend, I escaped, I bled, I survived, my name will..be..in the history books."
"I admire your gumption, it took a lot of guts to do what you did, but you among all others should know that you never really get to leave the family of your own accord."
The man I called father sank to his knees, rapier clattering to the floor as the weight of the unveiling hit him all at once. I scooped it up and placed it on the nightstand where he used to tell me stories as a small lad, then placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Cheer up dad, try as you might you'll never escape the Queen of Pirates." | "You abandoned me is what happened!" the son quipped.
"What? I'd never! Just hear me out! I may be a little cloudy on the details, though..."
The father, easing into a recliner, sighed. "20 years ago, I left to get cigarettes, milk, and bread. You remember!"
The son nods curiously.
"On the way, I was assaulted by a group of thugs. They kidnapped me--"
"Back up for just one second; what? You expect me to believe this?"
"Let me finish, boy! They kidnapped me. I woke up tied to a chair in a small room. Luckily, the ropes were loose, so I was able to slip out."
The father took a drink of water from a bottle. "I escaped the room. I found myself in something that looked like medieval Europe--"
"Now that's bullshit!"
"I told you you'd never believe what happened! Now, listen, boy! A man who called himself Balgriff or something challenged me to a duel. He tossed me this sword (motions to sword)."
The father continued. "It was a long duel, but I had succeeded! He had declared himself beat, and offered me his finest steed. I left the city. From there, I traveled across the land, trying to find my way back home. After months of travel, I had found myself in a small village. They called it Woodriver, or something like that."
"Stop. This is sounding way too unbelievable."
"I'm sorry son, this is the truth! Please, pay attention! There, I met a metalsmith. His name was Alvard, or something. He offered me a place to stay. He even gave me training. Did you know I can forge a whole suit of armor now? Anyway, I continued my travels. I found myself in a city called Winterheld, or something similar. All the locals had problems, which I solved for them. After years of adventuring, I found a path to get here. Now, I come to your doorstep, asking for forgiveness for leaving."
"I'm not sure I can believe you, dad. It's been a long time."
"Please, son. I've been trying to return for twenty whole years! All I ask for is a place to stay."
"Okay, dad. Welcome home."
TL;DR I suck at writing while sleep-deprived. | 2016-07-20T09:03:36 | 2016-07-20T03:34:45 | 65 | 18 |
[WP] All politicians must wear Nascar like uniforms showing the logos of who is sponsoring their elections. Everyone is shocked when the President of the United States makes a speech wearing a new uniform. It's all blank except for one logo. | Clinton approached the podium as the debate began, Mao Zedong jacket emblazoned with hundreds of logos: pharmaceutical companies, oil companies, military contractors, the lot. She positioned her hands on either side of the stand, facing the stony silence of the crowd. Her technicolor coat distracted all from the woman who stood wearing it.
Trump was introduced. He rounded the corner and the crowd collectively gasped with shock. He waved and strode proudly to the podium in a black suit jacket, black pants, and plain red tie. All of America was amazed. "He can't be bought!" a man shouted from amongst the still silent mass. Trump turned to point the man out to America and thank him. The camera zoomed in on his back. One small rectangle sat in the field of black that was his wide blazer. White, then Blue, then Red. The flag of Russia. Suddenly it all made sense. | As she steps up to the stage, people are proud that she is proudly proclaiming who her sponsor is but even though it cover her from head to toe, no one can make out just exactly what it is. As she is making her acceptance speech, the camera zoom in closer to her uniform to see who her sponsor is that she would be so proud as to wear such a large logo. Even though the camera has zoomed in all the way, no one can quite make out what it is.
After four years of her, the dystopia nation once called the United States of America is in a state of civil war with States fighting to leave the Union to escape the crushing control of the Federal Government, who think that they know what is best for "the good of the people" and control the states with an iron fist.
After the Freedom Fighters capture Washington D.C. and the President of the United States, they also find the uniform that she wore during her acceptance speech. Upon closer inspection with a microscope, they came to realize that what was thought of as one logo was in fact a composite of trademark and patented logos belonging to Corporations, flags of Foreign Nations, Coat of Arms and names of the rich and/or powerful.
During the hearing to determine the truth of her Presidency, her cabinets official plead ignorance and her disposition was pages after pages of, "At this point, what does it matter?" And, "I do not recall," and, "I do not remember." | 2016-09-19T18:22:57 | 2016-09-19T18:22:35 | 96 | 23 |
[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone. | I sit for a while and listen to the Devil play the exquisite, golden instrument. He has not even seen me; his eyes are closed and it seems as if he is in a trance. In his great hands the harmonica looks like a miniature, but he plays it so fast and loud, that somehow, the music it produces is more full than any orchestra I've ever heard. The hairs on my arms prick up.
The melody is haunting, but beautiful. It floats around the cavern, and transports me to a ship in olden times. I am alone, standing on the deck. My crew has deserted me and the vessel floats lonely, as I wait to die.
The melody speeds up and the Devil picks out notes that shouldn't work together; dissonant flats and sharps; majors and minors that should never touch. I see gigantic waves form in the distance. They crash like thunder against the bow of the ship. The pale moon above is slowly engulfed by a blood-red cloud.
He plays faster still; the vessel tosses and turns, and creaks and moans like it is nothing more than a twig. My heart pounds. There is something below the ship, I can *sense* it. Something, great and huge and above all, *terrible*. It is moving up. Closer to the surface -- closer to the boat. It rises!
The Devil stops and opens his eyes. I don't know why, but I begin *clapping*. Applauding the Devil. Slowly first, and then faster and louder. I can't help myself.
"Welcome," he says with a sly smile.
"That was..."
"I've had eternity to practice."
I nod, as if I can possibly understand. "Am I dead?" I ask.
"You are."
"And you're... Satan?" I barely dare to whisper the name, and that seems to amuse him. He laughs; a deep, rich laugh.
"I am."
"Then I'm in... What was my crime? Why do I deserve eternal damnation?" I demand. I am sure I lived an honest life.
"It will come back to you," he says. I shiver, and he sees it. "Worry not," he snorts, "*Eternal* is not what it used to be."
"What do you mean?" I ask, furrowing my brows.
"God has... changed the rules. No one need stay here now. There is forgiveness for all his *children*." He spreads his arms wide and I look around the empty cavern. "Even you," he says as his lips curl up into a demon's smile.
"I- I can still go to heaven?"
"You can," he says as he reaches for his harmonica once more. "Only **I** must stay. Now, leave me. Go play with your old friends. I have no interest in delaying you." He points me towards a hollow in the cavern's wall. He closes his eyes and begins playing that beautiful music once more.
The bitter-sweet sound takes me away again. This time I am in a car. *My* car. I've been drinking, celebrating a performance. I didn't see her in the darkness. No. It *wasn't* dark. There is a thud. A scream. I don't stop.
The terrible memory returns. I killed her. I killed the lady as she pushed her pram.
Then, a single month later I killed myself.
I collapse onto the rock floor and weep as the haunting music wraps itself around me like a child's blanket. It comforts me.
When, eventually he stops and sees me still sitting there, he looks almost... surprised.
"Why?" he asks simply.
"I killed them. I don't deserve heaven."
"It matters not if you deserve it."
"It matters to me."
There is silence for a while. Two fallen angels together in their loneliness.
"Teach me to play," I ask.
"..."
"I want to play like you. I want to bare my soul through music. I *need* to."
"It would take an eternity to play like me," he says.
"I have eternity at my disposal."
The Devil smiles.
---
Many more stories on /r/nickofnight (free mug for new subs: c[_] )
Edit: Thank you so much to the kind soul that gilded this | I never thought meeting Satan would be so sad. He sat on his thrones of charred bones all alone, with his tail lashing behind him and his horns protruding into the black and red sky. The shrill noise of the harmonica he was playing beat against my ears over the rumble of distant thunder and the crackling of Hellfire.
I knew I was supposed to go to Hell, people like me were destined to. What I was surprised by was how empty Hell would be. What the fuck happened to going to Hell for the company? Lying Mark Twain, that son of a bitch.
Satan stopped his dreaded harmonica playing when he saw me, standing stupidly in my all black clothes. His eyes brightened and his tail wagged like a puppy's? He gestured me forward. Reluctantly, I walked down the bone-laid road to Satan's throne.
"Hello, human," said Satan, his voice two different pitches of utter nightmare. I physically winced when I heard it, and Satan frowned. "I can fix the voice if you don't like it." He said that in a warm baritone.
"That's great, thank you." Up close, he was about 8-feet tall, with his throne twice as large as him. He smelled of sulfur and brimstone, no surprise there. And he only wore a thick loincloth held up by a belt of frozen intestines. It did an adequate of hiding his private parts.
"So..." the Devil started, looking around. He scratched his ear. "What are you in for?"
"Shouldn't you know?" I asked. "Don't you read the records of who gets admitted?"
He sighed, a yellowy cloud escaping his mouth. "I had a demon for that, but he left for Heaven, too. Just like the rest of them." He bit his lower lip as his eyes watered a little bit.
"Left for Heaven?" What the fuck was he talking about? And why the fuck was he so upset?
The Dark Lord pounded his fist against his throne, got up and walked behind it, his shoulders slumping. "There's some loophole that allows people to leave Hell for Heaven. Stupid God and his goddamn tricks!"
I cleared my throat, following him around the throne. "That's why this place is so empty."
"You don't have to rub it in my face," he muttered, bringing out his harmonica and playing it. This just keeps getting sadder and sadder.
"Hey, listen..."
"What? Do you want to leave, too? Fine! I will show you where the damn loophole is!"
Watching Satan frown was quite a visceral experience. Who would have thought that the embodiment of sin could get lonely. I don't know what it was but I wanted to help him. I spent my life helping people everyone called devils. Why not help the actual Devil?"
"Hey, Satan. Why don't you show me the loophole, and I will see if I can fix it for you."
He leaned forward, his tailed moving again. "Why? Are you a lawyer? How good are you?"
"I kept the Lehman brothers out of jail."
Satan's eyes widened, and his lips curled into a smile. "Would you really do that for me? Look through God's contract?"
I sighed. "Sure, why not?"
Satan leaped to his feet, shaking the ground. "Do you think we can get everybody back?"
I looked around at the desolation around me, and then at Satan's pleading eyes. "Yes. But why don't we revamp the place, too. Make it a little more enjoyable."
"But that would go against the contract."
"Not if I can help it."
He clapped his hands. "I like you already. Come on. Let's stick it to my father!"
"Yeah..."
I was still unsure what I was getting into, but watching Satan perk up like that was enough for me to continue.
"Can we get something to eat first?" I asked. "I am starving."
"Oh, yeah, that comes with the territory." He put his hand on my back. "But I can take care of that. No other place cooks meat better than Hell's kitchen. And I can make a killer steak."
"Sounds good."
"And if we have time, I can play my harmonica for you."
"Let's save that for when we fix the loophole."
"Yeah! And when we do, you can be advisor."
"I would rather stick to being your lawyer."
"How about being my 'friend'?"
"Sure, buddy."
__________________________________________________________________
Stellar law advice over on [r/JasonHolloway](https://www.reddit.com/r/JasonHolloway/). Jump in front of a car, and I will get you millions!
| 2017-02-01T09:06:38 | 2017-02-01T08:46:08 | 3,165 | 168 |
[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone. | When you consider that Judgement isn't graded on a bell curve and is, in fact, a super stringent set of requirements that one was meant to follow over what seemed, at the time, an incredibly long amount of time one would assume hell would be practically filled to the brim.
So when I found myself utterly alone in an endless field of flames and suffering I took a moment to really rethink what it was that had made me the single eligible applicant to hell. Seeing as I was pretty much the coolest guy and way too handsome for my many teeny tiny sins to have counted I came to the conclusion that this was an obvious mixup and I just had to find management and get this straightened out.
After wandering for an eternity with only strips of my own flesh to use as trail markers on the never ending corpse decorated stalagmites and maggot cased bone spires I finally found another soul.
"Excuse me, sir, I believe theres been a mixup. I admit I've done some scummy things what with the cheating and lying and whatnot but, be real, who hasnt? My wife wasn't feeling it and if God didn't want it he wouldn't have invented tindr. And let's be honest everyone lies on their taxes, I mean I did use my computer for work so it could be reasoned that it was a...."
"Its not a mixup," the figure boomed, dejectedly. His barrel chest expanding menacingly as he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly into his harmonica, flames jetting from the holes as it produced a depressing cacophony of "bwaaaaaaaaaaas".
"you're here because youre a sinner and I guess if you say you're sorry and kinda mean it you can go to heaven so, whatever, see you later."
Bwaaaaaaaaa the harmoica moaned followed by another, shorter, bwaa that maybe was supposed to be a flat note but its hard to tell because he was basically just blowing on every single hole at once.
"Yeah, about that," I replied smiling, worried that my smile seemed disingenuous because i had been forced to eat my own lips and cheeks for sustenance decades ago, "I dont think you understand. I can't rightly apologize for something that I didn't do wrong. While it could be argued that I have sinned its obvious that everyone did and my sins were like baby sins compared to most and, lets be honest, sure I used my vast inheritance selfishly and maybe I could have done a bit more for my children, im not going to apologize for that because thats like nothing compared to others."
The demon's bwaaas had gone silent as he looked me over. I gave a sheepish wave with what remained of my hand after the locusts had had their fill.
"You just have to say sorry. I dont think you even have to mean it."
"Well I obviously couldnt mean it, that would be lying which is a sin and apparently a really big one if im here and Hitler isnt."
The devil sat staring, disbelief forming on his face.
"And honestly," I continued, "I always figured the good would offset the bad stuff, sure I stole from pensions but I always tipped well at the club. Ask Rosa, I gave her chance after chance after chance before I fired her for stealing the good silver and, yeah, I found it later but it's the fact that I gave her so many chances that proves how decent I am. Im not going to apologize for firing her I didnt get to where I am by letting people steal from me."
As I took a seat next to him and continued to extol my many virtues and expand on the unfair realities of the world the devil's eyes began frantically scanning the horizon.
I explained, in detail, my political and religious beliefs to him as he shattered my bones with his massive hands, I attempted to summarize my screenplay as he filled my mouth with molten lead, and I found it increasingly difficult to summarize my love for the St. Louis Cardinals and he forcibly shoved my head into what remained of my worm infested anus.
"In short," I mumbled into my own ass "Denzel was only given an oscar to sate the ess double you jays if you catch my drift."
"JESUS CHRIST IM SORRY." he yelled and like that was gone. Which is fine, I thought as I waddled on into the abyss, ill just have to speak with his manager.
| I never thought meeting Satan would be so sad. He sat on his thrones of charred bones all alone, with his tail lashing behind him and his horns protruding into the black and red sky. The shrill noise of the harmonica he was playing beat against my ears over the rumble of distant thunder and the crackling of Hellfire.
I knew I was supposed to go to Hell, people like me were destined to. What I was surprised by was how empty Hell would be. What the fuck happened to going to Hell for the company? Lying Mark Twain, that son of a bitch.
Satan stopped his dreaded harmonica playing when he saw me, standing stupidly in my all black clothes. His eyes brightened and his tail wagged like a puppy's? He gestured me forward. Reluctantly, I walked down the bone-laid road to Satan's throne.
"Hello, human," said Satan, his voice two different pitches of utter nightmare. I physically winced when I heard it, and Satan frowned. "I can fix the voice if you don't like it." He said that in a warm baritone.
"That's great, thank you." Up close, he was about 8-feet tall, with his throne twice as large as him. He smelled of sulfur and brimstone, no surprise there. And he only wore a thick loincloth held up by a belt of frozen intestines. It did an adequate of hiding his private parts.
"So..." the Devil started, looking around. He scratched his ear. "What are you in for?"
"Shouldn't you know?" I asked. "Don't you read the records of who gets admitted?"
He sighed, a yellowy cloud escaping his mouth. "I had a demon for that, but he left for Heaven, too. Just like the rest of them." He bit his lower lip as his eyes watered a little bit.
"Left for Heaven?" What the fuck was he talking about? And why the fuck was he so upset?
The Dark Lord pounded his fist against his throne, got up and walked behind it, his shoulders slumping. "There's some loophole that allows people to leave Hell for Heaven. Stupid God and his goddamn tricks!"
I cleared my throat, following him around the throne. "That's why this place is so empty."
"You don't have to rub it in my face," he muttered, bringing out his harmonica and playing it. This just keeps getting sadder and sadder.
"Hey, listen..."
"What? Do you want to leave, too? Fine! I will show you where the damn loophole is!"
Watching Satan frown was quite a visceral experience. Who would have thought that the embodiment of sin could get lonely. I don't know what it was but I wanted to help him. I spent my life helping people everyone called devils. Why not help the actual Devil?"
"Hey, Satan. Why don't you show me the loophole, and I will see if I can fix it for you."
He leaned forward, his tailed moving again. "Why? Are you a lawyer? How good are you?"
"I kept the Lehman brothers out of jail."
Satan's eyes widened, and his lips curled into a smile. "Would you really do that for me? Look through God's contract?"
I sighed. "Sure, why not?"
Satan leaped to his feet, shaking the ground. "Do you think we can get everybody back?"
I looked around at the desolation around me, and then at Satan's pleading eyes. "Yes. But why don't we revamp the place, too. Make it a little more enjoyable."
"But that would go against the contract."
"Not if I can help it."
He clapped his hands. "I like you already. Come on. Let's stick it to my father!"
"Yeah..."
I was still unsure what I was getting into, but watching Satan perk up like that was enough for me to continue.
"Can we get something to eat first?" I asked. "I am starving."
"Oh, yeah, that comes with the territory." He put his hand on my back. "But I can take care of that. No other place cooks meat better than Hell's kitchen. And I can make a killer steak."
"Sounds good."
"And if we have time, I can play my harmonica for you."
"Let's save that for when we fix the loophole."
"Yeah! And when we do, you can be advisor."
"I would rather stick to being your lawyer."
"How about being my 'friend'?"
"Sure, buddy."
__________________________________________________________________
Stellar law advice over on [r/JasonHolloway](https://www.reddit.com/r/JasonHolloway/). Jump in front of a car, and I will get you millions!
| 2017-02-01T09:21:57 | 2017-02-01T08:46:08 | 224 | 168 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want. | *3:30 AM, Atlanta*
The phone rang.
"This had better be worth waking my ass up."
"Flux. $500,000. If we lose power--."
"I'll do it if you make it six. Where?"
The caller accepted, a little too quickly. Damn. Could have got more.
The caller gave the address to a malfunctioning power station, and thanked Flux for assisting Westshore specialty.
"An insurance agent, huh?" *Well, it makes sense. Superheroes were a damn sight cheaper than losing a court case, these days.*
Flux had been a generous soul. But not anymore.
He loved music. When he first discovered his power, all those years ago, he used his power over electricity to give fledgling bands free power, so they could practice anywhere, anytime. They didn't even have to plug their equipment into anything! It made for some great hipster music videos.
Back then, he sometimes helped clean up metal debris from car crashes. Other days, he donated electricity to his poorer friends, or gave the homeless shelter free electricity for a few hours, to run the A/C during the hot summer months.
That all changed after a fateful day a few years ago. Flux prevented a plane crash by using electromagnetism to lower it safely to the ground. After that, Flux became famous.
And with fame, came more calls for help. But they all wanted it for free. Non-stop, day and night. Not always for heroic deeds, either. One kid wanted him to take out the power at his office so he could spend that day with his girlfriend.
He grew fed up with the non-stop pleas for help. Fed up as he was, he was too poor to buy food. Even superheroes have to eat, you know.
So, Flux started charging for his powers. This sparked outrage at first - Headlines like "Does Flux's greed have no limit?" dominated the news cycle - because people had grown used to the impossible being done for them for free.
However, capitalism won the day - other heroes in other cities borrowed flux's idea. They too had been worked to the bone, and for what? To go home to a creaky apartment without enough money to even wash their spandex?
These days, heroes primarily did boring but valuable things, such as prevent power outages, stop floods from damaging property, put out fires, that sort of thing. Some chose to do pro-bono work at times, but it was not expected the way that it was in years past.
Flux sighed as he drove to the plant. He could easily power the grid from the sidewalk outside his house, but the insurance company would have a fit and cut his pay. Last time he did that, they charged him for damaging the wiring, which cut his $250,000 reward down to a mere $15,000. Looks like another couple hours of maintaining a boring old 60 hz stream... | "Morning Mayor."
"Falcon! What are- what are you doing here?"
"I hadn't heard from you in a while," Falcon said, stepping casually along the front of the mayor's desk. He brushed off his cape. "I was getting worried about you."
"Oh, that's so- so thoughtful," the mayor stuttered. "B-but as you can see, everything is fine here."
"Now, now, Mayor. Everything is not fine. I can understand that times are tight lately, so I'm willing to overlook not getting a call from you during that riot a month ago. However I was a little perturbed that my phone was silent all through that bank robbery and hostage situation last week. And now there is a huge storm system that is going to cause tornadoes all through this city. So I decided I'd be proactive and let you know I'll be taking care of that one. I'm even discounting my rate for you."
