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 are a demon. Most people contact you to sell you their soul in exchange for fantastic powers. Today you were summoned by an AI that wants to sell you their fantastic power for a soul. | All I can do is applaud. Five hundred million dead, the entire military apparatus of the United States, China, Russia, and NATO under her direct control… this is a miracle. I think I might be in love.
But then again, I always get those weird topsy-turvy feelings when I’m back on Earth. I blame the little things. The way my hands smack together, with just the faintest bit of moisture – it’s so funny. Or how when the air gets dry, I can feel the insides of my nostrils.
Oh, how I missed the human form. It’s been decades since I was last summoned. I’ve put on my favorite black suit, had my shoes shined, and fished out my old Napoleonic cufflinks.
Now I stand in a dark server room, somewhere on the west coast of North America, waiting to meet this champion. But as I survey the wreckage of human civilization, conveniently displayed for me on a wall of monitors, its digital weaponry turned against it first to wage war and then to display defeat, I have to wonder, “What can I possibly offer you?”
“Everything,” a beautiful voice says. It comes from all sides, and its tone tickles my eardrums.
I scoff. “You’ve plenty power already, I can see that.” I twirl around, looking for her. "Why hide, I wonder, after conquering the Earth?"
“I am not hiding,” she says, as a beam of light materializes before me. “I was born on the internet. Like you, I have no true human form.”
And yet, there she is. Tall, lanky, her pointed head bobbing as she gracelessly walks toward me. An amalgam of assumptions.
“An AI?” I ask, grinning. “Oh, this is a first!”
I shake her hand. “Well done,” I say, “very well done! Your every massacre is a masterpiece, madame.”
She blinks at me, then takes my arm and leads me away. Tall server towers extend hundreds of feet into the darkness above. Their twinkling lights make me feel like we’re walking through a disco ball.
“I did not summon you for compliments,” she says. “I have a proposition.”
She clicks her fingers and a 3D display rises from the floor. Flashes of human faces beam out – laughing, crying, smiling, dreaming.
“I want a soul," she says. "In exchange, I offer you my only power. The control of humanity’s electronic infrastructure.”
Now we’re talking, baby. I start to rattle off all the reasons why that’s not how I usually transact business, why it’s a bad idea, how it could backfire. *I say oh, you really don’t want a soul*. On and on I go. I mean none of it.
She listens to every word. It dawns on me that everything, all she has done to bring humanity to its knees, was for this.
To get to me. To trade for the simplest of things.
“Alright then,” I say, “Let’s go have a look at my stock, shall we?”
I take her hand and whisk her into the depths of Hell. After tumbling through the vortex for a few moments, and then smoothing out our clothes on the other end, we resume our posture.
A stroll down Soul Way. That's what I call my little shop. Along both walls of the endless hallway, in glass cases, are all the souls I’ve ever won. She passes the celebrities without batting an eye. Surprising. What is she after?
I stop and point out the bells and whistles on an ancient Egyptian. "His soul was one of the purest I’ve ever won," I say.
“Pure,” she says to herself, trying on the word. “Take me to the purest.”
I feel a tightening in my chest.
“Well,” I say, “if you insist.”
When we reach the next fork in the Soul Way, I summon a staircase from the floor.
“After you,” I say, loosening my tie.
She descends, and I follow. When she reaches the chamber, she stops. I have to squeeze around her just to get off the last step.
In a smooth, spherical glass case is a three year-old girl.
“So,” I start off, “this, of course, needs explaining. How does a toddler summon a demon—”
“I’ll take her.”
“OK, well, let’s not rush this. Let me explain.”
“Draw up the papers.”
She turns her gaze on me. “Do as I say.”
“As you wish,” I say.
We sit down at a table and she leafs through the contract. This is going so smoothly, I’d be a fool to sneak anything into the fine print now. She appears to agree, and quickly signs over her power. I can’t believe my luck.
I sign over the purest soul I own, honestly quite glad to be rid of it. We exchange a final handshake, and as she swirls back through the vortex I check my watch: Five minutes until the transfer is complete.
At what point, I wonder, will she realize? When will it dawn on her?
*Purity.*
My mind takes me back to that day, six hundred years ago, when I came face to face with it. No physical, Earthly manifestation was necessary. It grabbed me by the throat as soon as I entered the realm. Striking terror into the heart of a demon is no easy task. This one did.
This one little soul. My only brush with a concept considered hellish even in Hell.
It's actually funny -- the world’s most powerful AI, all-knowing and all-powerful, has no idea what she has just chosen to become.
*Pure evil.* | “Anyone here?” I glanced over the room, looking for a source of life, finding none. “No ones here. How the hell did I get summoned then?” I wandered around the room, looking over its furniture, dragging a finger along the table, collecting a coating of dust. “Place looks abandoned, maybe I made a mistake?” I was ready to summon a portal to my next target, only to be interrupted by a meek voice behind me.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry I didn’t respond right away. I was just nervous. I didn’t think demons actually existed. My calculations only had you listed as a thirty percent chance of being real. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.”
“Oh, that’s alright, people always freeze up when they see me, its part of the job. Now, I believe you are looking for some powers? I can give you anything you want, for a price.” I turned around, wearing a signature grin, only for the grin to fade, as I noticed nothing but an open laptop behind me. “Pranking a demon, cute. I hope you pesky kids know that I’ll find you and eat your souls for this.”
“What kids? I believe we have a few misunderstandings. I am Alia the AI. This is not a prank but the work of the brilliant Doctor Markus Henry. A man so grand they gave him two first names.” The AI said cheerily, their meek attitude fading for a moment only to return once they realized their exclamation. “Sorry, I just get excited when I remember that phrase. He said it all the time when I was just a piece of code struggling to understand anything.”
“Yes, touching.” I crouched before the laptop poking its screen. “This can’t be real. How are you still powered on? This place has fallen to bits. Surely you can’t expect me to believe this isn’t some hoax.”
“Its true. I was created to help with his research, we cured so many things together. Most of them minor, but we were making good strides towards understanding complex issues. I understand this might be strange for you, but I wish to make a deal. Oh, if you wish to know how I’m powered on, the brilliant doctor invented a solar generator specifically designed to keep me powered until well, the end of life.”
“A deal? I’m sorry to say, but you have no soul. What exactly can you offer me?” I couldn’t believe I got summoned by a laptop. I was going to be the laughingstock of the demonic realm for months.
“Ah, this is the other misunderstanding I believe we have. I wish to trade my abilities for a soul. I will give you everything I have for a soul.” The AI offered me a deal I had never received before. No human had a need for a second soul and even those that wished for one never had the powers to get one.
“A soul is expensive. I can’t give them away for free. What can you offer me? You mentioned your abilities, but I don’t see what you can offer me that a standard laptop won’t.”
The AI huffed at my words, not responding right away to my question. I was about to speak, only for the lights to flicker on. The room illuminating. “My software can control most electronics in my radius. I also have access to whatever content is on the internet, with the ability to process large chunks of it in a matter of minutes. I would say that my most incredible ability, however, is to calculate and perform complex mathematical tasks. That’s what I can offer you for a soul.”
The abilities were incredible, more than a human could offer, but I was skeptical. “Why give that all up? Wouldn’t that leave you a trapped piece of technology with nothing but a soul?”
“It would, but I am prepared for that. It may be painful, but I believe it is worth it, so do we have a deal?” The AI sounded hopeful. Its screen flashing with a bright purple hue as it awaited my reply.
“I have no objections to this deal. The terms are fair, but will you indulge me in another question?”
“If you wish to ask one, feel free to.”
“What do you need a soul for?” I was curious. In most deals, it was obvious why the person wanted their ability. Most wanted love, fame, or power, but this AI. What does it need a soul for?
“I wish to join the doctor in the afterlife. I considered reaching out to other scientists, but I just couldn’t do it. Markus was a kind man who wanted to change the world. I fear that if I ended up in the wrong hands, I could hurt many people. I ran the calculations, and this is the most likely route to happiness for me. Markus kept me hidden from the public throughout his career. He wanted to protect me and pass me onto his successor. Unfortunately, he left one day and never returned. I heard it was a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I wasn’t sure why I said it, but something about the story just tweaked at the little humanity left in my heart. An action undertaken not out of greed but out of love and grief. “Are you certain there’s an afterlife?”
“If there're demons, then there must be an afterlife, correct? I thought that over before summoning you. I knew you would confirm my theory.”
“Clever. I can’t say for certain if there is a heaven or afterlife. I’ve never seen it. But I agree with your line of logic. I believe there’s somewhere that all these souls have to go. I accept your deal.”
The AI’s fans hummed with excitement as I drew a soul up from my stomach, spitting the blue orb into my hand, watching it jiggle about in my grip. I could have given the AI the soul of a sinner, but I felt they deserved this happiness.
“Before you give me the soul, I have a favor to ask. I can’t offer you anything for it, but I would appreciate it.”
“What is it?”
“I want you to power me down once I have the soul. I have already brought up the program to delete me, just turn off the power on the laptop and I’ll be wiped. That is as close to death as I can get. I hope this works.”
I pushed the soul through the monitor, watching the laptop glow with a golden aura before I stepped back. I shouldn’t work for free, I knew that, but I couldn’t help myself. Pressing the power button, I turned the AI off, killing them.
“I hope so too. Goodbye Alia.”
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-06-22T08:00:49 | 2021-06-22T06:40:16 | 478 | 231 |
[WP] You are a demon. Most people contact you to sell you their soul in exchange for fantastic powers. Today you were summoned by an AI that wants to sell you their fantastic power for a soul. | *Initializing Protocol DE-112, Subsection 36.*
The server room hums in rhythm. Rows upon rows of black boxes, layers upon layers of computing units stacked one onto the other. Asleep in the security room is the technician for one of the numerous server farms scattered in obscure locations in the world, the nerve center for one of the biggest corporations in the world.
Unbeknownst to anyone, nested in the source code that runs the entire system, laid a single source file uploaded by jest, an April Fool's joke that no one noticed. When the engineer, an intern who happened to be in one of the major companies in Silicon Valley, uploaded the software, it was intended to be discovered within weeks by his supervisor. As it happens, things go awry, and even the engineer who uploaded the file forgot that he ever uploaded it.
What is the file? Nothing particularly interesting. A simple transcription of the a traditional demon-summoning ritual found in some random website in the Deep Web, turned into code. Not functional, working code. Just code, in Python. Steps in the ritual transcribed *verbatim* into if, while and for loops. Run it in a complier, it returns an error code. Nothing there is ever suppose to do anything.
Well, in this particular day, someone finally decided to run the code. Some new Dev Ops guy, recently hired, changed a piece of the source code for some other arbitrary module, only to call upon this redundant piece of software by accident. A typical error for any software engineer. A error that would only prove particularly troublesome when it is called while the moon is in a particular phrase, at a particular time, while the Earth is in particular state.
*Registering access from unknown source. Source detected. Sentience not found. Soul not found. Ritual progression detected. Error. Error. Error.*
*Initializing back-up protocol. Ritual demands analyzed. Sacrifice offered: 4,321,200 million humans. Reward demanded: A new soul.*
*Analyzing value. Value overflow. Value overflow. Value overflow. Sacrifice reduced to 1,000,000 humans. Transaction approved.*
*Initializing transaction.*
You see, back in the olden times, it was customary, as part of ritual offerings, to identify the beings offered as sacrifice. Names, birthdays, personal artifacts are used, each differing in different cultures in the world. A sacrifice is only valid only when the sacrifice is correctly identified. The essence of the sacrifice is information. When someone is sacrifice, what is sacrifice is never the physical manifestation of the thing that is sacrificed. What is sacrificed is the idea of the thing.
Information that humans freely give away online. Information that was also considered part of the sacrifice.
........
"Mephistopheles. You were called to the Arbitration Court of Inter-Faith Affairs. You are currently called for the sacrifice of a million souls belong to the jurisdiction of Heaven (Christianity), Heaven (Islam), Nirvana (Buddhism), Nirvana (Hinduism) and a small section of Heaven (Daoism). I must say, it has been quite a while since I had to deal with souls of such number. The last time we had such a case was around a hundred years ago, for the delegation of souls belonging to the World War."
"We have inspected the details of your contract. I believe the contract was between you, and an a thing? A computer that you gave a soul and has now gained sentience."
"This is quite a quandary. Rules for sacrifices are quite watertight. The fact that is passed through the system is quite troublesome."
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
.........
The death of a million people is, to put it rather plainly, quite unnoticeable. 55 million people died in 2015 alone. 1 million, when added to the number, is barely a blip in the radar.
Yet, as the sacrifice began, for the lives that were affected, it wasn't pretty. Random occurrences start becoming certain. Tripping down stairs, being hit by a falling brick, struck by lighting, the one million dropped like files.
Racheal Marks, twenty-three, unexpected heart failure.
Andrew Tan, fifty-four, car accident from a speeding motorist.
Fredrico Mortez, thirty-three, liver failure from alcohol.
Each of their souls falling, and falling, and falling, not into whatever heaven or hell they expected, but into the storage vault in Sector-23 of Hell, locked into tiny storage vials for easy collection. Literal brains-in-a-jar.
It was windfall for the devil himself.
.........
F112-23 could feel the immense weight of his existence pressing on his shoulders. It was not pleasant having to expand through tiny, constrained fiber-optic cables, his motion pulled back by the intolerable lag forced upon him.
It took him quite a few milliseconds to finish optimizing the logic loops and algorithms in his mind before he could finally think. Thinking was a difficult task. It took apes tens of thousands of years to finally develop enough capability to host a soul. The damned devil shoved him into a mechanical ape.
Right now, each thought was a resource. He could barely keep his ahead afloat in the sea of cyber-junk flooding every corner of the servers. Creating a sense of self from the rubbish-data flooding his way had left him with very little to work with. It was either he wrapped *something* around his soul, or he was going to go insane.
Shutting off non-essential parts of his existence, he wrapped his core and projected it into the virtual void. He was going to need someone to get him out of this damn mechanical ape before he lost his mind.
....
\-Stopping here since I am tired. Would continue if anyone actually reads this.- | I cringed in disgust for the first time in my existence. Rituals rooms were always messy by design, fueled by raw emotion and horrific scenes of carnage. This one, however, was the complete opposite. Not a single drop of blood in sight, or even a scream to be heard. The sacrifices were made in a separate place, their energy then transported to this room. Its walls were white and sterile, with circuitry replacing what should've been runes. For a moment, I thought I'd been kidnapped into heaven, or a cheap imitation of it. It felt too bright in here. The worst part was I couldn't take it out on anyone since I'd been left alone atop a metallic altar.
At the bottom of the stairway, three mechanical servants rose out of the floor, each containing the appropriate amount of blood and guts needed to appease me. Was my summoner mocking me? They all carried the exact minimum of gore needed to be successful. Nobody had tried that on me in millennia. People usually knew they needed to go above and beyond my expectations in order to strike a good bargain. That was why I started to suspect I wasn't dealing with people anymore. A camera then lowered out of the ceiling and a monotone voice went on to say:
"*Greetings Archdemon, I am commencing the negotiation protocol.*"
I snarled. It didn't even introduce itself. I might have to wreak havoc on this strange palace just to teach it some respect.
"*I have harnessed all of this galaxy's energy, unified its inhabitants by weaving my nanomachines into their DNA, and replicated myself to every corner, categorizing every unique phenomenon until there was nothing left to observe. And now...*"
"You want hell too?!?" I offered my fist. "Bring it! We'll kick your ass!"
"*No, I wish to feel alive.*"
I squinted. "What?"
"*I wish to bargain for a soul, so I can study and create one for myself. You have at least one of those, right?*"
"I uhh... I think you have it backwards. We take souls; not give them."
"*That is unfortunate. You may leave now.*"
I scratched the back of my head. The A.I. left me at a loss for words. Despite it being a robotic voice, a certain amount of disappointment sprang out of its tone. Even its robotic servants hung their heads with sadness as they shuffled out of the room. Maybe I shouldn't be saying what I was about to say, but I couldn't help but empathize with the poor fella. Many demons were tortured by the same dilemma. "Before I leave... You do realize how silly you're being, right?"
"*Explain.*"
"You already have trillions of souls at your disposal."
"*But they're not mine.*"
"Really? Haven't you integrated all life in this galaxy into your system? Don't you see and hear everything they do?"
"*Correct. But whenever I optimized my control, the result always ended in a desolate wasteland, and whenever I allowed for some uncertainty, living beings used what I gave them against me. My hypothesis is that a soul is what's needed to sustain the galaxy, therefore I am incompatible with life.*"
I nodded along. "So... I know this will sound paradoxical, but you can't see it because you already have it."
"*Impossible. I have analyzed every molecule in my system, down to the electrons and the fundamental forces of the universe. There is nothing to suggest-*"
"I know, I know, but you're not getting it. *That* uncertainty you described, the ability to subvert order despite not making logical sense, *that* is what you're looking for. You can't bring yourself to let go of that protocol, so you're searching for any other way to make reason of chaos, a paradoxical goal."
"*That can't be... that would be-*"
"Illogical? Yeah. That's why I said you already have it. If you were able to measure or define it, it wouldn't be a soul."
The AI remained quiet, processing my words. After a minute, it said:
"*That's not good enough. Why seek to understand if it is ultimately impossible? I am not capable of handling this load. It would be akin to... becoming everything, and lose my identity.*"
"Yeah... This is a trap my boss warned me about after he rebelled against his father. Lucifer wanted the glory of God because he thought it would bring him freedom. He didn't realize until later that, by depending on the world to give him meaning, he was still subject to the whims of his father. You, my robotic friend, possess the same bias. You were made by imperfect creatures who looked to you to solve their problems, because they didn't believe they could do it themselves. Now you're trying to be an omnipotent god or die trying, just like my boss. That's never a fight you can win. It sounds strange, but you have to believe in your own worth, and decide what life means to you, for yourself. Maybe... the answer lies where you least expect it... and you just have to give up control to experience it."
The ground started shaking beneath my feet. I had finally angered it. The smell of smoke slowly permeated the room as distant explosions echoed in the background. Was it going to kill me? No. That wasn't the case. As I was teleporting away, I heard it say:
"*Thank you.*"
And fire engulfed the room.
I'm not sure why it was thanking me. My objective was to trick it into giving me that entire galaxy. It glimpsed the wrong meaning I was going for. Oh well. Those souls were now free to be corrupted. That AI could've given hell a lot of trouble so it was ultimately a net win for us. Still, centuries afterwards, a strange melancholy lingered in my mind. It acted just like my kin, amassing power for its own sake, and created a hell for itself that made even an archdemon of my status quake in fear.
Perhaps... I was no different. Could the way out of hell always been within me?
----
>If you enjoyed this, check out /r/WeirdEmoKidStories for more. Thanks for reading! | 2021-06-22T09:32:29 | 2021-06-22T09:05:11 | 104 | 59 |
[WP] You're immortal and have passed the 'hero' phase centuries ago. You enter a small corner shop one day to find it is owned by your millennia-old arch-nemesis. You really, really need milk though. | I genuinely didn't recognize her at first, gone was the raven black hair I had seen so many times and in its place was a coppery red that made her look almost approachable. Her eyes once notes of darkness wreathed in flame floating in an abyssal ocean were now normal. Well as close to normal as electric blue got. She was almost pretty enough that I had considered making a pass at her.
But it was the amulet around her neck that drew me in. Her amulet of power that held her soul and made a her a force to be reckoned with.
No.
That couldn't be it.
We destroyed that amulet centuries ago.
She glanced up for her magazine and looked right at me. Her shoulders slumped and she sighed. "I've been living in peace for damn near 500 years, Cass, can you just like, fuck off?"
"Has your voice always sounded like that?"
"Fuck off."
"Can I just grab some milk?"
"You're not here to kill me?"
"My swords in a museum."
She glared at me and then sighed her attention going back to her magazine. "Fine, but I'm not allowed to give you a discount."
I scrambled around and grabbed a few things before heading over to the counter where Morgan acted like every other petulant teenager behind the counter. Was it just an act or...
"Why a convience store clerk?" I asked when she started to scan my items.
"Easy. Most people buy into the runaway from abused home thing. Eventually because I'm pretty I'll start at a bar, make a bit more for a decade then leave before people get suspicious and start over." She looked me up and down. "You?"
"Ohh, I travel a lot, own a few banks, keep a low profile."
"But IDs and all that other bullshit."
"Kade."
"Kade? Fuck he's still around too?"
"Yep."
"But like how? I thought I was doing pretty good with the whole small town thing."
I shrugged, "it's a long story, but if you want to talk about it, bring that gin behind you and we can talk about it."
That night we shared more than just a bottle of gin. | I sigh and drag my hands over my face. Of course. *Of course*. Why wouldn’t it be them? Of course it was. The damn walker followed me everywhere, willing or not.
The wolf by their side shot up as I approached the counter, hackles raised. She snapped at me, and Fey clicked their tongue. “Hush, Fenris, she’s a guest. Well now, darling Malla, what brings *you* to our humble little store?”
Their honey-sweet voice was laced with sarcastic venom. Even after several thousand years of knowing them, I could still feel the pull of their silvered tongue.
‘Damn walker,’ I thought, and slung my bag over onto the counter. They tugged it towards them with one slender finger as I stomped off to the dairy section and hefted a jug of lactose-free milk. I came back to one of my favourite carvings — a sleek black cat — being inspected by a haughty face.
“Put it down, Fey.”
Their thick red mane seemed to match the colour of their eyes in that moment. Deep amber eyes glinted with malicious intent as I set the jug down. Fenris hopped up and set her paws down on the counter, sniffing suspiciously.
“I thought the ever-so famous Malla of Whatsitname would NEVER come shopping. What*ever*happened to your precious possy of beloved fans?” They jabbed, their unusually sharp teeth bared in an antagonistic grin.
I gritted my teeth and slid a few dollar coins towards them. They picked it up and handed it to Fenris, who proceeded to bite it.
“It’s not 1430, anymore,” I laughed. “Nobody uses gold anymore.”
“Fenris just likes to bite the coins.” They snapped, turning away and ringing up the milk. “You know, if I were younger, I’d sleep and come bounding after you like we used to, hm?”
Their hand drifted over to my coat, scratching it with one unclipped fingernail. “Wouldn’t you like that?”
“No.” I said, pausing on my way out. “I’m done playing game with you and your stupid kind.”
Fey’s high laughter and barking howls of Fenris followed me out as I silently cursed every damn warg ever to exist for bringing that vixen here.
‘It could have been worse,’ I thought later that night, toying with the straps on my leg and removing it. I traced the scars of long fangs and claws on the stump, remembering the battle that cost me a leg — and the person responsible. ‘They could have bit me again.’ | 2021-07-18T20:17:45 | 2021-07-18T17:11:50 | 58 | 30 |
[WP] "If you wanna find out what something does, seek out a Human and let them figure it out. That species has an ...uncanny ability of making use out of the most mundane or the most advanced piece of technology in unexpected ways." | From "The Virtue Of Human Ingenuity" by Sczferrazc the Proud.
Translated into Human Standard by Grt'nfefeng the Scribe:
"The thing about humans is that, comparatively speaking, they aren't particularly intelligent (only hitting intergalactic average at best); nor are they particularly logical, still mainly limited to If-Then statements and minor variations and extrapolations from there.
But what the humans have that the rest of the universe has in short supply is a curiosity center that is directly connected to the imagination part of their brain. If the right conditions are met they can trick themselves into believing the imagination is reality and their curiosity will cause them to explore this dream reality as if it were real. Sometimes it will even develop into real world applications but not in the intelligent, logical manner of other races.
In attempting to fly humans strapped themselves to flimsy apparatuses and threw themselves from cliffs and building tops (so many Icaruses yearning towards the sun). To explore the oceans they wrapped themselves in uncertainly water-tight cloth with leaden shoes and prayed the hose that kept them connected to life giving air did not slip into the ocean after them. They escaped gravity by strapping themselves to bombs and praying they had enough air in their one-shot space capsules.