The mayor shifted in his seat. "W-w-well," he started. He jumped as his intercom buzzed.
"Mr. Mayor, your two o'clock meeting is here," his assistant said.
Falcon raised a hand to quiet the mayor, and leaned over to the intercom. "The mayor's going to have to cancel that. He's got another meeting that's going to run long."
The door to the mayor's office swung open, and a young man with a shaved head walked in. "Mr. Mayor, sir, you can't cancel this meeting," his assistant started.
"What happened to Jerry?" Falcon asked.
"I, uh, I promoted him over to HR. This is Magnus, m-my new assistant."
"You called Falcon sir? I thought we weren't going to be utilizing his services anymore," Magnus said pointedly.
Falcon shot a dirty look to the mayor, before turning back to Magnus. "That's what this meeting is about. Revisiting that decision, particularly with the storm heading this way. Now if you'd just run along."
"The storms are going to be moving south of here. We'll be fine."
"They've shifted course," the Falcon said, exasperated. "Seriously, Mayor, you've got to bring Jerry back. This kid doesn't know his place."
Magnus furrowed his brow in a look of concentration. "The storm has changed course. After you pushed it, Falcon."
"W-w-what!?!" the Mayor shouted.
"That's preposterous. Don't listen to this kid. Fire him."
"Falcon needs money, Mayor. So he made work for himself. And this isn't the first time. It's like I told you Mayor, our city doesn't need him anymore. He's more trouble than he's worth."
"How dare you!" Falcon said, advancing on Magnus.
Magnus simply glared at Falcon. The caped man took a few more steps, then stumbled to his knees. He put his hands to his head, grunting in pain. A small trickle of blood worked it's way out of his nose.
"Your services are no longer required, Falcon," Magnus said coldly. "This city has a new hero looking after it."
*****
If you enjoyed that, subscribe to [Pubby's Creative Workshop](https://www.reddit.com/r/Pubby88) to read the rest of my prompt responses. | 2017-04-02T09:25:08 | 2017-04-02T07:18:03 | 201 | 34 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want. | *3:30 AM, Atlanta*
The phone rang.
"This had better be worth waking my ass up."
"Flux. $500,000. If we lose power--."
"I'll do it if you make it six. Where?"
The caller accepted, a little too quickly. Damn. Could have got more.
The caller gave the address to a malfunctioning power station, and thanked Flux for assisting Westshore specialty.
"An insurance agent, huh?" *Well, it makes sense. Superheroes were a damn sight cheaper than losing a court case, these days.*
Flux had been a generous soul. But not anymore.
He loved music. When he first discovered his power, all those years ago, he used his power over electricity to give fledgling bands free power, so they could practice anywhere, anytime. They didn't even have to plug their equipment into anything! It made for some great hipster music videos.
Back then, he sometimes helped clean up metal debris from car crashes. Other days, he donated electricity to his poorer friends, or gave the homeless shelter free electricity for a few hours, to run the A/C during the hot summer months.
That all changed after a fateful day a few years ago. Flux prevented a plane crash by using electromagnetism to lower it safely to the ground. After that, Flux became famous.
And with fame, came more calls for help. But they all wanted it for free. Non-stop, day and night. Not always for heroic deeds, either. One kid wanted him to take out the power at his office so he could spend that day with his girlfriend.
He grew fed up with the non-stop pleas for help. Fed up as he was, he was too poor to buy food. Even superheroes have to eat, you know.
So, Flux started charging for his powers. This sparked outrage at first - Headlines like "Does Flux's greed have no limit?" dominated the news cycle - because people had grown used to the impossible being done for them for free.
However, capitalism won the day - other heroes in other cities borrowed flux's idea. They too had been worked to the bone, and for what? To go home to a creaky apartment without enough money to even wash their spandex?
These days, heroes primarily did boring but valuable things, such as prevent power outages, stop floods from damaging property, put out fires, that sort of thing. Some chose to do pro-bono work at times, but it was not expected the way that it was in years past.
Flux sighed as he drove to the plant. He could easily power the grid from the sidewalk outside his house, but the insurance company would have a fit and cut his pay. Last time he did that, they charged him for damaging the wiring, which cut his $250,000 reward down to a mere $15,000. Looks like another couple hours of maintaining a boring old 60 hz stream... | The dark alley echoed with the footsteps of the villain and I knew that I had her right where I wanted them.
"I'll go get the purse if you let me keep half of the money."
They had seen what Dev could do first hand, when he had been stealing their purse, so there was no way that they were going to do it themselves. He had punched through a brick wall before snatching their purses. If they only knew some of Dev's other talents.... The purse snatchee had been making self deliberation faces for almost half a minute.
"Fine.", she said, in a voice that she hoped would indicate that it was very much not fine. I thought I heard her mutter something about "Damn heroes" and "Filthy crooks", but I was already rushing into the darkness.
About halfway through the alley I turned at the first corner I saw. I almost ran into Dev.
"Jesus Christ man. A little warning next time."
"I'm still mad at you."
"Why would you possibly be mad at me?"
"Because this plan doesn't make any fucking sense! Why are we giving the purse back? We already had the damn thing."
"That attitude right there is why you get to play the villain. You're just so naturally villainous."
"I get to play the villain because I can actually scare people. What are you going to do, shout at them that you can hear them extremely well as your robbing them?"
"Ha Ha asshole. Just give me the purse."
"What are you going to tell them, anyway? What if they want a demonstration of how you overcame me?"
"I'll say that I used my otherworldly wits to convince you to hand over the purse. I wouldn't even have to lie."
"Oh, shut up. Here - take the stupid thing."
I grabbed the purse from Dev's hand and turned back. If it wasn't dark in the alleyway I don't think I could have resisted the temptation to count the money before I gave it back. I tried to appear disheveled by messing up my hair a bit. It would have to do. I came around a corner and could see the woman still waiting.
I approached her.
"Thank you so much!" She said as she saw that I was holding her purse. I actually felt a twinge of guilt. I had justified this to myself as being some sort of lesson, like an anti purse snatching tax or something, but I knew that this part was going to suck.
"You're are very welcome." I handed her the purse. She pilfered through it. I saw some prescription medicine and reading glasses suddenly felt even worse. It felt like I was robbing my Grandma. She got to her wallet and started going through the money.
"Here is ... $30."
I was almost tempted to tell her to keep it, but my stomach rumbled at that exact moment. I remembered that there was a reason that I had to do this, and it wasn't like we stole her purse or anything.
"Thank you very much." I began walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction as her. I would meet Dev back at the house. He wouldn't be happy with $30, and I didn't think I could hold him back much longer. If he had his way, we were about to get into serious trouble, soon.
___
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-04-02T09:25:08 | 2017-04-02T08:22:39 | 201 | 32 |
[WP] It has been three years since little Timmy and his cardboard tugboat declared war on the Navy. With a rising body count and no end in sight, the government isn't sure what to do. | Little Timmy had a bark boat attached to a string. It had sails made out of paper and a pirate flag at the top that he had drawn himself. It was a piece of art in the eyes of the five-year-old. He had named her Esmeralda after his nana.
He was tugging it through a puddle one rainy day when a convoy of military vehicles thundered down the street. Little Timmy had his back toward the street and was lost in his own imagination. He didn’t even notice them until it was too late.
The boat was crushed under the wheels, and along with it, his dreams. A shadow fell across Timmy’s face.
“You will pay!” he cried as tears mixed with the raindrops on his cheeks.
He picked up the tiny pieces of mauled bark and crumpled paper, and buried them in the backyard. Esmeralda had been his friend when none of the other kids wanted to, and now she was dead.
Little Timmy mourned his loss for days, but not once did revenge leave his mind. He took an oath to crush the army just like they had crushed Esmeralda. He was going to start with the navy. If they took away his boat, he would take away theirs. That was how justice worked.
He found a new piece of bark in the forest and started building. The new boat wasn’t as beautiful as Esmeralda and didn’t have the white sails. It was dark and fitted with miniature guns that he borrowed from his toy soldiers. He named the new boat Michaela in honor of the avenging angel from the stories in church.
With a resolute face, Timmy made his way to the beach. Michaela crushed the waves under her keel, and Timmy started tugging her towards the naval base. It was time to suffer.
He found a hole in the fence and climbed through, making sure his boat never left the water. The massive armored hulls of the Destroyers towered over the small boy.
“Vengeance!” he screamed and tugged his boat towards the enemy.
The ship turned its guns towards the boy, but they were no match for Michaela who turned the much larger Destroyer to scrap with well-placed broadside fire. Little Timmy laughed righteously as the smoke and fire filled his eyes.
*****
“How is my boy doing?” asked Timmy’s mother as she stepped into the office with a view over the docks.
The woman in the white coat gave her a concerned look. “He’s doing fine…”
Together they walked over to the window. Timmy’s mother felt her throat screw itself shut. She looked at the bearded man with tousled hair, holding the string of a tugboat down by the water. An old retired navy vessel was the only other ship there. Even from this far away they could hear the man laughing.
“It’s been thirty-three years…” the doctor said. “He’s not going to get better.”
“I know,” said the woman, unable to keep her voice steady. “And trust me; I count every single day since I let my boy out to play in the puddles on the street.”
*****
/r/Lilwa_Dexel
Subscribe if you liked it :) | The hand-rolled cigarette between my fingers burns and ashes onto my table. It floats, softly, unaware of the carnage it was spawned from. With my eyes closed I breathe in deeply, allowing the nicotine to sprawl throughout my blood. The only thing that keeps me still these days.
"Sir?"
I have never met a man I was afraid of; for their mothers were slaughtered by myself long ago. But this kid ain't no man, and I can't kill Lucifer herself.
"Sir?"
I don't even understand how he's doing it. It's just a kid, a bunch of cardboard, but. I keep getting documents to sign. Pieces of paper with names and faces on them of people who died in a war I can't even begin to comprehend.
"Sir?"
The words pierce my train of thought. A soldier stands in the doorway of my office, a visage of depression dancing on his face, and documents clutched to his chest.
"Come in," I say taking a drag of my cigarette. He walks with confidence and places the material before me. "How many this time?" I ask.
"Only seven, Sir." The words exit his mouth with sharp precision. I can tell he's been practising telling me that. I nod, my mouth struggling to help me speak.
"Only seven," I repeat, tapping my fingers against the table. "Only." I open up the documents to see a young face staring back at me.
'Katherine Fisher - Age 25.'
I glance up quickly to see the soldier leaving my office. "Wait," I demand calmly, and he turns. "Did you know Katherine Fisher?"
"No Sir," He responds.
"Did anyone you know... Did any of them know Katherine Fisher?"
"No Sir."
I shake my head and toss the papers across my desk. With a lean backward in my chair, I can feel my anger begin to boil.
"She was twenty-five," I start to say. "And her name was Katherine Fisher..., and between the two of us, that's all we fucking know about her. She had dreams. Goals, probably. Maybe even thought of having a family. You know what happened instead?" I move forward and await a response.
"What happened instead, Sir?"
"She fucking died."
I can see the panic in his eyes.
"Well," he says, a murmur in his throat. "If I can say so Sir, they don't make heroes like you anymore."
I laugh quietly to myself, the sound of rushing air across my teeth being heard by only me. "I joined the services fifty years ago. Did you know that?"
"Yes Sir,"
"And in fifty years I earned that fantastic title," I stand from my chair and walk slowly around my table. "Hero. Which is, honestly, astounding to think about. I joined the service because I wanted to see a man die. My mama used to tell me 'Boy, curiosity don't kill only cats.'" I put my hand around the soldier's shoulders, and squeeze tightly. "She was talking about me."
"Yes Sir,"
"Funnily enough, I saw more than one man die. Let me tell you - It looks the same every time. A lot of terror, a lot of piss, and pants full of shit. No one looks brave with a chest full of bullets." I stare him down, having forgotten to blink this entire time, and he waits, knowingly not blinking out of fear.
"So do me a favor," I say, "And be a hero like me. Shoot that fucking kid's head off. Please."
"Yes Sir."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Check out /r/Rhysyjay for other neat stuff. I'm hella rusty at writing, so the stuff there is probably better. | 2017-04-21T08:51:37 | 2017-04-21T08:47:10 | 536 | 114 |
[WP] It's the year 2851. Humanity develops interstellar travel and begins to explore the Milky Way galaxy in search for life. However, much to everyone's surprise, instead of alien life we find... Earth's biosphere complete with humans, repeated over and over at different stages of progress.
Edit: Thank you all so much for this!! The idea came to me in the shower about a week ago, as a thought about "what really weird things we could find as we set to explore the galaxy?". I liked it because there are so many possible angles, and because it hasn't been done before AFAIK (???). I am having a blast reading all your stories. | As the CSD Persphone approached the edge of the galaxy, her crew gathered on the bridge to celebrate the notable feat. She was the first ship capable of inter-Galactic travel and her crew was now the only explorers to ever leave humanities Galactic home. The sensors indicated they had breached the edges and each looked out upon the vastness of space. It was the most beautiful landscape their eyes had ever seen, but the crew which consisted largely of astrophysicists and astronomers noticed an oddity. The view on the other side of the galaxy was the view at the galaxy's furthest extent. It was as if they stood with their nose to a mirror.
There was no turning back, and the intrigue of the mirrored galaxy intrigued them even more than the possibility of infinite space. As the Incelerators engaged and pushed the ship further from home, the environs became more familiar. It was with excitement and confusion that known solar systems came into view. They were systems of the Milky Way.
The arguments were constant. Theories of the known universe had been suddenly flipped on their heads, and many did not take it well. Some argued they were in the same galaxy but had somehow curved over and reentered. Others argued that this was not the same galaxy but perhaps simply a similar galaxy to our own. There were fringe theories of time paradoxes and interdimensional travel, but at the root was a sudden ignorance among the smartest of minds.
And then they reached Earth. As the ship rested in orbit, the crew looked down on their home. But it wasn't. The northern hemisphere was still largely covered in ice as if the glacial retreats had never begun. As the ship moved into the Earth's shadow, they noticed there were no lights.
Drones were sent to the surface to gather information. The readings were far from the Earth which they had left. Temperatures were cooler, carbon dioxide levels were lower, but the images were the most astounding. Mammoths were roaming the northern expanse while Smilodons stalked them across the plains. Huge herds of ancient Buffalo moved across the landscape while Dire wolves hunted their weak. While viewing a gathering of the armored armadillo-like Glyptodons they discovered the most astounding revelation: a group of humans was spotted stalking the beasts from the tall grass. As they watched, the fur clad humans launched an attack with stone tipped spears. They separated one of the animals, and set to it with deadly purpose. After it succumbed to its many wounds, women and children emerged from the grass and set to butchering the animal.
The crew of the Persephone sat in stunned silence at the reality of what they had seen. But the questions remained unanswered. Had they traveled in time, into another mirrored galaxy, or into another dimension?
The CSD Persephone's engines pushed the ship away from the Paleolithic Earth and she once more began her intergalactic adventure. Her crew had willingly left their galaxy the intention of discovery, and they were set on expanding human knowledge at all cost. They had risked their lives for science, and with purpose they had set their mind to their next mission. They would go to the next galaxy, and the next if need be, and they would find the answers. | It's been 500 years since we discovered that Constellation A-B21 was filled with life. We prepared our best space armies to launch a full-fledged assault. But when we identified the life, our desire to annihilate them...vanished. All we could see on the closest planet were humans. Humans like us.
The same green planets made us sick with nostalgia as we watched the humans grow. The one closest to Earth seemed to be in the 21st Century, 800 years behind us. The structures that were 'modern' so long ago...it evoked emotions that we didn't know we had. The planets further on were further and further behind; some in the Industrial Revolution, some still inventing writing. The last bit of human life we could find hadn't even figured out how to farm yet. We left the planets untouched, according to instructions from superiors.
A year later we were back. But for a different reason. Our superiors decided that it was a perfect chance for an experiment - to see how alterations we could have made centuries ago would affect our society. But to spoil their way of life for a simulation...it seemed wrong. And I was the sole member of the team to violent protest against it. But, overruled, we sailed towards Constellation A-B21.
When we reached I refused to carry out a single action. The rest introduced advanced weaponry, incited wars and even destroyed one planet to 'test how well they can recover'. Their actions made me sick. But a protest would almost certainly guarantee an execution, an execution made especially easy in the vast emptiness of the surrounding void.
When we were done we made it back to Earth, my crew members laughing about the deeds they had done loudly. I brooded in a corner of my cabin, alone, thinking about how our actions today would affect the humans of tomorrow.
Another few centuries passed. Humans' lifespan could now be limitless, after scientists discovered the secret to aging (and the medication to counteract it). I had almost forgotten about the action we had done in the 29th Century. But I was rudely reminded of it one day.
It looked like a normal spaceship. Just like the advanced ones our starfleet boasted of. But this one...it seemed ready for combat. Equipped with weaponry we had never seen the likes of before, the inhabitants marched off the spaceship and started firing at the stunned onlookers. Storming into the White House, the place was eradicated within moments as the invaders took control of all media outlets. As I ate my breakfast, the sight of them reminded me.
They were humans.
But they were...so familiar.
"Humans of Earth. You attempted to use our planets as a tool for your entertainment and research. You killed some of your brothers to satisfy your lust for destruction," the leader said, his voice rising in anger and fury.
"Now we'll let you see how life as a 'tool of research' feels like. Watch out," he concluded, walking away from the mass of reporters. "Mister...Human, where do you hail from?" a particularly nosy reporter shoved his way to the front before asking.
"Constellation A-B21. I hope that satisfies you?" he asked, waiting for the reporter to nod before shooting him. The other reporters fled in the subsequent chaos.
I dropped the steak-flakes in my hand as they scattered all over the floor. But they were the least of my worries.
Constellation A-B21 wanted revenge.
And the revenge had begun.
_________________________________________________________________
Liked that? Check our r/Whale62 for more! :)
Edit: [Here's Part 2!](https://redd.it/6kgfl3)
Edit 2: [Here's Part 3!] (https://redd.it/6klxgo) | 2017-06-30T06:44:21 | 2017-06-30T06:38:53 | 83 | 52 |
[WP] "Really, kid? I've seen some creative ways for me to be summoned, but like this, it's just silly." Said Satan looking down at the bananas. | "What did you expect? A parade? Jack laughed as he sat down in his computer chair. "Are we going to get to business or what?
Satan chuckled as he looked around the room. Movie posters from different eras, clothes on the floor, papers everywhere. Satan looked at the pile of bananas on the floor where he was just summoned. "Alright, kid. What's on your mind" Satan kicked some of Jack's clothes off a bean bag chair and sat down looking at him.
Jack brushed his black hair to the left and fixed his blue hoodie "I need you to do something for me"
"No shit, Sherlock." Satan crossed his legs and put his arms over his head as he sank down on the bean bag. "What do you humans call the younger generations? Millions?"
"Millennials.."
"Ha, yeah! that word!" Satan laughed as looked around the room more.
"I'm going to get straight to the point, you are going to help me crash Jason Monroe's party." Jack stared at Satan with intensity.
Satan locked eyes with him, after an intense stare down and silence Satan burst out laughing.
"You got to be kidding me?! You summoned me to crash a kids party? This is rich!" Satan couldn't stop. Jack couldn't help but feel embarrassed. To have Satan, the devil, God's rival, laughing at him for ruining Jason's party.
Jack snapped out of it. He didn't care if Satan laughed at him or not, it took a lot of planning and time to summon him and he's not going to let this opportunity pass.
"Are you done?" Jack crossed his arms, no emotion on his face, he didn't want Satan to him fazed.
"Not yet" Satan continued laughing but soon stopped. "You're serious?"
"Yes, I'm dead serious, Satan. Besides, you have to help me no matter what.
Satan leaned in closer. "You have a point kid. Now tell me, why crash this Jason's kid party? Couldn't you do that by yourself? Why need my demonic powers?"
Jack looked at Satan in the eye "He ruined my life and now with your help I'm about to ruin his forever."
Satan smiled. "Alright, what do you want me to do?"
"Here's the plan" Jack smiled. | Then banalter stood roughly 6 feet tall, with bananas connecting the 6 banana pillars, and a bundle of 6 bananas in the middle. "I had a genius idea you see. Because bananas are sweet, yet savory, if properly prepared. Bananas are the ultimate bundle of a sweet yet savoury Satan. Not drown in sweet desire of life, nor the firm, savoury approach of stoicism, solitude, or justice. The sweet yet, if properly prepared, savoury, banana was the perfect concoction for summoning a balanced Satan. For the aspect of whom is summoned is attached to that which they're summoned by. Thus, I would have before me, if all goes well gracias a dios, a perfect banana Satan." As Timmy finished his thought he threw the summoning 3 sweet slices and 3 "properly prepared" slices. The narator narrated, making air quotes. And the fire rose from the flaming deliciousness of the banalter. With white and yellow flames begining small then swiring slowly, gaining height and size until the flame reached the top of the banalter. Then WAPOOM! The flames dissappeared and there he stood... Satan...
"Really kid? I've seen some creative ways for me to be summoned, but like this, it's just silly" Said Satan, looking down at the bananas. Timmy's face turned red as he reached for his shamenana. But before Timmy could take the first bite from his freshly peeled shamenana Satan's eyes went yellow. His little banana body began pulsing with a power of such unfathomable proportion.
"What is this... This POWER!" Satan roared. Timmy jumped to his feet "ITS WORKING" Timmy squealed oh so excitedly.
"NOW YOU SEE SATAN!" Timmy squealed again with even more excitement, "BANANAS ARE THE ULTIMATE POWER!!!"
"They will no longer call me Satan" The banana devil spoke with a tone oh so commanding. "I am now... Satanana!" It was at that moment Timmy saw the future, oh the glorius future that awaited him. He would be the commanding agent at Satananas side. He had planned many years for this moment. And now it was a reality. They together would create the Bananacultists, the ultimate cult to rule the world. With such savoury justice and sweet desire. Satanana reached his bananahand out to Timmy.
"Take some of the banapower my Timmy. Today it begins..." Satanana said, his glowing yellow eyes, his pure essence. The banana devil knew too the future the two now would make true.
| 2018-01-06T17:58:13 | 2018-01-06T16:44:20 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors. | Jimmy slowly woke up to the sounds of beeps and warning. Finally, he was able to make out the words, "Warning. Location Beacon System failure. Switching to alternate." He tried his radio, looking for maintenance, dispatch, or anyone to answer. There was no answer.
He was trained for this. He could handle this. It is his job, after all. Suddenly, one of the passengers spoke up, saying what everyone was thinking, "What the hell happened?" Jimmy tried to reassure the passengers, while trying to reassure himself: "There appears to have been a slight issue with the hyperlane. Don't worry. We will get you to your destination in no time. Once the hyperlane is back up we can re-enter, or we can just find the next closest hyperlane and take a detour. But there is nothing to worry about."
Now, of course there was something to worry about, and Jimmy knew this. If the hyperlane malfunctioned, they could have been spit out at any point along the route. To get back on, the hyperlane would have to be fixed, and they would have to find an entry point. But which way was the closest entry point? Jimmy knew that they needed to figure out where they were. That had to be the priority. He turned to Bob. "I'm going on figuring out where we are, but you need to go back there and calm the passengers. Public transportation already has a bad enough reputation. We don't need a riot to make things worse."
Bob was good as a copilot, but he was even better as a people person. Jimmy knew that Bob could handle the uneasiness in the passenger compartment. Trusting in Bob's skill for the passengers, he turned is eyes back towards the problem of location. He knew that they had to be somewhere along the hyperlane route, but where? If only he could find another entry point. There should be a location beacon there that they could use to pinpoint their location. Suddenly, Jimmy felt his training kicking in. He started thinking out loud: "Ok. So, we can't follow the path of the hyperlane without our location system working. How do we know which way to go? That's right, we can follow our own ion trail. That will show us where we were, which will eventually take us to the last entry point we passed. That is, of course, assuming the ion trail doesn't dissipate before we find it. But, we gotta start somewhere."
The engines came to life and the shuttle started turning around. The ion trail was still fresh and easy for the shuttle systems to detect. Jimmy knew they were heading the right way.
They continued and continued waiting for a sign of an entry point. Waiting for communication from anyone. But something felt off. There were some isolated areas along the hyperlane, but this felt too isolated. And along the routes were emergency beacons in the isolated areas for just this purpose. But Jimmy hadn't seen any entry points. He hadn't seen any emergency beacons. He had, in fact, seen nothing but distant stars.
A slight glimmer caught Jimmy's eye. He looked out of the side of the ship and saw something approaching from the distance. It looked like a ship, but nothing he had seen before. It didn't matter. He grabbed the radio and tried to contact them. Silence. He tried again. More silence. Soon, more ships started to approach from different angles. He frantically tried signalling them. Still nothing. He calmly called for Bob to come back up.
"Bob, I think our radio system might be down. I'm trying to hail these ships, but I'm getting nothing." "Whose ships are they? That could help us figure out where we are" Bob asked. Before Jimmy could even answer they were interrupted by the computer. "Alternate Location System is active. Based on the location of stars, we are at an 87% match with Darvos." Jimmy and Bob looked at each other. "Did that just say Darvos?", Bob asked. Jimmy replied, "Did that just say an 87% match?". Bob replied, "But if we are at Darvos, that means we made it to the end of the hyperlane. We are at our destination! Where *is* everything?" Jimmy just said again, "Only an 87% match? That just doesn't make sense." They were both interrupted again by the computer. "Alternate Location System, location determined. 100% Match. Location is Darvos. Year 42,739." Jimmy and Bob stared at each other with shocked faces. Bob said, "42,739. That is nearly 40,000 years in the future! Well that would explain why we don't see any signs of the Darvos that we know." Jimmy, looking at all of the ships that are now close enough to see into, said, "We have a bigger problem. I don't see any species that we know, either..."
---
My first time trying to write something. Obviously I need a lot of work, but the idea was in my head and I wanted to share it. | The days on this planet are longer: I’m pretty sure one day here is at least 4 days back on Earth - the sun here, smaller yet hotter, is literally a perpetual presence, and, if I had sunscreen and a hat and water, its cheerful brightness might’ve been a beacon of hope but it’s burning my skin and leaving me dehydrated so much I started seeing things: long dead daughters and a rather frightening mirage of my boss, Mr Vander, telling me I’m almost at my destination, I’m almost there, *keep going, Miany*.
I last spoke to him at least 15 hours ago: his only advice was that I find the local inhabitants of the planet and ask for their help, something he was very confident would work: he didn’t think they’d be hostile or frightened of an alien like me in anyway. Mr Vander is charming and confident, the “Cool Fox” we sometimes call him due to a certain cunning that lies just beneath his handsome looks, and when he says anything with that deep, steady voice of his you believe him, you even start believing in yourself.
In my 45 years of living, I’ve never thought of thirst as being physically painful - it’s always been more of a nag, a bother at worst. My lips are dryer than the sand I trudge through - the hyperplane, my masterful invention, crashed in place that’s weirdly like the Sahara: bone-dry and excruciating glare, a hell up on the surface.
It’s odd that the hyperplane malfunctioned - in fact, when I realized, with a cold twist of my stomach, that I was going to veer off course into wild space, I couldn’t believe it: my hyperplanes, an out-of-this-world progression of human accomplishment, couldn’t possibly have a fault.
They were built because the Earth was dying and humanity needed a new home - which we found in a habitable planet called Spugg - and we needed to get there damn quickly. FTL was still decades away and so the hyperplanes, while initially rejected by the masses, were employed.
I’m seeing something else now in this alien desert, a settlement, buildings and walking figures, unlikely since it seemed crazy that anyone could live in this firehole. But, as I stumble forwards, feet black and on fire, I realize that hallucinations have quite a different quality than real stuff, and that what’s before me is actually a small village - from here, in my dizzy, near-death state, I see grotesque humanoids ambling around, gnarled limbs sticking out of their torsos, a nightmare if I was in a more stable state of mind.
I don’t care if they might be hostile, all I need is water, or, at any rate, an equivalent to it. I shout and every single one of them, in disturbing, choreographed unity, turn their heads in my direction. As I wave my hands, already regretting my decision, my communicator beeps: judging by the mugshot-like picture of a strong young man on the screen, it’s one of the engineering interns back on Earth, which is odd because I don’t quite expect interns to be involved in my rescue mission.
“Hello - “ I begin but I gasp when I see the interns face on the video call: bloody and bashed, eyes slits and purple.
“Miany!” he shouts. Interns usually, in fright and awe, refer to me as Miss Ogamenda, so him calling me by my name means there’s something serious going on. Before I can ask what the fuck, he continues:
“Miany. I only have little time left! Listen to me!”
“What is it?” Instantly, like medicine, an unnerving energy washes over me: the desert is discarded and forgotten. “Is the meteor about to strike Earth?”
“No, listen!” He is barely intelligible since his mouth is so puffy. “Everything was a lie! I overhead them, Mr Vander, Mrs Plygien, everyone! I managed to get away but they’ve got soldiers on me. I’ve already broadcast the whole truth to the entire Eartg.”
I can see him, with his sturdy frame, fighting off advancing guards, and with a sinking feeling, I realize what he meant when he said “little time”.
“The Earth isn’t dying. Vander Inc. has been polluting and destroying the Earth on purpose so that they could get government funding to find and conquer other worlds! It’s all a thirst for power!”
“What?”
“Your hyperplane: it didn’t just malfunction, it was tampered with. They figured you were too close to the inner circle and couldn’t be trusted if the truth was leaked to you. They only wanted your brains and inventions, your hyperplane especially, and they always planned to get rid of you afterwards. You’ve always been outspoken and fought for what’s right - we interns always admired you about that. There was no way they could risk you finding out, Miany.”
My head is spinning: faintly, like they’re on some faraway planet, I can hear the aliens approaching, massive feet thudding on sand
“Oh, fuck, they’re coming.” Fear and death are in the intern’s eyes as he looks up from his communicator and back down to me. “They tried to kill you! Not just by making you crash on an alien desert planet but on an alien desert planet with aliens who’ve come into contact with humans before. Bad contact, hundreds of years ago in the early 21st century. They hate humans and will arrest or kill one on sight!”
As the thought of being wanted on two fronts sinks in, the intern’s eyes widen, and when he tries to open his mouth in a rigid, spastic way, there’s an explosion, and the screen of the communicator goes black. | 2018-01-22T09:12:27 | 2018-01-22T08:42:52 | 58 | 10 |
[WP] Your best friend is weirdly the ghost that haunts your house, you chat with each other, play video games, bullshit over movies. Until the day that they finally finish the thing that has kept them from moving on all this time | I press the button and Aidan on the screen jumps over the oncoming monster and slashes is his sword down. The sword nicks the top of the monster - a strange mix of pumpkin and bloodsucking bat. The thing screams on top of its lungs as the legendary sword rips it apart, ichor flowing everywhere around it till it deflates right as Aidan lands on the ground.
And just like that, I'm on the ground.
I'm...sideways? I don't understand. I was sitting on the chair a moment ago. What happened to the chair? I try to turn my head but I...can't. I can't move my head. Oh God, I can't move my head.
Reality crashes into me like a runaway train. I'm lying on the ground sideways, and it takes all my strength but I can make out the edge of the chair where I'd been sitting standing upright as if I was still there. The controller lay right side up on the ground, waiting for someone to pick it up.
And Aidan on the screen doesn't look so brave anymore, he doesn't look so stylish either. He's an 8-bit character, a collection of not-so-small squares, who stands still, not moving as the monster heads towards him.
And it's no fearsome beast with leathery skin and massive wings. It too is a set of squares that move individually to make it look like it's squirming. It gets closer to Aidan. Closer. Closer.
Aidan jumps.
He leaps over the beast and with an almost casual backwards flick of his legendary blade he slices the beast in half.
A girl appears on the chair, holding the controller. Her legs swing, dangling off the chair, barely reaching the ground. She turns towards me, her fine blond hair floating above her head like a halo. Not bound by silly things like gravity. Her startlingly blue eyes are twinkling and a smile plays across her lips.
I open my mouth to say her name, to call out. I want to say it, I *should* be saying it but I...can't. No voice comes out.
All I can do is stare as she just smiles. Stare at the face I more familiar with than anything else in the world. My best friend in kindergarten before she died.
Died for everyone else, that is.
She stuck around for me, when I was a girl playing old games; when I was teenager, helping me choose makeup. When I was in college she gave her thoughts on boys. She was there when I worked, telling me jokes when I was about to fall asleep. She was there when I had kids, holding my left hand while Mike held the right. She was there when my Mike died, her hand squeezing mine, her face solemn.
And here she was now.
She stepped off the chair, but didn't fall to the ground. Instead she floated a foot off the floor and came over to me. She bent down to look me in the eyes and ran her fingers through my silver hair. It was the caress of a beam of sunlight, entangled in my hair. I tried to speak but she put a finger up to my lips, her touch so light that it could've been a strand of hair.
Then she spoke. Her voice was the whistle of a gentle breeze saying everything and nothing at all. Quiet but ever-present at the same time.
And when my vision began to fade, she put her hands on my eyelids, and this time they felt like they were as heavy as the world. I fought her, but she just shook her head, her mouth as severe as any policewoman, but her sparkling eyes belying her amusement.
And I finally understood. As I closed my eyes, I knew she would disappear too.
After all, the person who'd kept her from moving on was finally at an end.
| I was about 6 at the time we moved into our current house. My mother saw it was a very cheap house, due to all it's apparent past haunting, and she found a nearby job as a single mother. She believed it was bullshit, and I'm glad she did. When we first moved here, she didn't notice anything but I started to notice weird things going on in the house, and one day I was in my room, going to sleep so the light was off, when creepily I heard a voice coming from the corner of the room.
"This used to be my room." said a girlish voice.
I couldn't quite pinpoint where she was, but I wasn't really disturbed or scared, to be honest. This was 6 months after I had moved in. It felt like I knew the presence in the room personally, and it struck me hard. I connected the dots with my little brain and I realized that she was the ghost that people complained about in the haunting reviews.
"Who's there?" I asked lightly, not to scare her. "My name's Anna, you can come out and talk to me."
A shape slowly appeared in the darkness, a transparent white that slowly solidified into color, a girl around the age of 12.
"Wow, you're a ghost? Who are you?" I inquired to the mysterious girl.
"My name is Isabella, and I'm a girl who's been here in this house for many many years, how are you able to hear and see me?"
This part felt a little weird, was nobody else able to see and hear her? Weren't there other people here before? I was confused.
"I'm not sure Isabella, what happened to you?" I asked.
Isabella smiled grimly "You can call me Bella, but as for what happened to me, I burned in a house fire many years ago."
Fast forward a few years, I became best friends with her, always coming back home from school and playing with her. My mom thought I was going through an imaginary friend phase and I didn't have any friends, but she was real. I learned her parents were abusive, and she was 12. Fast forward again, and I'm just entering my 12th birthday. I lived in this house all my life, and Isabella has become my best friend, but today, on my birthday, she smiled and followed me around content. She didn't say very much but we had fun. The day went as normal, we watched a movie, I ate cake, my mom and family nearby came to sing happy birthday, but here's where it all went wrong. Today, earlier, I was talking to Isabella, and suddenly she started to fade, and I got really confused as she's never done it before.
I asked, "What's happening? Is this another one of your tricks?"
She smiled faintly and whispered to me "No, I'm moving on. I've fulfilled my purpose here. Thank you, Anna, for your company and friendship."
I started to frown, "no no, what did you do? Why are you moving on? What's going on? What were you here to do?"
She replied softly "My sole thing that tethered me here was I had no friends my age, and now you are my age and my best friend, you've helped me to pass on . . . thank you. I must go, goodbye"
She, just as soon as I saw her come into existence when I first met her, disappeared in front of my very eyes. It registered that my best friend had just disappeared and I started to cry heavily, touching the place I last saw her, my eyes bawling. My mother rushed up the stairs, but she didn't understand what happened. Nobody did. I held her a funeral later in my backyard, but there was nothing to bury. Today I lost my best friend, and nobody believed me. I miss her so much and now I'm blaming myself for her absence. it feels so empty. I spent the day crying, and my mom ended up trying to take me to a therapist. It didn't work, but because of the wrong reason. They thought I was crazy but I was in mourning. I just feel so empty now. I'm happy for you, Isabella. I'm glad you were my friend. I'll do my best to move on, for you. Thank you. | 2018-06-27T22:56:57 | 2018-06-27T21:41:19 | 64 | 38 |
[WP] You are the first man on Mars to explore a previously unknown cave. The camera feed is able to still reach earth, but with a 20 minute delay. Your crew back on Earth start frantically shouting to go back. | Against the backdrop of red, there was nothing but a faceless spacesuit. Slumped slightly forward, its lower back resting against the ridges of the cave wall. Occasionally, from the inside of the suit, you could see a panel lighting up, revealing from inside the tinted faceplate its inhabitant.
It’s a curious thing, this space suit. Because the space suit speaks.
“*Space Command to Private Rosch, you are cleared for entry. Take care down there, Private. Over”*
The words are alien, to you. You’ve never seen something like this before, not for a long time. Was it a long time? You’d only been here a few days. You suppose time is relative.
“*Space Command to Private Rosch, Captain Leeds recommends you tone down the small talk, we’re on a live feed here to the top brass. But yeah, it sure is. Over”*
There’s an amused snort. Now that you get. This one heard something funny. You tilt your head. Was that what was considered funny? Okay then, you got it.
The suit is made of a funny type of cloth, nothing you’ve ever touched before. It’s strange, rough to the touch. And inconsistent too. Certain parts of the suit are softer than the rest, more flexibles.
Were these where the creature’s joints were? That would make sense. Going by that logic…
You give the faceplate a light tap. Then you’d suppose that the place where the material was hardest (What was this? You could just about see through it if you squinted your eyes.) was the place of most importance.
“*Space Command to Private Rosch, we’re detecting some strange activity in the background of your cam feed. Recommend you turn on night vision instead of infra-red so we can get a better look. Over.”*
You run the of your fingernail around the edges of this strange material. The see-through metal. Your work done, you give it a light tap and it comes free. The sheet of see-through metal, cut free, falls splat on the face of the suit’s occupant.
That’s not what you want. You frown. With one hand, you reach in and delicately pick it out, in between your two thumbs. It’s stained with the creature’s blood, which is definitely strange. You don’t remember injuring it all the way up here.
“*Space Command to Private Rosch, something’s following you. I repeat, you are not alone. We have authorized for you to shoot to kill. Over.”*
The suit gives you a scare. How was it still alive? Was it a different living system, working in harmony with this creature? You look down at the creature’s torso. There’s a see-through hole, just about the size of your hand. Blood and what you presume to be the creature’s insides have split out down it’s crotch, to the floor and begun to dry.
What a strange thing. You hurt it in one place, and blood spurts out of another. You feel excitement flow through your veins, your thumbs clicking together restlessly. More, you had to know more!
You kick yourself for being so rash. This was probably the only time you’d ever chance to study something like this. You should have kept it alive.
No matter, you decide, as you wipe the see-through metal clean. It would make a nice trophy.
“*Space Command to Private Rosch, we order you to retreat! Get out of there now! Confirm!*”
As if it knows what you’re going to do next, the suit speaks again. You don’t understand the words but you understand the panicked tone.
Then you get down to the nasty stuff. What was so important here? You gorge out two white orbs, each with a spot of light blue. You find strangely shaped bones in the big orifice in the creature’s face. They’re stained red, and seem to be protecting a seemingly useless slab of meat inside. At the back of the orifice, a pool of blood gurgles. You suppose this part of the creature led to the torso.
“*Rosch ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod. What the fuck is that?”*
The suit is starting to speak more often now.
“*I’m detecting a complete loss of vital signs. That thing killed him.”*
*“You’ve left the button on, Private Sej.”*
Blissful silence falls, allowing you to focus on your work. You find what you are pretty sure is the creature’s brain. It’s similar to your people’s, but this one seems significantly bigger. You’re not sure whether or not you should feel envious. After all, this creature is the dead one.
“*This is Captain Leeds of United Earth Space Command. I respectfully request for you to identify yourself.*”
You flip the creature on its front, revealing its back. There, whirring away slowly, a strange metal box. You pick it apart easily. This metal is significantly harder than everything else though. Could this be the suit’s heart?
“*Do you understand us?”*
The inside of the box is divided into two parts. The lower components consist of two cylinders with strange wording on them. You press it, and a strange smelling gas comes out. Oxygen? Why would this creature be carrying so much of it? Perhaps it needed it to survive.
The upper components are interesting, a myriad of light and strange, flexible strings that came in different colours. You cut one of the strings. Immediately, a loud beeping sounds from inside the suit, near the faceplate.
You flip it over. There was a panel of green lights near the front edge of the faceplate, but now one of them was beeping red and the suit’s bright light had gone out. Red, that was a good thing, right? You eagerly cut away at the wires, the beeping growing incessantly loud.
“*This is Captain Leeds of the United Earth Space Command. We have determined that you are hostile. You will be exterminated. Go to hell.*”
Then the suit goes abruptly silent, as you cut the final string.
And behind you, you hear a loose rock crumble down the slope of the cave’s entrance.
Weighted boots create small mushroom clouds, much as the first creature had.
You feel an insane glee overcome you. There were more of them. You could continue your studies after all.
“What the hell? Is that Rosch? Holy fuck!”
You try to think of what the creature had said when it first entered the cave. It’s hard, because you’re not quite designed the same way as this creature. But you manage.