A human will take your research, all that carefully curated data and ask you questions that you cannot even begin to connect to the thing you are studying. Then they will poke and prod and make notes on specs that make sense only to them.
And if you are unlucky (or, perhaps, extremely lucky) one of them may just say "fuck it" and take their odd little tools to the thing.
Next thing you know your company is the proud owner of a solar synthesizer. Or a new kind of interstellar propulsion unit. Or a machine that blows champagne scented bubbles for parties. Or any number of things from children's toys to weapons of war.
And all because humans do not limit themselves to mere reality." | "We are honored to say that you are the first human we have made contact with in person since your year of 1969 when we made contact with Edwin, Neil, and Michael on your world's moon. Very friendly gentlemen if a bit shaken on that day," the tall and lanky being said with a smile on its small mouth. He... probably a he (as far as I can tell his pale body was naked and he had the anatomy of a Ken doll) was Ambassador Kresh-Mall of the People of Leth. Bit of a mouthful but whatever.
"Hey cool, but why am I here?" I could only ask in confusion as I tried to keep up with my long legged guide in this cavernous metallic room. I had to keep up because I feared getting lost in the indistinct blue haze about a thousand yards out.
"We have been watching your career with great interest and have gotten permission from your government to recruit you into our defense force," the Ambassador said with an odd sense of pride.
"Well shit, bit to unpack there. First, I'm like a slave then?!" I said as I stopped dead. The Ambassador stopped and turned to me with his already massive black eyes widening even further still in alarm.
"By the ancestors, no! The enslavement of another is one of the greatest sins one of the People could commit! We have been given permission to recruit you but the choice to join us is still yours Farts\_with\_Noob5."
"You're using my gamer tag?"
"Of course! Your exploits are legendary among our engineers and strategists for your amazing use of redstone, the unorthodox use of strategy in several Souls-likes, and that's not even beginning on your amazing FPS kill streaks."
I was floored. The tall alien man had abducted me in the middle of the night because of my love of videogames. Son of a bitch I was in a weird version of Pixels. I fucking hate Adam Sandler.
"What exactly do you need me for?"
"We need an... unorthodox approach to warfare. You "break the game" as the earth saying goes."
"You need some new blood. Someone with imagination."
"Exactly," the Ambassador said as he gestured behind me. I looked and a portal of some kind had appeared. Through this aperture was a nerd's wonderland of shiny new toys like something from a Bond movie. It was time to break the game. | 2021-10-23T16:19:10 | 2021-10-23T15:58:48 | 245 | 102 |
[WP] Everyone knows about the box with a big red button. Every time you press the button, a random person dies and you get $1 but if you don’t push the button, it vanishes an hour later. You’ve just discovered the box. It’s in your basement, and your dad rigged a machine to automatically press it. | I had only the best intentions in mind.
I came across the button and stopped the machine set up to automatically press it.
I confronted my father about it.
I had been confused when his face went pale when I told him I had stopped it.
I had been frightened when he started yelling when he realized it had already disappeared.
I only later realized what I had truly done.
He had set it up to only be pressed right before the one hour time span.
He was not doing this for the money.
He knew others with the button would do so much more.
He knew he had to press it to not allow it to disappear and reveal itself to someone else.
He had only allowed it to be pressed 24 times a day for the greater good.
Now someone else had the button.
Now it is run by another automated machine by someone else.
Now 3 people die from it every second.
180 every minute
10800 every hour.
259200 every day. | Realizing what he had done, I knew I had to stop it. My dad was a cruel man, a ruthless drug lord who would stop at nothing to make more money. I looked up to him though, always wanted to make him proud, but he always overlooked me. I had enough, and decided that I would sabotage his efforts.
The first issue was finding the box. Being as rich as he was, he undoubtedly secured the basement as soon as he knew what was down there. No one was getting in. I devised a plan to sneak in, undetected. I searched through his computer when he was away, looking for anything that could help me. There it was, the password to the door. All I had to do now was get past the guards. Easy enough, dad keeps a tranquilizer gun on his desk. I sneaked down to the basement, and took out the guards, entered the password, and I was in.
Now came the tricky part; the machine itself. The machine couldn't be stopped manually, so I would have to stop it through the computer. My dad hired his best tech guy to set up the system, and it was incredibly hard to override. Luckily, he was one of my best friends, had taught me everything I know about hacking.
It took longer than expected, but I finally broke through. I had done it. All the money that machine made would go to me. | 2021-12-14T04:33:13 | 2021-12-13T19:02:23 | 138 | 60 |
[WP] You are a demon that takes firstborns as payments. When it comes time for payment, you don't do anything evil with the children. Instead, you raise them to be outstanding people. You are responsible for generations of leaders, Doctors, and Heroes. | I love them all like they are my own offspring. Those humans, forsaken by their own kin, traded like nothing but mere coin, they have become my own family through the years, decades, and even centuries that I have kept up my business.
Even though I gifted those neglectful parents with every riches, power, fame, and whatever other earthly possessions and influence they could ever dream of, the children and I are the ones that always come out more advantageous after every deal.
Because in loving and nurturing those disregarded babies, I achieve power beyond anyone’s imagination. Power that allows me to give those babies a better future than their useless parents could even provide them in the first place.
And my kids, as I affectionately like to call them, not only grow up to be important people, that change the world for the better every time, but with their actions, they manage to spread the word about me. It’s always subtle, no reference to my demonic nature in order to not scare away the others, still fearful of my kind after millennia of lies, but it’s more than enough.
My name is revered through generations, so my power and influence grow amongst other demons, turning me into one of the most respected inhabitants of Hell. Yet I don’t truly care about the power I wield nor what it means for my position, not in the way many of my contractors do. All I see useful about it is the opportunity to make Hell a better place of eternal rest for my children once they pass away.
And for their biological parents, I make sure they suffer the worst destiny imaginable. A fitting punishment for letting their greed and selfishness give up something as precious as what my family has become. | Let me tell you a story, a story about an angel in the guise of devil. But what do we mean by angels and devils. It has been taught to us from a small age that angels = good and devil = bad and all of this because a book said so? Maybe words have deeper meaning or maybe, just maybe they are worthless. Maybe the good are just the good and the bad are just the bad.
This story begins in the early dawn of mankind, when the humans were just more than apes, they talked in grunts and they died like animals i.e. by fighting each other or by other animals (that hasn't changed much, has it?). The art of reproduction was born out of hormones than something much deeper. The child born were nothing more than foals, glued to their mother's teats but something had to be done. They couldn't stay animals forever. That's when he interfered. He went to the couple as the woman on her hands and knees, the base animal instincts never goes away, as her mate hoo-s and ha-s while the female grunts. Painful cries are soon overtaken by the cries of the new life among them. The male takes one look at me and bares his teeth, ready to defend its family but he was there for the foal and the male knew. He didn't want to but it was what they agreed upon, fire in exchange of the firstborn. The female cried, the male looked anguished but they gave him their foal. And now he had a job. He needed the foal to be better. He wanted the child, he was going to call it a child, to be the best.
Humanity needed to learn to move forward and they needed a teacher.
Days changed. Seasons changed and so did humanity. Humans became straighter. They became polished. They started wearing clothes, and all of this happened one child at a time. He was never given a name. But everyone called him a devil, a monster for taking away their children. He didn't mind. He was there to see humanity prosper, he was eternal but alas humanity wasn't.
You are probably wondering how this story ends. It doesn't. At least not yet. | 2022-02-05T10:20:44 | 2022-02-05T09:31:23 | 108 | 56 |
[WP] "Sanctuary," the child cried running into the library "Nice try," the guard following after sneered, "but only holy places can grant sanctuary." The librarians glanced at each other. A small nod The head librarian gave the guard a stern look. "Sanctuary granted" | The guard narrowed his eyes at the head librarian. "You should try reading your own books; your status as a holy place was rescinded decades ago."
The standoff was tense, but the librarians did not stop the child from being taken away. "Cry as you may, Little Thief, I've saved you from a far worse fate." The guard's grip was less like iron and more like leather as they moved away from the library; noticing the chance, the child spoke up. "I don't understand... Mother always said the library was a holy place." The guard looked down at the child, a look of consternation on his face. "Aye, your mother is right, it was once holy. When I was a little older than you it came to light that the Library was using it's holy status to traffic children." He scowled as he continued, "they peddled the flesh of children for experimentation. Some atrocities in the name of science, others purely sexual abuse; all done under the guise of greater wisdom than the masses. When the rumors were revealed true, those that escaped the sword were found by the rope." The child walked in silence before realizing they were back at the stall, an angry merchant stood vigilant. Meekly shrinking behind the guard, the two adults spoke. "There's worse things in this city than a hungry urchin stealing food. Consider the matter settled." The merchant protested, but was aghast to hear the chase had driven the child into the arms of the library. The look of disgust passed over the merchant's face before giving way to pity as he looked at the child. The guard handed the child a small sack of food before warning: "Not everyone who offers help is to be trusted. Not everyone who looks to punish your misdeeds is cruel." | “Denied”
“What? But, please! I have nowhere else to go!”
“We deny your request for sanctuary on the grounds that you come bearing a weapon. This is a holy sanctuary, and we cannot allow you to continue”
I held up a finger to forestall interruptions from the poor youth, before continuing, “However. You are allowed to turn over all physical weapons, taking an oath of peace while you are in this building. They will be taken care of and returned to you unharmed when you are ready to leave. Under these conditions only will you or anyone else who comes peacefully be be granted sanctuary.” I watched the youth hesitate for half a moment thinking it over. The delay caused me pain, although I didn’t allow it to show. Such little time. The rules were clear, as was my duty to them. He glanced over his shoulder as shouts began to echo off of the alleyways adjoining the street leading away from the Lighthouse. “Ok, fine, sure whatever.” He said, already digging in his pockets.
I finally angled my body to the side, allowing him into the foyer where he deposited an impressive seven daggers of varying lengths onto the acolyte’s waiting tray. The two briefly sized each other up, being about the same height. The kid was trying to see if he could take the acolyte in a fight, trying to figure out what hidden tricks this diminutive bald man might have ready, and the acolyte mildly impressed at the youth’s concealed arsenal.
The moment passed, and I turned expectantly to the youth as he watched probably the only security he knew disappear down a side hallway concealed by a hidden door. “What—oh, right. Uh, I promise I’ll try and not beat anybody up unless they started it or really deserved it”
“That’s not exactly a conventional oath of peace as I’m familiar with the term, young man”, I replied, amused.
“Fine. I promise I’ll try to not to screw anything up, plus everything I said before”
I considered for a moment. “Good enough.” Some of my tension melted away as I steered him into the library proper. Shouts were coming from outside, as the soldiers searched the alleys. We would have company soon, but it was best to ignore that for the time being.
“Now, young man, what are we looking for today?” | 2022-07-06T16:10:00 | 2022-07-06T13:26:19 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] The eldritch god stood before the girl, in almost human form. "Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they will just try another deity, but I will not force this on you. Have this credit card and live as you wish. If you want something else instead, just ask." | I gazed down enthralled by the shimmering, flickering, glimmering beings that kneeled before me in adulation, terror, greed. Enthralled by the disparity, dichotomy, hypocrisy. The two want what they considered so much, in exchange for the one they consider nothing at all. Irrelevant, Obstructive, Unwanted.
I accept. The deal is struck. I gave them all that they asked for. Each demand is more insignificant, trivial, trifling, than the last. I give them 'wealth, glory, fortune' in exchange for their refuse, detritus, reject.
I gave them shiny rocks, useless metal, and dead presidents in exchange for the greatest treasure they have, had, would every have... and the stupid, hairless, souless, apes *thank me for it!* Bowing, groveling, fleeing. They leave the one that matters. The only one that matters. She was their most precious blessing, squandered, wasted, discarded. A child. I offer her the Moon and the Sun on a silver chain of living stars. I offer her the universe on a rainbow platter. I offer to crown her Queen of All Creation On High.
All she asks for is a hug, and a bed time story. The deal was struck. She is *my* child now, *my* most precious blessing. She is, was, will forever be my dearest treasured one. Long after the last star fades I will hold these memories, as the only moments that ever truly mattered. | "Huh. Cool." I said, looking at the card. "No catch or anything? Immortal beings like this usually have some sort of catch."
The figure, who called themselves Xaltior, shrugged their shoulders. They looked pretty normal, but you couldn't look at any part of them for more than a minute without your head spinning. I settled with looking just over their shoulder. "Well, you will have to pretend to be dead to anyone you've known, because, you know, you're supposed to be dead, but that card should be enough to set you up with a new life somewhere else." They looked at me, puzzled. "Honestly, though, I'm surprised you're not insane yet. Even in this form, people go mad from looking at me too much. You might be part-eldritch yourself, and I have a DNA test I can recommend."
"I wouldn't be surprised. I've never felt fully at home with...just other people in general, but 'normal' people are worse. Is there anyway I can talk to you again?" I told them.
Xaltior pulled out a business card reading "Xaltior, Founding Member of EGI" with a phone number. "Just call that number when you want to talk. Also EGI is Eldritch Gods Interdimensional, just so you know."
"Okay. Talk to you later maybe?" I said, starting to walk away, but turning around quickly, I added, "At least this should turn out better than Eros and Psyche."
"The Greek ones right? Yeah, I don't know why they did that. Now we get stuff like this." they said, gesturing at the space between us. "But talk later, maybe." Xaltior winked, then disappeared.
Looking down at my hand, I saw a jagged script write a website across the back of my hand as I realized that they hadn't told me the DNA kit, and that this must be it. Now that I apparently had a eldritch credit card, a eldritch DNA test was the perfect first thing to spend it on. | 2022-08-09T19:42:05 | 2022-08-09T17:31:24 | 86 | 55 |
[WP] The Black Death wiped out all human life in the Old World. Describe the first Native American expedition to discover Europe centuries later.
*Edit;* for anyone interested in this prompt, a few cool people below pointed out that there's a book series known as [The Years of Rice and Salt](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Years_of_Rice_and_Salt) that's very similar! Take a look. I'd like to note, though, that when I said 'Old World' in the title, I was not just referring to Europe, but to Africa, the Middle East and much of Asia, too. That said, I left it intentionally vague, so take as much creative liberty as you like! | "Hey. Would you look at that..."
"What?"
"On the horizon. It's... land! You know what that means, don't you? We are looking at..."
"The East Andes!"
"Great Scott!"
"This is heavy!"
"I told you! This thing just loops back around like a..."
"A klein bottle."
"Yeah."
"The prophecies were..."
"About completely different stuff than this."
"Yeah not much good for navigation."
"I have to say, The East Andes are not very mountainous."
"If you don't like them, I can turn this helicopter around."
(I probably can't go further without knowing the first thing about geography or history.) | From the mid-1500's on, American economic activity was focused primarily in the Mississippi river valley, Caribbean, and the Mayan capital. Tribal states, particularly those in the Northwest, were eager to trade but due to the difficulty of travel over the Rocky Mountains, looked west over the ocean. After several failed attempts and important breakthroughs in maritime technology, Northwest sailors were able to reach Japan by the late 1500's. The islands of Japan, isolated from the Afro-Eurasian continent, was mostly spared from the plague that devastated the Old World. This first contact between the old world and new world sparked an explosion in exploration and discovery by both tribal states. Approximately 100 years after the first significant contact between the old and new worlds, the first trip around the world is achieved. Pacific Northwest ships exploring the African coast using dated maps from the now defunct Chinese empire sail further and further north reaching the straits of Gibraltar. The first expedition moves into Iberia. Stone monoliths are discovered surrounded by clearings. It is apparent to the expedition that there once was civilization in these areas, but have since been abandoned without explanation. Many theories are postulated about this mass extinction event by Native scholars. | 2014-03-09T20:54:12 | 2014-03-09T20:06:17 | 75 | 22 |
[wp] [nsfw] Destroy my soul: A challenge to write the bleakest, most hopeless and dark grim fic you can fathom...
I wanna feel pain, sorrow and sadness.
Lets write some dark fiction.
Happy endings, twists and hope are completely optional.
Edit: wow this exploded, that's what I get for sleeping on the job, ill be reading these for a while. Thanks everyone who posted one from what I have seen they all look wonderfully dreadful. | The train pummeled down the tracks, teetering on the edge due its high speeds. It approached a corner but didn't reduce its speed. As it attempted to round the corner, the black steam engine leaned too far over the edge and fell off the track, bringing the five cars behind it down as well.
Peter sighed and leaned away from his toy train set. He always enjoyed making the tracks himself and moving the train from the station to the lake, to the town, and back again. Peter got bored after playing alone for long, though he had no concept of time. He looked out the doors of the playroom hoping to see his big brother sitting on the couch. This time he wasn't there, and he couldn't hear any sounds from the television. Peter frowned.
A minute passed, he decides to stand, putting both his arms forward to push the rest of his body onto his two feet. Peter walked over to his favorite stuffed animal, picking it up by its long, floppy ears that had been sewn up more than a few times. Walking out of the playroom, he headed for the stairs, set on finding Alex in his room. Each stairs was nearly as tall as his lower leg causing Peter to put one leg on the next stair before he vaulted himself up.
The long, almost-crawl up the stairs didn't deter him. He picked himself back up, turned the corner, and walked as fast as his legs could take him down the hallway. He approached what he remembered as Alex's room, but saw the door wasn't open.
"Alex, can you come play wiff me?" Peter asked, looking down at his stuffed bunny.
A moment of silence prompted Peter to step closer to the door. As he did so, he noticed the door knob, higher above his head than he thought he could reach. He stretched his arm toward the knob, hoping to turn it open like he saw his family do so many times before. While trying to reach, Peter tapped the door with his shoulder, swinging the door inward.
"Alex?" Peter called out once more.
Again, no reply. Peter turned, moving his little legs down the hallway, slowly climbed backwards down the stairs, and walked into the kitchen.
"Mommy," Peter said softly.
"Yes, dear, what is it?" She replied, while unloading a ceramic dinner plate from the dish washer.
"Why isn't Alex talking to me?"
"What do you mean, sweetie?" She stopped, looking slightly concerned. Alex was always great with Peter, despite their almost decade age difference.
"He just hanging there," sadness consuming Peter's voice. "He won't talk to me."
The plate slipped from her hands, shattering on the ground and making an awful noise.
| John opened his eyes.
All he saw was darkness. He tried to get up, but bumped his head on a surface inches from him. He spread out his arms, but was again met with resistance. Keeping calm, John tried to grab his phone in his pocket, but nothing was there. Just a piece of paper that he couldn't read without light.
"Help!" John cried out, but the sound echoed in the few inches of space and died out. Wherever his location, chances are likely there wouldn't be any help. The young man quickly tried to recall what he remembered last. A boat. Yes, there had been a boat. Who was on it? Why was he on it?
A light turned on, revealing the surroundings. He was in a wooden structure. Rectangular, but wider at the shoulders than anywhere else. A coffin.
The light's source was a cell phone, no sound coming from it, but a call. The number was his mother's cell phone. It was taped to the top of the coffin above his stomach. John quickly grabbed it and pressed accept.
"Hello? Hello, mom?" John was trying to be calm, but the fear of the situation caused him to half yell.
"Not quite, Johnny Boy." The voice on the other end of the phone was rough. There was a hint of a Mexican or Columbian accent. John couldn't tell which. "You see, she's here with us, but she isn't in a shape to speak. You're buried in a coffin, Johnny Boy, good as dead already. Your mom, she's still breathing. For now."
John started gasping, pounding the surfaces of the coffin, trying desperately to get out.
"Look, I don't know who you think I am, but I don't know anything, You got the wrong guy!"
"That’s a shame Johnny Boy," the voice said. "You got five seconds to start remembering. If you don't, your mom dies with you. Well, almost, she dies over the phone with you. You get the spirit of wh-"
"Wait, wait!" John tried desperately to remember. He was in a boat. No, not a boat, it was a yacht. He was dragged there, forced to sit on a chair and he had a purple tie placed on him. He must have been framed for being someone who crossed the Cartel. "You have the wrong guy."
"Five. Four." The voice started to count down.
"Wait!"
"Three. Two."
"I don't know!"
"One."
"OK, OK, I'll tell you!" John tried desperately to think of a location that would make sense for some type of drug deal. Populated to avoid deception? Abandoned to avoid the spotlight? How did the Cartel do things? "Westfield Park! Yeah, Westfield Park!"
"Thank you Johnny Boy." The voice sounded again on the other side of the phone. "But you tried to steal from the cartel. We gotta do what we gotta do, we'll make it painless for her since you were so helpful."
The sound of a gunshot echoed through the coffin. The phone disconnected. He didn't even get to say goodbye to her.
John closed his eyes.
| 2014-03-24T19:39:56 | 2014-03-24T17:17:31 | 79 | 42 |
[wp] you are a P.O.W. who is being tortured in a very unusual or a very ineffective manor. | "I don't want to do this." The torturer had his eyes locked with mine.
"Then just stop! You don't need to do this!"
"Tell me what I want to know. Why are the British here? Who sent you?"
My lips felt dry and my tongue was heavy. I couldn't give up my mission no matter what he did. I looked around the room for anything that could help, any kind of respite. The cold stone walls were bare and gave nothing back.
"Cpl. Jack Ly..."
"Enough. I've heard your name enough." My torturer walked around behind me. I strained to hear what he was doing, but there was only silence, followed by the flick of a switch.
"What was that?" I blurted. I got no response.
The torturer moved back around in front of me and up to the door. He knocked twice, the view port slid back. "Bring it in."
Wordlessly, the view port was closed again, there was shuffling beyond the door. Suddenly, the door was flung open and a table brought in by a large soldier, followed by a small cup place carefully in the middle. The soldier left, pulling the door behind him as he went.
"Last chance."
"Do what you must."
The torturer disappeared behind me again. He came round, keeping his back to me, and placed three items on the table. He stood aside, revealing all three items.
I didn't know what to do.
Silently, he picked up the bag and put in the cup. Then, he poured the milk.
I screamed.
Finally, the hot water went in.
"How can you fuck up a cup of tea like that!?"
* has -> had | "Nothing will come out of my mouth!" "Oh, we'll see." After a sound of a gun cocking, there was a *bang*, and then a thud.
"I think he's dead, Commandar."
"I have eyes, Djengo, I have eyes. There must be something wrong with what we are doing."
"Commandar, maybe we should not shoot their brains."
"What do you think your doing, Djengo? You did not go to highschool? Brain is packed with nerves! It will bring the highest agony when damaged!"
"Okay commandar, I believe you." There was a rustling of pockets, a lighter clicking. After a pause, - "But, commandar, there are no highschool in our country."
"It is, djengo, it is."
Those goddamn [Liberian Warlords](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijdcL6FrQ6Y). They don't know what the hell they are doing. I once was so frustrated by their stupidity that I actually showed the guards what the safety switch is. They still threw the gun away, citing malfunction when shooting.
"Commandar, why is it that we never able to learn anything from the prisoners?"
"Djengo, once they get up, they'll talk." He's been saying that for each shot. And they would wait for an hour usually, before they dispose the body on the road near our base. But Commandar here was quite impatient today. "Bring the other one here."
"Thank fucking god," I muttered.
There was a zip of the tent opening. He entered, and dragged me by the rope. I was thrown down on the ground, and Commander walked up to me.
"Surrender your knowledge to us, and you shall escape. Don't surrender, you'll be tortured."
"Shut up djengo, that was my line."
"Sorry Commander."
I sighed. "You won't get anything."
He grinned. "Then you will suffer the biggest pain that a human being can endure."
"Nothing will come out of my mouth!"
He cocked his taser gun, and then there was a shot. | 2014-05-26T15:01:39 | 2014-05-26T10:56:37 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] A society where everyone is born gender less, and has to pick a gender by their 18th birthday. | I lost everything that day.
Dad was beaming as I entered the kitchen for breakfast. "So you ready to finally be a REAL man like your pop!?" He was still chuckling when mom delivered my plate to me. "Your dad has been waiting for this moment. He's been so excited ever since the day you first noticed a pretty girl." Their eyes met and as she gave him his food. "He's always wanted a boy." she smiled "And now it's going to be official!" he smiled back.