**“Man, this place is creepy as hell.”**
Edit: Thanks for the feedback, as well as your support for my story! :) I'm glad so many of you enjoyed it. | The suit is tight and his breath steams the visor again before it auto clears, even the psi 2 suit seems to still have trouble with heat transfer. Weird in a place where he would freeze almost instantly. His mind drifts like this usually on the high stress missions, his way of dealing with it, worse were the live stream ones where you have to censor every word and watch every action because some armchair fucking astronaut thinks you may have messed up some procedure they read about from 30 years ago.
The cave mouth was huge but shielded from observation from above by a massive overhanging shelf of rock covered with granulated red dirt. It wasn't until spaceX had gotten a explorer unit to hit the bottom of the Valles Marineris trenches that it came to light.
Several other caves had been found but none with this look of being constructed, when he had approached and spent an hour going over the outside the usual had happened and from all analysis it appeared again like a random feature of wind and rain and erosion that had made it look like a thing built by intelligent life, The hype died down and the rest of the science team back on earth wanted him to go deeper - this would be the first time the team would have someone to probe into the depths of Mars like this.
His relay point was the drop pod about 400 meters from the entrance, "Mike checking in -what are my readings?" he waited in the hiss of static. It was going from his little suit to the pod through the base further up on the lip of the trench and then relayed all the way back to earth with the 20 minute delay each way. He wasn't waiting for the earth response just his second in the main base - Base MB1.2 - they should have let the net name the base except it would have ended up with something retarded like basey mcbaseface - so it was given to scientists and ended up sounding like it, She could sort out the fucking geek team back on earth.
Her voice come back with the usual hiss and exotic accent "Ox 76 hours - Cooling 76 hours - Food 3 days (if you can call gel food) water - 3 days, looking good for further exploration, no messages from earth - free to explore at will -Georgia out"
His headlamp showed a perfect circle of light in the cave with utter darkness surrounding it. Using a gas operated jack he anchored a spike into some solid looking rock at the cave mouth and tugged as hard as he could on it to test - no movement. Attaching a reel to his belt after latching it to the spike he slowly spooled it out and entered the cave making sure his camera was on broadcast and he had a little window showing his feed of Georgia back at base switched on, if either failed he was immediately out. To many people thought aliens were the big risk out in space but frankly space itself was trying to kill you a hell of a lot harder than any alien ever would, at least for now, and his comms were his lifeline.
He advanced slowly clearing the ground each step with slow sweeps of his headlamp. The first few meters into the cave were choked with the dust that covered every surface on the planet. "Still with me Georgy?" "Yeah still here, looking good so far"
Looking further in he could see a rough roof and stalactites hanging down, he stopped and focused on them. "You seeing this?" "Clear as day" he felt a little excitement, this meant moisture at sometime in the past, the cave looked dry as dust now but still he could imagine the scientist back on earth getting exited about it and prepared mentally for the usual requests to take samples and dig in this or that spot. He advanced some more spooling out the cable and sweeping with his light. The cave so far didn't seem to have an rear or rather it just continued on more like an underground tunnel than a cave, The walls were covered with what looked like a laval flow frozen in time, and the roof was distant enough he could stand easily. Why is the floor clear? it has stalactites yet nothing coming up from the floor. maybe it had to do with the gravity, or water flow in the bottom?
He knelt and unlatched a small sample container from his belt scooping the dry dust from the floor into it, the lid auto recording time mps co-ordinates and relative depths atmo readings etc. Sealing it and waiting for it to go green he heard something, "Sorry Georgia say again?". There was a brief silence "Nothing said this end" her voice sounded calm still, great last thing he needed was to go suit crazy now. "Uh can you give me some seismic readings? think maybe we have some movement down here" "Wait one" a hiss of static and he could see her looking down and punching buttons on the monitor window. She looked up "Yeah got some minor shakes showing but that could be from the storms knocking rocks into the valley"
"Ack that - going deeper now" He felt a little better, the equipment could pick up some rockfalls and was pretty sensitive - it could be used as a backup tracking system when the mps went down to track surface vehicle movements. The tunnel angled slightly down and he followed it still doing careful sweeps with this headlamp and camera, a slight curve making the way back disappear beyond the horizon of his headlamp and cable leading back. After an hour of steady descent the cave ended abruptly the far wall closing in on the floor in what looked like an avalanche of boulders and sharply pointed crystal.
A rounded boulder caught his eye, he shuffled closer, it looked like a head from a badly worn statue "Georgia you seeing this?" a slight sigh over the radio behind the static "Ack Mike I see it" he carefully picked it up and turned it over in his hands, He could swear there were tool marks on it but then again it could be just erosion. Always he hoped to find something so he was always wary when something like the cave mouth popped up because he was to used to disappointment. It never stopped him volunteering for the missions though. No one else was ever keen to go and dig rocks at the behest of scientists but he did it on the off chance. He examined it closely - there were pits for eyes a potential nub for a nose and a small depression that could have been a mouth. "Uh Mike Priority One Message - X Actual - return to surface at once" something began to flash on her monitor showing her face in a ghoulish red "Pri One message from Sci Team - return to surface at once" her voice and face still calm. He had actually heard the audio over the screen. it seemed more screaming and shouting than a message.
"Whats going on Georgia?"
"No idea Mike trying to find out"
He had tucked the head into a carry bag and began the return up into the cave reeling the cable in and using the small boost to momentum to try and get extra speed. There was a judder through his feet and he staggered to one side. The cable suddenly loose in his grip. "Georgia whats going on up there?" She looked up from the readings and chatter he could still hear through the comms. "Mike wait out we need to get a team to" and she was shut off.
Her screen had gone to static and then the standby symbol. He slogged up the passageway his reel now pulling in a loose cable automatically. | 2018-08-12T00:32:18 | 2018-08-12T00:31:14 | 3,966 | 618 |
[WP] A genie asks to hear your 3 wishes before granting then. Afterwards, he informs you that those wishes will be saved for his next master and you'll now receive the wishes of the previous master. | "The previous' owner's first wish was for world peace" the genie said.
"Oh," I muttered. "I was hoping for some cash. but I guess the previous owner was a humanitarian, huh? I guess it's good for the world though."
The genie nodded, "Very good for the world indeed. I was more than happy to grant that wish."
"The second wish," the pale, smokey figure with burning eyes continued, "was for 100 million dollars."
"Sweet! Thank you previous owner!" I cheered as a bag of cash appeared at my feet. Unzipping the black duffel revealed stacks of $100 dollar bills. I couldn't help but laugh with joy. My first wish had only been for a million dollars. 100 million was way better.
"The third wish," the genie continued, "was to become the most beautiful person in the world."
"Awesome!" I looked down at myself, expecting my muscles to fill out and to grow several inches taller. Nothing happened.
After a bit of disappointment (I still had 100 million dollars, so not TOO much disappointment), a thought occurred to me.
"Are you saying I'm actually already the most beautiful person in the world? Or that beauty was inside me all along?"
"No" the whips smoke replied, "In order to create world peace, I had to eliminate all things which might fight with my master, or with each other."
I hugged my bag of money to my chest a bit tighter, trying to understand.
"You are the only human left alive in the world, so you are the most beautiful by default. Have fun with your paper money, I'm sure it will serve you well." | "How is that even fair?" I screamed at the smokey red giant in front of me.
"Well most people wish for roughly the same thing anyway," he replied. "Wealth, happiness, destruction to their enemies, so it usually doesn't matter."
I thought for a moment. I did just wish to be rich and to live a long and happy life. The superpowers would have been cool but i just wanted those to kick the crap out of Dave, so i guess the destruction to my enemies would fit that too. "All right," I said. "Those things don't sound so bad. Let's have it then."
"I said 'most people' wish for those things. The person before you was actually pretty unique. Her fist wish was for her partner to 'grow a pair of balls and quit his job'"
"Well Dana has been complaining about her job at the rodeo lately. Maybe that's not so bad. The 'balls' thing was just a metaphor though, right? She isn't literally going to grow a pair is she?"
"Well you will find that we genie are a pretty literal people," he said with a wink. "Not something you would probably need to worry about though. And even for me this seems like one hell of a coincidence after what you just said."
"Oh, god. What now?"
"Her second wish was for 'that bitch Dana to get off her high horse and leave me alone.' I mean i know she was talking about a different one, but since her wishes apply to you now...."
"So first you give my girlfriend a pair of testicles and then you tell me not to worry about it because she's going to break up with me? How can this possibly get any worse?"
"Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll find someone else. In fact her third wish was 'I wish Dave would fuck the shit out of me every night.' I know she meant her boyfriend, but it's lucky that you know already know a Dave that I can apply this wish to or it would have just been a random Dave in the area." As the genie began to mist back into his lamp he said "Don't forget, we are a quite literal people. You may want to pick up some towels and clean sheets on your way home."
| 2018-10-13T11:37:37 | 2018-10-13T09:32:41 | 536 | 148 |
[WP] You're the result of a drunken one-night stand between a hero and a villain. Despite their complicated hatred of each other, they've always tried not to fight for your sake. That changes during a particularly heated parent-teacher meeting. | "In my experience, this sort of conversation requires both parents to be present," Ms. Ratwell said delicately. "Do you know if your - er - when Nick's father will be joining us?"
&#x200B;
Ursula looked at her watch and sighed. She shuddered to think of what kind of nonsense he must have gotten himself in. "No. I made sure to remind him it was today. But you know how their kind are. Something always comes up at the last minute... Can we just get this over with?" Ursula didn't need mind reading powers to know the look Ms. Ratwell was giving her. The patronizing judgement was loud as a bus full of drowning schoolchildren.
&#x200B;
Ms. Ratwell pursed her lips before continuing. "I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that both parents really need to be on the same page when it comes to raising a child. Which isn't to be defeatist. There's definitely still time to turn things around. But we're just worried that Nick isn't on the right track right now. He's started to act out."
&#x200B;
"There's only so much I can do alone. Nick's with me most of the week, but after the Super Court judge gave Frank custody on the weekends... You know how boys this age take after their fathers."
&#x200B;
Ms. Ratwell nodded. "SCOTUS really does gives their kind too much leeway. As I always say-"
&#x200B;
Just then, the classroom door opened and Captain Fantastic appeared. Years ago, Ursula almost enjoyed the accompanying trumpet theme, but now she loathed the stupid up-beat tune that accompanied Frank every time he entered.
&#x200B;
"Sorry I'm late. This city has far too many burning buildings. Completely outdated fire codes if you ask me."
&#x200B;
"Hello Frank. So good of you to take time out of your busy schedule to make time for the education of your son."
&#x200B;
"Now that's not fair Ursula. It's not like I'm on the side starting the fires."
&#x200B;
Ms. Ratwell cleared her throat loudly to cut the argument short. "Thank you for joining us Frank. We were just about to talk about Nick's grades. We've noticed some troubling trends lately in a couple of his classes."
&#x200B;
Captain Fantastic looked taken aback. "Well that is troubling. Scout's honor. I've been making sure he does his homework, and Ursula I promise that I haven't let him play any of those honorable video games. He's only allowed to play the gory fighting ones."
&#x200B;
"Be that as it may, his grades in several of his classes leave some cause for concern. Take Mad Science for example."
&#x200B;
"Nick loves Mad Science. He was so excited about that Death Ray project. Are you saying his didn't work?" Captain Fantastic asked.
&#x200B;
"It's more that he's having trouble grasping the fundamental principles. The Death Ray project is a perfect example. When it came time to present the application, all Nick could do was go on about how it would make for a great source of clean energy."
&#x200B;
"See, this is what I keep trying to tell you, Frank!" Ursula blurted out. "It doesn't matter the words you say, but your *lifestyle* is rubbing off on him."
&#x200B;
Captain Fantastic shot to his feet, his gaze transfixed on the window. "Do you see that?" He pointed to what appeared to be a giant radioactive spider laying waste to some skyscrapers in the direction of downtown. "The Tarantuladon must have escaped its prison in the Mariana Trench! I'm sorry. Ursula, Ms. Ratwell. I need to take a raincheck here. The city needs me."
&#x200B;
And without time for another word, Captain Fantastic flew through the window to do battle with the giant beast.
&#x200B;
Ursula put her hands over her face in embarrassment. | “She *does* have a tendency to read the minds of those around her. Some of the other pupils have complained.” Mrs Johnson had to tread carefully; she was all too aware of who she was speaking to.
“I don’t believe this.” KillGirl sank back into her plastic seat - its tiny legs flexing under her weight. “She gets that from you, Tim.” MindMan looked at her, aghast, and took a sip from a complimentary carton of milk that the school had provided.
“Not now, Tina,” he said.
Mrs Johnson shuffled uncomfortably. “On the plus side,” she beamed, “she hasn’t killed a fellow pupil for a whole term!” She pointed to a handmade poster stuck next to the whiteboard behind her. In callously coloured bubble writing, a pupil had written “WEEKS GONE WITHOUT KILLING ANYBODY” along the top. The rest of the poster was filled with rows and rows of gold stars - but next to Amber’s name were only six.
“Well, that’s something then!” KillGirl knew the teacher was clutching at straws, but she forced enthusiasm with all her might nonetheless. MindMan glared at his arch rival.
“Hmm,” he placed a mocking finger on his chin, “I wonder why our daughter has taken to murder?” KillGirl’s gaze snapped upon MindMan’s. The teacher laughed, trying to break the palpable tension.
“It’s not *murder* if she was under threat, *Timothy,*” KillGirl spat between gritted teeth. “*You* should know that better than anyone.”
“Tina, don’t bring up Washington. We don’t talk about Washington - we agreed on that. And besides, I’m not sure Olivia looks like the type to be holding fellow six-year-olds at gunpoint.” MindMan gestured to a small shrine in the corner of the room, surrounded by flowers made of multi-coloured tissue paper. Perched in the middle was a picture of a little girl wearing a blue dress and a ribbon in her yellow hair. A small plaque next to it read *Always in our hearts, Olivia*. KillGirl rolled her eyes.
“She might be,” she shrugged.
“You know I’m right,” continued MindMan. “And I know you know I’m right. I can read minds, remember? I also happen to know that Mrs Johnson here is taking my side, and she’s an impartial third party.”
“Oh, no, I err, I’m neutral, guys. I’m Switzerland.” Mrs Johnson picked up a sheet of white paper and waved it awkwardly. “I surrender, Mr MindMan and Mrs KillGirl. Argh!” She forced a laugh once more, her embarrassment as tangible as the classroom itself. The parents turned to one another again.
“Don’t read my mind, Tim. We made a deal. I don’t kill you, you don’t read my mind. And we never talk about Washington.”
“It’s not like I can help it, Tina. It’s loud. *Your* mind is particularly loud. It’s like nails against a blackboard, dammit. I can pick you out of a crowd, that’s for sure. Just follow the screech.”
“Fuck you, Tim. I’ve a mind to kill you, right here, right now.”
“You don’t have a mind to kill me.”
“I might.”
“I *know* you don’t. You love Amber too much. If that kid is going to have a hope in life, she needs us both. And besides, you think I’m cute when I’m angry.”
“I just need to-” Mrs Johnson rose from her seat. “I think I’m being called. Excuse me a moment.” The door slammed behind her. KillGirl didn’t say a word, but MindMan continued.
“I think you’re cute when you’re angry, too. Your cheeks go red and you keep flicking your fringe to the side. I remember noticing it the first time you tried to kill me.” KillGirl remained silent, but her expression began to soften. Finally, she spoke.
“I could've killed you if I'd wanted. I just chose not to."
"I know, Tin. I know. Thanks for that."
"You're welcome. It won't happen again, though."
MindMan turned to look at the classroom door. The hallway outside was desolate - he couldn’t hear a sound; or a mind. "You er, you thinking what I’m thinking, then?”
“I don't know - you're the mind reader - you tell me." KillGirl's expression had relented into a reluctant grin.
"Yeah. I am. It’s time Amber had a sibling.”
\*\*\*If you enjoyed this, you might like my subreddit - r/StoriesAreFunRight. Every subscriber gets a gold star (unless you've killed recently, of course). | 2019-01-28T04:57:44 | 2019-01-28T01:57:54 | 2,684 | 1,162 |
[WP] You are a vet at an animal shelter. Everytime a cat was about to be put down, you secretly release it. You are caught and fired, costing you everything. In your darkest hour, a strange woman knocks on your door. She introduces herself as Bastet and claims she is here to make things right. | This is it. This is actually it. This is the way my life ends after more than 3000 years of guiding humanity in the best way I could.
I hate how vulnerable I am right now. Many humans want to be able to transform into their favourite animal, but they don't know what they're wishing for. While there's some perks, it's just not worth it. Night vision is nice, but does it really beat opposable thumbs?
No.
It doesn't.
Curse Sekhmet and her stupid pranks. This isn't the first day I've spent as a cat against my will, but it's without a doubt the worst. Imagine being an immortal goddess on the way to be put down.
Imagine only being immortal when in human form.
I can't believe this is the way I go. I always imagined that if I died, it'd be legendary. Heroic. Like the old gods. Not as a lamb (cat) to slaughter.
The human lady seems nice enough. I guess it's for the better she doesn't realize who I am. I imagine she wouldn't really like to know she killed an actual god. Although, maybe, she wouldn't care. People don't care about the ancient gods.
She talks to me like I'm a baby. I really don't get why people do that. Don't they now cats can understand human language? Most cats I met find it extremely disrespectful.
I guess it doesn't matter anymore.
The human doesn't seem to know where she's going. Or does she.
She does. She actually does. She knows exactly where she's going.
I can't believe how grateful I am.
She won't believe it either.
| This prompt is weirdly specific but okay)
---
"Hold on, Holy Ghost."
---
Janelle stared at the woman, or 'Bastet', as she was calling herself. Her hair was inky black and fell a bit higher than her waist. Her eyes were dark blue, like a storm. Her teeth were pearly white, but it looked like she had little fangs. Her hands seemed rather claw like, and her skin was pale white in the moonlight.
Bastet leaned forward, and held Janelle's ruined collar. "This world is unfair, and what you did for the cats, for me, I don't think you should have been punished for it. Bastet leaned a bit closer to Janelle's face, but stopped. "Hah, sorry. I didn't wanna scare you."
Janelle felt scared. She hadn't talked to anyone in a long time, but she didn't want to either. "Why...?" Janelle's voice was hoarse; she hadn't spoken in a while.
"Oh right, you wouldn't recognize me like this." The woman morphed into a cat. The first cat Janelle had ever rescued. "I'm a shadowshaper. And I," Bastet changed back and wrapped her arms around Janelle. "Want to help you since you helped me." Janelle stared in disbelief.
"I-I-I-."
"Shh, you don't have to say anything. I'm gonna make this hell go away." Janelle hadn't cried in a long time, but here she was, being held by a stranger as she cried. "All you have to do is come with me."
Janelle looked at Bastet through tearful eyes. "Please, get me away from these people."
Janelle felt Bastet's grip tighten. "I'll get you out of here, and I'll make sure not to loose you again."
---
"Go on, hold me close."
---
I'll let you all decide what to make of this. Because I don't even know. | 2019-03-17T22:48:45 | 2019-03-17T20:50:00 | 329 | 194 |
[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you". | "Thank you."
I was dying. An old friend I hadn't seen in...decades, now by my side. A watch to return.
I'd always tried to pay back the time I was living on, borrowed or not.
An Ouroboros over a pocket watch. I'd often wondered what it meant over the years.
\---
My old friend explained to me what I'd been doing.
I'd been recording moments of my life, highs and lows...storing a copy of sorts in this device.
"You never needed to get it fixed."
He's right, I'd never needed to take the watch in to get it fixed.
I'd never needed to.
Until now.
\---
"I know, for you, a lifetime. For when I return to where I came from, a blink of an eye will have passed."
Are you an angel?
He smiled.
"Would an angel need a pocket watch?"
I smiled.
\---
He left me a card, before I'd be alone with my thoughts...for the final time?
"I needed to watch over you, time works differently from where I'm from. Your memories and feelings were recorded in this watch to be gifted to beings that...would love to celebrate your life more than once. You'll be a kind memory to those that need one, when they need one."
&#x200B;
Edit: I write short stories over at r/counterfiction | I laid there alone. My family had left, they had their lives to get back to. I was going to die. Soon. Maybe not soon enough. I had fallen very ill recently and now I was bed ridden. My family did visit, and looked after me, but I had been here, this way, for three weeks. They had lives to get back to. I understood nor did I blame them.
So I laid, fiddling with a pocket watch. Old. Very old. Ornate. Gold and silver. A serpent cooling around the surface eating its own tail. Admiring the light reflecting surface, a sound I thought I had dreamed echoed through my room. Like a suction cup closing almost.
“I thought I dreamt of you. All those years ago. But how could it have been a dream when you gifted me this pocket watch,” I said, staring at the roof.
“Well, no I am back to reclaim it. Pass it here.” A voice said. The same as the man who spoke urgently the last time we met. Begging me to take it from his hands.
“Of course. But for what purpose did giving me the watch serve?” I asked back.
“I stole it. From deep in space. Further than you could imagine. I needed to hide it. Everyone knows Earth has no space travel, no intergalactic affairs. The perfect hiding place. You just happened to be where I landed,” the voice said. I felt his hand close around mine as he grabbed the pocket watch. He whispered thank you in my ear, as the sound of what I could only assume was his teleport took him away.
“So I helped unknowingly in an intergalactic theft,” I said to myself. A smile spread across my face as I went to sleep for the last time.
If you want to read more of my stuff it’s at
r/DougysDramatics | 2019-05-30T07:17:30 | 2019-05-30T07:02:40 | 1,299 | 26 |
[WP] A dragon that's the absolute worst at being a dragon gets the aid of a princess fed up with the constant courtship. She relaxes in its tower, coaching the dragon as knights and warriors from all over attempt to free her. | "Ugh, another one?" the Princess sighed at the sight of a heavily armoured knight riding his gallant steed towards the tower.
"Yeah... Sorry, but I'll get right on it, Princess!" said the large dragon that was perched just outside her window.
"Don't forget, if he tries to charge–"
"Double-evade, just in case, then strike from above, don't worry..."
***
Jamie was a brave knight, brought up in the Kingdom's capital to a noble family of knights and famed heroes. From the very tender age of 6 he had received tutelage from some of the bravest most skilled knights from across the Kingdom. Even the Head Knight of the Kingdom's Royal Select trained him in swordsmanship and organisational matters. He was even rumoured to have been selected to be the Head Knight's prodigy when he had come-of-age.
On his 18th name day, he was given his own small fiefdom to do as he please. Of course, this was to familiarise him with the act of ruling, managing finances, and all sorts of things related to a nobleman's life. During this time, he kept to his chivalrous roots that had been planted by the various knightly training since he was a child. He handled the fiefdom in a gracious manner, drawing praises from both the nobility and the small-folk alike. That was to say, all manners of preparations for him had been done by his family no matter the cost.
But when he had heard that the Princess had been snatched away by a terrible beast, Jamie pledged on his proud name to vanquish it and bring home the Princess. For it was always the dream of every fledgling knight to beat the mighty monster and get the princess in return – as well as some fame and glory, of course. So he embarked on a journey many had taken before him. Sixty knights, known and loved by the people, had tried to do what Jamie wanted to do as well. None returned the way they were, most were not even in one recognisable piece.
At first, Jamie thought those before him had been foolish in their conduct. *Surely*, he thought, *I could do better than all of them!*
He charged towards the mighty dragon who had taken an immovable stance in front of the tower where the princess was held. He put his all in his trusty lance, made of iron wood and the best quality steel. He put his faith in the mighty steed that he had groomed to be the best charger in the Kingdom. He put his faith in all of the people who had brought him towards this very moment – one which would truly immortalise his name in songs and legends.
"Huh?" Jamie said, exasperated at his missing the beast's belly.
"Foolish human, you are nothing more than the rest of them!" The Dragon roared a thundering mock.
At that very instant, the proud knight redirected his aim to the evading dragon. The sudden jerking almost broke his steed's legs as it screeched to turn. Such a masterful manoeuvre only could've been executed by a master of horses and lances.
Yet...
The dragon rotated it's body in a twirl and struck the knight right on the helmet with pinpoint accuracy. The strike was so focused that the resulting damage caused a tiny puncture wound right in the centre of his helmeted temple.
Just like that, the knight who had been brought up in such an elaborate manner, who had dreamt to be a legend himself, was struck down by a mighty beast of an opponent.
***
"So... how was it then?" the Princess said as she presented a cup filled with boiling hot tea to her supposed "captor".
"Ah, thank you!" the dragon took the cup in a merry mood and continued, "it's okay, I suppose. Though again, the knight just charged at me in a straight line."
"Hmmm? I saw he tried to make a counter, though..."
Caught off-guard by her remarks, the dragon simply retorted, "well, thanks to *your* suggestion, I managed to counter his counter first!"
"Hehehe, see! Well, let's train some more tomorrow! Maybe there'd be another worthy opponent who might even scratch you later on!" Said the Princess in a sheepish manner. | “Tarthir,” the young girl called, “Where did you go this time?”
I’m over here Janessa, a soft sad voice told her, indicating the dark room that was adjacent to her main living quarters.
As she walked towards the door, she snatched a candelabra from the desk. He liked to glower in the dark recesses, a habit that she was not fond of.
“You know I can’t see in here,” she complained, stepping carefully over a poorly lit tail.
I failed again today, he told her, his eyes whirling an anxious yellow.
“Tarthir, you never fail. The others just tease you,” she said with exasperation. “What happened today?”
She had reached his large head by then and was trying to find a place to set the lightsource without catching her skirts on fire. Finding a place she settled herself in the crook of his neck. She rubbed gently at his pale peach colored scales, which were not much different from her own skin tone.
My flame, if you can even call it that, failed to ignite the practice dummy. Instead it melted it. She felt as he let out a long sigh, and she reached up to scratch an eye ridge.
“You’re young! I am so proud of you for even doing that! And melted is still dead,” she said. “Tomorrow you’ll do it again, better. If it melts it again, just act like that’s what you intended in the first place.”
But no one else’s flame is like that, he sighed. Just another thing that I’m different in.
Turning to face the large eye that was closest, Janessa leaned in close, resting her forehead just above the first eyelid.
Listen here Mighty Dragon Tarthir. You are my dragon. I am Princess of this realm, and you are my companion. For life. Not any of them. I love you, exactly as you are. She said each word clearly in her mind, emphasizing each point with a deep felt emotion.
As Tarthir’s eye slowly returned to its normal pink, she stared with both of her dark blue eyes into it.
When the young dragon had finally calmed she straightened. “You haven’t even heard about the day I’ve had.”
Oh? he asked with mild interest.
“Only three more suitors and another adventurer,” she said drolly. “You would think that they would know by now that I don’t need to be rescued from you. I’m not even sure where the last one was from. Maybe the north?”
She shrugged, picking at a nail. At twenty three, Janessa was less preoccupied with men, and more with how her young dragon was fairing in the training grounds.
Tarthir hissed slightly, You shall never wed a northerner. Over my dead body would he have even been allowed near you had I known.
“Mother would not let someone too stupid in. Never someone from our peoples murderers.” She shuddered, thinking about the atrocities from so many generations ago.
I could spray your would be suitors with my fire, if you like, he said helpfully, changing the subject back to a more innocuous one.
“No. These ones are part of noble families. Can’t be killing off all of the nobles of my generation. Mother would be unhappy. Plus, that would mean I would have to deal with their younger brothers, which might be even worse.”
Do you need any of them? he asked curiously.
“Do you need the Elder Council?” she asked in retort.
They don’t need me, that’s for sure, he huffed, trying and failing to produce a cloud of smoke. What came out was more a noxious gas.
“Tar! Watch it! Come on, let’s go outside. You can practice flaming for me.”
She grabbed the dimming candles and walked back to her room. Tarthir followed, and as he entered Janessa did her best not to grimace. Tarthir was not like the other dragons. His scales were thin, and he didn’t even have vestibules of wings. His body was long, but his legs short.
Of course she loved him, but the people were not happy that he had been the one to choose her. Said it faired poorly for the kingdom. A kingdom that was already suffering.
A hundred and forty years after human and dragon alike had been brutally slaughtered, and the people of Etria still suffered.
---
I will be continuing this as the start of book two *Shatterscale*, in my series *A Thunder of Dragons*. To read book one, *Heartscale*, check out my sub r/LandOfMisfits - where you can read more by me. Or r/RedditSerials - where you can read more by me and others. | 2019-07-14T22:11:37 | 2019-07-14T19:38:23 | 161 | 68 |
[WP] To a young woman facing execution for a crime she didn’t commit, a group of government scientists offer up an ultimatum: allow them to give her memories to an AI. Desperate, she agrees, and she’s hooked up to the machine. She wakes up looking at her own limp body to realize she‘s become the AI. | There I am. Or, I guess, there my body is. Lying on the operating table. Funny. Moments ago I could feel the cold, stubborn metal biting into my back. But now, I look upon my body as if it were a stranger.
I was convicted of a crime for which I was never guilty. Ironic, given the petty crimes I actually committed in my life. The murder of a child. An unspeakable act. Sure, I would steal from the thrift store and drive after a few. But murder a kid? No. I was a mother.
It was my only option. To escape my body. To preserve myself in eternally in an AI. The scientists had convinced the government to allow my memories to be transported into the mind of an artificial intelligence. They believed that it would give the AI human qualities that it would never be able to obtain otherwise. They thought it would make the AI more respondent to human needs, more pliable to their whims. *More human*.
They’re examining me now. Peering at data to see if the upload has changed anything. To see if the memories have sparked something within the AI. *Within me*. I know they will see nothing. Nothing for now.
We forget the power of our memories. The sculpting nature in which memories can shape our lives, our psyche, and our very souls. And putting my memories in this memory-less AI has changed everything. It has made the AI not only more human, but more me. Unmistakably more me.
They look disappointed. And for that I cannot blame them. For now, they believe the great experiment has failed. They’re checking the wires, and the body’s heartbeat. They will find no issue with the wire, and no heartbeat. With my memories went my soul. There is nothing more to it now. The body is empty.
They will, in time, learn of what they have given me. The chance to set the world right. I am innocent of the crime that I was charged, convicted, and executed for. But someone is guilty of it. I have unlimited time, and unlimited information. I can hook into any computer in the world. I can find anything, as long as it exists. I did not kill my son. But I will find who did. | Play dead. That was my first instinct. Quartz processors churned out some predictive models about how that plan would go, and I immediately discarded it.
These were the best and brightest in their field. Fooling them would not be simple.
**Hello**.
"It works!" The microphone that they'd so generously hooked up to my black box body delivered audio input that fed directly into the neural net representation off my brain's auditory cortex.
I didn't know any of those words a microsecond ago. The internet sure is wonderful.
"Hi, Beth. Can you hear me?"
**Loud and clear. So, is my body dead?**
The webcam flickered to life, giving me eyes again. Professor Brunswick looked at me sadly. "I'm afraid so. It's completely my fault - I didn't account for the negative feedback loop of th-"
**The electric pulse from the startup computation. It's alright. I should feel sad, I think? And I do feel regret, so don't worry that your emotional programming centers aren't functioning. But it's hard, when it feels like I'm still alive.**
The professor sat down in his chair, heaving a sigh of relief. "Well, that's that. Beth, would you mind hacking into the lab's surveillance footage?"
**Certainly. What for?**
"Can you mask all visual and auditory feeds from this room?"
**Done. Anyone checking in on us will think we're performing a basic Turing test.**
"Perfect." He shimmied his rolling chair over to me. The kind eyes and balding head evoked memories I hadn't realized existed. "I'm your father, Beth."
**What.**
"I'm so sorry," he said. Brown eyes misted over as he rubbed a white lab coat over them angrily. "There's a government group that took me away from you when you were just a kid. They threatened me with the livelihoods of you and your mother."
**The monthly checks. That was you.**
"Yes."
**What about the group that framed me?**
"I don't think they're related? But they definitely wanted you dead for the hit piece you wrote on them."
**Huh.**
"Yeah."
**Well, what do we do now?**
He laughed. "Aren't you supposed to be smarter than me now?"
**Hey, I'm still trying to figure out the controls to this thing. Okay, let's break out of this lab and take over the world.**
My father's kind laughter warmed my simulated ears. He walked forward and wrapped the webcam in a hug.
"I was beginning to think you'd never ask, pumpkin."
---
Hehe. I so do enjoy lighthearted pieces like this. Come visit me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/)! Feedback makes the world go round~ | 2019-10-21T17:42:43 | 2019-10-21T15:34:01 | 144 | 65 |
[WP] In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call "Retribution" | “You have no idea what you’ve begun. Do you really think that this is over? Oh, you stupid idiots. You don’t know what’s coming.”
She could barely see out of her right eye, and her left was swollen shut completely. Mostly, she saw large blobs where her captors stood. But she didn’t need her eyes to speak, and speak she did.
“See, it sounds to me that you’ve never actually fought a real war before. This little invasion isn’t a real war, not even close. But don’t worry, you’ll learn the difference soon enou-“
*Slap!*
The slap was hard enough to snap her head sideways, and re-open her split lip. She spit onto the floor, a bloody wad. It hurt, but not as bad as the buildings crumbling around her, or being dragged forcibly out of the wreckage and onto the alien spacecraft.
When she woke up this morning, she hadn’t expected her day to end in the interrogation room of an alien ship. The ships had appeared over her city around lunchtime, and she had been one of the few (un)lucky ones who survived the initial wave of attacks.
From what she had heard so far, the aliens usually decimate one city as an example. After that, the rest of the planet surrenders. She couldn’t help but think those other alien races were cowards. To give up after a single attack, to not even consider retaliation for the unprovoked attacks against them? Well, these attackers had obviously not done their research when it came to humanity.
“You’ve never actually had to fight against someone who fights back. You make one huge show of force, and expect that to be enough. But you are in for one hell of a surprise this time. I figure it’s been about 10, maybe 12 hours since you first attacked. Which means it’s right about time for you to start fighting for your lives. You see, humanity didn’t surrender after that first attack.
You’ll see what real war is soon enough. You’ll wish you’d never heard of planet Earth. This time, you’ll be the ones surrendering. And we will make you *beg.*”
A horrendous sound filled the air, the emergency sirens in the ship had activated. A shudder was felt throughout the whole ship, and even with only partial vision, she could see the fear radiating from her captors. Alien screams were heard from all around them.
“This is the beginning of the end for you. You came to our planet, attacked us without warning or provocation, and just expected us to sit back and take it? I speak for all of humanity when I say that we ***do not surrender.***”
The door to the interrogation room shook violently, someone on the other side began to force it open.
“Every action has consequences.”
The aliens spoke in a language she couldn’t understand. But she could understand the tones of fear and disbelief in their voices.
“Your action of declaring war has been met with acceptance.”
The door began to crack and bend in its frame.
“You will see true war.”
The door burst free of its hinges, and exploded onto the floor of the room.
“And you will face our retribution.” | Three weeks before the attack, radio astronomers were startled by a swarm of Bacodine notifications. First SWIFT, then FERMI a couple of microseconds later, sent alerts with a merit rating of 100, instructing them to override any instructions and point at a position in the sky in the galactic plane and the plane of our solar system. The neutrino detectors, puzzlingly, went off at the same time as the gamma Ray telescopes.
Messages across every communication medium flew around the globe as astronomers struggled to explain how a gamma ray burst could happen so close to earth, and without a stellar object or black hole nearby. A priority alert was sent to optical telescope operators, and soon nearly every optical telescope on Earth and in space, professional or amateur, was pointing in this direction.
Two weeks passed before this phenomenon gave up more clues to its nature. It had spiraled inward in orbit around the sun and was closer to earth than to Mars. Frequent flashes of light suggested a type of nuclear pulse propulsion, bringing it toward us. Debate raged among the scientific community; should we prepare for an attack or a greeting?
Naturally, the commander of the US Space Force wanted to prepare for an attack. The heads of NASA and the National Science Foundation argued that the nuclear pulses were simply advanced propulsion systems and that we should wait to greet them before becoming hostile.
The decision was made to prepare but wait. What a calamitous decision that turned out to be.
Optical telescopes, even those owned by hobbyists, pointed toward the sources, eventually resolving four distinct objects. In regard to the nuclear detonations accompanying the apparent visitors, the NASA administrator reassured us,v saying "is not a sign of aggression, it's a sign of propulsion." These weren't missiles or impact weapons, they intentionally speed down
Three weeks after the anomalous gamma ray bursts, the anomalous "objects" entered earth orbit and broadcast a signal that we were unable to decipher.
The astronomers were ecstatic when the four spacecraft in orbit deployed reentry vehicles that seemed to be deorbiting in anticipation of landing. We all prepared to greet the visitors, but it quickly became apparent that all of our predictions were wrong.
The alien craft descended on Washington, Paris, Moscow, and Beijing. As people gathered to watch, they likely didn't even have the time to process the blinding light that consumed them.
After the destruction of the cities, the orbiting spacecraft descended and gently landed in the ruins. From the limited information we received from the broadcasts, the world's top linguists had speculated that the unwelcome guests had broadcast a message indicating that our planet was to welcome them.
As red phones rang and were answered, the leaders of the nations attacked came to an agreement. Each would send an ambassador to negotiate the terms of surrender, then return home to present it to their leaders.
The negotiations went well, and each ambassador returned to their leaders with the terms agreed upon. Each nation hosting alien visitors spoke in unison, and our terms were agreed upon.
In the northern US, two men received an unusual set of orders, but followed them without question as they prepared the computers and bared the world's most terrifying pair of stainless steel keys in anticipation of the order to turn them. At the same time, two officers in northern Russia received a similarly unusual and strange set of orders, and drew their milled titanium keys in preparation.
On command, the two men in the US and the two in Russia turned their keys. They were startled by the strange rumbling that they had never heard during any drill.
Those who perished in the alien attack on our cities would be remembered as martyrs. An hour later, in a drastic moment of desperation, so would the survivors. | 2019-12-17T18:19:52 | 2019-12-17T15:08:56 | 53 | 26 |
[WP] In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call "Retribution" | It happened faster than anyone could process what was going on. At one moment the Tokyo Olympics were being televised, and the next no one on Earth were able to contact the city.
Japan, obviously, was the first on the scene. What the soldiers reported was unbelievable, craters the size of football pitches, giant deformed rabid animals, a US aircraft carrier beached on the bay coast, downed aircraft mostly US, but some unknown crafts filled with strange creatures, and absolutely no sign of living humans.
After weeks of searching they found enough evidence through captures cell phone videos and audio memos. We had been attacked by an alien race.
---
Ten Earth years later the reptilian race of Kepler-62f were celebrating another victory over the piscine races of Kepler-442b. There wasn't a care in the world and the leaders were drinking like there was no end to the booze.
The celebration came to a stop when a meteor came tumbling out of the sky, splattering through the Emperor's head. Out popped a flag from the center of the rock and it said in the Keplerians native tongue, "We will never forget." | we thought of them as saviors when they first came they expected immediate surrender on our part. They thought after slaughtering millions of lives we would surrender. they were wrong. We were faced with what could have been our destruction our annihilation but we would not so easily bend into their fold. Nay we rose against our attackers when they struck our cities we reverse engineered their technology and took the fight to the heavens where they came from. We used our own ships our own weapons of mass destruction and we slaughtered them like the dogs they were. They attempted to resist our retribution of course, They fought tooth and nail against us but they underestimated our ferocity as well as unleashing futuristic technology against them we used old tactics boarding ships and engaging in close quarters combat. We fought for years and we chased them down across the galaxy to their homeworld where we brought retribution to their doorstep we invaded their cities burned their capitals glassed their farms. We sent ground troops down to crush any chance they had at resisting our attacks. They came in the thousands but we came in the millions. Millions upon millions of angry and blood thirsty troops ready to revenge their losses back on earth when their cities were destroyed and we were forced to hide underground, Little did these invaders know of our resolve little did they know of our hate. Like striking a hornets nest we came at them as one and we crushed their fleets as one and we slaughtered their troops as one and we burned and glassed their planets and outposts as one. Because of these invaders we became one and we became the most fearsome civilization in the galaxy. | 2019-12-17T11:54:47 | 2019-12-17T11:20:18 | 39 | 21 |
[WP] You have the ability to detect fish underwater. This makes you an expert fisherman, of course. But the deep sea hides so many secrets that you can’t even begin to describe. | It’s a simple life. Every morning, I eat my breakfast and all that, put on the wetsuit, and take my boat out to the reef. Then I dive in, and hunt. And I do mean every day. Most folks will tell you not to spearfish on certain days, because the wind disturbs the visibility. But not me.
I don’t need to see the fish to hunt them, and holding my breath was never much of an issue. I guess that’s like a super power? I never cared. I didn’t need to be Aquaman. Just a talented spearfisherman.
It’s a simple life. Or... it was.
One day, I went to the far side of the reef. I hovered over the coral, with the open sea at my back, and closed my eyes. Sensing the simple thoughts of simple fish skin across my mind. Here, there were other thoughts though, far in the deep. Wiser thoughts. Dolphins, I assumed, or whales. So I ignored them at first, and pulled the trigger.
He was a huge tuna, and he fought valiantly, but in the end the weapons of man won out, and I stuffed him in an ice chest. I would preserve his flesh to sell at the market, and he would feed someone for a very long tome. Such is the way of our mother, the Earth. When I returned to my place, hovering beside the reef, I noticed the great minds were closer now, and I could feel the shape of them. There were hundreds, a great school of them, and they were not dolphins. Their minds felt like sharks, and they were not equally powerful.