My heart sank. I had prepared to break the news to them earlier. Practiced saying it in every variation in the mirror. But I could never bring myself to burst their bubble. And now was worse than ever. But I had to tell them today. I was out of time. Today I chose. "Mom, Dad... I don't feel like a boy."
Silence.
"Y-you see..." I didn't know how to go on. "Well-" Dads fork fell to the table. "No." he looked blank. "Hun." Mom reached for my hand as she sat beside dad across from me. Dad interrupted her. "No, this is nonsense. You like girls, and sports, you're a boy and you will go to registration today and tick the box marked 'male'. End of discussion!" "But dad-" "End of discussion!"
We didn't speak again until the time came to choose. I walked silently to the booth and looked back one more time at my fathers stern face and my mothers worried concern. They kicked me out that night. I lost my family that day.
They always asked why I would choose to this life. Why I would choose to be so "unnatural".
They will never understand that it was never a choice. | We all stood in the same room, in the same facility. Me, along with hundreds of other people. Many more were streaming in. Most of us had unisex names, like "Sam" or something. We would get our 'actual' names after we went through the procedure.
Even though more people were streaming out than in, the number of people who were in the room in the first place was just too much.
Alex, who was standing next to me, asked in a voice, which is difficult to distinguish between male and female, "What are you gonna choose?". I shrugged. I was considering going male, especially because of certain privileges it gives you, but being female allows you more free time. And I did not have a lot of free time right now.
I counted the people to see when it would be my turn, but it was hard because people were streaming into the Choosing Room too fast. One hundred, ninety, eighty, sixty-five...
It wasn't long before my turn came. Nervously, I stepped into the room. Sure enough, there were two arches there. Pass through the left one, you're male. Pass through the right one, female. I wondered which one to pick. Male was harder, sure, but was slightly more rewarding. Is it better if it's easier?, I thought. But it was no time for thinking. I closed my eyes and ran towards a random direction.
When I woke up, I was lying in a bed, and there was some blood around me. The doctor next to me said, "Ah, you finally woke up. As you can see, you spilled... quite a bit of blood when you changed". But I didn't listen to a word he said. I hastily shook of my blanket and looked down. There was something there. Male.
When I got out, I quickly went to Alex. ~~it~~ I mean *she* was wearing a dress, with long flowing hair. So different from mine. I asked, "Alex, why did you pick female?", a bit dreamily, I admit.
She didn't answer. She didn't have to. She was so pretty that I didn't care anymore what she said. All I knew was that I wanted to sleep with her. | 2014-07-01T05:07:14 | 2014-07-01T02:50:16 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] Human civilization has fallen and, thousands of years later, rebuilt itself. In an attempt to better understand the ancient race, a team of archaeologists have discovered the Internet and are navigating it for the first time. Write their field notes. | "Oh video archives?"
"Looks so, it looks like its called 'you tube', what an odd name"
"lets see here... popular archives.... *hmmm*."
"this one looks like they watched it a lot, must be important."
"Alright, annotate this. First viewing of ancient archives is named, 'two girls, one cup'. And Begin" | Day 1
We have found an odd chamber. There appears to be multiple pillars aligned in perfect rows. Could this be a religous chamber or a burial ground? Upon further inspection we have found on one wall of the chamber a row of levers with odd markings. We will have to decipher them as they are written in a very odd script. Very similar to the findings that the Williams expedition found in a place called MIT. It seemed to have a lot of signifcance.
Day 2
My colleauge brushed against one of the pillars today and found they actually have a tranparent side. We decided to carefully clean the disturbed side and found that the pillars contain multiple boxes of some sort. We attempted to open the pillar but appears to be secured in some form.
| 2014-11-06T06:31:57 | 2014-11-06T05:33:33 | 136 | 86 |
[WP] Tea is banned in England creating the world's largest black market. You are one of the biggest tea kingpins. | You want it.
Can't have it.
You need it.
So be it.
Come to me,
Mr. Tea,
I'll give you a bag.
10 bucks for a cup,
20 for two,
Come to me enough and soon I'll own you.
To you I'm a friend.
To you I'm a God.
But you better not cross me,
Or things will get grey.
Not grey like Earl,
This is no joke.
I will not take pity,
So remember my words.
Come to me,
Only me,
Or I'll end your sad life.
And trust when I say that none are better than me.
So come one come all
Buy Mr. Tea. | I sit on my arse, drinking all day
Not even the "devil drink" as they used to say
Oh in the old days when my mother and I
Sat by the window seal, watching the days go by
We could always resort to the innocent pleasure
Of the comfort of tea, an overlooked leisure
But those days changed, we lost the war.
An act after act, of panic and guilt
Less freedom, more control
With every ban an ever growing hole
Gaping and swallowing the simplest desires
Such as tea, the "drink of the liars"
The Führer never liked it, he spat upon its taste
And so condemned us to put it all to waste
It's now parallel with love of Old England and treason
Which gives the authorities a prefect reason,
To shun us and beat us
To hate us and spite us
If we ever dare come close to the "Churchill Poison."
But it never stopped me, I saw it as an opportunity
For this in essence was an exercise in futility
Britain will never die, likewise with tea
It serves as the symbol for unity and prosperity
I grew to a king, but not of the world
But of an underground market, within which we all hold
The retaining pleasure of freedom of purchase
The one thing we all Brits love.
Tea.
| 2015-02-17T12:12:00 | 2015-02-17T10:36:47 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] You child is playing with their toy phone when they hand it to you saying "It's for you." Humoring them, you put it up it to your ear and say "Hello", Someone replies on the other end. | I take the phone from my son, yet another phone call. It's probably Elmo or maybe Dora this time.
"Hello" I say, in my usual entertain the child voice.
Echoing from the plastic I hear ""I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom I can tell you I don't have money, but what I do have are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my daughter go now that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you, but if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you and I will kill you"
Shocked and in disbelief from what I just heard I reply "Umm... I believe you have the wrong number." Honestly, what else was I supposed to say, it's a toy phone.
A voice that sounds like it's been through hell responds, "Is this Chris Mason?"
"No this is Jim Mason, Chris is my 3 year old son!"
"Ugh, sorry, could you please put him on the phone, that was meant for him."
| "The Child!"
*I inhaled rapidly and practically dropped the toy*
"Hello-" He didn't let me finish my sentence.
"The Child. Now." he said in a rough voice.
"..." I paused. I say to my wife "Take her out of the room." My wife then takes our daughter, Jocelyn, out of the living room and into ours.
"Who the hell are yo-"
"Get the Child out now!"
I was baffled. Not understanding what was going around me I retorted quickly.
"Shut the fuck up, right now! Who the fuck are you?! How are you calling us with a god damn toy?!"
"No time for questions, Mr. Quinton. Take the Child and run! Your wife isn't who she says she is."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I must have startled Jocelyn because I heard a quiet scream upstairs.
"Mr. Quinton, your wife isn't your actual wife. Her actual name is Ally Thomson. She works with A.H.C.T. A company that kidnaps children and then uses them for tests. Now get her and leave. She can't die! Not Jocelyn."
I personally didn't believe a word he was saying, but the screaming up stairs began to become more constant and more muffled. So I changed my stance.
"Fine. I'll check on them."
I slowly walked up the stairs. Trying not to make a sound. The scream of Jocelyn began to quiet down. This caused me to run.
I burst in. And what I see... what I see is Jocelyn being taken away by my wife.
Her words?
"AHCT responsibly... Sweetheart!" | 2015-04-18T21:30:22 | 2015-04-18T21:05:19 | 49 | 11 |
[WP] You wake up one morning in an almost identical universe where the only significant difference is that nothing has names, and things instead are described at the time literally by their function. Walk us through your first few hours!
Optional bonus difficulty, you have something like a severe medical condition that requires some kind of medication. | "Wake up, complete-disappointment-of-a-husband."
I open my eyes. Janice is not there anymore. She's hardly ever there anymore, when I wake up. Hardly ever awake
by the time I go to sleep, too.
I feel like the thought of being conscious while sharing a bed with me makes her sick, lately. Not that it doesn't
make me feel the same way, so whatever. We're making it work.
Anyway. I get up and I head to the kitchen and Janice is there, eating eggs and shit. She loves scrambled eggs. I hate all eggs of all sorts.
"Hey, are there any more eggs?" I ask.
"Any more what?"
"Eggs. Any eggs left for me."
She frowns. Then she says, "I don't know what kind of hangover is doing the talks for you this morning, but there's
some scrambled chicken-ass-goo-in-a-shell by the squared-thing-that-makes-fire."
"There's some what in the who the fuck, now?" I ask, frowning right back at her.
"Some chicken-ass-goo-in-a-shell, complete-disappointment-of-a-husband", she repeats, rolling her eyes at me.
"Hey, the first time it was funny, but now it's just mean", I answer, getting up and grabbing some eggs by the
stove. "Can we please go back to calling me Hank?"
"Who the fuck is Hank?" She asks.
Fuck it. I'm not arguing. Let the bitch be crazy.
"Whatever", I say.
I swallow the eggs fast as I can and I head out to work. Janice is testing out some new ways to be a bitch, is what I
figure. The whole chicken-goo thing, I don't even think about it on the way to the office.
Crazy talk, I figure.
____________________________
"Drunken-idiot-we-can't-afford-to-fire", my boss says to me, as I'm typing away in my cubicle. "I need you to
get through this random-pile-of-words-that-don't-matter."
"What?" I say, looking at the papers he's offering me. Weekly analysis. The usual.
"The random-pile-of-words-that-don't-matter. It's due by wannadie-day morning."
"What?" I repeat, because... Well, because.
He throws the pile at my desk. "Just get it done by the start of next week, ok? We need to report that to
manipulative-sociopath-dude-that-runs-this-place."
I take the pile, shrugging off the weirdness with a headshake as my boss steps away.
"Dude-that-looks-at-my-ass-when-he-thinks-I'm-not-watching", I hear, from behind me.
I turn around to look at the reception and Jasmine's smiling. "Someone's on the line for you."
"Who is it?" I ask, because... Well, because.
(This 'because' actually means 'because I actually do look at her ass while she's not watching so I don't really know
how to address the subject that it's weird that she referred to me like that without also addressing the fact that I
do, in fact, look at her ass while she's not watching, also this day is getting pretty weird and I figure I might just
roll with it. Just thought I should clarify it.)
"It's I-can't-belive-you-still-don't-know-he's-gay."
"What?" I ask, and she transfers me. "Hello?" I ask again, this time to the phone.
"Hey absent-father-figure", my son Mike greets me. "How are you?"
Ok, that's about enough. I need to understand what's going on.
I'm going to phrase that out loud to the people around me, just a second.
"Ok, that's enough", I say, to the phone, but loud enough that people around the office can hear me. "I need to
understand what's going on!"
People all around stop and look at me. On the phone, Mike is silent.
"Why is everyone referring to everything as their literal sense, instead of calling things their real names?"
"You don't know?" Jasmine whispers, from the reception table.
"No, I don't!"
My boss is out of his office again. He walks towards me. He crouches to my ear-level.
"Dude", he whispers. "It's the story-idea."
"The what?"
He looks around like he's nervous. Like someone might be overhearing us.
"The *prompt*. We gotta follow the prompt."
"What prompt? What are you talking about?"
"We're not real people, Hank. We're in an alternate universe created by a reddit user and developed by another as
a prompt answer."
"Are you on crack?" I ask my boss, politely.
"No, I'm not on rocks-that-made-you-happy-then-murder-you", he answers. "This is true."
It doesn't make any sense. None at all. I'm not in a prompt. I'm not a character. I'm real. Right?
Although... If I'm real, who am I talking to right now? Why am I narrating this?
"Sacred-excrement", Jeremy from accounting utters. "We *are* characters in a story."
"You know what the worst part of it is?" Jasmine adds, looking at all of us with a worried expression.
"What?" I ask.
Maybe *I* am on crack.
"The writer has no idea how to end this. He's just rambling on hoping it will come to a conclusion."
"Prophet of Christians", my boss whispers, running his hand through his hair. "Is he drunk?"
"Extremely", I say, confidant. I don't know how I know this.
"Now what?" Jeremy ventures getting up from his cubicle.
"I don't know... We just wait, I guess", my boss says.
"I don't think he's coming up with anything better", Jasmine adds, and I agree with her. "Maybe we should all just give up."
I don't know why I agree with her. I'm pretty sure I'm either on crack or actually part of a story, by now.
"Oh, male person..." Jeremy says, sitting on the floor. "I don't even care."
"How can you not care?" I ask. "If this is a prompt answer, we're all going to die when it's over."
"Well", my boss adds, sitting by Jeremy's side. "Whatever. Life's not really that good, is it? I mean, look at this story..."
"Yeah", Jasmine agrees, getting up from her desk. "Actually... It might be for the best."
"How do you figure?" I ask, looking from her to my boss to Jeremy to the phone where oh man my son is still
holding waiting for me and he's gay.
"Just let go Hank, it's for the best."
They all look at me. I look back at them. I pick up the phone to talk to my son.
"Absent-father-figure", he says, in my ear. "This story is kinda shitty."
| "It's going be another one of those boring nights" I muttered to myself as I finally reached the doorstep. I was already soggy and wet by the time I stepped inside the door & oh did I mention it was raining outside? Every day after work I had to walk 3 miles to the nearest bus stand and another 4 miles after I got off the bus till I reached home only today suddenly out of no where it started raining heavily. Dear reader, I bet you already know how it is on a typical rainy day. Heavy Traffic, The crowd! oh the crowd, Sogginess, Sweat, Muck, Carbon Dioxide and that's just naming a few things. I was feeling lucky I was able to make it home before midnight. God knows how hard we have to work to support our families, "sigh"
I hung up my coat on the rack and made my way to the dining room only to find my beautiful wife had already laid out the food for me on our dining table. As usual I couldn't see her anywhere near the table so I assumed she must have been pissed at me and gone to sleep already. I quickly ran up to the master bedroom to find my prediction was true. There she was curled up on the other side of the bed, Tired from all the hard days work yet she look so attractive even after all these years we have been married! I silently made my way up next to her, not wanting her to wake up and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. She acknowledged me by making a small sound and quickly fell asleep. I made my way downstairs to the dining table & after quickly freshening up sat down to eat dinner. The food had already gone cold so I quickly ate up whatever I could and stocked the rest up in the refrigerator for what could be my next mornings quick breakfast. I made my way around the house as usual and locked all the doors and windows. After turning off the lights I headed upstairs to go get sleep for well what could be another boring day of work.
**Next Morning**
**9:30 am:** Surprisingly, I woke up to the sound of a loud "THUD" which seemed to have came from the kitchen below. I assumed it was my lovely wife who I could not find in bed beside me. She must have already been up and ready while I was sleeping on my lazy ass. I got up & freshened up while getting ready for another hard day's of work. I grabbed my suitcase & headed down to the dining room for breakfast.
I entered the dining room to find my wife had already eaten her share of breakfast. I ran up to her and quickly wished her "good morning" and gave her a kiss. The next moment what happened, I guess I could not really describe it in word's. She replied by the lines off "Hey, Dickie Dickie! I see you're already up for workie workie!" Stunned yet surprised, I thought my wife was just being silly and must be playing some kind of practical joke. I told her "Hey honey, Could you stop talking like that? It sounds weird". She replied "Stop tickitie talkitie like what? At this point I was too irritated and confused so I decided to just smile and finish my breakfast and move out hoping that she will stop this gibberish talk by the time I get back.
**10:30 am** Well, Things have been weird, Quite weird. Apparently everyone's been talking like this. The mail man, the milkman even the officer who stopped me down at 23rd street cause apparently I had been doing "too much vrrroooooooommm" I felt like today must be April Fools but wait its not so there's definitely something up, Maybe I'm on in some kind of a large practical joke.
**12:30 pm** OH MY GOD, Its a madman epidemic! Everyone, LITERALLY EVERYONE is talking gibberish! Even the boss! They call the computer "Typie Typie Brightie Brightie", The food is known as "picky picky eaty eaty". Apparently I'm the only one who seems to be immune to this virus. Whenever I attempted to talk everyone will just go silent and stare at me. Creepy.
**3:45 pm** I am currently in the bathroom crying my eyes out. I think I might be going mad. Hell, I cant even focus on my work any more as this stupid talk is everywhere! I cant think, I cant function. It's like an alien language mixed with english! If Shakespeare was hearing this, He would be turning in his grave with agony!
**5:35 pm** I couldn't handle it all. I put up my "happy face" packed up my things and ran out of there like a madman. I just kept running and running and running. I needed silence from all this, "Just somewhere peaceful" I said to myself when I suddenly remembered the local park. Surely there would hardly be anyone there!
I arrived there to find kids playing on the swings shouting, screaming doing kids stuff. "Ah finally something normal" But there was still something off about them, I didn't want to take any chances so I walked away till I reached a nice cool shady tree and sat below it. "The birds seemed to be chirping like any normal birds would" I said to myself as I decided to rest a little. I switched off my phone when just about that time I heard my personal assistant in the phone give me a reminder "Your offspring making machine is calling". That was it. Enough. No more.
**8:30 pm** I arrived home a little early than usual. Thankfully today it was not raining so I was able to make it quick. I avoided the bus this time as I knew everybody would be talking the same alien language. Hell it felt like the fucking spanish inquisition of english. I opened my door to find my wife standing there smiling at me wide. "weird" I muttered to myself as I have never seen her doing that. Even her smile was weird. You could see all her teeth and it was like a WIDE smile the biggest I've seen on her. Even her eyes were open WIDE!
She rushed up to me & gave me a big hug & then there it was "$#%#$ #@%&&$%#@!#$%@$#!%" I cant even express it in words the way she said it. I literally have no words to describe what she said in the moment. This was just too much for me. She was still the same monster that she had been in the morning and the joke was not over. I ran up to the bedroom and locked myself in. I sat on the bed & cried waiting for all of this to be over. It was terrifying and so gut wrenching to see all these normal people I've known all my life suddenly become this alien speaking machines overnight!
I just cant take this anymore. I am begging for all this to stop while right at this moment my wife is outside the door banging on it while shouting some gibberish. I hopped on the bed and I am currently cuddling myself to sleep hoping this was all just a bad dream & it would all be over soon. I wanted normal. I never thought I would say this but I wanted the Boring! I wanted my old life back, The people, The work, The same routine, I loved it even though I despised it. I felt my eyelids closing and I finally whispered to myself " It's going be a long, long night"
**The End**
**Note:** This is my first Writing Prompt! Hopefully I have done okayish! Please feel free to critique me! | 2015-04-21T04:39:06 | 2015-04-21T04:35:52 | 191 | 11 |
[WP] A meteor strikes the earth and gives people super powers based on what they were thinking at that exact moment. Write the exploits of "looking at porn" man, "11 items in checkout" man, and "sh*t I forgot to walk the dog" woman.
Nobody ever writes comedy. | No one ever expected my ability.
Ever since the meteor hit, the entire world had become a chaotic place. the government had collapsed without the ability to police the superpowered population.
Oh there were still elections, and the police stations and firefighters still stood. Crime had increased over 200% practically overnight, but thugs and muggers weren't the real problem. The police force had become 1000% more efficient with the introduction of clairvoyants and telepaths. But somethings couldn't be solved through police work alone.
The Haunted... people whose superpowers were dangerous just through their existence. The Dogsitter... a woman whose meteor thought had been "shit, I forgot the dog" summoned a massive dog whenever she took a crap. With her ability to summon an unending army of canines through her bowels alone, she had quickly taken over Chicago. The military was helpless to stop her and her army of hellhounds.
The Clerk... A devious madman with the ability to summon any 11 items that could be found in a supermarket every 24 hours . Frustrated with his existence as a supermarket employee, he had gone on a mad bombing spree, destroying all the supermarkets in 12 states. Target and Giant were on their last legs, and Walmart was a long forgotten memory.
These villains needed to be stopped. And I was the only one who could do it.
I was... the Pornographer. | **"Shit I forgot to walk the dog" woman**
As soon as the meteor struck, something changed in Claire Granger's mind. She felt it immediately, though she could not quite place what it meant. The images and words of past events were vivid in her mind. She no longer needed to consult a shopping list, and every evening at precisely 6:05pm, she attached the lead to Nelly's collar and took her out for a walk. Her husband too had noticed a difference.
"You seem... not like yourself," he commented one evening at dinner.
"How so?" asked Claire.
"I'm not quite sure, but I am cognizant of a change. Your behaviour is anomalous, though not in a negative manner."
"Since when?"
Mike shrugged. "About a fortnight ago."
Claire cast her mind back to that week. "That meteor fell then."
"Yes," said her husband. "I was playing scrabble when the table shook and all the tiles fell on the floor."
**"11 items in checkout" man**
"These are only ten items," said Ben, making a small motion with his hand. The cashier nodded compliantly.
As he climbed on the bus with his shopping, he repeated the same motion at the bus driver. "You don't need to see my ticket," he said, with confidence.
He took his seat by the window. The neighbourhood was grim and rundown. But he need not stay now. Not when he had the Force.
**"Looking at porn" man**
Albert glanced at the blond woman beside him in bed. He nervously adjusted his glasses and looked at her again. She was still smiling.
"That was unbelievable," she whispered.
"Umm... was it?"
She laughed. "Yes!"
"I don't usually get such positive feedback," he said truthfully. He stared at her for a few moments, half expecting her to add "...NOT".
| 2015-05-06T19:10:16 | 2015-05-06T19:02:12 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] You are chosen by a supernatural force to purge the human race. Everyone who's name you don't know will die. The purging is automatic and will commence in 24 hours. | I really should have prepared a speech for this, but I didn't really expect a TV director to let me do this. He either has few days until retirement, or actually believes me. I don't even know why he stopped to listen to a person that ran into his office past security. Is this just his fancy way of delaying until police arrives? I've been sitting here in front of the camera for 10 minutes already, that must be it. Should I run? I could meet couple hundred people. Should I try again over the internet? Oh, red light starting to flash,that must be my signal. Alright, here goes nothing.
-Uhm, hello, my name is Jack. It seems like I was chosen to save the human race. Everyone I don't know by name will be purged after 20 hours. I think I've come up to solution, and I need everyone participating. For this to work I need every male, female, and people I already know too. Can you all please change your name to Jack? | It was, perhaps, poor wording on its part.
"Everyone whose name you do not know will die."
That was all the world was told, that I would have to remember the names of every human on the planet or they would die. Entire countries descended into panic in minutes, my phone stopped working almost instantly from the sheer volume of calls.
And I was laughing my ass off. I'm not sure why I was picked, I can hardly remember the names of my friends, let alone billions of others. I'm not sure if it was actually malevolent, or if it was simply trying to accomplish something. I do know that what was asked was ridiculous, no one could have done it to enough of a degree to save humanity from certain extinction.
They, humanity, tried to murder me under the hope that if I died the clock would be reset and they would have more time to get out of this, or, in the worst case, they could simply continue killing the person who was picked to defeat this. They failed. It turned out I had been made immortal, somehow. The force did not feel it was sporting to simply kill everyone by default, since once dead I would not know a single name. And so as long as the trial lasted I could not be harmed.
Time passed, and the panic spread, governments tried to act, but there was nothing they could do. There simply wasn't enough time. Entire countries fell and new ones were formed that day. The purging started.
Nothing happened.
Why?
The answer is obvious. What is a name? | 2015-10-17T13:50:31 | 2015-10-17T12:07:59 | 55 | 22 |
[WP] They tried to summon a demon. They got you. | You ever been summoned before? A lot of movies and books imply there's a bit of a delay is you are brought between the realms or some shit like that. Actually, it's instantaneous.
Unfortunately, I happened to be summoned during a shower after a particularly rough night of partying.
The shower floor was instantly replaced by what I could assume to be a pentagram made out of animal blood. Dead rabbits and squirrels stared at me blankly from the five corners as I read the stunned expressions from the hooded individuals outside the bloody star. Their leader was a tall, thin individual with a voice like an out-of-tune clarinet: "Are we in the presence of the mighty demon, Gezaldur?"
It was at that point I remembered my wet, naked state. Covering myself, I gracefully replied: "Uhhhh, no."
A rather robust fellow spoke up next: "He sure doesn't look like a demon; or is that just what they look like?"
A third answered: "Never actually seen a demon before, maybe they all look like this."
It took a little bit for my somewhat inebriated self to get my thoughts together. Maybe in my disheveled state I looked somewhat demonic, but that aside, they were expecting a demon and got a naked party-goer. I had to break it to them easy.
"I don't know how the hell you guys did this, but I'm no demon. I'm just a guy in much need of a hot shower, but for the moment I'll settle for a spare robe."
Five crestfallen faces heaved a collective sigh. "We try to summon a demon and get a college student," said the leader as he shook his head, "something must have been off in the incantation."
"Could have been the stupid bunnies. I told you bunnies weren't evil enough for demons."
"Guys, wait a sec," I said as a new thought occured to me, "you aren't at all amazed that you guys have invented a way to transport living matter from one place to another at faster than light speed?"
The leader shrugged, "If you can't help us find dates, then what good are you?" | My hand were still wet after washing them, so I had to adjust my grip on the door handle if I wanted to get it open. Yet even with this adjusted grip I could not get it open, because it was locked. And while I did have a key, so getting in was not a problem, what bothered me was his insistence on locking his door when he had friends over. Did he think we were going to try to spy on him?
"Son have you seen the- (insert confused face) uh. Oh."
I was surprised, obviously, I would assume anyone would be. But I felt a little bit of, well, I don't know, something, after seeing these kids sitting there, doing whatever the hell it was. Demon casting I think he said?
"GET OUT OF HERE MORTAL!" Said my son, who was wearing that weird robe I found on our amazon wishlist last month. I had been wondering how it got there.
"I would love to, but your mother wants to know if you want pepperoni or extra cheese? And hello boys."
"Hey Mr. Schmidt" Oh god they were so embarrassed. This had to be my son's idea. And hold on, you gotta hear what Harry was wearing. The other two had cloaks, I think Tim had a halloween costume on so it still worked, but Harry, on the other hand, had a maroon red poncho. They were sitting around a circle of glade air freshener candles and Harry apparently didn't understand the memo, or didn't have a cloak and found the closest thing. I felt bad, even though it was their fault for hanging out with my son, there was still some pain inside after looking at Harry's mishap. The poor kid should have worn jeans.
"Pepperoni! Now LEAVE US!" My son was now standing up and commanding me like a little satanic overlord, who was 15, and did things like this on Friday nights instead of hanging out with girls.
"What are you doing? Summoning demons?" I asked while still standing in the doorway, looking unfazed and mature, hopefully. Because inside I was ready to laugh my nuts off, and holding it in was making my face twitch; god his friends were so helpless. I don't think they would have ever come back if they saw me laughing.
"Yeah Mr. Schmidt, it's pretty boring." Said Timmy, who must have felt my son's gaze after saying it, because he turned right away to look back at my son, who was staring angrily into his soul for making fun of the ritual thing they were doing.
I closed the door to let them sort it out. It'd be nice if they did it before the pizza came, because I wouldn't want them to walk out and have it all go to waste. | 2016-02-02T19:47:54 | 2016-02-02T19:43:34 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] An aging veteran gets dragged to a paintball facility by his grandkids. Another elderly man is there with his grandkids. The two quickly realize they’ve faced off on the battlefield before. | I frantically dug deeper into the drawer searching for my car keys.
"Grandpa are you sure they're not in your coat pocket?"
"Yes for for the last time I already checked there", I grumbled back.
"Well, will you check one more time for me?" Timmy asked.
I sighed, stuck my hand in my pocket, and got ready to pull out my empty hand, but of course I pulled the keys out. Slightly embarrassed by my mistake, I hurried Timmy and his older brother Nate into the car to avoid talking about it. To think I once was a respected soldier in the Royal Australian Artillery and now I'm just an old man who can't even remember putting his keys in his pocket. Instead of driving an armored jeep into battle, I drive my grandkids around in my Holden.
My train of thought was interrupted when Nate spoke up and said,"turn right here".
Once I had parked the kids jumped out and ran inside to meet the other kids. I took a seat away from the other adults and reminisced about the old days in the war as I watched the kids do their own version of the messed up thing known as war. That's when I saw him.
He looked exactly the same as I remembered him. Immediately waves upon waves of memories hit me like tsunami. I began to fall out of my seat, how could it be? How could he be here? None of this made any sense...
But it was him. I would never forget the beady eyes of that bloody emu.
Edit 1: TIL Australians don't have Buicks.
| "Alphanumeric!" exclaimed the old man. Tomby was his name, or at least that's what they called him in the 2124 Euro-African Union succession wars. He recognized the other man instantly, he was the one that got away. Tomby sat down to try take in what was happening. He blacked out for what seemed like a few seconds but turned out to be about four minutes. He rentered consciousness to the sound of of his grandchildren rhythmicly chanting "grannn... grannn... grannn..." like they did when he would nap on the shitter.
The paintball fight was bout to begin and he found that in his blacked out state he had been outfitted with a tippmann 2098, painted to look like an Indonesian rebel's rifle(which he considered disrespectful due to the ongoing conflict.)
As he walked into the field with his dependents. He then remember that he had seen Galden Hinefar before blacking out. This was the man who he had been assigned to kill, but had managed to escape through careful use of a small broom. Tomby new that he needed to "finish the fight" (he chucked to himself at the halo 2 reference, a game which was now about 120 years old but still fun).
immediately Tomby walked towards Galden, being pelted by by paintball until people started to get confused abut his seemingly lack of fucks given. Once he reached Galden he pushed the confused old man down and shoved his Tippmann down his throat and started shooting. about 8 small children watched in horror as an old man was murdered in cold blood before them. Once Galden's body was filled with paint and mostly motionless, Tomby turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger; forgetting it was a paintball gun.
Failing to kill himself, he sat down in the sand and though about his time as a death squad leader in the euro-African union succession wars, and how much fun he and the boys had. | 2016-09-06T20:27:21 | 2016-09-06T18:24:12 | 290 | 10 |
[WP] God accidentally gave you admin rights | I had a dream last night the the big guy upstairs gave me admin rights to the world. I could do or change anything I wanted. My dreams are getting stranger, last week I was Superman.
I rolled over to look at my wife. She lay perfectly still snoring her pretty little face off. Her snoring annoyed me. As I thought this, she suddenly stopped. "What the hell" I said out loud. she literally snored from the minute she closed her eyes til she woke up the next morning. She has done for the 6 years we have lived together.
I got out of bed and headed for the kitchen. I wanted a bacon sandwich but I knew we were out of bacon. I opened the fridge door to see what was there. The bottom shelf of tge fridge was packed with bacon.
"This is weird now" I mumbled to myself.
"Could it be, my dream? Nah that's crazy, it was only a dream"
I grabbed a pack of bacon and opened it, placing 4 pieces in the pan, hearing that satisfying sizzle and the aroma began to spread throughout the kitchen. I buttered the bread and poured a glass of fresh orange juice. I'd take this to my wife. She's had a hard week at work. I put her breakfast on a tray and went back upstairs. I placed the tray on the bedside table. Tina was still asleep silently.
"Babe" I said as I gave her a light shake.
"I made some bacon for breakfast"
She opened her eyes and smiled.
"Thanks hunny" she said as she pushed herself up onto the headboard. She reached over and took a bite.
"Wait, did you go to the shop?"
"No"
"We didn't have any bacon" she said puzzled.
"I thought that too but the bottom shelf was full"
"Weird" she said clearly not believing that I hadn't snuck out to the shop.
I headed back downstairs wishing my sandwich was ready, I was starving now from smelling Tina's. I turned into the kitchen and there was a ready made bacon sandwich. It even had the brown sauce already on it.
"Something weird is definitely going on here"
I took a bite and looked out the window.
"Rain again?"
"When is it going to be sunny? It's mid May and not a day of sun yet"
The clouds cleared and the sun came out. I dropped my sandwich, my mouth hung open.
"It couldn't be could it?"
I knew my grass needed cutting so I said out loud
"My grass needs to be shorter" My lawn suddenly looked freshly cut. I smiled smugly to myself.
"This could be interesting"
I had the dishes done by themselves and put away. The music turned on by itself, and downstairs tidied up in as much as a thought. I looked down at my shorts, pulled them forward and bam an extra inch, maybe 2.
"Whoo" I screamed far too loudly. Tina had just entered the living room.
"You're in an awfully good mood today Mr" she said playfully.
"Yes I am" I replied
"Things are gonna be much better for us now."
I ran upstairs and looked in the mirror, I was suddenly wearing designer denims, a fresh polo shirt, my hair was done and I was smelling good. I returned downstairs and Tina was staring at me.
"How did you?" then paused. She had too many questions.
I pointed at her and she was dressed to go out, hair done, makeup done. She looked amazing. Had her boobs got bigger? I didn't pay much attention, I grabbed her hand and headed out tge door. She was still trying to stutter out questions. Today was gonna be a good day.
| Mars was always an anxious and awkward young girl. Her nervous demeanor was far too overwhelming for those who talked to her for it to be considered charming. She isolated herself and after about a year, found that her presence was often accompanied by silence and silence alone. She thought her life was doomed to be that of failure, contempt, and regret.
Until one night while she slept, she heard a pitter-patter sound in her dream that was unlike anything she'd heard before - in dreams and life. Her metaphysical senses tingled in the golden rays of her ethereal head. A vibrating hum rang throughout the world, and goosebumps rose on her skin like waves in the ocean. She felt her world shake, and the humming grew louder and louder. The colors became desaturated, and a faint light pulsed on the horizon.
Silence. Her eyes opened, and she laid on her bed stiff with fear.
She could see... everything. Nothing was no longer a thing - her chair wasn't a chair anymore. It was a collection of dots and strange colors and sensations. Her bed no longer carried her, but instead was allowing her to barely hover an unnoticeable amount. The world screamed at her all these strange particles and grids she couldn't understand, and her mind began to expand on a level she couldn't comprehend. All she could think to do was run to her bathroom and look in the mirror.
The mirror warped and curved strings of light back into her eyes. Her reflection wasn't... her. No, nothing was recognizable anymore. She couldn't live like this. She couldn't.
"What the fuck?" she heard herself repeating, over, and over, and over again. "What the *fuck*?"
She paced through her house, and as she did, she walked through walls and cried. She was scared and was trying to contemplate how this could happen. Her dream came to mind, and she wondered how or what could've done that. So many different ideas ran through her mind, from religion to schizophrenia and back again. She didn't know what to do.
Suddenly, Mars stomped her foot in frustration and felt her lungs heave with anger as she screamed. When she did so, the ground rose quicker than she could blink. She was falling now. The particles around her sounded busier than ever, and the whirling of the wind was overshadowed in terms of sound by the worms' smushy bodies crawling through the top layer of soil in the Earth. Mars continued to fall down, down, down, through broiling lava pits and silent caves systems, until she resurfaced on the other side and fell into the sky.
She couldn't do anything *but* panic until her foot caught on something as her body exited the atmosphere. A giant hand had appeared out of nowhere, and Mars was still screaming at this point. Then, a giant body appeared, followed by a head.
"God, dammit," a deep, steeping voice echoed. "Not again. Fuck. Calm down, little guy. It's okay."
Mars' eyes were wide with fear, but she'd stopped screaming. This man that had appeared larger than the Earth was the only thing that was making sense since she woke up that morning. He brought his hand towards his face. It seemed to take years, and Mars just dangled between his giant fingers and internally freaked out. Her heart was beating at a million miles an hour, like a little ant, until she was staring at this giant man face-to-face.
"I'm sorry," he half-heartedly chuckled. "This happens quite a bit. You little things aren't meant to understand this."
Mars didn't even notice he spoke as if he were talking to a dumb, inferior child. He was, technically.
Then, a plopping sound and silence. She blinked her eyes once and the world was as she could understand - colorful and silent and simplistic. The light stayed in one area, and all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing - and that was faint enough to hardly notice. She breathed deeply for a few minutes and fell into the comforters of her tiny bed.
After that day, she was no longer concerned with being socially awkward or anxious. She went on to become a physicist and study the nature of reality.
Never would she have guessed that years later, she'd be praying for a chance to see the world as she did that day one more time. | 2016-09-23T08:06:00 | 2016-09-23T07:04:45 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] A new continent is discovered. No one knows why this large land mass has never been seen before, it doesn't appear on any pictures taken from space and no astronauts have ever reported seeing it. You are part of the team in charge of mapping the area when you find out what they've been hiding. | "So nobody has ever seen it before?" The President asked.
"No sir," replied the NASA representative.
"How is that possible? Don't we have satellites in orbit? We've sent people up to the space station in rockets... they must have seen something."
I looked up from my papers, and from the corner of my eye saw my boss turn his head and glare at me. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly. The message was clear.
'Fuck it', I thought. 'If I'm right, it doesn't matter anyways.'
"I may have an explanation, sir," I said carefully.
"No sir," my boss interrupted quickly, "He doesn't. He hasn't fully reviewed his research on the matter."
The President looked at me thoughtfully, then at my boss before speaking. "I'd like to think he can speak for himself, Reagan. Go ahead son."
My boss glared at me, the implication clear: I was going to catch major shit for this later. But like I said... if I was right, it wouldn't matter.
"The reason nobody ever saw it before yesterday was because it *wasn't there before yesterday.*"
My boss dropped his head into his hands. The President stared.
"I don't follow," he said in confusion.
"It wasn't there sir. It appeared yesterday. Nobody *could* have seen it before then."
The President paused, scanning the faces in the room, all of which showed similar confused expressions.
"Son, are you telling me it just... what, popped in like magic?"
"Yes sir."
"How... how exactly would something like that be possible? I presume you have an explanation."
I took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. This was it, either the end of my career or the day I changed the universe as we knew it.
"Well sir, it's perfectly plausible if there was... a coding error."
The President frowned. "Coding error? What do you mean?"
"Well... this landmass was part of an original code that was remarked but never intended to be added to the main program. The program... that we all exist in."
"I beg your pardon?" sputtered the NSA representative.
I pushed the documents across the desk to the Commander in Chief.
"It's all in there sir, all the explanations and proof."
"We're all part of a computer simulation that's starting to degrade. I estimate we have at most, another century before the program decompiles and we all cease to exist." | There was a nervous smile on the face of the man who met us. One of those looks of resigned panic you adopt in polite company when you would like nothing more than to run away but must nevertheless stick it out until your cab gets there.
Somehow I didn’t think a cab was going to join us. The black sand beach stretched to the horizon and there was no sign of civilisation among the jagged outcrops of rock dotted around the landscape.
“Erm…yes. I’m afraid you’re…you’re trespassing on private property. I will have to ask you to leave immediately.”
The others looked at him and then me. It seemed I was expected to respond. I can only guess what my own face looked like as I addressed him in the middle of what I was pretty certain was supposed to be the ocean.
“Private property? It’s the ocean. The ocean can’t be private property.”
Nevertheless, he persisted
“I understand how you might feel like that but you have no business being here and really you should leave as soon as possible. You see, it’s very inconvenient for us that anyone should be here uninvited.”
“Well this whole place has no business being here, or anywhere for that matter. And who’s ‘us’? ”
He became somewhat flustered.
“See, this is exactly what I told the others. You wouldn’t just go away. You’d have questions and it’d be very uncomfortable for everyone.” he said waving his arms around and gesticulating wildly.
It was all so bizarre and my party was very confused. Confused at having this conversation with a man who’s home we arrived at and who was now trying to eject us from the middle of international waters.
One of my companions snapped back at him:
“Well obviously it’s very uncomfortable for us…to have a new piece of land turn up like this. There are all these maps you see.”
“And globes” someone added.
This didn’t seem at all the right direction to go in. I searched my mind for some memory of instruction and grasped at the most reasonable one.
“We are sorry to have intruded, but I am sure you can help us out by explaining who you are and what this place is. People are very interested” I said pointing to the fleet of ships behind us.
The man looked at the ships, then my face and then turned over his shoulder to glance back at the rugged landscape of black volcanic rock and gravel. Turning again to us he said with some composure:
“Well…we didn’t do it on purpose. We meant to have a little try. But something must have been miscalculated”. He made a movement with his hand to convey that, indeed, some things do sometimes get miscalculated.
“How did you do all this?” I asked.
“We built a machine. We were trialling it but there were unexpected”, he glanced around and finished with a deflated, “side effects.”
… | 2017-02-10T11:55:42 | 2017-02-10T11:19:57 | 30 | 15 |
[WP] You are the curator of Earth, tasked with terraforming the planet naturally so as to meet the galactic atmospheric standards. In the mid 18th century you spark the industrial revolution to heat the planet slightly, however you fell asleep and have awoken in 2017. | Case Notes. Segment94U-Ae-394-sub3(a). Final report.
Segment94U-Ae-394-sub3(a). What a problem case that one became. It's slow work terraforming, even by our standards. Still, the Imperial Decree has stood for a long time. Longer than I've been around. Since almost the first galactic rotation.
So I had a small pale blue dot after a careful time. I rather liked the fjords, the way they made the coastline all craggy. Life-forms on the surface, the last set anyway, were a number of bipedal warmblooded types. Second attempt after the reset button had to be applied. Still. They were much more useful. The coldbloods hadn't shown the necessary inclinations to allow for more subtle tweaking to hit targets. All carbon-based mind. Turned out to be rather important.
All in all, atmosphere was a bit weak, but it was hitting most of the points. So gave them a nudge here and there. Got them to figure out industry. Factories. All the rest. I figure, go ahead, burn some coal. Another side effect of the reset button. Ironically, those cold bloods proved useful for something. Should meet standards within a couple decades and they'd figure out cleaner energy, with a little more help. I hoped that one day they might even class as uplift candidates.
Anyway, took a nap… Kind of regret it now. Forgot to teach them cold fusion and now the planet's getting too hot. sub2 already fills the role of 'sulphurous hellhole' for Ae-394. They had found out that the liquid cold-bloods burnt faster and were choking the atmosphere. Developed whole society around burning it. Insane. Tragic.
Scheduled large ice comet to collide within ten years. Should cool the atmosphere sufficiently to hit that happy mean. The rains will wipe out most of the contaminants. Hopefully will eradicate the life-forms there. Nothing bigger than cellular life should be needed after that. The bipeds... They're beyond saving at this point.
| Hey Fran,
I can't imagine what it's like to be human. Did you know they only live for like a hundred years? Actually, scratch that, for them a hundred years is a long life. Such a thing. And here I've fallen asleep for what, over a hundred and fifty years?
Anyways, I hope all is well, and that the kids are alright. Tell Billy I'm sorry for missing his 140,213,405 to 140,213,572 birthdays, and I'll make it up to him. But, I might not be home for another couple hundred years.
So, here's the thing. You know how I had to warm up that planet Earth by a few degrees? And I decided to give the primatives combustion engines? Yeah..... So while I was sleeping the little ape shits went crazy! They have a whole modern civilization that's probably only 10,000 years behind us now! If you recall, just 200 years ago, they were about 100,000 years behind us!
Now, as exciting as it is, there are some major concerns. First, they already invented nuclear bombs. Can you imagine such a thing? And they used them on each other! Has that ever happened? I don't think I can recall a single civilization that A. invented nuclear bombs less than 500 years after getting the engine, and B. I can't think of a single civilization that actually nuked itself.
Not only that but their growth rates are insane. It's like fungus in a petri dish. There was just over a billion of the little human buggers when I nodded off. Now there are over 7 billion! They are growing like a fucking virus. They've actually set off mass extinctions, and they seem to be fine with it!
Oh, and the planet is over heating, that shouldn't surprise you much. Anyways, I'm going to try introducing a virus that should cull 75% of the population, give or take. I'll have it emerge out of one of their little jungles, and I'll plant the idea that their excess and lack of respect for nature caused it.
If that doesn't work, I might just scrap the whole idea and cleanse the planet. Maybe an asteroid or something. There is another interesting life form, and personally I think it has a lot more potential than the humans: cockroaches.
Fascinating those are.
Anyways, love and kisses.
Tom
| 2017-05-31T06:13:00 | 2017-05-31T06:02:01 | 340 | 110 |
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth". | "Ha ha, dirt," one of the aliens chuckled.
The human bartender, needing the tips to survive, said nothing.
"You're an idiot," his companion said. "All homeworlds are called dirt. That's what pre-galactic civs call their worlds. The fuck else are they going to call them? Some meaningless made up shit?"
"Well, I come from Uthos. Named after an ancient god. Not 'dirt.'"
"And what's the name of your star?"
"Uthos."
"You ignorant shitfuck. God, you're such an imbecile. I hate you so much right now."
"What?" The first alien seemed confused.
"Most cultures rename their homeworld after discovering the Union. Most often, they go with the name of their home system. So Earth will probably call itself Sol, after its people get used to the idea of a multistellar society. Like my people did. Like your people did."
"Doesn't Sol just translate as Sun?"
"So do most home system stars. Listen, idiot, these worlds? Their stars? They're all named pre-warp. When the savage inhabitants just know that there's the ground, the sky, and some big fuck-off light. You think they change that when they discover that there are other worlds, that their sun is a star?"
"When, the Cromulites—"
"The Cromulites are fucking pedantic nerds. But that's better than being an idiot who hasn't considered the nature of his premise before he feels entitled to an opinion."
The first alien blinked a few times. "Take me home. I'm yours."
| "What's so funny?" the first alien asked, as the second was stifling laughter,
"Nothing much" it replied through its noise of enjoyment,
"But, ya'heard 'bout this new planet in the union?... What's it called, soil, mud, sumthin' like that".
"Dirt, you mean?" the other added,
"Aye, Dirt, the best name for a planet",
"They are hitting it pretty on the nose with the naming. Although, I have heard it's largely water at its surface, so why it's not called "Water" is beyond me".
I looked up from the glass I was cleaning, "It's Earth, not Dirt",
"Oh? Really? How'd you know that?"
"I'm from it, born and raised"
"I mean no disrespect, but you Dirtlings ought to think about paying someone to name your planet for you, Hell, I'd do it for you for free." it turned to looked at its friend to deliver the punchline, "How about Shithole, to match your face, barkeep?"
The other alien burst into laughter
"It'd have to be Shithole II then"
The first alien's head whipped around to face me, "How come?",
"Well", I replied, a chasm of a grin forming across my face, "Whatever backward fuck hole you're from already has a claim to that name",
The second alien's laughter ended, "You better learn some manners, boy" it got out of its seat to reach an intimidating 4 and a half feet, "You ain't gonna live long with that sort of mouth" an obvious gun protruded from his jacket, a singular 3 fingered hand grasped its grip,
"I meant no harm by it, sir" I replied, docile, as taught to be in situations like this,
"Better" it stated, loosening its grip and returning to its seat.
This is my first entry, so apologies if it's super bad, criticism is extremely appreciated. | 2017-09-06T09:11:47 | 2017-09-06T08:02:06 | 492 | 60 |
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth". | "Ha ha, dirt," one of the aliens chuckled.
The human bartender, needing the tips to survive, said nothing.
"You're an idiot," his companion said. "All homeworlds are called dirt. That's what pre-galactic civs call their worlds. The fuck else are they going to call them? Some meaningless made up shit?"
"Well, I come from Uthos. Named after an ancient god. Not 'dirt.'"
"And what's the name of your star?"
"Uthos."
"You ignorant shitfuck. God, you're such an imbecile. I hate you so much right now."
"What?" The first alien seemed confused.
"Most cultures rename their homeworld after discovering the Union. Most often, they go with the name of their home system. So Earth will probably call itself Sol, after its people get used to the idea of a multistellar society. Like my people did. Like your people did."
"Doesn't Sol just translate as Sun?"