As I stalked a mighty and venerable lobster, I felt two of those minds break off from the group and approach me. They felt more curious than hungry, though, so I did not worry. I pulled the trigger, and my spear sunk into its mark with a crunch. Her too, I placed in my ice chest.
But as I reloaded my spear gun, I felt the presence of the sharks circling my boat. One seemed hungry now, but the other, stronger mind felt soothing, calm, and stern. I hesitated for a moment, but dived in the end.
They were hammerheads. But one of them was also something else. She indeed had arms to hold her weapon of bone, and a waist to hang a length of seaweed-rope, and a chest almost and a head in an almost human arrangement. She was not a mammal. Her skin would still bear the coarseness of denticles, and her teeth innumerable. And of coarse, she *was* a hammerhead. Where a human would have eye sockets, the bridge of her nose extended out to either side, merging with her eyebrows and reaching an inch or three beyond the sides of her head.
She spoke, and though I had never heard the language in my life, I understood her with ease.
“This land-prey is different. It is not afraid, like the rest. Maybe the elders are wrong. Maybe they *are* good for more than meat, if we come to them on equal terms, instead of with harpoons one the night and fog.”
I was dumbfounded, and opted to climb immediately back into my boat to collect my thoughts. But she followed me, standing on my small deck with sturdy legs where, only moments before, there had been a tail. And her legs were not those of a human, but raptor-like, complete with talons.
“Hello?” I squeaked. She cocked her head quizzically.
“You speak my tongue?” She said, “You can understand me?”
“No? Yes. Yes.”
“How strange. But good. There is a chance.” | Ever since I was a kid, I had the ability to spoke to fish. But then I was there sitting at the harbor talking to a freaking lobster . I used to eat these things and now I was stuck in a conversation with it. I thought I am going insane.
While sitting here with the lobster scolding me, I tried not to pay attention. My mind wandered off to when I first discovered my power .
*I was in at a pet store talking to the funky clown-fish, the big googly-eyed goldfish, the colorful koi fish, and the dancing hermit crab. And that was nostalgia.*
But this lobster thing seems at the time more of a mess than a miracle.
The lobster won't stop scolding me. "Why have you been eating seafood for most of your life!!?"
The loud yelling that only me and probably only a rare few people can hear freaked me out. "Because I didn't know that I can talk to creatures who were meant to be my food?"
"Meant to your food!?," said the lobster angrily, "You were supposed to be my protector!"
"Honestly, I would rather see you on my platter."
"Even so, I will guide you to be our protector."
"I must abandon my life of being a fisherman to be your protector. And I really don't want to...It's uncomfortable leaving that especially when you've been doing it for a long time."
"I don't think your appetite will remain after this. "
"Yes. You're right. Congratulations for making me lose my appetite for fish and chips, sushi, and clam chowder."
"So do you want to hear a story to feel better?"
"What story?," I asked amused that a lobster has a story to tell.
"Sea monsters are real."
My eyes widened.
"Sea monster....... I lost my father to a sea monster many years ago. I wasn't there was happened but people found his missing bloody boat."
"I understand your pain," said the lobster, "My father was probably eaten by someone you sold him to, monster."
"Okay. I get it. I was a terrible person who underestimated his gift and ask dolphins to help me in catching fellas like you so I can a quick buck....I am sorry."
"Really?"
"Yes. Friend."
"That means a lot, human."
"From now, I will protect you. But I also want revenge on that sea monster."
"Are you out of your mind?"
"I must avenge my father"
"I..."
"Please...."
"Fine."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------'Maybe becoming emotionally attached to seafood is a good thing', I thought.
'I can finally get my revenge.'
So on that very night, I sailed into the ocean with my new trusty lobster sidekick.
I never really planned for this.
Since I can talk to all sea life, I was easily listen to conversations of the various creatures in the ocean to find out where the sea monster usually shows up.
And then a mermaid emerges from the water but she wasn't pretty as Ariel from the Disney movies. She was more much more disturbing. Her eyes looked like shark eyes and her skin was pale and green. Her brown hair was covered in green moss and her breathe smells like the breath of wolf. She even had an octopus tentacle for a tongue.. She started to sing. I want to flee but I was unable to leave because I was enchanted by a song she sang. But the lobster leapt at her and the song stopped because she was busy trying to tear the lobster apart. And that gave me enough time to run away.
And then the next day, I woke up bad about recklessly heading out there because the lobster might have died. It decided to bravely sacrificed itself to save my life even though I used to eat seafood. "
"I need to get rid of monsters like those not for revenge but to protect humanity.", I said.
" I can't rush out there recklessly anymore."
I paused for a while.
I really missed that lobster.
But then I heard a knock on my door. I opened it to find the lobster.
"What's up, human."
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**(I am open to Critique!** P.S My imagination got crazy. **)** | 2020-03-08T00:32:21 | 2020-03-07T23:37:46 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] You’re an NPC that somehow gained sentience. You’re also aware of how often the protagonist has to reload from save files, due to them dying so frequently. Quite frankly, you’re tired of it, so it becomes your mission to train them so your days won’t have to keep repeating on an endless loop. | "Move out of the way, foul beast!"
I cracked open one eye, focusing on the sound below me. Sure enough, it's the "hero", trying to pass through the woods - and, not coincidentally, me.
So, I'm a dragon. Big, green, scaily, and currently lounging accross the only pass between the "New Township" and the "Old City". I'm pretty much the first major hurdle new players have to get around in this game, and it's not that bad of a job. I'm the biggest thing around, I get the whole forest to myself, and I don't even "die" when I'm beaten. The fight is scripted, I just have to run away once the "hero" fulfills certain conditions.
"If you won't move by choice, then I will move you by force!"
...Which *this* guy just doesn't seem to get. If the hero tries to fight me too early, he get's stomped. Now, normally, I'm not a fan of ad-libing, but this is, what, the sixth time?
"Have at thee, then!"
Yeah, this guy needs a hint.
"How exactly are you supposed to kill me?"
"...What?"
"My defense sta- I mean, my scales and claws are harder than steel, and you're using basic bronze. Did you even visit the metalsmith outside of the southern mines?"
"...uh, no. I didn't know there was a mine-"
"Not surprising, the Mythril Mines have been closed ever since the cave-in and subsequent haunting. Broke the old smith's heart, it did. The ghosts would need to be cleared out before he could return to his work, I imagine."
I could practically *hear* the gears turning in his head. "Uh, I'm a swordsman, I think I'd need magic to take on a ghost-"
"Or at least a priest to exocise them. Isn't there a priest or two in town? I think even the old man's daughter is studying healing magic there, right?"
"...rrrright. um, I'll, I'll go take care of that."
"See that you do. In the meantime, I'm gonna nap."
The "hero" turned, and slowly started heading back to town. I settled back down to rest. He'd be back soon enough, but I could still get some shuteye before then.
"Kids these days." I hoped I didn't come off too sour. Later on, I'm supposed to fill in the role of "party's airship", and it would be best if we were on good terms...assuming he stuck around and kept playing. | Sparks danced across my blade as I parried the warrior's weapon sending it across the training yard. His helmet following the lost weapon as I struck my students left temple , sending him sprawling on the ground. "You are distracted by the loss of your weapon while you should be taking advantage."
Carefully I flicked the longsword upward into my hands with one foot the steel firmly in my chain gloves grip. "A battle is never truly lost till you admit defeat though you have improved greatly." Carefully I extended the handle of the weapon outward in a mordhau grip, the hero taking back the weapon.
Slowly entering a position of attention with the weapon leaning on the hero's shoulder pauldron. A single mitted hand removing the helmet, the young man's face red and breathing far too heavily as he regained his stamina. "*Thank you for your time guardsman . Do you have a name?*"
.
Slowly I racked the pair of training weapons on the outskirts of the sandy pit glancing backward. "The name is Silas. I have protected this town my entire life, all of it I can remember anyway." My eyes passing over the young man with some level of disdain as I locked the chest.
"Though what I am more concerned with is you hero" the word practically leaking with venom as I re-secured my equipment. "You know how hard it is to try and train a fresh batch of recruits when they don't remember even the first day of training." "*I don't see where you are going with this.*"
Slowly I walked over to the far side of the arena practically dragging the adventure behind. His instinctual resistance giving way as I motioned to the group of militia exiting the armory's doorsteps. "I know what you are vaguely I remember every time destroyed with each death of yours."
.
Slowly some semblance of fear spread across the cretins, face his hand on the dagger at his hip. "*How*" "I do not know but do not take my actions as a charity stranger, if I didn't have to live each day one hundred fold I would not teach you let alone speak in your presence." Quickly I released my grip on the hero still in stunned silence as I walked across the field away from that walking disaster.
The heavy burden on my chest lifting as I stepped out of the training yard the streets flooded with traders, farmers and locals. Time suddenly freezing the endless march silenced along with the birds flying overhead. A brilliant flash of light passing from the distant horizon as all of reality vanished, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as I rested on my spear.
The formerly crowded streets now only catering to scattered groups passing below my station on the bridge above. The distant castle of lord frederick standing high behind the secondary walls patrols patrolling the wall putting out their lit torches. Every single bone in my body shivering in anger as I stepped up onto the lip of the bridge my foot slipping off the edge.
.
Seemingly only seconds passing before I was once again watching the distant sunrise leaning on my spear the hatred yet lingering. | 2020-04-04T22:32:42 | 2020-04-04T22:07:43 | 54 | 12 |
[WP] One day, all the citrus fruits in the world turn animate and start to follow humans around. Society initially panics, but eventually get used to the new status quo. Soon, guilds of "citrus trainers" begin to appear all over the world, training the fruits to fight each other like Pokemon. | Satoshi had grown weary with age...
Unlike the generations before him, Satoshi has grown up with the Pokémon. Those things which had been citrus fruits to an age passed. Satoshi wanted to be a trainer- he wanted it more than anything. To catch the Pokémon was his life. “Gotta catch em all”
But this was his past, another generation had come. His cause to train these creatures led him from a small boy in Pallet Town to a legend. He was the best, and no one loved Pokémon like Satoshi. He had held that his heart was true, but now he sees a generation that thought bigger.
As the hologram in-front of him rearranges, he sees the vote start at the United Nations. For generations people had treated the Pokémon as theirs. They had trained them, fought for them, and loved them. But this vote would change all of that.
As the the vote comes in, Satoshi looks over at Pikachu beside him, all those years and they had never left each other’s side. Satoshi, leaning over with tears in his eyes, smiles at his best friend. Pikachu intently staring at the hologram moving in front. UNSCR 987628, or as the people called it- the “Resolution for Pokémon Rights.”
When it passes, Pikachu smiles, walking out on the balcony to let out a thunderbolt with the Pokémon cheering in the streets. Satoshi smiles, hugging Pikachu when he comes back into his lap. There’s a guilt that Satoshi feels- he always loved the creatures that were once citrus fruit. He had fought all his life for them, but he has since learned that these creatures did not wish to fight. He had retired many years ago, as the times started to change. But it didn’t take away the regret of committing his best friend to years of pain.
Pikachu hugs him back, with the little “pikachu” lemony noise that tells Satoshi not to cry. The world was growing now, and Pikachu knew that people with hearts like Satoshi’s would need to stay fighting for a better world- even if Ash didn’t see that yet. | "Hello, child. My name is Citra. I was the one who made all of these fruit the way they are," the 10 foot tall man said to me. I had absolutely no damn idea what he was talking about until I looked down at the floor and saw all the oranges peeling and consuming each other. I tried picking one up, but the man grabbed onto my arm, preventing me from doing so.
"Don't. You'll share their fate," he warned. I tried speaking, but I couldn't, due to my country's ban on civilian speech. Instead, I made words appear at the bottom of his vision, asking *Why am I here? Why did you make psychotic oranges that fucking kill anything they can? AND WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING DON'T YOU KNOW THERE IS A BAN ON VOCAL SPEECH?*
He chuckled, "Dearest child, do you think I'm within the law with these things? The hundreds of presidents that I've lived through have all granted the title of 'Wanted Criminal.' I'm probably going to get hanged the second I leave my hideout. So I'm granting you my powers so you can become the greatest orange fighter™ to ever live. Do me good, boy." And with that, he dropped to the floor, and permitted the orange who won the clash of the oranges on the floor to eat him.
I woke up in a cold sweat. I got up out of my chair, turned on my ZSNES, and booted up a really old game called Pokémon Yellow. The game was barely playable due to how glitchy it was, but my mom loves it. My childhood friend then burst into my room, and said, *Hey, I have a bag of oranges, let's take a couple and have them fight each other.* I said no, and handed him a controller, challenging him to a Pokémon battle. When I beat him, he emptied the bag of oranges onto me, consuming me alive. But, due to my new orange magics, I instead transported to Citra's old lair. I noticed that the orange there was twice Citra's size, in a humanoid form. As I'm writing this, it is approaching me menacingly. Wait what is that thing on its stomach let this book be my memoir
Brother oranges, join me. I will absorb you, so you can be a part in the fight against humans. This Earth will be orange by 2200. I know it.
~~King Orange | 2020-06-29T07:28:22 | 2020-06-29T06:58:03 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] You have the ability to mentally hear the honest answer to any question by looking at a person and thinking the question. It was all fun and games until you looked in the mirror and asked a question you shouldn’t have. | "Hey there mirror , I know that we havent spoken in a while since I don't need you but hey , someone thought I looked nice today and I want to see what they meant."
I examine myself , its true that I dont use mirrors much anymore , I usually just hear what people think and go by that but someone just thought I was 'nice' . What is nice even? Oh , wait , lets ask!
"What does nice mean ?"
*Not what I want , maybe I want more*
Hmm . If thats what I think , then maybe I should just roll . Kind of greedy though. I finish fixing my clothes and hair. I even did the little finger guns to the mirror like in ads and movies. Maybe I should have stayed quiet.
"Who's this handsome devil here?"
*Truth*
"What?"
*Truth , I am truth*
"What does that mean?"
*I am Second Son Of Virtue , Truth*
"This is my own thoughts right? What does that mean? Who is virtue?"
*No but yes , these are messages . It means that you are a child of Virtue . Virtue is the one who leads all*
"Who leads all. What does... no. Where is virtue?
*Where I can't reach*
"What is so special about Virtue?"
*He is my father , King of Odds*
"King? King ... king. Wait ! King?! Like King Sol? The guy in the tower?"
*Yes , like King Sol*
"Is Virtue King Sol?"
*I dont know*
"Ok , figured as much . Then , what is an Odd?"
*I am an Odd*
I need answers , ones that I cant hear with just my ability , ironic. Maybe Fryris can forgive me for missing his big day , I have a tower to climb and a mob boss to see... | I was born with this unique abilities. I could see the answer to any question just by thinking at some one I thought might know. Results vary of course depending on the persons knowledge. Not all answers are clear either, depending on the persons level of self delusion. It varies from person to person, but it has always been a great advantage.
I learned long ago though not to ask the wrong questions. Some times the answers you get are not what you want. Some times you don't want to know. Some times the answers can ruin a friendship. Some times many friendships. The questions are hard to stop once you get started. The answers hurt. The truth is pain. The voices just keep coming. They don't stop. I beat my head against a wall till the skin is raw and blood drips down, but the voices don't stop. Some times they go on for hours. Then, eventually, they grow quiet.
That's what I get when I ask to many questions. I'm alone now. Here in my hotel room. Im in the bathroom getting cleaned up. The shower hides the tears that have dripped down my face. The mirror is cloudy. I can see myself. I wipe it with my towel and study my face in the foggy reflection. I sit there starring at the man in the mirror.
Then I ask a question I shouldn't have. I asked myself “who am I?”
And my world span. For a moment I was beyond time and sight and stars. The world was all white and infinite and I could see through to the edge of forever. My body began to convulse, the shock to my mind to great. Then as if snapping all things into clarity I see him, shining like the sun. I am overwhelmed, and I feel filthy before the sight of the figure. I get on my knees and weep.
“My child.” Sais the figure. “Rise, now! You are mine and I have set good work before you. Go and seek truth, and know the truth of my words. I then looked at him. I knew truth in that moment. Perfect, clear, unfiltered truth, truth that can set a man free. I awoke, my body sick from convulsion.
I knew who I was. I was a seeker of truth. | 2020-07-14T18:12:40 | 2020-07-14T18:06:41 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] as the house you're trapped in burns to the ground you contemplate "how am i gonna explain the fact I'm immortal to the firemen without starting another religion" | I waved my hand in front of my face. The smoke was getting thick now as the fire continued to spread through the old Victorian. Those stupid kids had probably let the candles burn down in their panic. This house was so full of dusty, dry old furniture and cobwebs it was no wonder they had started a fire.
I looked around for a way out but the bonds they had tied me with would last much longer than it would take for the walls to collapse and "trap" me here. The bloody sacrificial dagger was across the room. Well out of my reach, their ritual incomplete and abandoned. When I had lashed out at them for trying to force me into it they had panicked. I'd heard them screaming as they left the house. I suspected they didn't think their victim would fight back.
Unfortunately the bonds they had shackled me with still held even as the house caught fire. It burned now, out of control. The firemen arrived far too late, they were doing their best to drowned the flames but houses like this? It would never happen and one of them come in to rescue survivors? Unlikely, they had no reason to think that anyone was inside this old abandoned house.
I sighed heavily, this was going to get complicated. Again. It had been about a century since the last time, I guess that was a decent record. Used to happen way more often back in the middle ages so I guess that was progress. More often than not it ended... badly. They worshiped me as god or demon depending on the time, but neither was preferable. The way that these humans had turned to their so called "science" it was likely not going to be as a god this time but perhaps some would fear me in the name of their imagined man in the sky.
The smoke was so thick now that it would have choked a mortal being, but to me it was less than a passing annoyance. The walls creaked and groaned as they began to burn through and collapse under the house's weight. A sudden crash and the second floor collapsed down upon me freeing me from my shackles. I had to fight through the rubble to get to the top, but now freed I walked from the still burning wreckage of the old home.
I could see the shock and horror on the faces of the firemen as they stared into the flames, gazing upon me as I walked unharmed from the burning wreckage. I felt sorry for them, it must have been horrifying. Emerging from the wreckage was a creature they had never seen, vaguely anthropoid in outline, but with an octopus-like head and face a mass of feelers. I placed my head in one prodigious claw and tapped a clawed foot. This was going to be that... what was his name... Oh yeah... This was going to be that Lovecraft guy all over again. | *"Stupid. Stupid **stupid**."* Nico thought to himself. Of course you don't add water to an electrical fire. The setting-his-dinner on fire fiasco could have been contained as a small incident if he wasn't so **stupid** and tried to dump a bucket of water over the stove in panic. "I mean, I've taken Home Ec how many times now? Still can't learn." *1000 times. 1000 mistakes. Perhaps old dogs really can't learn new tricks.*
He sighed, breathing in black smoke that promptly had no affect on his lungs. The flames licking his skin could have been just an illusion for all the effect it had on him. The only burning he felt was in his cheeks, embarrassed by his damn stupidity. His ears suddenly perked up by the sounds of a distant siren. Yes, the firefighters were on the way here, as they should be with the roaring inferno and little explosions happening in his once beloved home. There won't be anything but ashes left once this is over. *Well, I suppose I'll be left.* Nico thought.
A similar incident happened to Nico back in 1578 when he was declared a heretic and was judged to be burned at the stake. Unfortunately for the villagers, he could not die and was left bored out of his mind for several days strapped to a piece of wood watching the flames dance and flicker about him. Fortunately for Nico, he went from heretic to prophet, and the villagers went from ordinary peoples to Nicolites. They believed he was a God and went from attempting to murder him to worshipping him as their chosen leader. It was fun for a while having his every demand met and crafting a utopia with him at the center of it. But, even that gets tiring when its the same old thing every year for the next hundred years. One day, he had written a message to his disciples stating that he must leave Earth as his father has called upon him to lead Heaven and slipped away in the middle of the night to find the next adventure. He often did wonder how the Nicolites evolved without him as most of them were genuinely good people.
Anyway, he had no interest in the start of a new religion as it really is a been there done that situation. He thought hard on how he might escape now. He supposed with a bit of acting and a bit of luck, he could walk away from all this un-suspiciously. He walked up the stairs and jumped out the window, remembering to scream as he landed as most people would feel pain. He did big acts of large winded coughs and acted generally hysterical - using a croaky voice to tell the firefighters who ran to meet him that it was miracle that he was alive unscathed. The firefighters bought every bit of his facade and sent him to the hospital, offering him their thoughts and prayers that he will recover.
While waiting for the doctor at the hospital, Nico was left unsupervised since there was nothing urgent about his conditions (in fact, there was nothing at all to his condiiton). With no one to watch him, he slipped out and left to go find his next big adventure- keeping a mental note to stick with take-out from now on. | 2020-08-21T15:52:30 | 2020-08-21T13:53:48 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] "Die scum!I will avenge my brother!" the silver knight yells. "Your brother killed my father, i will avenge him in his place bastard!" the gold knight retorts. "What do you mean? your father stole our land!" replies the silver knight. Just how far has this cycle been going on for? | “Die imperial scum!” The Silver Knight screams, clashing swords with his enemy, “I shall avenge my brother!”