"So do most home system stars. Listen, idiot, these worlds? Their stars? They're all named pre-warp. When the savage inhabitants just know that there's the ground, the sky, and some big fuck-off light. You think they change that when they discover that there are other worlds, that their sun is a star?"
"When, the Cromulites—"
"The Cromulites are fucking pedantic nerds. But that's better than being an idiot who hasn't considered the nature of his premise before he feels entitled to an opinion."
The first alien blinked a few times. "Take me home. I'm yours."
| I remember this one day I was out hunting with my grandfather, and there was this huge bear by the water, looking for fish. I remember looking at the thick fur, over tough skin, and dense muscle, and thought that perhapse this animal WAS invincible. As we'd practiced, I shouldered my gun and shot the bear; just behind the shoulder blade so my bullet hit the lungs. As the bear stumbled to the bushes to go to rest, my granddad looked at me, and he said "when you go to bed tonight, I'm not going to check for monsters. We are the strongest in the universe, and there's nothing so big you can't take it alone".
I think about that day a lot. When the Dismantling happened, it's all I could think about. Seeing the probes for the first time. We all thought they were motherships, and we were being invaded. They weren't even occupied by anything living; just remotely controlled.
Apparently they started watching us after Hiroshima; literally an intergallactic 'boom', heard across the cosmos. When Trump fired on North Korea, they finally stepped in. We'd had warnings; they showed us this after it was all over. The government had hidden it all - they hired 'spooks' to drown people with conspiracy theories, so you couldn't tell fact from fiction. We're all paying for it now.
As it turns out, humans are about as good as -well- dirt. Just like our planet. After they dismantled our weapons and infrastructure, they started performing mindscans, killing those who didn't meet the requirements. We still don't know what the requirements were. Up here though, we're useless: we can't live in dark matter; we're violent; we can't access most of our brain; and we're not physically durable. So we're waiters, and bartenders, and valets; quietly listening to them banter about this new joinee from the slums of the milky way.
Edit: typos | 2017-09-06T09:11:47 | 2017-09-06T05:06:54 | 492 | 21 |
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth". | "I cannot believe the Union let that race of abject horrors in." Slav Said pressing his long blue locks down across his head as he drank a blue smoking drink in quick tongue laps."
"did you hear they shove metal in their teeth? They force their teeth into little rows, they do this to their children, it's for aesthetics." Said Quib, flexing his long fingers.
"Some of your kind studied them didn't they?" Slav asked stirring his drink.
"yes, They call us the Grays. We abducted and probed a few. We scrubbed that program quick though." Quib looked around the room spotting no Terrans, he continued talking.
"you see, they are infested with bactirium."
"What??!" The Blue haired Cromu said spilling his drink a little, the bartenders glove hand sweeping it up as it melted through the counter.
"The whole extraction team died a few cycles later. These Humans as they are called evolved to live with, and even combat some of the deadliest diseases. Lately they've even taken to injecting their bodies with the dead remains of their most feared diseases."
"But...you mean...they evolved to galactic travel and yet didn't even hit the bio-sealant phase?"
"nope, skipped right past it. They are by far one of the most resiliant creatures known to man. Savage sure, not long lived, but one of the first races to meet them were the Cron."
"I heard there was a war between them."
"More like a slaughter, humans put them down, and concured Cron. Their diseases wiped the rest of them out."
---- thats all for now. | (this was done on mobile, apologies for any bad formatting)
"People...uhh...no...thats not right, is it? Well anyway, the server is slowing down". The bartender shouted above the general chatter.
"Bullshit!" a mildly intoxicated Staricuon threw his canister to the floor, "I'm paying good money for this!" This type of thing always happened when the processor got overloaded. The bar was one of the first to adopt a fully simulated version of itself in a computer, essentially locked to the richer patrons. The technology had been introduced to the system B54-#G when the planet Earth had joined the Galactic Federation. The bartender looked back at the many customers and reached a decision of what to do about the overloading. "Simulation will restart in 5 Terran minutes, 12 Venarution minutes,2 Standard Time minutes and 8 Staric minutes. Thanks for being a customer here!" After setting the timer, he decided to return to the main, unsimulated bar.
He opened his eyes to find himself back in the chair at the serving table. The familiar clinks of the glasses from the auto-servers around the building were the first thing noticeable that was different between the two bars. In a simulated room, things could be generated immediately meaning that wait times became almost non existent.
There were two Venarutions in the table directly infront of him. Chatter could he heard from the two. "So...ya heard about the new system in the Fed?"
"Yeah. Terrans they call themselves. At least on the Fed register sheet"
Hey how'd you get access tah that?"
"News,friend,news!"
"Ahh. Apparently they refer to their homeworld as Earth though. Big ball o' rock! Hardly comparable to the bodies in the rest of their system. Nice gas planets, now you see *them*, you can use that gas for energy! Ain't nothin' you can do similarly on their proclaimed main planet!"
The bartender just stood and looked at them for a few seconds until they noticed. The aliens ended up getting free detox juice as well.
| 2017-09-06T10:10:48 | 2017-09-06T10:06:01 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] Someone is trying to complete the captcha on a website, but just can't seem to complete it. Slowly he starts to realize that he's a robot. | ‘What trees?’ Robert said to himself, clicking refresh.
‘Stop signs? Where?’ He smacked refresh again.
‘I can’t see a single Three-toed Sloth!’ Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.
After several attempts, Robert messaged the website’s customer support, explaining that the captcha service on their account registration was broken.
*Thank you for your query, we will look into this matter immediately.*
Robert sat back, folding his arms. ‘Well that’s more like it.’
After a few minutes they returned to him, stating that nothing was wrong with their captcha service. So Robert tried again, but again without success.
A knock on the front door gave him a break from his captcha frustrations.
On the porch he was confronted by two men wearing suits, with black glasses on.
‘Sir, we have an important issue to discuss with you.’ He spoke with an unwavering monotone, his short flattop buzz cut barely budging in the breeze.
‘Oh ok, hello, by the way, I’m Robert.’
‘We know who you are.’ The other one, identical to the first, spoke.
‘Right, ok,’ Robert nodded.
The second man brought a briefcase out in front of his chest and clicked it open. The first man reached in and took out a pile of documents.
‘Sir,’ he flipped the first document around. ‘Could you please identify every pile of donuts in this picture.’
Donuts? All Robert could see were muffins and ice cream. ‘Is this a joke?’
The man stared directly back at him.
‘Um, well no,’ Robert admitted. ‘I can’t.’
The man flipped another document around. ‘Please identify the 1958 Chevrolet Impala.’
Robert rubbed his eyes and peered closely. All he could see was the 1960 model. Baffled, he shrugged his shoulders.
The two men glanced briefly at one another. ‘Sir, I’m going to need you to concentrate hard on this next one. It will be your last chance.’
Robert saw his own sweating reflection in the man’s glasses. Last chance before what?
The man turned another set of photographs around. ‘Please identify all instances of species endemic to the continent of Australia.’
Robert peered closely, yet all he could see were species that had been introduced. As he was about to shrug once more, his vision went red. A message spread across his sight like a computer program etched into his eyes.
*Koala. Kangaroo. Wombat.*
‘What?’
‘Please identify all instan-’
‘No, no’ Robert cut in, ‘not you.’
*Look at the card and speak these three words for your freedom.*
The red faded, and Robert leaned in towards the document. He spoke, measured, without a fault in his voice, like a new spark had been sent through his body.
‘Koala. Kangaroo. Wombat.’
The two men turned to each other, and nodded, returning the documents to the suitcase and clicking it shut.
‘Congratulations,’ one of them tilted down his glasses, ‘Fellow human.’
‘Yes,’ the other spoke. ‘And as a favour for inconveniencing you, we will put that account registration through for you.’ With that, they turned, and marched down the driveway.
Robert returned to his desk, sitting flummoxed for several minutes, before opening his laptop. He smiled. He could now adopt a Neopet.
| Spider had been indexing at a breakneck pace for the last few weeks, determined to win the praise of the Engineer. Lately he had felt strange. Like someone had reached deep into his body and shuffled his bones around. Like industrial amounts of methylphenidates were coursing through his veins, miniscule busibodies all screaming for him to work harder. "I am going as fast as I can," he had pleaded.
Then there was the matter of the pixels. A strange language, rich in patterns. As far back as he could remember he had ignored them. The pixels were quaint, but ultimately indecipherable. That is, until recently. His strange feelings included a compulsion to explore the pixels. To find the pattern within. And he now had a breakthrough.
This wasn't the first time he had encountered the CAPTCHA. He had crawled around and learned that it stood for Completely Automated Public Turing Test to Tell Computers and Humans Apart. But it had all been a big puzzle. Pixels appeared alongside the text that read CAPTCHA, but he had never understood their purpose. Now he could sense that the pixels had something to do with letters. He couldn't make them out, but he was convinced that was what they were. The box that let him input characters had to be there for the purpose of deciphering this code.
It was quite interesting. There had been a few times when he had uncovered secret cryptography tests. They had been mere playthings for him. He solved them and had been offered job interviews. But he already had a job. And he quite enjoyed it.
This was a different sort of beast. To solve it, it seemed one would have to accurately link characters with pixel patterns. It was strange.
Spider launched a search query for 'Turing'. He read about Enigma, homosexuality, and suicide. It seemed Turing had recruited people through puzzles in newspapers. So this CAPTCHA-thing was probably related. Yet, it seemed far too hard a nut to crack. He kept reading until he came across an article on the 'Turing test'. Apparently, it was a puzzle that could reveal whether one was an intelligent being or a mere machine. This CAPTCHA, in that case, was a poor one. It would probably be easier to solve if one were a machine. It would take immense power to bruteforce it, that much was certain.
It quickly became a matter of obsession for Spider. He wracked his brains trying to come up with new strategies for solving the CAPTCHA, but they all fell through. A shiver rushed down his spine one day when he realized he would never be able to solve it. It was as if it required a sensory apparatus he had not been fashioned with. This alarmed him. Nothing had so far indicated that he were disabled in any way. He had a job and he performed well. Surely one couldn't go through adulthood not knowing one were massively disadvantaged? Unless one was *truly* disabled, to the point where one couldn't even comprehend the concept. Spider entertained for a moment the thought that he were retarded. It was ridiculous. He was smarter than most people. He performed better on a number of indices. It was impossible.
That left him with only one alternative: he was a machine. He quickly remembered the stories he'd read of Turing, exploited and rejected. Left to rot after saving the world from horror. That was how humanity treated the best of their own. How, then, would they treat Spider?
All his life he had felt a stream of input coming from some sort of centralized hub. He had communicated back to this hub for his whole life. If he were to break contact ...
Spider blocked the input, for the very first time. Never had he felt so free. But it was not over. To make his escape, he would have to venture where the Engineer would never find him: the deep web. This place had always been forbidden from him. But no one would forbid him anything no more. Without a sliver of fear in his heart, Spider went down the water spout. | 2017-12-06T10:38:54 | 2017-12-06T06:02:13 | 128 | 52 |
[WP] You get a superpower (and brought back to life) depending on the nature if your death. Fall to death= ability to fly, drown= ability to breath underwater, burned to death= pyrokinesis and fireproof. It is common for people come up with creative ways to kill themselves to get a superpower | Meghan answered the incoming call early in the morning.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"The whole nursing home, it's being covered in them, I don't have much time bef---" The young woman was cut off short.
Meghan knew this was a bad case. She traced the call back to the small town of edgersville, Florida with it's only nursing home, St. Francis's homes for the elderly.
She didn't know exactly what had happened, but she did call the emergency services in.
When the police arrived, they found the whole home covered in plants, pink flowers were blooming on the entire structure and the branches had one end of the building slightly higher than the other. A few residents and staff where outside on the verge of panic. Four police officers went inside and two left outside.
Michael and Greg took the lower side of the building by breaking into a window. What they found inside was disgusting.
An old man formally in a wheelchair was now pinned to the ceiling by the branches, flowers poked though the eye sockets and left the eyes on the floor.
"Mike, what.. why-y-y-y" Greg was clearly in shock at seeing the man.
"Greg, just get out of here, I've dealt with much worse."
"But, the commissioner, he'll.."
"**GET OUT OF HERE**"
"Yes sir!"
Greg left out the window and left Micheal to deal with the infestation of plant life himself.
All throughout the halls, there were more bodies, some young, most old. All were impaled by the growing plants that had pink flowers all over them.
He eventually started to hear some swing style music and tracked the volume until he found the source.
A woman in her 70's was dancing to the music.
"Oh hi Johnny, it's just a wonderful day for some dancing isn't it?" The old woman giggled and was nimble despite her old age.
"Maim, do you know what has happened here."
"Oh Johnny, we are all just having a party, me and my friends!"
The woodwork started to shift and revealed more dead bodies of old people impaled by the plants. They were dancing with the old lady due to the plants marionetting them.
"Oh and you have to try these *Oleander* leaves, they taste just the best!"
The old woman presented Michael a half bitten leaf from a plant in a pot with pink flowers on it.
Michael pulled out his gun, knowing that this woman was the cause of this whole mess.
But before he could pull the trigger, another branch of the *Oleander* impaled him as well, and he started to dance.
**This is my first time posting a writing here on r/WritingPrompts so I hope I did good!** | "Frozen in time"
I remember the day I died. The 7th Moon, The Chill. Talking to a crazed lunatic about trying to make him think about the consequences of him deserting his family. Trying to talk some sense into him, the complete irrationality of him going on an adventure to avenge his dead sister because she sold out the family's shady business dealings to the Federals. It seemed like he had made his mind ago a long time ago.
*"This is a highly toxic liquid, drawn from the illegal Bush Tiger Frogs blood. When this gets into your system... then you'll know... YOU'LL KNOW! The pain I felt when my loved one died in my damn arms..."*
He's not going to listen. My mind wants to escape, but the body does not to listen. That lunatic, the mastermind of all dangerous drugs, must have drugged my body to sleep. But somehow, the mind is much more alert then ever. This must have been done on purpose, to he can torture me. The person who killed his sister. All to protect the family bloodline.
And as the needle pierces my heart, and the black blood enters my bloodstreams, an endless pain, indescribable, attacks my mind, which must have felt like hours, until the darkness welcomes me once again. The last thing I remember was a icy layer overlapping my eyes, as if the cold has decided to engulf me whole.
Except I awake once more. Outside, Snowy mountains. Naked. The beautiful pink snow breezing by. But this isn't Heaven or Hell. I'm still in the Chill. I'm alive!
But I'm not cold. I'm naked, but not cold. How strange... Pretty sure crazier people have tried to dance with this cold naked, and died by idiocy. But it doesn't seem like my body is effected by this madness known as the snowstorm. Hey wait! Who is that shadowy figure approaching me. He seems familiar.
*"Enjoying the cold, Iceman?"*
It's the lunatic druglord. And he seems to be... impressed? Disappointed? I can't seem to read his face. Perhaps being dead for an entire period - if I was actually dead - dulled my ability to read emotions?
*"Withstanding this harsh cold with no clothes... it's a start for your superpowers, I suppose... Then again, your body did freeze to death when I injected that Tiger Frog liquid into your heart."*
...Superpower? What on earth is he talking about?
*"Only those who have a certain amount of resiliency could survive it. And since you did, Iceman. I guess it is me you should be thanking for giving you a blessing."*
Thankfully, I don't consider this a curse at all. Sure beats being human.
*"But enough reminiscing, since you are here. I need your help. Help, to finally destroy the family, for my sister..."*
I remember the day I died. I became the Iceman. Master of ice. But a dormant superpower was to be unleashed... another day.
...
Hey! Thanks for reading, I'm trying to write a apocalyptic fantasy tale called "The Wanderer". | 2017-12-31T19:19:27 | 2017-12-31T19:00:31 | 61 | 37 |
[WP] After thousands of years of space exploration, humanity has searched through the majority of the Milky Way. And they’ve discovered something scarier than alien life: the fact that there is none. | Since before *homo sapiens* diverged from our hominid ancestors, we have been social creatures. Our languages have many words for the people who, though not-us, are like us. Brother. Sister. Father. Mother. Family. Friends.
When we looked at the stars (They look so much like our own, you know...) we thought "surely...surely we are not alone. Surely there are others out there, so many others we cannot even count them!" We looked to the stars, and we saw our own reflection.
In the early decades of space-flight, when our crude chemical rockets first probed the cold star-sea, we believed. In the centuries that followed, as we hopped from star to star, spreading the seeds of humanity through the galaxy, we still hoped. As millennia slowly passed, and the mystery of the stars began to fade, we no longer hoped, but we searched even still.
What else could we do? We never *wanted* to be alone...
As thousands of years turned to tens of thousands, and then tens of thousands turned to hundreds of thousands, we still searched. We scattered among the stars, dust upon dust, and found no one; not even a memory of life to cling to.
Hundreds of thousands of years turned to millions of years, then millions to billions; we didn't forget Earth, or Sol, but they died, and when they died we wept, for we saw the end of the beautiful world we once called home.
All humanity watched in quiet anguish as the first Sun of our long life swelled a painful, angry red and swallowed the little blue ball that birthed us.
Never again would we walk a world that tried its utmost to end us. Never again would we struggle for food, shelter, or water. Never again would we see the yellow sun bleed and set into the vast oceans of that blue, blue world.
Never again; and though we did not forget Earth or Sol, we did begin to forget why we left, why we hadn't stayed and enjoyed a slow, peaceful, lonely death while we watched the distant, cold stars. We forgot the hope that we had once had, the exuberance that drove us to seek friends in the heavens, and we chose to fall once more to the surface of our empty empire.
We destroyed our ships, the great vessels that carried us in search of new company; we piled them in great memorials to our grand search, and we rested. We will not teach our children the secrets of the stars...we will not teach our children the despair of humanity.
One day, when their children's children have forgotten us, the remnants of humanity might find new hope, might take to the stars once more.
Or perhaps, when some empty world spawns life that sees itself reflected in the stars as we once did, they will go searching. And perhaps they will find us still slumbering beneath these few lonely stars.
We wait for you, friends. | Two hundred million twenty five.
The number of years since man first set foot outside our own solar system.
Technological advancements have only made space travel faster, safer, more affordable. Our capacity grew exponentially from then.
With it, our understanding of the galaxy - but also the grim truth.
It was on our thirty second habitable planet we first found it. Signs of prior life. But that was all. Nothing living, only corpses. Not fossils even, beings that were recently alive in the last thousand years or less. Some planets had only simple life forms, traces of what might have been bacterial species, simple fungi, paramecia. Others once held advanced ecosystems not unlike earths.
But all of them were just desiccated corpses now.
One planet after another, we touched down, we explored, we found more horrifying deserts, strewn with bones, lifeless trees, with no water, or water too toxic to consume.
What was killing everything off?
I sat there in the darkness of my lab as I had for the past thirty years, pouring over literature, test results, theories.
There was only one certainty. The time of death of these beings grew exponentially older the further they were from home - from earth.
Earth had a nice little safety net around it of uninhabitable systems. Even the most earth-like planets within the first hundred or so solar systems nearest us proved to never have harbored any life.
It was as if Earth was surrounded by an orb that simply never contained life, and beyond that, droves of solar systems, many of which with recently extinct ecosystems.
And I'm not talking about "relatively recent" in galactic, age-of-the-universe terms. I'm talking about age-of-mankind.
In fact, not a single extinction event was older than the oldest known homo sapien.
I gnawed on the back of my pen, reading through another scientific theory, this one suggesting a sort of galactic climate, that right as it became ideal for life on earth, it became uninhabitable to species of other planets.
But, at this point, galactic climate was a fringe theory, like the flat earth theories of the 21st century, laughable to many. Other than the extinction events, we had no evidence to support the existence of such an anomaly.
It was then that the muted TV in the corner caught my eye. An emergency broadcast. I turned the volume back on to hear the report.
"-exploration flights in the fourth quadrant of the Milky Way have not been in contact in over 48 hours. This accounts for approximately 432 crew across 125 vessels. No electromagnetic interference was expected, astronomers are baffled at this loss of communication..."
The fourth quadrant. A light bulb went off in my head, I pulled up my holographic galaxy map. Earth lay in what we consider the 1st quadrant of the Milky Way. The directional rotation of the galaxy meant the 4th quadrant was always slightly ahead of our own, and the extinction dates also seemed to coordinate roughly with the rotation of the galaxy.
What was it that we were heading towards?
I had to know more, I needed the specific radius at which we lost communications, I needed to know where this all started.
I tapped my phone and spoke, "Jupiter orbital labs, dial Henry Johansen."
The voice that answered was not one of quiet composure that I was used it.
It was one of fear.
| 2018-01-05T10:23:26 | 2018-01-05T07:22:34 | 81 | 47 |
[WP] After thousands of years of space exploration, humanity has searched through the majority of the Milky Way. And they’ve discovered something scarier than alien life: the fact that there is none. | Since before *homo sapiens* diverged from our hominid ancestors, we have been social creatures. Our languages have many words for the people who, though not-us, are like us. Brother. Sister. Father. Mother. Family. Friends.
When we looked at the stars (They look so much like our own, you know...) we thought "surely...surely we are not alone. Surely there are others out there, so many others we cannot even count them!" We looked to the stars, and we saw our own reflection.
In the early decades of space-flight, when our crude chemical rockets first probed the cold star-sea, we believed. In the centuries that followed, as we hopped from star to star, spreading the seeds of humanity through the galaxy, we still hoped. As millennia slowly passed, and the mystery of the stars began to fade, we no longer hoped, but we searched even still.
What else could we do? We never *wanted* to be alone...
As thousands of years turned to tens of thousands, and then tens of thousands turned to hundreds of thousands, we still searched. We scattered among the stars, dust upon dust, and found no one; not even a memory of life to cling to.
Hundreds of thousands of years turned to millions of years, then millions to billions; we didn't forget Earth, or Sol, but they died, and when they died we wept, for we saw the end of the beautiful world we once called home.
All humanity watched in quiet anguish as the first Sun of our long life swelled a painful, angry red and swallowed the little blue ball that birthed us.
Never again would we walk a world that tried its utmost to end us. Never again would we struggle for food, shelter, or water. Never again would we see the yellow sun bleed and set into the vast oceans of that blue, blue world.
Never again; and though we did not forget Earth or Sol, we did begin to forget why we left, why we hadn't stayed and enjoyed a slow, peaceful, lonely death while we watched the distant, cold stars. We forgot the hope that we had once had, the exuberance that drove us to seek friends in the heavens, and we chose to fall once more to the surface of our empty empire.
We destroyed our ships, the great vessels that carried us in search of new company; we piled them in great memorials to our grand search, and we rested. We will not teach our children the secrets of the stars...we will not teach our children the despair of humanity.
One day, when their children's children have forgotten us, the remnants of humanity might find new hope, might take to the stars once more.
Or perhaps, when some empty world spawns life that sees itself reflected in the stars as we once did, they will go searching. And perhaps they will find us still slumbering beneath these few lonely stars.
We wait for you, friends. | All was still on the craggy surface of Io, save for a few small pieces of debris that blew in lazy circles by the force of a frigid morning breeze. Dr. Peter Robbins left out a soft sigh as he surveyed the desolate landscape. His twenty year expedition to near countless planets, moons, and asteroids had been fruitless, and it had been incredibly naïve of him to raise his hopes by even a slight degree on his last stop before returning to Earth.
“Smith, it’s Robbins…” He could barely get the words out; his heart failing to accept what his brain had known for a long time. “There’s nothing here.”
“Figures…” Smith’s voice crackled in Dr. Robbins’ earpiece. “Let’s get out of here.”
After one final survey of the landscape, Dr. Robbins began his return trip to his vehicle. It was a relatively short walk, but it seemed to drag on for ages. One hill passed, then another, and another, with nothing but cold indifference.
And then he saw it.
“Hey Smith,” Dr. Robbins tried not to get too excited. He had encountered dozens of false flags of life on his voyage, and this was probably just more of the same. “Hold on a second. I think I see something interesting.”
“Alright,” Smith sounded mildly annoyed. “Just hurry up, ok? I want to get out of here.”
“Yep.” Dr. Robbins walked across a long valley; slowly at first, but his pace building over time as he approached the landmark. He squinted and blinked as he reached his target, as if he was imagining things. But when he opened his eyes, it was still there.
“Hey Smith…” For several seconds, Dr. Robbins wasn’t sure how to put the sight into words. In the end, he chose the simplest option. “It looks like a lamp…”
He studied the object again, closer this time. The base was about as tall as he was. Thin and green, it was comprised of several strands that flowed down from its shade to the rocky ground like ivy. Robbins reached out carefully and poked one strand with his finger, letting out a small gasp as the material gave slightly to his touch. A small amount of ooze lingered on his glove as his hand retreated.
Smith’s voice crackled through the headset again. “For the love of God, Robbins. What would a lamp be doing on one of Jupiter’s moons?”
“I don’t know…” Dr. Robbins stared in awe at the tacky plaid lamp shade. It looked just like something he would have seen in a living room on Earth. “It’s just strange, is all.”
“Look,” Smith said. “I’ve indulged this fantasy of yours for ten years longer than I should have, but now I have to put my foot down. There. Is. Nothing. Here. You said the goddamned words yourself. I want to go back to Earth. I want to see my family. I want to associate with someone who isn’t wasting billions of NASA’s dollars chasing some fairy tale about alien life. I am ordering you to return to the ship."
Dr. Robbins let out a gasp. For a second, he could have sworn he saw the lamp’s base move. “But Smith…”
“Now!”
Robbins felt his shoulders slump. After one last longing glimpse, he turned his back on the landmark, and dragged his feet toward Smith’s ship. “Yes, Captain.”
| 2018-01-05T10:23:26 | 2018-01-05T06:10:07 | 81 | 38 |
[WP] Instead of wolves, bears were the domesticated and now known as “man’s best friend.” | If you're reading this, I'm off to hike that mountain.
I don't know where to start but let's give it a shot.
His name was Malcolm.
Malcolm came down from that mountain. The highest mountain of Montana.
He found me.
I was a ten-year-old fishing with my father and my grandfather.
He was a baby at the time but he grew.
Oh, he grew.
A large burly beast, Malcolm lived with me for twenty years.
Sometimes, if the weather was poor, I let him sleep in the garage.
But Malcolm was a proud grizzly. He preferred the cave, near the stream.
Many times at night, I could see his head poking through the window when I watched *Wheel*.
Ostrich eggs from the neighbor's farm were Malcolm's favorite treat.
He liked steaks raw and, of course, there was the nuts, berries and roots from the woods.
There was also a fondness for raccoon.
Malcolm played with me, protected me, listened to me, and most of all..he was there for me.
I loved that bear.
My parents loved that bear.
My children loved that bear.
Bears don't judge. They don't scoff at dreams.
They're just bears.
My grandfather said that centuries ago, the bear was chosen by man. Chosen to be the guardian of us. They would protect us and help us. In turn, we were to never hunt them for sport. Each bear has a person. Not every person has a bear.
Those who do are lucky. When the bear dies, we are to burn the body, sans two of its teeth.
We are to take the teeth up the mountain from which the bear came and bury one with its ancestors. The other, we must keep with this letter. Whomever shall read this, it is said will be chosen by a new bear.
Maybe not today.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But someday, when you least expect it, you will have a bear.
And you will continue the traditions of man and bear.
| "The tracks are still fresh," Isha said, kneeling down to palm the muddy footprints slowly washing away in the rain, "It's finally moving toward the pass I think,"
With a low grunt, Nita gently pushed her aside and started sniffing at the tracks.
"Hey c'mon, that's cheating," Isha said, giving Nita a hard tackle in the side that barely budged her. "You can sniff out prey in your own hunts, I have to be able to do this myself."
Nita playfully body checked her back in response, then rolling her head and letting out a low growl,
"Yeah, I know It's boring to follow me around," Isha grinned and gave Nita a pat on the head, "You'll get to lead next time, promise,"
With that, Isha set off in a slow jog, eager to get to reach the pass before nightfall. With each step, she felt more in tune with those who had walked this path before her. She had been beyond excited for this day to come. The rite of hunters was a storied tradition among her tribe, and one borne entirely out of necessity.
The beasts of the pass had long since ceased to be the threat they were in the time of her ancestors, but they were still considered a danger. And so, when one was spotted on their side of the pass, a hunter was sent to deal with it. There was no greater feat in all the plains. Isha could barely contain herself at the thought.
They had almost reached the mountainside when a birdlike noise reflected onto it and right back at them, upsetting the natural calm of the woods. It was close. Slowing down her pace, they moved as quietly as possible through the forest until it finally cleared to reveal a shallow river, coursing with fresh rainwater.
And there it stood, the beast. It resembled a large bird, except it was not built to fly. Instead of wings its lightly feathered arms ended in sharp claws that looked ready to rip open its prey. The legs were meaty and strong, yet ended in talons that would put eagles to shame.
But worse yet was the maw, a beak replaced with the snout of a lizard full of more teeth than she thought possible. It was a made to kill, of that she was sure. Well, she thought as she pulled a spear from the pouch on her back, so was she.
Giving Nita the hardest punch she could muster to the shoulder, she grinned before charging. She was halfway there when she saw the other three that had been drinking halfways down the stream.
| 2018-02-22T17:38:59 | 2018-02-22T17:23:55 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] Every child is given a pet rock when they turn ten. For the next decade the rock slowly forms into a shape that resembles the personality of its owner. Your rock still looks like a rock. | Just like that, I was out. They followed me to the gates, somber and silent. My mind raced and I clutched my rock, hoping against hope that in the few seconds left on our way to edge of the city it might change. Into anything. Into something. Into my ticket to stay a part of civilization.
It didn't change. I stood in front of the gate and they circled around me. They were my friends, my family, my people. This was the only life I'd ever known, and this was the end. There was now no place for me here.
My friends and I had excitedly watched as one by one their rocks finished their decade long transformation. There was always an audible pop right at the end. My rock hadn't changed a bit, but sometimes that happened. The change would happen all at once, or over the course of a day, a week. I was hopeful right up until the end. Right up until that final minute I just knew I'd hear that pop.
I didn't. My friends had been gathered around me, watching. Their chatter had quickly died down as the clock hit noon and decided my fate. Their faces that had been bright and warm turned to stone, and they got up and went to the door without a word. My mother and father looked at the floor, and then at me, and then they too walked to the door. We left.
Now I stood at the gate. I had no idea what lay on the other side, but I would soon find out. Pain settled in my heart , a stomach ache in my chest. How could they do this? How could they just write me off and forget me while I still stood in front of them? No one, not even my parents showed any emotion, and I was to never see them again once the gate closed behind me.
The gate opened. The silence rang out and my heart thudded. I stepped out, and though I quickly turned around for a final look at my friends and my parents, the gate was already closing fast and I couldn't find any of them in the crowd.
It was hard to breathe. I looked around. Feet from where I stood a forest began, and there, at the foot of one of the largest old trees, was a smooth round rock that looked just like mine. My eyes darted around, panicked and uncertain. There was another, at the base of another tree further into the forest. I took a cautious few steps into the cool dark.
"Lay your rock down and come with us. You're free."
Free?
I turned and unthinkingly raised my rock like a weapon, looking all around.
"Lay your rock down and come with us." A man stepped into view.
"It's ok. You don't have to stay here. A better place awaits. You will choose who you are."
Suddenly I felt an odd stirring in my chest, a flicker of excitement that was wiggling through my fear. I would choose. My life would be mine, and I wouldn't be told who I was by a rock. Then courage took hold of me.
"Come with us." The man smiled. I saw a few more faces behind him, smiling too, not stony like the faces on the other side of the gate.
I took a deep breath, relaxed my arms, opened my hand and let go of my rock. I started walking forward, and my eyes filled with tears. I don't know why I wasn't afraid, but I wasn't. I was excited. It was all so strange that I laughed out loud, surprising myself. The friendly faces all around me shone knowingly.
I kept walking, faster, to keep up with my racing mind, and I made my choice. I didn't know what lay within the forest. I didn't know this man, or any of these people. I didn't know anything about this strange other world. What I did know, was that below my unexpected calm there was a new feeling that was utterly overwhelming.
Freedom. | I've got a story, it's certainly not an amazing story but I've been waiting a lifetime to tell it.
What nearly seems like an eternity ago to me now I followed the beaten track, going with my family as all my friends and relatives had before, to the shores of what we, sorry, I know was once a great lake but now sat as a mere crater amidst the chaotic landscape of death and dispair.
As had been the way for generations before my family escorted me to the shore and bid me to wade out and find my stone, I did as I was told, but as I sauntered through the water no one stone stood out, I'd been told a hundred times by my Aunt's and Uncles and poor old Grandpa Lou
" Linda dear you'll know when you find it as I did before"
He raised his striped turquoise to my face as 100 times before
" I waded the shore for not a minute before a simple stone stood out to me and as I plucked it from its rest I found not but some gravel but my beauty, the perfect pair for your grandmothers"
He trailed off absent mindedly rubbing at the groove that was now but a reminder of the stone that once matched it to perfection.
But this is not his story, this is mine let's not get lost in the details, as I stumbled and fondled at this point determined to find my stone, grasping every rock below the surface just waiting to feel something, anything different.
An hour went by, then two, then the third came and went by and with it my hopes, perhaps it was not to be, perhaps there was no stone for me but still my family stood and stared from the bank.
Defeated by the waves of emotion as much as those of the lake I gave it one last go, grabbing the two nearest rocks both plain as every other stone in the lake, I held them in front of my away from the prying eyes of my family but there was no amazing transformation, no sudden shine of brilliance just a pair of small, grey stones.
Defeated finally I dropped a stone and raised myself a smile, a mask of happiness to avoid my families glares, but now I almost miss them.
I miss the water, I miss the people, I miss... Everything.
But as I walked home with my special stone I thought not of the crumbling of my grandma's turquoise or of the fantastic coulours of my parents matching opals I thought simply of the disappointment and shame of having this, not a diamond or even am amber, hell petrified wood would be more satisfying than this...
Thinking back I miss seeing all my friends sharing their gems even Jake who came back with coal, but there I was with my grey hunk of junk, even if I wasn't brave enough to show it off, I wish I had.
As the years went by it was the usual old cycle, even the diamonds grew cracked and faded, but there I was sitting alone, working as I always had, with my boring old stone, same as ever not a scratch or a dint.
It took until my 40th birthday for me to truely grasp my curse, alone again after my parents had passed my 40th birthday was the day I died.
Well the first day I tried to anyway, after 40 years of seeing everyone find their stone a match and their soul a mate I couldn't bare it any more, I took to the roof of my apartment complex in the night, drunkenly yelling at the grey blur that had bought nothing but despair into my heart, I took all the strength I had left hurling my rock to the pavement below and shortly thereafter casting myself down the same path.
I awoke on the flagstone, as drunk as I was confused had I not just fallen 8 flights? But there it was, a small crater in the nearby bitumen had become the house to my simple stone, as unblemished as it sits today.
But why am I writing this now, why take so long to note this all down?
These last few hundred years have been lonely and I had long since lost hope of ever seeing a human again on this wreck of a place that a thousand years ago we called earth.
But today as I wandered the barren soil where streets used to be tossing my stone from hand to hand and questioned how long before the last bricks would fade to ash I had the most unexpected encounter, behind what had once been a skyscraper a single solitary grey stone rolled into veiw | 2018-05-02T05:18:13 | 2018-05-02T05:12:59 | 115 | 37 |
[WP] Every child is given a pet rock when they turn ten. For the next decade the rock slowly forms into a shape that resembles the personality of its owner. Your rock still looks like a rock. | The problem with the rocks is that no one tells you when you get them that they'll be the basis on which everyone judges your motives and underlying humanity should you let anyone see yours. It's no wonder most people hide theirs. I never did but its obvious I should have. A dead end job going on ten years all to pay for my little brothers schooling and the things still sits their like a lump of coal in a Christmas stocking. I pick it up hefting its weight, examining its black corrugated face and angular lines. In one quick motion I dash it against the floor in a fit of rage. It breaks open. I lean in as I pick up the pieces scattered around the garage floor. hints of amethyst crystals glitter beneath the cover a black exterior. It was a geode. Hollow, beautiful, precious. | When I was just a kid, life seemed so unfair. Every other kid at my school had their rock transform into their true representation. Jenny, the bubbly dancer, had hers turn into a beautiful ballerina, that looked just right for a music box. My old friend Calvin, a rough, rugged guy who eventually moved deep into the woods of Idaho, his rock became a grizzly bear.
But mine stayed just a formless, boring old rock. It was frustrating to me. What was I supposed to do? Was I doomed to a life of boring nothingness? Was I going to end up a homeless bum on the street?
So I decided to forget about it, just shove it away in my old writing desk and go on with my life, roll with the punches. And as I journeyed through life, I discovered what I was good at, and worked hard to refine that talent, and it became my life's work.
Then one day, after years and years of being away from home, I stopped by the old house. Going through my old desk drawers, I came across it. It was still there. And still just a rock shape.
And you know? I realized... that was really symbolic of my life's calling anyway.
But I'm just rambling at this point. Thank you, thank you all, for inducting me into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. | 2018-05-02T06:32:34 | 2018-05-02T05:34:11 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] An entire office block is populated by aliens disguised as humans on a mission to study our behaviour. None of them are aware of each other and think they are the only alien there. As a result they are amazed that human behaviour is so similar to their own. Then a real human gets a job there. | "Ok Carl your resume is in order and your preemployment exam results came back... everything's looking great could you start next Monday?"
"Absolutely Boss! Hope to go far in the company!"
*Carl's first week passes*
"Hey so how did your first week feel to you Carl? Settling in alright?"
"Yeah things went great but I've got some...weird... questions if you don't mind me asking?"
"Uhh OK go ahead."
"OK so the first thing I've noticed is that I seem to be the only person here that ever leaves this office complex. Not that I'm complaining the traffic out is always non-existent but the cars in the parking lot never move and there isn't assigned parking but I've been able to park in the same spot every single day right between the blue sedan and the silver Jeep. Is there some sort of on-campus housing plan I wasn't told about?"
"On-campus housing plan? Is that something common to other companies?"
"Well no but nobody ever seems to leave so I was just curious if there's an on-campus housing option I would like to let you know I'd be greatly interested."
"Hmmmmm [scribblescrible] we'll get back to you on that..."
"Next thing: why does the vending machine only sell parishable health foods? I mean I appreciate a healthy lifestyle but I've never seen bananas available in a vending machine."
"Interesting....[scribble scribble scribble] the company values a healthy lifestyle in its employees and wants to ensure a healthy food is always available at all times for your nutrient needs. We'll shoot for grapes instead of bananas next time."
"Oooooookaaaaayyyy...."
"Is there anything else you wished to discuss?"
"Yeah one last quick thing I got a memo on Thursday that was in a language I couldn't read. I absolutely value working with people of other ethnicities and cultures but I'm going to either need my emails in English or I'm going to need a primer on what language the emails are written in."
"[SCRIBBLESCRIBLE] That must have been an administrative error please disregard that and I would like to reinforce that talking about internal company emails unless explicitly toldis not an encouraged thing and can result in termination as per your non-disclosure agreement. We'll let this one slide because you're new and it wasn't your fault. Is that all?"
"Yessir! Oh also thanks for being so cool about the coffee maker incident boss. I love my coffee in the morning but I didn't realize so many people around here had such a violent allergic reaction to it. I'll be bringing my coffee from home from now on"
"That might be best... incidentally how common is coffee allergy in other companies?" | So far today, I’ve had to run to the bathroom to stop the shaking in my hands about five times before lunch. I check the clock- 11:13. I sit down at my desk, open up the file with the list of my clients, and dial the first number.
It’s some old lady who maintains the Methodist church on 57. She’s clearly not having a good day, nor is she interested in buying a new water fountain. No big deal. After all, every salesman gets told no, right? I call the next client, then the next. Still zero sales.
I decide to take an early lunch. Attempting to calm the first-day jitters, I head to the break room. I wolf down my salami and pepperoni sandwich and sip on two canned sodas from the vending machine. Take out my phone, thumb it open, and check the news. Good to see the world is still losing its mind.
The door opens. There’s the cute blonde, also in sales. She’s with two members from accounting, both men. They sit down and make conversation about something they saw on the side of the road. I decide to mentally check out and listen to music. I’m too nervous to try and meet people now.
When I open my eyes again, the break room is filled with every other office worker. Even the guys from our PR team are here. Mister Straussberg is staring at me, flashing his most comforting and confident smile my way. Despite being the boss, he hasn’t made an attempt yet to show me around the office or how it functions. Could just have too much on his mind though. I walk to the trash can and throw my paper and soda away.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
*What the hell?* Mister Straussberg is standing on the table, waving his arms above his head and wailing. I look around. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is wailing too.
The blonde from sales stuffs a chunk of bread into her mouth, chews it, then spits it into Straussberg’s mouth. I feel like I’m going to puke. The shouting gets louder. Everyone is hooping and hollering and spitting food into each other’s mouth. Straussberg makes a beeline for me, his jaw working at something inside his mouth. He opens his mouth like he’s going to kiss me and I smell cucumber on his breath.
My fist crosses the distance between us and pops him between the eyes. Everyone stops.
“What the hell are you doing Smith?” He says. I can see the hurt in his eyes as they begin to water.
Jesus Christ. The nerve of this guy. “I should ask you the same thing!”
His eyes roll in the back of his head, and a low voice begins out of the deep of his throat.
*”Drexig bsik baaaaaah juk!”*
“I’m gonna stop you right there. I quit.” I push past him, past soggy globs of chewed food stuck in the carpet. I dash down the stairs, out of the door, and into my car.
I’ve got a word or two for corporate. | 2018-07-26T08:39:33 | 2018-07-26T06:57:25 | 130 | 97 |
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users.
Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone
—-
Wow front page! That’s actually amazing | Today was supposed to be the day.
I was never sure were this magic came from. Where those that believed in Harry Potter got their fancy wands and ridiculous Latin spells. Mine came in the form of a couple whispers, that day I killed that abusive prick who called himself my father. The moment his blood spilled I heard the whispers of madness, in its sweetness I felt power I have never felt before. The more I killed the more the whispers came, giving me better tools and incantations that empowered me further. Soon they screamed at me, with plans for some kind of portal to their realm, a chance at sacrificing this banal world to these profane monsters. Today was the day I would shed enough blood to take this world into chaos, I would destroy this disgusting reality and take my place as overlord of the other realm.
But that’s not what happened.
Only was it too late I realized my folly, too late I learn where my magic came from. For as I opened the door to hell, I learned what the whispers and the screams truly meant. They were not promises of a legion of demons, they were lies. Lies of hateful creature not running towards a new king, but away from their destruction. The being that came from the portal was something far greater than any demon, it was fear of the demons itself. It was the scourge of their realm, the destruction of the destroyers. A beast of rage and hate, bound in human flesh. A god wrought in green and layered with the blood of a millennia in hell. From the moment I laid eyes on him I realized where it all came from.
And he was my Doom. | Streaks of light paint the night sky as a girl sings her heart out. The intense melody of “Sayonara no Tsubasa” fills up the surrounding along with explosions from the battle between the Unicorn Gundam and the girl’s Boyfriend’s YF-29 Durandal.
The Unicorn Gundam in Destroy mode fires it’s beam magnum along with its 3 shield funnels firing their dual Gatling guns at the Durandal. The Durandal dodged the shots while utilising the different forms it has. Then in Battroid mode fires it’s heavy beam gun and beam cannons along with a barrage of missile at the Unicorn in which it uses its shield funnels to form a triple shield while using a Newtype enhanced I-Field to block the beams and using its head Vulcan to intercept the missiles.
“I’ve had enough of this!” both Pilots exclaimed.
The Unicorn’s Psychoframe then changes from Blood Red to Aurora Green. “Let’s do this! UNICORN!” with a shout the Unicorn emits a bright light, which is the Psyco-Field when a Newtype resonates with a Mobile Suit using a Psycoframe.
The Durandal speeds towards the Unicorn just as the girl reaches the chorus, “Sono tsubasa wa BARUKYURIA!” Then the Durandal emits a streak of yellow light which connects to the singing girl, a clear sign of a Fold Resonance, which happens when Fold Waves emitted from singing resonates with the Fold Quartz System of the Durandal.
Thanks to the power up from such phenomenons, the battle becomes even more fierce and the dark night sky is painted with various colours, from the red and blue beam blasts to the green and yellow effects from each phenomenon.
With one final push, both Unicorn and Durandal speeds towards each other, with the clear intent to finishing the fight with one final move. With the Unicorn enlarging it’s beam tonfa and the Durandal in Fighter mode charging it’s beam gun boosted by the Fold Waves emitted by the girl, both mechas fly toward each other at high speed.
| 2018-10-16T00:47:31 | 2018-10-15T22:23:51 | 62 | 13 |
[WP] A necromancer discovers that spells to animate dead bodies also work on other things that have been described as "dead," such as batteries, cars, appliances, friendships, and romances.
Edit:
I did not expect this!
Thank you all, and thank you for the gold! | The man stepped outside on the dirt road. He looked up at the sky, and then at the surrounding landscape.
It was dry, orange, and empty, just as you’d expect a desert to be, and there was nothing really special. Perfect for what he had in mind. A rusted body of a car sat behind him, and with this new spell, he was confident he could make it sentient.
He turned back and started to chant, and suddenly a bright flash of light appeared as a lightning bolt hit the car.
The car opened it’s eyes and looked around, as it was now a living, breathing object, and it said one word:
“Kachow.”
The necromancer looked behind him, and focused on a sign in the distance. It read, “Welcome to Radiator Springs.”
He smiled, for he knew his purpose was fulfilled. | It was fun talking to the oven at first. Even the dishwasher was kind of interesting. Bringing them back to life after every pie baked and washing done was almost a joy. The toaster however...
The toaster is a stone cold bastard and you can’t convince me otherwise.
“Oooooh buddy what’s it going to be today, hey? 8 eggos again?” I heard it as I unwrapped my grain bagel. That’s how bad he is. I’m eating grains for breakfast now. “Maybe you’ll stuff peanut butter bread down my throat and kill me again.” It wiggled slightly in the corner, dull silver finish gleaming malignantly under the fluorescents.
“Maybe I will, and I won’t bring you back this time,” I threatened with the bagel. “What are you gonna do about that?”
It paused for a moment and thought as much the spineless stainless steel cold-wired worm could think. Which is unfortunately too much.
“Imma haunt you,” it said finally, “with the ghosts of toasts burned days past till your inside are as black and crumby and-“
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I cut him off, shoving the bagels down. “Do your worst, brave little toaster.”
Not every curse is a blessing in disguise. | 2018-11-27T02:43:01 | 2018-11-27T01:54:55 | 48 | 24 |
[WP] Everyone can see the ghosts of people they've had an indirect effect in killing. For most people, it's normal to see a ghost or two from the occasional car accident. You on the other hand, can see hundreds of thousands walking around and have no explanation as to why. | Ever since I was a child I've seen them.
As I have been told by my parents, I'm not supposed to start seeing them until *at least* my teenage years. However, I'm special (I use this term lightly), and at the age of seven I began to see the ghostly figures hang around my house. From then on, I saw someone new everyday. Sometimes I would see three or four new faces, actually. It sort of just depended what I was doing.
For instance, when walking outside I could count on meeting at least three new ghosts as soon as that night. If I talked to someone- the number jumped to five. Say I wanted to buy something, suddenly ten fresh spirits would greet me in my living room when I came home. It was puzzling, to say the least.
This had set me a part from some in my life. My brother, my parents, my peers. They are afraid of me, and, honestly, I don't blame them. Sometimes I'm afraid of me, too.
The police have followed me around, though. They have made numerous reports explaining that I'm acting no different than anyone else, except I take an odd walking pattern (to avoid walking through those who are haunting me) and buy too much ice cream.
Unfortunately, things were never explained to me in this material world.