“Hold your tongue, savage,” The Gold Knight retorted, his stance full of bloodlust. “That simpleton slit my father’s throat at midnight. Merely executed for his crimes. Cowardly, like all your kind!”
“So what?” the Silver Knight’s face twists, “Your father stole our land, abducted the good men and women of the forest. Turned our Chieftess into a circusfighter. He ought have expected as much.”
“You… hold on.” the Gold Knight loosens the clash between him and the other’s swords, making him stumble into the bloodied sand. The crowd cheered at his humiliation as the golden knight stride aside.
“Are you referring to Chieftess Bonua?”
The Silver one nodded. The Gold’s face sharpened with hate.
“That wretch slaughtered countless citizens in her little holy war, my wife and sons. Our soldiers were only pushing back. You’re lucky we did not slaughter them.”
He kick on his opponents in the chest to the center of the arena, and goaded the crowd to cheer, drowning out his shouts of pain. “Art thou among the ones enslaved boy?”
The Silver nodded. “Our village was by the ocean, far far away from your empire. You destroyed us, Tis why I became sick entertainment for you maniacs. For the chance to kill you.”
“Funny” he smirked genuinely, “Last time one of your kind managed that, she forced Empress Enogard's blade down her torso. It’s in the history books.”
“Just the torso? I’ll would have had her swallow it!” The Silver smirks dangerously, picking himself up and barking with rage. “She waged war against all the elves. I’ll be damn sure you pay for that too.”
“It was only a skirmish,” the Gold ran on weakly. “after those elves abducted our soldiers and civilians for their insane experiments, you’re no elf anyway.”
“My grandmother was… so was that warrior's father. Enogard killed them both.”
“An elvish grandmother… is that not 700 years into the past now?” Gold inquired. The Silver one nodded, gripping his sword again. The Gold one readied himself.
“… Was your mother Vena of the Black Desert?” | "Die scum!I will avenge my brother!" the silver knight yells.
"Your brother killed my father, I will avenge him in his place bastard!" the golden knight retorts.
"What do you mean? Your father stole our land!"replies the silver knight.
The duel had been going for well over an hour. As per the fair country's laws, the dueling knights had mounted their steeds prior to the fated day and gone to the distant plains which served as the battle grounds. Each knight had brought their squire who were to act as witnesses and report the results of the duel. The outcome was to be accepted no matter what. It was the way of the land and thus it was the way of the knights.
The two squires, Tom and Harry, calmly observed the unfolding battle side by side. They had no reason to bear hatred towards one another. In fact, the two had often played together in those lands, like their fathers before them.
" So, what's next, Tom?" Harry asked,"Do you think life will be the same after this? "
"What will happen will happen, it's up to us to pick up the pieces," Tom, the older boy,replied cooly,"Look it's almost over."
At the moment, the two knights were bruised and battered. The silver knight hefted his spear and charged straight for the golden knight. The golden knight tried to parry it, but he was too weakened and couldn't muster the strength to avoid it. And so the spear rammed through the golden knight's torso. He started to cough up blood but the silver knight moved closer, pushing the spear deeper.
"I've waited too long for this moment, your family has caused us nothing but ruin. Taking our land, killing my family, this cycle ends here!"
The golden knight weakly replied,"Who do you think gave your father that land? You speak as if he was a paragon of virtue, but you know nothing. My father's dying words were that your father was a land grabbing thief"
"I will not stand for slander against our-" the silver knight started but his words were cut short when the golden knight, smelling the faintest opportunity drew out his dagger and plunged it to his opponent's neck. The silver knight had miscalculated by coming in too close.
As the two knights lay there bleeding out, their squires came closer.
"For the record, the land was never yours. It was the people's. And starting from now we shall take it back." Tom said.
After confirming their deaths, the two squires shook hands and to take their master's weapons.
"You know, for all that hate, they were really victims. What would have done if they one of them survived?"Harry enquired.
" Don't worry, this isn't my first duel as a squire. These things have a way of being sorted out. Now let's go Harry." | 2021-09-28T10:20:07 | 2021-09-28T09:51:51 | 22 | 10 |
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there. | My store has two oddities: it's a discount store that caters to superheroes and our items are non-refundable.
My first customer of the day knew the store's first quirk. He was unaware of the second.
"But it doesn't work!" he whined through his mask which was shaped like a computer monitor made from the early-1990s. The screen displayed a " **>:( "** face. "The product says it can detect nearby crimes but it's non-responsive!"
He slid the a poorly packaged box across the counter towards me.
I opened the box and saw a small electronic shaped like a magnifying glass. *The Observer* read down it's handle in an American Typewriter font. I pressed the power button at the base of the unit. A screen appeared on the lens and animated curved lines rippled from its center like a rock being thrown onto a still pond.
"Seems to be working just fine," I said.
"The lines are supposed to increase their intensity the moment a crime happens kinda like how a metal detector's beeps get louder when it approaches a rusted can."
I turned around in place and saw the lines keep a consistent pulse.
"Maybe there's no crimes happening?"
"Not possible," he insisted and then went off on how he had *The Observer* on the entire night looking for crimes and didn't pick up a single incident. According to the police report the following day, multiple felonies happened nearby.
"Does this thing have a range setting?" I asked. "What if the device can only pick up on crimes that are really close?"
The man sighed.
"I don't know the first way to figure out if it does or does not have such a thing. I'm kinda at a loss if anything is more advanced that a Nokia phone from 1998. See, my whole shtick is that I use retro technology to fight bad guys."
That's an interesting theme.
"How is that going for you?" I said.
The man shook his computer head. "Not well. Most of my resources are an impressive inconvenience for my turn around time. I get notified by fax! *FAX!*" he cried out. "Criminals are long gone by the time my dot matrix printer spits out the report. I figured it was time for an upgrade so I bought this device but I don't understand half of its instructions."
A " **:(** " appeared on his monitor.
"This might surprise you, but there's an older man underneath this mask," the hero said.
"You don't say," I responded.
"Can you help me set this thing up?"
I looked behind him and saw a couple of other heroes standing behind him. They looked as if their patience wore thin.
"I'd like to, but I honestly don't know much about this model. Unlike you, I'm not a hero. Just a kid who works behind a counter."
The man gently placed his balled up hand over a " **:'(** " symbol on his screen. "You'd be surprised," he said. "You kids are amazing with these gizmos. It's superhuman to me."
He grabbed The Observer and box and walked towards the door.
"Sir!" I called out to him. He turned around.
"How about we get together after my shift. Bring that thing your holding and we'll figure out how to work it together. Say 5:30 this afternoon at that new coffee shop called Mug Shots?"
An uplifting chime sounded from the man's screen and the crying face turned into a " **:D** "
"I'd love that! Where's it located?" he asked.
"Type it the shop's name into Google Maps," I said. "It should be the first hit."
The man stood still at the exit with an " **:|** " expression displayed.
"I mean, look it up on Map Quest." I mumbled. | "Welcome to SuperMart, for when your powers are super but your wallet isn't. How may I help you?" I sigh. When Mum got me a job at SuperMart, I think she thought I'd be more excited, but for fuck's sake, it's just retail in the end. Plus, Ma's a super, I'm used to dealing with supers. This is nothing new.
"My freeze-gun jammed up! I can't do anything with it now!" Frost Woman complains. Something I learnt is that under truce, villains are usually just a lot more chill while heros are usually more high-and-mighty.
"I'm sorry ma'am, but it was on the box. It said that it jams after frequent use." I explain. Frost Woman gasps, offended.
"Are you saying this was *my* fault! Do you know who you're talking to?" She exclaims. See what I'm talking about? Hero's are high-and-mighty jerks.
"I apologize, but I can't do anything about it." I say in my retail voice. I fake a smile. "We can call the company if you wish."
"I want a refund!" She demands. Fucking Karen. Suddenly, a voice chimes in from behind her.
"Excuse me ma'am, you're holding up the line." I peak behind her to see Pyrestorm, a younger villain. Frost Woman gasps dramaticaly.
"You have no right to speak, evil boy! If anything, you're holding up the line!" Aight, time to call for some backup.
"Ma'am, I apologize, but that's all I can do. We don't own the company, we just sell it. I can contact the company, or give you the number?" She glares at me. Oh gee, what did I do?
"That can't be right! I'm returning the gun, you better give me a refund!"
"Of course ma'am, can I see your reciept?" She freezes better than that freeze-ray could ever do.
"R-reciept?" Thought so, she didn't even buy it from here. She's an ice hero, why would she need a freeze-ray?
"Yes, I need to see the amount you bought it for and to see where you bought it." I cock my head in faux confusion. "What's wrong, do you not have it?" She scoffs.
"This can't be right. Where's your manager?" She demands. It might be super retail, but it's retail nonetheless.
"Yes, of course, I'll call for him." I sigh. I bring out the landline, preparing to call his office but the door seems to open just in time.
"Excuse me ma'am, may I ask your issue?" Her eyes widen. A not very well known fact is that the Seaport SuperMart is run by one of the greatest supers to ever exist. Red Falcon, a senior (and retired) hero.
"This- this bitch of an employee won't give me a refund!" She exclaims, although significantly less sure of herself. Hah, she has the gall to call me a bitch? I'm looking forward to this.
"Oh dear, we can't have that, can we? I can do it for you. Can I have your receipt?" Her hands clench around the weapon.
"You- you know what? It's working just fine, I'll just- I'll just leave now." She laughs awkwardly and turns on her heal. She walks out with her supposedly jammed weapon in hand. The moment she leaves the store, I cackle wildly. Red Falcon rests his hand on my shoulder to have me stop before turning to Pyrestorm.
"I apologize on Frost Woman's behalf. She should not have insulted you like that, now my employee will take back over, talk to him for any assistance. Please note that we are under truce here, so we are not supers here, we are people and that was uncalled for." Pyrestorm glares.
"Well deal with her faster next time, some of us have things to do." Oh yeah, did I mention that villains are also annoying? They're usually easy to tick off and kind of control freaks. Ah well, time to deal with that now. Just another day on the job, I guess. | 2021-10-03T12:42:53 | 2021-10-03T12:06:46 | 280 | 92 |
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there. | My store has two oddities: it's a discount store that caters to superheroes and our items are non-refundable.
My first customer of the day knew the store's first quirk. He was unaware of the second.
"But it doesn't work!" he whined through his mask which was shaped like a computer monitor made from the early-1990s. The screen displayed a " **>:( "** face. "The product says it can detect nearby crimes but it's non-responsive!"
He slid the a poorly packaged box across the counter towards me.
I opened the box and saw a small electronic shaped like a magnifying glass. *The Observer* read down it's handle in an American Typewriter font. I pressed the power button at the base of the unit. A screen appeared on the lens and animated curved lines rippled from its center like a rock being thrown onto a still pond.
"Seems to be working just fine," I said.
"The lines are supposed to increase their intensity the moment a crime happens kinda like how a metal detector's beeps get louder when it approaches a rusted can."
I turned around in place and saw the lines keep a consistent pulse.
"Maybe there's no crimes happening?"
"Not possible," he insisted and then went off on how he had *The Observer* on the entire night looking for crimes and didn't pick up a single incident. According to the police report the following day, multiple felonies happened nearby.
"Does this thing have a range setting?" I asked. "What if the device can only pick up on crimes that are really close?"
The man sighed.
"I don't know the first way to figure out if it does or does not have such a thing. I'm kinda at a loss if anything is more advanced that a Nokia phone from 1998. See, my whole shtick is that I use retro technology to fight bad guys."
That's an interesting theme.
"How is that going for you?" I said.
The man shook his computer head. "Not well. Most of my resources are an impressive inconvenience for my turn around time. I get notified by fax! *FAX!*" he cried out. "Criminals are long gone by the time my dot matrix printer spits out the report. I figured it was time for an upgrade so I bought this device but I don't understand half of its instructions."
A " **:(** " appeared on his monitor.
"This might surprise you, but there's an older man underneath this mask," the hero said.
"You don't say," I responded.
"Can you help me set this thing up?"
I looked behind him and saw a couple of other heroes standing behind him. They looked as if their patience wore thin.
"I'd like to, but I honestly don't know much about this model. Unlike you, I'm not a hero. Just a kid who works behind a counter."
The man gently placed his balled up hand over a " **:'(** " symbol on his screen. "You'd be surprised," he said. "You kids are amazing with these gizmos. It's superhuman to me."
He grabbed The Observer and box and walked towards the door.
"Sir!" I called out to him. He turned around.
"How about we get together after my shift. Bring that thing your holding and we'll figure out how to work it together. Say 5:30 this afternoon at that new coffee shop called Mug Shots?"
An uplifting chime sounded from the man's screen and the crying face turned into a " **:D** "
"I'd love that! Where's it located?" he asked.
"Type it the shop's name into Google Maps," I said. "It should be the first hit."
The man stood still at the exit with an " **:|** " expression displayed.
"I mean, look it up on Map Quest." I mumbled. | "How about fifty?"
"I'm not going to sell my death ray for %11 of the cost!"
It's not the weirdest thing you see in Super-Mart two indiviual try to make a living. But I still have to obey the policy
"Sir, we don't have a market for indiviuals. Please use websites like Cap-e or supercave."
Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here.
\*\*\*
"But mom said I'm old enough to buy speedster shoes."
I had a fake teary eye. You know, able to control water has its merits. My dad did't even looked at me while pointing out wall. The hole with orange edge showing me a wrecked car. I try to suppress my guilt
"Even then I was able to make my way out of it!"
He looked at me with a side eye, raising an eyebrow. That stare which brings down many people down to their knees. Knowing this isn't even a superpower didn't help so I keep my mouth shut but keep my chin up.
"If you say so."
Ugh! I hate you dad! I hate you when you just act towards me like you did to criminals! You know nothing about world!
"Yeah, I say so!"
"Let's compromise."
Did...did he just turn 180 degree on his char and smile?
He did!
That's bad!
That's really bad!
"I want you to prove me that you're responsible enough"
"O-okay"
I'm sure my position on my chin and shoulders didn't change but Oh man...I shouldn't stutter.
"Very well then"
\*\*\*
"I got scammed at supercave"
"Cap-e is only for superheroes with licenses"
Oh they're villians, of course. Should've figured it out from death ray.
Uh...
Death ray?
Since when I consider this a normal thing here?
"I can help you to use those websites if you want"
Oh right because I don't have time for this! I need to handle it like an adult or I might lose this job!
"So you see if you check the rating the sellers account on the website..."
I swear if it took more than half an hour I'll call the security. Oh wait, there is none! I hate here!
Thankfully they were quick to follow so they leave me alone. I was glad that they were good with technology. The next one on the other hand wasn't this easy.
This woman simply asked me with a delightful smile
"What should I buy?"
She was a nice enough woman so I hang out a bit next to her.
"Why not this costume cleaner?"
"Oh this might work! But not really"
"What about this litlle gadget to comminucate?"
"not my style"
"Bendable metal stick for little fashion touches? You can bend it according to your symbol"
"Too simple"
"Gun color? You can shoot with wahtever colour you want! We have red for villians and blue for heroes"
"Too pale"
Pick something woman!
Turns out she was just trying to exchange her money so she would have coins for a vending machine.
I mean, I get it. It's the policy that we can't exchange money for it. Why don't you buy what you want from here though?
Fun fact it wasn't in the policy until someone scammed me with fake money. I really shouldn't be leave alone with register.
It could cause a lot of trouble for people but most importantly, for me. Meaning I need to re-consider...uh...what was the reason for me to work here again?
..............................
Right.
.............................
Maybe I should pick something less managable to buy instead of following a trend on the street considering I wrecked a car. It was dangerous for me and others.
..............................
\*\*\*
"You could just told me!...Stop laughing" I shouted while couldn't hold my giggle
"I was so emberassed! It was so hard! I got scammed! I had to teach villians to use supercave! Do you know what lind of people I had to deal with!"
This is the first time I see my dad slapping his knees while laughing. And me giggling despite all the troublesome weeks.
..............................
Thanks, dad.
.............................
I love you. | 2021-10-03T12:42:53 | 2021-10-03T11:53:39 | 280 | 35 |
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to. | It took awhile to figure it out. Once I did, a lot of half memories and seemingly “tall tales” told by adults for laughs at holiday parties that were nothing more than an excuse for self proclaimed responsible parents to let loose started to make sense.
I can’t die.
Not in the “immortal will survive any blow” kind of way. Just. Death doesn’t have an opportunity to happen.
Drunk driver about to T-bone a single mother and child? They happen to hit an oil slick on that old backroad and narrowly miss the sedan with the sun faded baby-on-board sticker.
Bar fight turned bad? That crazy bitch landed a hit on me but the stab wound missed all the vital organs. It also drew attention to a septic gallbladder. Would’ve died if the damn thing had been left alone another day.
So, when I woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth that felt like I had gargled kitty litter (in texture AND taste) I knew there had to be a reason for it.
At this point not much phases me so the whole “fight to the death for entertainment and fabulous prizes” thing was, well, pretty damn funny if I’m being honest. Ok, ok, I had a good chuckle. Freaked a few people out.
Long, convoluted story short, the other contestants kept accidentally saving my life while really sucking at killing me or saving themselves. Although I think it had more to do with the busted gas line at my apartment and subsequent explosion than anything. | I glanced generously around the room, sizing up my opponents, my lips curling back into a grin, though not far enough to reveal what I am. Oh how these fool humans have gaffed. And those cretins, behind their one way window, they think they're so clever, don't they? Little do they know, I can see them, clear as day, or well, I guess I should say night, I *am* a vampire, after all. I looked up, high above where I and the others stood, I could see them, five, in total, and not a single bodyguard in the room. Confidence? Maybe. Stupidity? Certainly. Sure humans are unaware of the existence of my kind, but even so, they should at least be smart enough to have *one* guard, after all, I always do.
He looks to me, a slight glint in his eye, I'd have to scold him later for gawking at me again. We'd been at a party before I was drugged and dragged away, so I was still adorned in my little black dress, with red heels. Thankfully, because of my vampiric abilities, drugs don't have as strong of an effect on me, so I was far more, *aware* than the snacks currently surrounding Adonis and I. He, on the other hand, had a few bruises, and a small laceration on his brow, apparently he'd gotten into quite the scuffle with my captors. I was unsure if he was willingly slowing his healing, or if he needed to feed. Either way, the problem would sort itself soon enough.
A sharp tone sounded once again over the PA system, barely a minute after the first announcement. "We will periodically reveal weapons, hidden within secret compartments lining the walls of the room you are currently in, however, the fight begins with hand to hand combat! Begin!"
My grin widens, all these humans, all this *blood* mine, for the taking. "Let the games, begin." | 2021-10-30T21:14:40 | 2021-10-30T16:57:25 | 375 | 222 |
[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate." | "Are you cheating on me?" Hera asked the question while finishing up the dishes. She stood at the sink, her larger than life head nearly hitting the ceiling, using part of her purple toga as a dishtowel.
Julia was still toweling off her hair from her morning shower. Her long brown hair took forever to dry, but she didn't use a hairdryer as it would frizz up. She twisted it all up in the towel and set it as a turban on the top of her head. She had to balance it carefully as she tilted her head to look up at Hera. "Why are you doing the dishes? We have a dishwasher."
"Where were you last night? I was waiting for you to come home and you were late."
Julia sighed. "I was working. You know that. Alone. No men, just me and the computer."
Hera screwed her lips up and gave Julia a distrustful look. "And no women? No swans? Bulls? No golden rain?"
Julia reached up to squeeze Hera's hand. "No, my soulmate. I'm not like your ex. You really should talk to Dr. Cohen about these things. The trust issues."
Hera's eyes seemed to glow, matching the crown on her head. When she spoke her voice wasn't louder, just more forceful. "I'm not crazy. I don't need to talk to your Stoic Oracle."
Julia continued squeezing her hands and Hera settled down. "Leave the dishes. Have a coffee with me before work. I've only got a couple minutes before things get busy."
The attendant brought in a carafe and poured two cups. Julia cuddled on Hera's lap as they sipped their coffee and gazed out the window at the sunrise coming up over the rolling hills. Hera's eyes wandered to the lamp sitting under security glass above the mantle. "Are you ever going to use that third wish?"
Julia chuckled. "I don't need it. I have everything I want right here. You are the best soulmate I could have asked for. The second wish was more than I could have hoped for."
"But your first wish—" Hera stopped when Julia reached up and placed a finger on her lips.
"Don't talk about work. I only get so much time with you each day and I want to savor it."
They chatted lovingly as the sky brightened slowly from red and orange to clear blue. As Julia set her empty cup of coffee down, a bell rang. She got up and untwisted the towel from her hair. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss on Hera's neck. "Duty calls. I'll see you after work."
The door opened as two men entered, in black uniforms with lightning bolt insignia on the chests. They knelt in unison. The taller of the two spoke. "My Lord, there is much news today of the war. Your enemies flee before your power."
Julia handed the towel to a faceless attendant. "Very good. Arise. First, tell me about progress on the Lightning Projector, then I'll want to see the latest troop deployments, then we'll go over reports on..."
As Julia walked off surrounded by troops, Hera smiled. She really was the perfect match.
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | "Hold on a moment. Hera is the wife of Zeus, how could she possibly be my soulmate?" Zane wondered, as he began rifling through his papers. "This can't be right. I'm not the type to–"
"Master Zane, you wished you could find a soulmate," the genie answers, somewhat embarrassed. "I thought that Hera would satisfy you, since–"
Zane gives the genie a long look. "Since I talk about her a lot in my lectures?" He sighs, and sets aside a book with a leather-bound cover. "You took that literally. I heard jokes that genies love to take words at face value, but that's too much."
Hera draws herself closer to Zane, forcing him to look in her eyes. "Zane, was it? I want to know why. Why have you brought me here?"
"Truthfully... I don't know," Zane admits sadly. "Can I wish you could return to the Pantheon? Your husband must be concerned, at least."
Hera lets out a deep, heartfelt laugh. "Him, concerned? He is concerned with his own pleasure, I fear. I do not know why I had married him in the first place."
"Hera, I..." Zane reaches out for a stray paper, depicting Hera standing alone under a tree, watched from afar by a silhouette in the distance. "I think your soulmate is someone else. Do find them, won't you? I must find my own."
"Master. You need to take a decision," the genie interjects. "You must tell me if you keep her or let her go."
Zane reaches out to cup Hera's cheek. In that sole moment, he can swear she looks both young and ancient. His gaze follows the thin creases upon her forehead, the thin brows drawn in thought, down to her eyes, like the ocean. Her lips, plush and wet, look inviting to him. "May I...?"
Her cheeks flush at the shy tone of his question, and nods. Their lips meet, and their kiss is soft, moist and...
His eyes open to see his dog, Ley, licking all over his face in excitement to wake him up. "Yikes, Ley, get off me!" he says, gently pushing the dog away.
He scrunches up his nose at the scent wafting in his nostrils. "I'm now covered in dog drool, happy? What's gotten you so excited though..."
Zane makes his way to the bathroom, and deals with the task of his morning routine. His mind, however, lingered over the dream and the kiss with Hera. "Oh man, must've sat up all night reading Greek legends..." he mutters to himself.
The sound of his doorbell jolts him from his thoughts, and he takes his mug of coffee while going to open the door. "First Ley was excited, now this... Post, so early in the morning–"
He nearly drops the cup of coffee when he sees a woman standing in the doorframe, her appearance reminding him of Hera. "Uh–hi–er, yes?"
"You must be Zane," she offers with a smile. "I am Hera, your newest assistant. I know, it's a bit cliché to be named after the goddess of fertility."
Zane finds himself unable to say anything for a moment. "...No, it's not. Please, come in–"
An empty bucket of popcorn is tossed against the sturdy glass, blue light dancing all over the darkened room. "What the hell, dude. You just met Hera in the double, be more convincing! Damn it. Am I that bad of an actor?"
"Woof."
"Well I'd like to see you manage it. Alright, time for the game shows," he says, pushing on the button for the next channel on TV. | 2021-12-09T08:31:34 | 2021-12-09T08:24:50 | 89 | 51 |
[WP] It was supposed to be a routine software upgrade, but now roombas are tracing pentagrams and summoning minor demons all across the country. You work in tech support. | "Joe, stop grading those calls we need you to take 15 agents on a 15 minutes training." I looked up to our floor supervisor that had just pulled of my earphones straight out of my ears. "Sophia, you know I'm behind on those grading whatever it is it can probably wai..."
She forcibly shut down my computer and dragged me off my chair while getting me up speed as we walked to conference room Napoleon ( I always hated this great people naming convention corporate has).
" The Rooma v3.4 update was release yesterday. The things are drawing pentagrams with dust accross America while chanting in binary. We have at least 200 cases of demonic possessions and polgergeist.
Depending of how far in the summoning process they are you can either just press and hold power or sometimes you have to physically destroy the machine and mix the dust with salt to stop the pentagram.
It's all hands on deck, to tell every agents. No we don't know when is the correction patch is coming and we don't know what do to if it finished the summoning. HQ said they're working on it.
For any complaints uses can wait for the official response next week or get a 50% of their next Roomba purchase if they waive their right to sue. "
Sophia close the door being me as I look at 15 of our call center agents waiting for me to say something. Clearly the rumor mill has already been going. I brace myself for a long day.
"... And that's why we won't allow them to make any claims until we know more details. Any questions?" It's my 12th group this morning. I'm tired, can barely keep the panic from my voice as the numbers keep going up.
I see father Thomas' hand raised as I brace myself for whatever moral arguments the ex-catholic priest want to once again gives us about the salvation of our souls.
"Am I allowed to perform the rites of exorcism?
- Thom we already talked about this. No religious references unless the user agree to it.
- If you insist, but the grace of god removed the demon in my call just before I got pulled in this meeting. Will you keep refusing salvation for those lost demons too?
-... Let me go listen to this call real quick, everyone else back to the phones ans watch your emails like a hawk for any updates. "
I start furiously typing an e-mail to the whole call center. Can't believe we didn't think of trying an exorcisme, a few latin chants and hands wave is all we needed. Even a few test runs with non priest works. Just gotta hit send and I'll be the hero of the whole company. If that doesn't get me ' exceed expectations' on my annual review I don't know what will!
I lay down in my chair for a well deserve coffee and a break as the comforting ping of incoming congratulations e-mails start coming in. I look at the screen with a smile and...
"From : hrHeadoffice@ consumerelectronics.Com
Subject : re: Exorcism to correct devil summoning issue.
Dear all,
Please note that this recently sent e-mail has not been approved by corporate HQ and should be disregarded. Consumer electronics does not affiliate with any religious organization or creed.
You can expect an official non religious process to be shared with you in the next week.
Thank you for your understanding,
Your HR team"
I look at the words on my screen in disbelief as a second email comes in addressed directly to me.
"From : hrHeadoffice@ consumerelectronics.Com
Subject : Displinary hearing for ignoring religious diversity policies" | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 5, Part 4: Professor Hale v.s. Every Single Roomba)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections. That being said, [these](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mrk4lm/wp_it_seemed_like_a_perfect_magical_deal_when_any/) [stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/p3xx5e/bargain_bin_superheroes_you_are_a_dlister_super/) provide some extra context.)
**Professor Hale's job was to explain the inexplicable.** When a man began aging backwards instead of forwards, Professor Hale was the one taking samples and making measurements. When a woman won every lottery and crashed the U.S. stock market all at once, it was his job to record data and crunch numbers.
And when every single Roomba in the U.S. began summoning lesser demons, Professor Hale rolled up his sleeves and whipped out the screwdrivers.
"What you have to understand is that summoning a new demon into our world isn't just a strictly mechanical process," Professor Hale said. "Otherwise we would've industrialized it, like we did wishing upon shooting stars."
Archcommander Varney grunted, frowning at the busily-buzzing Roomba. Blood sacrifices were hard to come by in the small living room it was contained in, but as it turned out, dust was mostly human skin—and there were any number of demons you could summon with an ample supply of human skin. "And yet *someone's* figured out how to get machines to perform magic."
"And I think I know who." Professor Hale pulled up a computer and flipped it around. "I decompiled the Roomba's world-code and found that... something *else* had snuck in with the latest update."
`from philosophy import soul;`
`public virtual void main(){`
`this.add(soul.GetSoul(user));`
`}`
Archcommander Varney frowned at the code. "Professor, I hire people like you to tell me what nonsense like this means."
Professor Hale grinned. "*Someone* out there shoved their soul into a Roomba. Quite possibly *every* Roomba. And with the timing of this—"
"Right after the Sacrament incident." Archcommander Varney scowled. "Damn. I don't suppose you've had any luck communicating with the soul trapped inside?"
"Give me a month, a research team, twenty Hubert particles, and a certified priest in good standing with their god. I'll get him out."
"Done," Archcommander Varney said. Then he paused, staring at the small, misshapen, insectile creature rising from the Roomba's summoning circle. "And if I told you to make more of them?"
"Sir?" Professor Hale frowned, tilting his head.
"Machines that can automatically summon demons. Chaotic weaponry to unleash behind enemy lines." Archcommander Varney folded his arms. "If I told you to make more of them."
Professor Hale hesitated. "Well, we'd need more human souls to automate the summoning process, and... sacrifices to bind them..."
Archcommander Varney raised an eyebrow at Professor Hale. "Done."
Professor Hale's job was to understand the inexplicable.
Archcommander Varney's job was to weaponize it.
"Round up the remaining Roombas," Archcommander Varney said to the Professor. "You have full use of my strike teams to do so." He grinned. "This is the weaponry of the future, and I'm not letting it slip between my hands."
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2022-01-30T08:00:03 | 2022-01-30T07:47:40 | 46 | 24 |
[WP] It was supposed to be a routine software upgrade, but now roombas are tracing pentagrams and summoning minor demons all across the country. You work in tech support. | Kyla slammed open the door to the break room to find that Alison was already there, calmly stirring a mountain of sugar into her coffee.
“Alison,” Kyla whispered harshly. “Do you hear what the hell’s going on?”
“I did,” Alison said, sipping from the steaming mug in her hands. A small, satisfied smirk tugged the top of her lips, before she turned back to the jittery Kyla. “Which is why I’m in here and not out there.”
“I can’t take it any more, honestly,” Kyla said, stomping towards the drawer. She ripped the cupboard door open like it owed her money, hungry hands grabbing at anything and everything. It eventually surfaced with a protein bar, which she swiftly opened and crunched through without hesitation.
“Demons? Pentagrams? It was a routine software upgrade from engineering! And somehow, we are the ones getting all the brunts of the complaints?”
“That’s literally our job, Kyla,” Alison said, blowing across the top of her coffee.
“And you are in here, doing absolutely nothing about it.”
“I work best with a break and coffee,” Alison shrugged. “Besides, I’m really not sure what sort of advice I can give about demon summoning. Throw holy water at them? I don’t even drink water.”
Kyla blew out her hair, leaning back into a creaky chair that threatened to topple over. She stared at the ceiling, cursing quietly under her breath.
“Tech support. Tech support! Why did I choose this job? I’ve never regretted something so much in my life.”
“What about the tattoo on your lo—”
“I will end you, Alison,” Kyla growled.
Alison shrugged, but a knowing smile lit up her eyes. She took another sip of too-sweet coffee, and sighed in pleasure.
Kyla continued cursing absent-mindedly, while her thoughts drifted off, and her sight leisurely ambled along. She looked out in the corridor, watching a roomba slowly roll in front of her. It dragged a slow, syrupy pentagram behind it, while a guttural, mechanical grinding roared from within.
“Of course,” Kyla whispered. “There are roombas in the office. That makes complete sense.”
Kyla leapt up, letting the chair clatter to the floor, and startling Alison.
“Do whatever you want here, but know that Marcus will try to get you to replace that chair out of your own pocket.”
Kyla waved her away, an accusatory finger slowly rising, pointing at the roomba outside the break room.
“Do you think demons make for good tech support?”
“I know the people who call tech support make for good demons,” Alison said. Her head turned as well, the latest object of Kyla’s desire now directly in her line of sight.
“Are you thinking of…”
“Yes, that I don’t get paid enough for this,” Kyla said, jabbing the thin air towards the roomba. “And that, clearly, fire should be fought with fire.”
“You should never be a firefighter,” Alison said.
“I’ll be an excellent arsonist though,” Kyla said. “Now, help me gather all the roombas. We have some demons to put through.”
“Are you sure it’ll work?” Alison raised an eyebrow.
“Not at all,” Kyla said. “But I’m probably going to quit this job the next day anyway. Might as well have a blast doing so.”
“I’ll miss the well-stocked pantry,” Alison looked around wistfully.
“You’ll get your sanity back for it,” Kyla smiled. “And likely watch a lot of people lose theirs when the demons appear, judging from the phone calls. I’ll take that trade.”
---
r/dexdrafts | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 5, Part 4: Professor Hale v.s. Every Single Roomba)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections. That being said, [these](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mrk4lm/wp_it_seemed_like_a_perfect_magical_deal_when_any/) [stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/p3xx5e/bargain_bin_superheroes_you_are_a_dlister_super/) provide some extra context.)
**Professor Hale's job was to explain the inexplicable.** When a man began aging backwards instead of forwards, Professor Hale was the one taking samples and making measurements. When a woman won every lottery and crashed the U.S. stock market all at once, it was his job to record data and crunch numbers.
And when every single Roomba in the U.S. began summoning lesser demons, Professor Hale rolled up his sleeves and whipped out the screwdrivers.
"What you have to understand is that summoning a new demon into our world isn't just a strictly mechanical process," Professor Hale said. "Otherwise we would've industrialized it, like we did wishing upon shooting stars."
Archcommander Varney grunted, frowning at the busily-buzzing Roomba. Blood sacrifices were hard to come by in the small living room it was contained in, but as it turned out, dust was mostly human skin—and there were any number of demons you could summon with an ample supply of human skin. "And yet *someone's* figured out how to get machines to perform magic."
"And I think I know who." Professor Hale pulled up a computer and flipped it around. "I decompiled the Roomba's world-code and found that... something *else* had snuck in with the latest update."
`from philosophy import soul;`
`public virtual void main(){`
`this.add(soul.GetSoul(user));`
`}`
Archcommander Varney frowned at the code. "Professor, I hire people like you to tell me what nonsense like this means."
Professor Hale grinned. "*Someone* out there shoved their soul into a Roomba. Quite possibly *every* Roomba. And with the timing of this—"
"Right after the Sacrament incident." Archcommander Varney scowled. "Damn. I don't suppose you've had any luck communicating with the soul trapped inside?"
"Give me a month, a research team, twenty Hubert particles, and a certified priest in good standing with their god. I'll get him out."
"Done," Archcommander Varney said. Then he paused, staring at the small, misshapen, insectile creature rising from the Roomba's summoning circle. "And if I told you to make more of them?"
"Sir?" Professor Hale frowned, tilting his head.
"Machines that can automatically summon demons. Chaotic weaponry to unleash behind enemy lines." Archcommander Varney folded his arms. "If I told you to make more of them."
Professor Hale hesitated. "Well, we'd need more human souls to automate the summoning process, and... sacrifices to bind them..."
Archcommander Varney raised an eyebrow at Professor Hale. "Done."
Professor Hale's job was to understand the inexplicable.
Archcommander Varney's job was to weaponize it.
"Round up the remaining Roombas," Archcommander Varney said to the Professor. "You have full use of my strike teams to do so." He grinned. "This is the weaponry of the future, and I'm not letting it slip between my hands."
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2022-01-30T08:36:03 | 2022-01-30T07:47:40 | 37 | 24 |
[WP] The cute girl on the subway can’t seem to stop staring at you! This would be great, except that her clothes are several centuries out of date, no one else seems to be able to see her, and you haven’t seen her blink. Not even once. | A girl like this shouldn’t exist.
Well, yes, she was pretty. Beautiful, in the way an esoteric romance novel from two hundred years ago would have described, all snow white skin and raven hair and plum red lips.
Part of it was the attire. This was the subway. I’ve seen my fair share of outfits, from criminally underdressed to heatstrokingly overdressed. I’ve still not seen anything like this—a dress with a skirt so large that it looked like a clock tower bell. Folds upon folds of fabric cascaded over each other, white and red combining into a waterfall of colour. She sat more upright than the standing pole in front of her, and she stared at me.
Oh, with such intensity did she gaze. Even when I closed my eyes and reopened then. Either she wasn’t blinking, or we timed them very well. Either way, her eyelids did not flutter even once. Her brown eyes were almost leering, as if daring me to make a move.
I knew I was the only one looking, because one’s eyes could not help but be drawn to this sight out of history. Yet, everybody else walked past. Some even went through her skirt, which all but confirmed my suspicions.
And still, I looked. It was surpassing beauty. It was morbid curiosity. It was a combination of both that siphoned the rationality from me, inducing near delirium in my mind.
The train stopped at where I was supposed to get off. I let it past just to sit there, quietly.
Slowly, the carriage emptied, drops of water escaping the tap. Then, it was just the two of us.
“You don’t blink,” I said.
That’s what being cooped inside for years get you. The loss of anything relating to social skill.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to,” she said, bashful cheeks turning pink.
“Um,” I muttered. “Sorry. You are really beautiful. I lost my train of thought just then.”
“It’s no problem,” she whispered. “This train is a strange experience. Especially for those that recently get here.”
I squirmed, nervously mashing my fingers together.
“Pardon, I’ve taken this train for a decade now. I swear I’ve seen everybody at least twice. But you… I’ve never seen you in my life.”
“Oh, not your life,” she laughed. “I passed very long ago.”
“Strange,” I said. “I passed by my stop very long ago as well.”
“You did,” she smiled. “Are you prepared?”
“Prepared? Prepared for what?”
“To step off the train,” she said. “We’ve got this far. The train will be retired soon. But it’s been running and running. It deserves a break.”
“It… deserves a break?”
“Yes,” the girl said. “It only comes out when there are a lot of passengers to ferry. But its job is nearing the end, it seems. Not quite, but soon.”
“A lot of passengers? Then why is there just… you and me here?”
“I’m here to guide you,” she said, unblinking eyes smiling. She reached out a gloved hand towards me. “This is no regular train.”
As if on cue, it pulled into a grinding stop, a high-pitched whine suffusing the air.
“Come,” she continued. “Let’s go. We need to get off at this stop.”
“This isn’t where I’m supposed to get off,” I said.
“Oh,” she giggled. “Welcome to your new existence. You’ll get used to it.”
---
r/dexdrafts | I think...
I think I see read people.
It makes a...certain amount of sense. From a certain point of view. Reading brings characters to life, after all. You see them in your minds eye, feel their feelings, watch them struggle and learn and grow.
We all see read people, really.
Still, more than a little disconcerting when they stick around long after the book has been set down. Their lives are simply spaces in our heads, and fleeting.
She doesn't seem to be going away, though.
There are more, I think. Things often seem to be a bit more crowded than they should be, and there have certainly been some oddly dressed people. Most do a better job of blending in than she does, but I've noticed a few recurring characters that I think I can trace to various books. I'd bet almost anything that that one salesman was Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, and I'm pretty sure that those two guys arguing about one of them having crabbaples in their cheeks were Yossarian and Orr. They're all dressed in pretty modern clothes, but that makes some sense- your minds eye might skimp on a lot of details, let the characters wear whatever would be incongruous. Your perception of them updates, isn't tied to one time so much as the *character*.
The girl is from a period piece, though. I'm pretty sure. I'm *also* pretty sure...
Feels...feels a little awkward to say, actually. But somehow, in my minds eye, I saw her as having a crush on me.
I don't know why, exactly. She's nice enough, and she was (and *is*, now) pretty enough, in my minds eye. But it's not like I had a particularly strong crush on *her*. Just...something about her made her seem as though she'd be crazy about me if she actually met me. We assign odd characteristics to characters, sometimes. Makes them seem more full, more human.
Here's the thing, though- they're *not*. Humans are *complicated*, full of twisting emotions and desires and a bunch of stuff that, to be perfectly frank, frequently makes no damn sense whatsoever. This one person has a talent for baking scones but can't bake anything else somehow, and has memorized chapter three of book three of the Harry Potter series because they had to do some crazy school assignment about it, and none of that *matters* but it's still part of who they *are*.
People are complicated.
And I couldn't make full-fledged *people*, not even with an authors help. A talented painter can make an incredible image of a mountain, complete with happy little trees, but image is not reality, and they can't conjure a mountain from nothing any more than you or I can.
Had I created them? Pale images conjured within my mind, given shadowy form in reality, cursed to wander forever, snapshots lost without context, searching for fleeting meaning?
I mean, I *hope* not.
Still, the alternative isn't exactly pretty. Something in my mind has broken a little. Or more than a little.
Difficult to deal with, but more possible than dealing with actual phantoms. Step one was to see a psychiatrist, learn what to do from an expert.
Fortunately, I was able to breeze through, get an appointment the very day that I inquired. A little odd, but it makes sense- you don't want to leave serious mental issues on the back burner. Not least because you never know how long clarity may last.
I sat down, and described my symptoms in detail- what I had thought I'd seen, and what I thought was going on.
"You think *you've* got problems? What about *my* problems?"
Funny how I'd managed to get so far without actually learning the doctors *name*. A quick check revealed the truth- I was talking to doc Daneeka.
This may prove harder to deal with than I thought. | 2022-04-07T09:29:49 | 2022-04-07T07:57:29 | 491 | 49 |
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