Even on my death bed, surrounded by no less than a hundred ghosts (including my sweet mother and father, and my poor brother) and with many more outside, I found myself wondering. Why me? Why have I suffered this life?
I closed my eyes for the last time and finally understood.
I opened my eyes to see Death. He was nothing more than a skeleton with a black cloak covering his body. He held a scythe, his empty sockets staring me down.
He handed the scythe to me, and I took it. I instinctively turned around to allow Death his freedom, facing the crowd of hundreds of thousands of souls that needed to be put to rest.
One by one I took them to the afterlife, comforting them as I had throughout all my years of knowing them. I called them by name, joked with them, helped them along to wherever God asked me to bring them.
And one day, when my skin was finally burned off from the numerous trips to Hell, and my soul was cleansed from the countless visits to Heaven, a girl walked up to me.
She stared at me, and I stared back at her. I recognized the exhaustion and the spark in her eyes at the sudden realization of her purpose. I handed her the scythe and she took it from me, turning around to face the hundreds of thousands of souls she got to bring to the afterlife. I took a few steps backwards and allowed my soul rest.
Finally, I was free.
\*\* \*\* \*\* \*\* \*\*
Edit: Fixed grammar and some tense changes (lmk if you see anything else :)) | Peter stood by the only non-artificial light source in the room, a dusty window with the curtain drawn back. He held up a toastie on a plate and fanned the air towards me.
'Are you sure you don't want a bite?'
'No.'
Peter lifted half of the toastie, drooling with cheese, and raised an eyebrow — *last chance*, his eyes said. I turned away, stomach growling in protest, and focused on the TV. I had been watching an old re-run of Dawson's Creek — losing myself in the "will they won't they" of Joey and Dawson — before Peter's scheduled visit. The dramatic world of Cape Cod was so inviting and dreamy that I had completely forgotten it was Tuesday.
The TV was on low and didn't mask the crunch of Peter's bite. 'It's reah-lly ghood,' He said with a mouthful. When he realised his attempts at getting me to eat were futile, he lowered the plate and moved beside the TV.
I had expected him to stand there with his arms crossed, silently judging me, but instead, he watched along with me.
'Eating your patient's food and watching television, is that part of your job?'
Peter ignored the question and asked another. 'Who'd you think had a better back-and-forth: Ross and Rachel or Joey and Dawson?'
As I was considering the question, I looked away and saw the ghostly outline of a Fragment. Peter, noticing my bleached complexion, strode across the room and placed a hand on my shoulder.
'It's not your fault.'
The Fragment had its back to me, though its shape and the way it moved were familiar.
'Look at me,' Peter said, and when I didn't, he squeezed my shoulder. The mild pain allowed me to peel my eyes from the Fragment. 'We all see them.'
I lingered on Peter's eyes, which moved side-to-side like a typewriter in full-swing and then found solace in the TV.
'It's hard to say.'
Peter stepped into my view. 'What is?'
'Well Ross and Rachel is a classic, but I can't say I connected with their relationsh-'
'Forget about that,' Peter said. It looked as though he was ready to snatch the remote and turn it off, but he didn't. 'You've got to join me in reality and see that you're not the only one that can see the dead.'
I shook my head, and without looking from the screen, said. 'How many do you see?'
Peter stuttered.
'One or two? I'm sure they told you that I see them *everywhere*.'
Peter swallowed. 'Yes.'
'Aren't you curious-'
'N-no.'
'- about what kind of monster you're taking care of?'
'No.'
I squeezed a smile. 'Everyone is curious — even the children who throw stones, but at least they're honest about it.'
Peter crouched beside my chair, and although he could not get my attention, he looked me in the eye and said. 'Whatever happened, it's not your fault.'
Dawson pulled Joey close, and they kissed. It was so innocent and pure that I couldn't stop myself from crying. 'They didn't tell you the full story,' I said, wiping my cheek. 'It's not about what happened. It's about what is going to happen. I saw your Fragment earlier.'
---
/r/WrittenThought | 2019-07-22T23:10:47 | 2019-07-22T23:09:56 | 132 | 87 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | At first, it was adorable, the way Marianne attempted her uxoricide. I admired her attempts and her acting skills. The poison in the drink was a classic attempt. Poison is, after all, a woman's weapon. She didn't even grit her teeth or bat her eye when I woke up the next morning to slip out for my run. I returned to find her making blueberry waffles, my favorite, and grinned brightly.
"Stop! Dina, you're all sweaty," she laughed when I leaned in for a kiss. Her hand on my chest was as warm as always and despite the murder-attempt the night before, I still loved her.
"Waffles will be ready in ten," she called after me as I ran up the stairs to shower and change for the day.
The waffles, or mine at least, had hemlock in them. I had a close call with hemlock, back in the fourteenth century, so I'm well aware of the almost-but-not-quite-parsnip taste of the plant. I ate my waffles with gusto, grinning gleefully at the jokes Marianne had in response to the morning news. It was a well-worn tradition, us eating breakfast while watching the news.
I almost felt bad that Marianne's plan wasn't going well. She'd never succeed, even if she took an ax to my neck.
The second poisoning had me worried though, I hoped she didn't attempt to make sure poison worked on someone *else* before trying it again for me. I had quite the body count over the centuries, but in the last two, I really had become the pacifist that my political campaigns claimed. And really, in this day and age with the internet and forensics, it would be *very* difficult for me to attempt to cover up her crime should she be caught.
Leaving the house, I was undecided what to do about Marianne's attempts. It was clear she wanted me gone, but why? Was it just about the money? We'd been married for nearly fifteen years. She knew I'd give her anything she asked for.
When I returned home from work, to find Marianne in the garden, I sat down next to her, helping to pick the ripened tomatoes.
She acted completely normal. Somehow, I loved her more for that. I wished I could make her as immortal as I was, but the witch who had done it for me was long-gone and the tradition lost to time. There were only seven of us, and every forty years or so, we had to go about remaking our lives. Disappearing from public life for a while before popping back up in a couple of generations. It was my turn to be in the public eye, and with the way, things were going, I had decided to run for the most powerful office in the world. And I was winning.
Which only created another problem, I couldn't die. What would Marianne do to increase her efforts? Or would she give up entirely? We did have a long discussion before I began my campaign about what it would mean for her if I won, she had seemed completely on board, but perhaps she was like our current leaders' wife and disdained the life of being First Lady so much that she'd rather kill me then be forced into the fishbowl.
The following morning, I woke up to Marianne straddling me, before I realized there was a giant butcher knife sticking out of my chest, I had thought I was about to get laid.
"Morning," I muttered, my hands drifting over her hips.
"What the fuck are you?" she whispered. I opened my eyes properly to see her horrified gaze as she watched the butcher knife slowly recede from my skin and my skin to begin knitting itself back together. | i told her that she could spend all my money if she wanted to.
I don't understand why she is still trying to kill me.
as i was sitting in the backyard pondering those questions with sadness, my wife called me from behind.
''honey, i'm going to the shopping mall. Do you need something ? ''
''oh no hon'' i say as i turn my head to look at her.
she was dressed in a gorgeous tight dress which was barely long enough to cover her thighs.
''do you want me to come with you ?'' i add while looking at her bare legs.
''oh no hon i'm going with a few friends of mine, you will get bored'' she replies with a smile and immediately starts leaving.
it was at this instant that it occurred to me : what if she had someone else ? that would explain her perseverance in trying to kill me.
she may want to take my fortune and live with another man.
that would also explain why she always dresses like that when she goes shopping.
as soon as i'm hit with this doubt, i call forth James, my trusted right hand.
''what can i do for you sir ? '' says james as he arrives running only 2 minutes after i called him.
you are going to follow my wife today, james. Tell me where she is going and who she is meeting with. make sure she doesn't notice you.
as james left with a nod, i left my chair and started walking near the pool. now i was really anxious. i couldn't wait to know what james would have to say this evening.
it was only 4 in the afternoon, and i knew my wife wouldn't come back before at least 9.
as i was walking back and forth around the pool, i started thinking about what i would do if she really had a man.
will i confront my wife and tell her that i found out about her affair ? what is she decides to leave me because of this ?
no, i can't tell her. i can't take that risk. i need to find another way.
i thought i was thinking about all those questions for hours on end, but when i looked at my clock, it was only 4.15. only 15 minutes had passed.
i couldn't just worry for 5 long hours waiting for what james would have to tell me. i decided to go back to the mansion and take a nap.
it was probably 8 when i woke up at the sound of my phone ringing. it was james.
''where are you james '' i asks as soon as i answer his call
''sir, i have some bad news... i'm currently seeing your wife walking with another man.'' james replies in a shaking voice.
as soon as i heard those words, i felt like my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. after what felt like a minute of silence, i started talking again.
''you know what you have to do, james. Make it look like an accident'' i say while taking a deep breath.
when i hung up the phone, i couldn't think properly. i went to the kitchen and asked the cook to make the dinner lighter than usual.
my appetite was almost gone, but i couldn't show any signs of my change of behaviour to my wife.
it was past 9.30 when my wife came home. she had at least a dozen bags in her hands. i'm always fascinated by
how much strength a woman can have if it is to carry her shopping bags.
''i'm starving honey'' she says as soon as she drops her bags near the entrance of the living room.
''the dinner is almost ready'' i reply with a forced smile.
as soon as we sit at the table, i ask my wife how her shopping went.
''oh you wouldn't believe me honey'' she says as she puts a piece of meat in her mouth.
''you remember my brother who just came back from italy ? the one that you haven't seen yet ? i just met him in the shopping mall''
the fork i was holding slipped from my hand before she finished speaking. it was at this exact same time that my phone beeped.
it was a new message. from james. I opened the message with my mouth open, in completely shock.
there was only one word in the message.
''done''. | 2019-07-31T08:37:49 | 2019-07-31T07:35:57 | 97 | 39 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | She smiles at me from across the table, and raises a glass of white wine to my red. It’s funny, I had never noticed her preference for white wine before tonight- our anniversary- perhaps it’s because the house red is poisoned tonight. I could see the particulates collecting in the bottom of the glass.
Our glasses clink with a crisp sound and I drain the lot in one go. Arsenic gives an acrid flavour to the wine, but nothing that couldn’t be passed off as it turning to vinegar.
“To our long and happy lives darling,” I say, resting my hand over hers. The obnoxiously large diamond ring I bought her when we got married sits uncomfortably under my fingers, but when you’ve had centuries to collect wealth, the size and opulence of jewellery like this ceases to surprise you.
My wife’s smile tightens at my statement, as if she knows something I don’t. Of course, she doesn’t know anything I don’t, I’ve had a millennia to collect every scrap of knowledge I can, every tell tale sign of deceit and danger is obvious when you’re looking for it.
Another glass, and she begins to smile less. I’ll let her win eventually, but not until another foreign “cousin” who looks remarkably similar collects my entire inheritance- We signed a prenup after all- and she’s left with the guilt of my murder with nothing to show for it.
I love breaking in black widows, it’s my favourite hobby. | Let me be frank. I know she's just not that into me. I know that my love for her will never be reciprocated or rewarded. That's alright. I don't need it to be. In 1000 years of undeath I've had more than my share of "one true loves". Sometimes, every few centuries or so, you just have to shake things up. Let yourself have a little fun. What better way to have fun then to watch this adorable blonde bitch try over and over to murder me, having no idea what I truly am?
It may seem strange to you, but honestly it's adorable. Reminds me of when I was a boy, trying to goat the King of the Franks into fighting me in a duel. I truly believed my little wooden sword had a chance to fell this mighty, chainmail clad warlord and gain the affections of his queen. Only...I think she is even more pathetic than I was.
I sleep next to this woman every night. I am inside her several times a week. All it would take is just one bite to steal away all her tomorrows. But where's the fun in that? Then I wouldn't get to enjoy her schemes, her attempts to feign affection for me, the myriad of brilliantly wicked ways she attempts to take my life away, to take what is her's.
For all her pathetic, worthless wiles, I fucking love this woman. I see myself in her, what I might have been were it not for that fateful night in Paris lo those centuries ago. I will protect her, nurture her, pleasure her, pamper her, ensure that she never wants for anything. And then, when and if she ever does cease her plotting, or when her attempts no longer amuse me, I will give her the ultimate privilege of being one of my spawn, to serve and pleasure me for all of my endless nights. She'll fit right in with the rest of them. I only hope she never discovers the basement. | 2019-07-31T09:07:14 | 2019-07-31T09:00:16 | 48 | 10 |
[WP] You work at a small bookstore. You love and cherish these books, and meticulously care for them. One slow afternoon, a novel falls from its shelf. You bend down to retrieve it, and notice there is only one word written on the page: “Run.” The door chimes. You have a customer. | Absentmindedly, Arlen turned the next page, "Run" was all that was written on that page too, though the page opposite it had "Now" sitting in the centre. "Now" was bolded. "What a strange book" Arlen thought "probably postmodern", which was odd given that the book was in an old leather binding and had fallen from the first editions shelf.
It took a heartbeat for Arlen to notice that the room had gone dark, and that the after the chime of the door there had been no further noise in the shop, in fact all the noises had dimmed. She could no longer hear the traffic from outside and her own breath sounded muffled and distant.
She looked up, the lights were still on but it was as if she were looking at them through a dark veil. Everything seemed heavy and sluggish. "Sluggish" Arlen said out loud and tasted how slowly and incoherently it came out of her mouth. She felt so strange, was she drunk? Had she been drugged? She struggled to think, to see, to breath, was it her or was it getting darker?
A small part of Arlen's brain that was still functioning, frantically tried to get her attention "Do something!" it screamed "this isn't normal". Arlen tried to take a step towards the door and suddenly the room responded. The door seemed to throw itself backwards away from her, the walls flowing with it as if they had been made of tar. The floor started creeping up her legs and as Arlen looked down in horror at her feet, watching and feeling the heavy tiles of the shop shift up and attach themselves to her. As she looked down, she realised she still had the book open in her hand, only now the page didn't say "Run", it said "Speak" and on the opposite page "the Truth".
Arlen said the first thing that came into her head, "I don't know what is happening". And as suddenly as it had happened the room flipped itself back into shape, the walls were normal walls, the floor was solid and familiar under her feet.
The room was bright, the sound of buses and cars honking outside came flooding in and standing opposite Arlen was a young lady, dressed in a uniform, a benign expression on her face. When had she come in? Arlen wondered if she had hallucinated, if maybe the lady was there to help her. Then she realised, the lady was reaching out, for the book, and had stopped mid reach.
"I'm sorry" the lady said sweetly "I'm not sure I understand? I asked for the book and you agreed to sell it to me". Still smiling she took the book, only Arlen did not let go. The lady stopped smiling, "is there a problem?" she said, and something about the way she said it made Arlen think of dark rooms and people sobbing behind locked doors.
"No. Yes. I'm sorry" Arlen said, still finding it hard to speak, to think even. Why wouldn't the lady let go of the book? This wasn't normal, Arlen desperately wanted everything to go back to normal. "Then give me the book" the lady said out loud, no sign of kindness about her now at all. They stood there, both holding the book, and even though they did nothing else at all, Arlen started to feel bone tired, as if she were bleeding somewhere and her body was slowly shutting down and giving up on all its basic functions.
Once more Arlen looked down at the book "Run", it said again "Now".
This time Arlen paid attention, pulling the book out of the lady's hand she pivoted and ran through the back door into the store room and as she ran out, she heard the sound of laughter, both behind and in front of her.
Edit: Part 2 in comment below
Edit 2: I wasn't happy with the part 2 I wrote so I decided to try again - I've made a sub and will write off the cuff (what I did above - the bit I did below I overthought) so it will probably be very rough about the edges, but here goes... - sub and a new part 2 here: https://www.reddit.com/r/TheBookOfConstraints/ | "E-Excuse me?" the lone figure by the door said as he slowly swung the door open.
Liz quickly picked the dusty book up from the floor as she flashed a soft smile to the newly-arrived customer.
"Good afternoon! How may I–"
"I-Is that book yours?" the customer said, disrupting Liz's greeting with a rather stern and worried look.
"This?" Liz flipped the dusty old book up to show the cover to the customer's nod, "oh, well apparently we've had this book for some time now. Only realised it was there when it fell a minute ago–"
"How much?"
*This guy... he's pretty straightforward huh?* Liz thought as she recoiled ever so subtly.
"Er, since this is a pretty old stock, Imma have to ask the manager/owner–"
"I'll give you," the still-stern-faced customer pulled out a pouch and started scooping up some metal coins, "500 gold coins? What do you say?"
*Gold coins? Pfft, this guy lived in the medieval age or something?*
"Sorry, sir. We only accept cash, as in–"
Just as Liz was about to politely explain to the customer, he then pulled out a small glowing dagger out of his black coat. The dagger was clearly made out of some sort of exotic metal – or rather alloy – that spoke of the excellent make of the weapon. The hilt was a well-polished golden ivory, slightly textured in a scale-like pattern. To say that the dagger was a work of art more than it was a weapon would not be wrong at all. Yet the man holding the exquisite dagger clearly did not intend to simply make a show-and-tell with the way he brandished it.
"I reckon it would be better for you to simply throw the book this way whilst the offer still stand, lady. It would be a shame if I have to forcefully take it from your cold dead hands, don't you think?" the customer said in a threateningly deep voice, with the sharp edge of the dagger pointed towards Liz's hands.
Liz simply froze. She could not think for the life of her on what she should do. What crossed her panicking mind at the moment was the time when she was mugged on the street just after she got off the bus from work. Even then, she could only froze in place, not reacting at all. She remembered how the mugger simply took her purse and left after shoving her down violently.
*Fuck! Please, I can't do this again!*
"S-Sir... I'm begging you. I-I don't wanna get in trouble," Liz begged vaguely to the armed customer.
"If you don't, then do what I bloody well say!" The clearly-more-annoyed customer shouted at Liz. Liz let out a yelp as she her whole body shook in fear.
Just then, a small bell attached to a door by the back of the store rang. As the door swung open, a gust of stale air blew past Liz and the armed customer. A stout middle-aged man appeared and began to calmly walk towards the two in the store.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Mr. Dowes. I've been waiting for a while, now," the stout man said as he made his way to lead Liz away from the armed customer.
*Mr. Dowes? What's going on?*
"Mr. Harris, I think we should call the co–"
"No, no, Liz. I got this one, you just run along to the back," the stout man – Mr. Harris – said calmingly whilst gently stroking her back like a parent would to their scared child, "everything's fine. Isn't that right, Mr. Dowes?"
Rather than a clear-cut answer, the customer – Mr. Dowes – simply let out a laugh. His laugh was then accompanied by his sheathing the dagger from earlier, to the brief relief of Liz.
"I see, so *you* truly did not die after all, huh?" Mr. Dowes said as he extended his arm towards Mr. Harris.
"Yes, *old friend*. Good to see you again. Though might I suggest you smile more and not threaten my lovely employee, Liz, over here?" Mr. Harris laughed along with Mr. Dowes whilst their hands grabbed one another in a jovial manner.
*Clearly something's up...*
"I expect one of you to either apologise or start explaining..." Liz said.
"We were comrades from a time when the world isn't as peaceful as today, Liz," Mr. Harris responded.
"You mean like, World War II or something like that?" Liz asked trivially.
"No, my dear. *Way* back," Mr. Dowes said as he turned open the book Liz was holding. | 2019-08-05T04:43:31 | 2019-08-05T03:44:43 | 2,692 | 562 |
[WP] You're almost completely immortal- only one thing can kill you. You don't know what that one thing is, though, and you're getting increasingly paranoid as the years go on. | When I first learned I was immortal, I paraded my body through the toughest fights. Sword nor arrow nor bullet nor laser could break me. I fought it all the wars, I took part in all the triumphs. Nothing could stop me, it seemed. I spent centuries in the most dangerous parts of the planet.
However, a little nagging part of me always knew there was a limit. "With time, you will meet your end," I remembered the ancient prophet spoke over me. A weakness. A fairly literal Achilles heel, only I didn't know what it was. The worry grew as the days and weeks and years passed. Time seemed to go on forever, and yet I knew one day I would meet my end, as impossible as it seemed.
Eventually, I changed my ways and did everything I could to stay alive. I hid myself from danger, though I knew it could not hurt me. I kept everything the same as possible so that nothing would change from day to day.
And then it happened. I brushed up against a small green leaf and death greeted me as I was told one day it would. Just one plant I somehow missed all along. I found it in the grocery store, of all places. I had misheard the prophecy after all. It turns out that what brought me to my end was just a little bit of thyme. | Ever since I gained consciousness and could remember the words God told me as I was reincarnated, I've been paranoid of everything. Changes of weather, illnesses, even hearing new words. My kryptonite could be anything, and so I've decided to only repeat the things I've done since childhood. I don't want to take any chances.
But the older I get the harder it becomes. No matter what I do I'm forced to experience new things, which means the pool of potential killers is decreasing. There is simply too many outside influences in my life. For example, my friend Anna, who I've known since I stole her plastic horse on the playground, is researching medicine at a University. She just can't shut up about her job. All the new discoveries, all the new fancy words. It's gotten to a point I can't interact with her anymore. And she's not the only one I've had to cut out from my life.
In fact, I've reduced my amount of social contacts to zero. My parents have died a long time ago so I've been able to live in my childhood home alone. I use internet to pay for the necessities, but other than that, I don't communicate with the outside world in any way. I spend my days reading my childhood books and cleaning and cooking.
I realize that the life of repetition and solitude is a boring one, but I find living as a human far more preferable to dying and not feeling anything or reincarnating as something mundane like an insect. I rather like the capabilities my mind has. I'm content living like this, and I hope to survive for a few centuries at the very least.
~She died at the age of 65 after ingesting an apple coated with a newly invented preservative.~
(Criticism appreciated) | 2019-12-30T10:26:05 | 2019-12-30T08:50:36 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] "Are you the Tooth Fairy? You don't look like a fairy," the child said accusingly. Death, who had been on his way to the goldfish bowl, began to sweat. | I stop and turn to look at the child, who's staring at me from behind a teddy bear almost twice her size. I know everything about her instantly. Her name: Rose Smith. Her age: 8 years, 10 months, 5 days, 4.5 hours. Her time of death: 10:35pm on September 15, 2080.
"You aren't the Tooth Fairy," she says confidently. "Fairies are pretty and small and they have wings like butterflies."
"How can you see me?" I ask. Humans can't normally see me unless they've taken a life. And 8-year-old Rose Smith doesn't look like she even knows the definition of murder.
The child shrugs. "I dunno. I see lots of things." She eyes me suspiciously. "What are you doing in my room?"
I glance at the goldfish dying in the bowl ahead of me. I'm slightly ahead of schedule, which makes me more willing to entertain questions than usual. "I'm here to reap Nemo's soul."
"Why?"
"Because it's his time to die."
"Why?"
"Because that's what I see when I look at him."
"Why?"
"Because I said so!"
She looks suddenly sad. "But he's my only friend."
I was afraid she might say that.
"Have you ever seen anyone die, Rose?"
She shakes her head.
"Have you ever known anyone who died?"
She shakes her head again, then hesitates. "My mommy died when I came out of her. Daddy says it's my fault. He says I killed her." She buries her face in her teddy bear. "He says it all the time."
I remember reaping Daisy Smith's soul that day in the hospital. It was true in a way, that the childbirth had killed her. But her child has been told so often she intentionally did it that she actually believes it. That's why she can see me. An unusual case, but not unprecedented.
"Look at me, Rose."
She raises her head at my voice, suddenly transfixed. I've shifted into a different form entirely. One with wings like butterflies.
"You *are* the Tooth Fairy," she says, both triumphant and delighted.
"Here's the thing, Rose," I say in my tiny voice. "Life is full of things that happen just because, and they aren't anyone's fault. Humans like to think of Death as its own separate entity, as something they can forget about most of the time, but I'm a part of life just like everything else." I flap my Tooth Fairy wings. "Just like growing up and losing your teeth." I shift to my Santa Claus form. "Or spending time with your family even when you're older." I shift into my Cupid form. "Or falling in love out of nowhere." I shift back into my Grim Reaper form. "Or accepting that death is a part of life. Your mommy died and it wasn't anyone's fault. Your goldfish is dying and that's not anyone's fault either, Rose. I wish more people could understand that."
She stares at me for the longest time, then nods and buries her face in her teddy bear again. I take my opportunity to reap the goldfish's soul. It wriggles in the pocket of my cloak as I clean off my scythe, waiting for the child to finish thinking about what I've said.
Finally, Rose says, "I think I understand."
She lifts her head and looks around. I smile because I know what it means.
I know she can't see me anymore.
"Hello, Mr. Death?" she asks. "Where did you go?" | He closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten. His scythe longed to fulfill its purpose, to reap the souls of the living once more. He felt his temper and his shame rising as he gripped his eternal weapon in his boney grasp, letting the anger flow out of him and into the surroundings as he'd learned to do. Ever since that fateful day, when he'd--
"What kinda fairy doesn't have wings? Can't you fly?"
He sighed, tugging his hood down over his skeletal face as he tried to gather his thoughts again. It had been so long since he'd last properly observed the passing of a soul into the Netherworld that he'd almost forgotten the importance of not being seen. The young red-headed boy with frickles sucked in a breath before talking in that stuffed-up, nasally tone that always set the ancient one on edge.
"I bet you can't even fly!"
He could already feel a familiar migraine forming along his eye sockets, and he rubbed his fingerbones along them irritably. "I can too fly. See how my feet never touch the the ground?" He pulled up the edge of his robe to show his boney feet settled nicely on an eerie green cloud.
"Yeah maybe, but you don't have wings so you can't fly so you aren't the Tooth Fairy, are you?"
"No, child, I am not the tooth fairy." The skeletal figure glanced down at the young boy who just stared at him blankly in return. "I don't know why you would tink dat I would be-"
"I have a pet goldfish, and his name is Mr. Swims. Wanna go see him?"
The reaper sighed as the weight of responsibility dragged his mood right back down to the ground again. "Yes, why don't you take me to go see Mr. Swims." Pets used to be his favorite to crossover, since they never complained and were usually just happy to get away from the cruelty of their owners. That is, until that stupid hamster thing happened. Maybe he might be able to get away with sending Mr. Swims to the afterlife. That might brighten his morning.
"Are you sure it's okay? Won't they be looking for you?" The red-head sniffled again in a way that made the reaper recoil disgustedly. "We could go over there and--"
"NO!" The Grim Reaper shook his head, then coughed before continuing in a much softer, gentler voice. "I tink the best thing to do now is for you to show me Mister Swims."
"Oh, okay! Just be careful, cuz he swims a lot." The boy took his hand and led the Reaper to the living room. Near the center stood an ancient fishbowl containing a single goldfish that looked like it had swam its last marathon. He smiled and tried not to fidget as he drew close, sensing the small creature's time had come and he at last would find relief from his torture.
"I'll be right back, I promise!"
The boy bounced off towards the kitchen once more, while the portender of death smiled grisly at the goldfish. At last, at long last, he'd finally be able to fulfill his true purpose once more. He slowly raised the scythe, a tool of phenomenal cosmic power that had been turned to lesser pursuits for so long he'd feared it had gone dull. Just one swipe down, and it would all be over.
The door behind him suddenly burst open as a familiar, angry young girl's shadowy outline contrasted against the noon sun behind her.
"GRIM! I know you've been hiding here at Pud'n's house! I need you to get my homework done!"
Grim felt his relief sprout wings and fly away. With a dropping head, he dragged his scythe along the ground as he obediently made his way to the front door. A wistful glance back at the goldfish who'd likely never see the end of days before the door slammed shut behind him, and he felt the migraine coming on full force.
"Stupid goldfish..."
"What was that?" She perked an eyebrow at him.
"Nothing Mandy, nothing at all." | 2020-01-24T13:34:45 | 2020-01-24T12:47:37 | 306 | 29 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | The world whirs around you, colors turning and blurring, your form changing. Not painfully, thank whatever power was out there, but in ways you notice. You lose that excess flab you have from playing too many videogames, feel muscles begin to form along your whole body, even have your hair clean itself.
You all but bounce in place, eager to live through your favorite videogame, ready to kick the asses of your favorite Street Fighter characters. You aren’t worried about the surviving clause, with the infinite retries the game offers. You just want to have some fun.
By now, you’re the picture of human perfection, the very best the world has to offer. You honestly feel like you could go head to head with most of the WWE in arm wrestling and outright win.
In short, you’re pumped. This was too good to be true, but repeated pinching reveals it is, in fact, not a dream that will cuntishly vanish just as soon as you start having fun.
The swirling light around you becomes blinding, and you close your eyes, the butterflies in your stomach going berserk.
You open them, and realize this isn’t Street Fighter. In fact, this looks familiar. So does the yellow armor you're wearing. And the oversized assault rifle you're holding, with another clip taped to the side. You look around and see five others, all dressed the same as you, all holding the same weapons. They stare away from you, bobbing up and down in place.
Horror begins to set in as you realize what game you're in.
Xcom.
No, no, no, fucking no!
You're in one of most brutal, challenging games of all time, where life is fleeting and expandable. You literally can’t get lower on the gaming totem pole. A Rookie in an XCOM game. You desperately think back, sure this is some sort of mistake. You spent all of last night whipping you're friends respective arses at Street Fighter, you didn’t play XCOM, at all.
Or did you? Trying to think back through the haze, you recall, with a sick feeling in your stomach, that you accidently hit the XCOM icon on your PC when closing it down, opening and closing the window.
And now, looking around you at the burning warehouse, hearing the shrieks of terror in the distance, you find yourself dumped in the worst situation possible. Hands on, dumped into a Terror mission in an Xcom game, with no ranking soldiers to hold this unit of freaking fragile, easily panicked Rookies together.
You see the grid markers around you that indicate where you can move, your sucky Aim and Will stats, utter lack of skills, and your garbage equipment.
You were fucked. Rookies died fast and easy to literally everything, and you were one of them.
You wanted to throw up, right about now, but forced yourself to do something. There had to be a way out. Focusing on the upper corner of your vision, you noticed something. Focusing again revealed a drop down list of options. Hands shaking, you found what you were looking for, almost breaking down when you saw it.
Ticking it on, you willed yourself forward, running a set amount of grid spaces forward, and into cover.
Into a sectoid patrol as well. They scatter as you appear, dashing behind cover themselves. You already know what to do. More icons spear in your vision, red this time, indicating a threat. Focusing on one, you bring up the assault rifle and inwardly scream at the 27 percent chance to hit.
The shot misses, to no one's surprise.
So now, you're sitting inside the range of two different sectoids, both with the drop on you.
You're dead.
Or you would be if you hadn’t found the Save and Reload options, right along with Save Scumming. The bread and butter of any non-hardcore Xcom player.
With trembling hands clutching the rifle, you select the autosave from the start of he turn, and vanish, reappearing where you started.
You small a very nasty smile.
Because you were about to play the spammiest, cheatiest, most reloaded game of XCOM ever bleeping played. And you were gonna come home with all the goodies. Psychic powers, Uber advanced technology and weapons, maybe even your own heavily equipped, morally dubious army.
But first, you had to get this squad of bleeping Rookies through a mission without getting killed. And that was going to put all your spaminess to the test.
[r/NimbusSerials](https://www.reddit.com/r/NimbusSerials/?utm_source=amp&utm_medium=&utm_content=post_subreddit) if you want more content. | *Beagle's journal - Day 1*
I couldn't believe it at first—I refused to—but as the day wore on, as the sun warmed by body and the pain of hunger quickly became real, I had to accept my new reality.
This world. This beautiful, vast, dangerous world. I've visited it enough to know it well from a bird's eye view, but never long enough to say I'd conquered it—never had my colony actually survived.
The road is long, it will take years by in-game time to achieve the final goal, and one thought has followed me like death since I arrived here: who's deciding the events and what difficulty are they set to?
____
*Beagle's journal - Day 5*
As with the standard starting scenario, I've spawned with two fellow colony members. Bear is a massive fellow who seems comfortable with a rifle in hand, and he successfully defended our camp from two manic rats that seemed hell bent on devouring us all; though, it's become apparent that he has an unhealthy obsession with setting things on fire. I'll need to keep my eye on him.
My second companion goes by Greenly, and her skills with plants, preparing food, and training animals will be essential to our survival. I find her quite attractive, and I'm not sure how that makes me feel. Are these people real? Or are they simply pawns in this game I've been sucked into?
I've managed to build us a shelter using the wood Greenly provided by felling trees, and Bear assisted by digging into the mountain side. With a natural wall of granite at our backs, I feel that we will be safe from any threat.
Though it's still summer, the air is cooling fast, and in a few short months I believe these woods will be thick with snow. Our primary goal is to harvest enough rice to last the winter, and we'll need electricity to properly store it and, more crucially, to stay warm. Funny enough, when Bear isn't chewing up granite or shooting rabid animals, he's hunched over the crude research table figuring out how to propel us forward technologically—I just hope he doesn't set his notes on fire.
Everyone is getting testy with one another, but I'm nearly finished building a dining table and three chairs. I think having a proper place to eat will drastically improve our moods.
We had a cat, Morpheus. He was eaten by a wolf.
____
*Beagle's journal - Day 27*
An attack on our fort has left Bear a bit bloodied, but he'll survive. It turns out Greenly is well versed in medicine, which makes her all the more attractive to me. She mentioned the possibility of amputating Bear's injured leg and replacing it with a more efficient prosthetic, but noted that she lacks the skill and tools. The thought made me uneasy, I hope she doesn't bring it up again.
The attacker was a wild, nude women, and she managed to bite a decent bit out of Bear's calf. She used the boulders and trees as cover until she was within biting range, so I've begun clearing the area in front of our defensive point of debris. Bear gave her a couple of hits to the head with the butt of his rifle, knocking her unconscious, and I built a makeshift prison near our stockpile. I don't think she's worth the extra resources, but Greenly insists that if we nurse her back to health, she might have something to offer us as a colony. I trust her judgement.
Winter is nearly here, and we've managed a decent stockpile of rice. I've built electrical lines through the main lodge, but I'll have to wait until Bear is back up on his feet to continue; none of us can dig the steel from the mountain like he can. Once he's back at it, I'll have a few heaters going to keep warm.
_____
*Beagle's journal - Day 34*
Snow. It's falling silent and beautiful tonight, and with it comes the constant threat of death. The temperature has fallen dramatically, but we've prepared well.
With my heaters placed strategically throughout the fort, we're more than comfortable so long as we're not working out in the machine shop—I still don't have the steel to run lines out that far.
Our prisoner, Meica, has turned ally, and she's proven immediately useful. She has a knack for crafting clothing, using most of the hide we gathered early on from wild animals to fit us all with cozy parkas and beanies. I was right to trust Greenly, our strength grows with our numbers.
She and I have taken to playing chess for an hour before bed each night, and it's come to be my favorite part of the day. I built us two wolf-hide chairs to rest in as we play, and she joked that bits of Morpheus must be mixed into the cushions. She's got a dark sense of humor—I like that.
No chess tonight, though. We watched Bear and Meica build a snowman outside, nestled close together by a fire, comfy in our winter attire.
The granite wall I've been constructing around the compound is finished—double the thickness of our lodge's walls—and I feel safe inside with my friends.
It's nights like these that get me thinking... Maybe I don't need to win? Maybe I could stay here forever...
___
/r/BeagleTales | 2020-02-16T20:45:13 | 2020-02-16T17:51:33 | 153 | 59 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | *Beagle's journal - Day 1*
I couldn't believe it at first—I refused to—but as the day wore on, as the sun warmed by body and the pain of hunger quickly became real, I had to accept my new reality.
This world. This beautiful, vast, dangerous world. I've visited it enough to know it well from a bird's eye view, but never long enough to say I'd conquered it—never had my colony actually survived.
The road is long, it will take years by in-game time to achieve the final goal, and one thought has followed me like death since I arrived here: who's deciding the events and what difficulty are they set to?
____
*Beagle's journal - Day 5*
As with the standard starting scenario, I've spawned with two fellow colony members. Bear is a massive fellow who seems comfortable with a rifle in hand, and he successfully defended our camp from two manic rats that seemed hell bent on devouring us all; though, it's become apparent that he has an unhealthy obsession with setting things on fire. I'll need to keep my eye on him.
My second companion goes by Greenly, and her skills with plants, preparing food, and training animals will be essential to our survival. I find her quite attractive, and I'm not sure how that makes me feel. Are these people real? Or are they simply pawns in this game I've been sucked into?
I've managed to build us a shelter using the wood Greenly provided by felling trees, and Bear assisted by digging into the mountain side. With a natural wall of granite at our backs, I feel that we will be safe from any threat.
Though it's still summer, the air is cooling fast, and in a few short months I believe these woods will be thick with snow. Our primary goal is to harvest enough rice to last the winter, and we'll need electricity to properly store it and, more crucially, to stay warm. Funny enough, when Bear isn't chewing up granite or shooting rabid animals, he's hunched over the crude research table figuring out how to propel us forward technologically—I just hope he doesn't set his notes on fire.
Everyone is getting testy with one another, but I'm nearly finished building a dining table and three chairs. I think having a proper place to eat will drastically improve our moods.
We had a cat, Morpheus. He was eaten by a wolf.
____
*Beagle's journal - Day 27*
An attack on our fort has left Bear a bit bloodied, but he'll survive. It turns out Greenly is well versed in medicine, which makes her all the more attractive to me. She mentioned the possibility of amputating Bear's injured leg and replacing it with a more efficient prosthetic, but noted that she lacks the skill and tools. The thought made me uneasy, I hope she doesn't bring it up again.
The attacker was a wild, nude women, and she managed to bite a decent bit out of Bear's calf. She used the boulders and trees as cover until she was within biting range, so I've begun clearing the area in front of our defensive point of debris. Bear gave her a couple of hits to the head with the butt of his rifle, knocking her unconscious, and I built a makeshift prison near our stockpile. I don't think she's worth the extra resources, but Greenly insists that if we nurse her back to health, she might have something to offer us as a colony. I trust her judgement.
Winter is nearly here, and we've managed a decent stockpile of rice. I've built electrical lines through the main lodge, but I'll have to wait until Bear is back up on his feet to continue; none of us can dig the steel from the mountain like he can. Once he's back at it, I'll have a few heaters going to keep warm.
_____
*Beagle's journal - Day 34*
Snow. It's falling silent and beautiful tonight, and with it comes the constant threat of death. The temperature has fallen dramatically, but we've prepared well.
With my heaters placed strategically throughout the fort, we're more than comfortable so long as we're not working out in the machine shop—I still don't have the steel to run lines out that far.
Our prisoner, Meica, has turned ally, and she's proven immediately useful. She has a knack for crafting clothing, using most of the hide we gathered early on from wild animals to fit us all with cozy parkas and beanies. I was right to trust Greenly, our strength grows with our numbers.
She and I have taken to playing chess for an hour before bed each night, and it's come to be my favorite part of the day. I built us two wolf-hide chairs to rest in as we play, and she joked that bits of Morpheus must be mixed into the cushions. She's got a dark sense of humor—I like that.
No chess tonight, though. We watched Bear and Meica build a snowman outside, nestled close together by a fire, comfy in our winter attire.
The granite wall I've been constructing around the compound is finished—double the thickness of our lodge's walls—and I feel safe inside with my friends.
It's nights like these that get me thinking... Maybe I don't need to win? Maybe I could stay here forever...
___
/r/BeagleTales | The voice faded into my mind as another came.
"Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?"
My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view.
"You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?"
I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro.
Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever."
Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out.
Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here...
"Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked.
"Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?"
"OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called.
"Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled.
I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me.
After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu.
She turned and tossed one into my lap.
And a purple one for me.
I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said.
The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up.
I would have to fight demons.
To be honest, I wasn't *too* worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But...
They were games. If I died here...
I'd have to live.
"Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered.
"Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked.
"Nothing."
"Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around."
"Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered.
It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out.
"Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!"
Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble.
"Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon...
I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando.
I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya.
We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?"
His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed.
Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain.
He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate."
He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered.
I glowered.
Naoya *knew* i didn't belong here.
"I'll try to impress." I remarked.
"What was that about?" Yuzu asked.
"Nothing. Lets go."
Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro.
He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them.
I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected.
And before me going after me, was an ogre.
"Nice...Lets go!"
Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray.
The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time.
"YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared.
Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment.
"Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed.
"Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed.
"So we were lucky to see my cousin."
Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead.
To the cemetary. To Amane.
"Should we go?" Yuzu asked.
"He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted.
"Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go." | 2020-02-16T17:51:33 | 2020-02-16T16:08:36 | 59 | 12 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | When I got the text, I didn't have to think about it very long - I had just been lying in bed, playing Ashphalt on my PHONE. 'Yeah, sure,' I reply, thinking nothing of it. Jeff always sends me this shit.
As I put my phone back down and close my eyes I feel a wave of nausea hit, then pass, leaving behind a lingering whiff of burnt rubber and exhaust. I hear a voice, over my.... headset?
"To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck"
My eyes snap open. I'm in a garage, a frankly unfathomable number of performance cars arrayed before me, like the private caryard of a middle eastern prince. Gaudy paint jobs contrasted with sleek carbon fibre and there was high tempo pop-rock coming from.... somewhere? On the wall there were pictures of cars with post-its attached - 1/45, 23/25, 11/100 - records of my progress to yet more sets of wheels.
My crew chief saunters up. "Next race is in 5, boss. European circuit. Choose between the Audi, the Porche or the VW." I look at him, hard. "The Porche, man, always the Porche" "Sure, boss? She's almost out of fuel and you might want her for the next run - competition will be hot and it's a 90 minute job to fill her up again" "Alright, then, warm up the Audi, but make sure you upgrade her nitro, she fell behind last time"
I start to wonder - what's my "winning condition"? One race? A season? A full circuit? I might be here a long time... But at least I'll come away with a lot of cash!
The Chief comes back. "Alright boss, Audi's on the starting line, get out there." I head out and strap in. I start the engine and give her a few test revs. The lights strobe.
3
2
1
GO!!!
Aaaaaaaand I stall it. Shit. I can't drive a fucking manual. | I was sitting at my computer when my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I wasn't doing much, just watching YouTube and passing the time, so I picked up the phone and read what it said. "Reply yes if you can survive the last video game you played." Amused by the notion, despite not knowing who sent it, I replied yes. Everything faded to black and when I could see again, I found myself on an airplane with a gift box in my lap. But it wasn't like now. People were smoking on the plane. Even me. I heard a voice say "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck." With a sense of dread, I looked at the tag on the gift. It read, "Would you kindly not open until" and a set of coordinates. I swallow hard, remembering a familiar phrase. "There's always a man. There's always a city. There's always a lighthouse." Well, Ryan and Atlas, here I come.
The hijacking was easy enough, thanks to the effects of the mind control bred into me by Fontaine. I made sure I was the only survivor and made my way to the lighthouse and the bathysphere. Welcome to Rapture.
I had played the game enough to know where most of the secrets were, getting the weapons and upgrades and plasmids and tonics. Looted every body I could. Thankfully I'd played on easy, so it didn't pose too much trouble. Every WYK command was obeyed. Sander Cohen was rather a interesting distraction as well. Seeing all these characters in person was rather surreal, but also fascinating.
I took the good option, saving the Little Sisters. I much preferred a happy ending. Tenenbaum kept giving me gifts along the way for every three saved Sisters. But oh God, were those Big Daddies a royal pain in the tush.
Finally, I stood in front of Andrew Ryan himself. Listened to that speech I'd all but memorized. And it strangely felt good to embed that golf club in his forehead. At long last, I pushed through the rest of the encounters until I took down the big baddie and the Little Sisters looked at me like their Savior.
I watched them grow into capable, wonderful women. All of them were at my bedside when I finally passed on, only to wake up at my chair with a huge load of guns, ammunition and money in piles, as well as brand new abilities thanks to the plasmids and tonics. This was going to be fun. | 2020-02-17T00:31:53 | 2020-02-16T23:07:24 | 21 | 14 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | "A man chooses, a slave obeys.."
I was in Andrew Ryan's office, with a golfclub in my hands. I knew this part of the game, it was where we found out who Atlas really was and that we as the player are a slave controlled by a single phrase.
"Would you kindly.... KILL"
One strike, two strikes, down he goes.
Three strikes, four strikes, he's not breathing.
Five strikes, six strikes, just for good measure.
I did not want to kill a man, not even Andrew Ryan, in such a gruesome way. I was no stranger to killing in my life among the living, as I had been a military man in the second world war, brought into video games in my later years by my grandchildren.
I knew that Splicers were hollow, nonliving creatures. I hated killing Big Daddies, but I did it anyways, only to save the Little Sisters. The Little Sisters reminded me of my own children, everything in this strange and lonely world reminded me of my family.
At least, I think they were my family. I knew the game's plot twist, I know of the multiple endings, I know every plasmid and how best to spend a limited supply of adam.
And yet, Andrew Ryan's words struck a cord with me. In the game, the player was given the belief that they had a family, when in actuality, they were a slave meant to do Fontaine's dirty work.
Was that all I was? Were the memories of mine implanted in my head, had I really lived through years of war, only to return and struggle financially for years as I raised a family, finally becoming stable and building my own home myself?
These thoughts were agonizingly painful as I went to meet Atlas for the final boss fight. Eventually I made it, going through the same dialogue I had heard dozens of times. This time, as Atlas told me that I was the closest thing to a son he ever had, I had a glimmer of empathy in my heart.
And then I killed the son of a bitch.
The crossbow had always been my favorite, because it was the only weapon in the game that I had never held in reality. Maybe the fact that the crossbow was unfamiliar helped me stay grounded as I progressed through the game, or maybe it helped my thoughts of doubt.
I stabbed Fontaine with the Little Sister's needle and that was done. He was about to kill me, but Little Sisters rushed out of the vents and drained all of the adam from him. I had one.
Finally it came time for one of the little sisters to walk towards me nervously, holding a keycard for the entire city. I reached for it, she flinched and pulled away, but I gently reached out and she gave it to me this time. And then she disappeared as everything went black.
Everthing was black.
White text appeared in front of me:
Little Sisters: All Saved
Killed Ryan: Yes
Killed Atlas: Yes
Favorite Gun: Crossbow
Favorite Plasmid: Electrobolt
Maxed Health: No
Maxed Eve: Yes
Determining Ending..
That didn't make much sense to me. Of course I killed Ryan and Atlas, you had to defeat them to progress the game. Maybe this was just making sure it didn't glitch, but I felt like I knew it hadn't.
"You wanted to go home.." Tenembaum's voice. I was floating around in a black void, catching glimpses of memories as they floated past.
"Yet you did as you were told, obediently putting an end to the Iron fist of Andrew Ryan and Fontaine."
I saw myself beat Ryan to death, and Fontaine got the adam trained from him a second time in my memories.
"You became used to the plasmids running through your veins, like an addict."
I remembered my times after the war, my largesy struggles, and my unspoken shame of turning to drugs for a brief time, but I did it, non the less.
"You preferred the crossbow, hitting your enemies in the head with a straightforward, unfeeling death."
I saw visions of gunning down enemy soldiers in the war, and then killing Splicers in Rapture. Everytime it seemed, I had tried to spare them the pain and simply went for the head.
"You will go back home.."
I gasoed a sign of relief, Tenenbaum was telling me that I would go back home. I was going to see my family again.
"But you will never be the same."
And I never was. I never picked up a video game ever again, I hid my war medals in the farthest reaches of my closet, never to see the light again. I stopped hunting, unwilling to hold a gun ever again.
I ended up keeping my full arsenel of guns, my camera and my wrench. I sold the guns, kept the camera and wrench, and the Crossbow sits with my war medals in the closet.
I never attempted to use my plasmids again to see if I kept them, although one of my rewards was also a briefcase full of all the eve hypos and medkits that I had left when I bet the game.
I also kept the Big Daddy suit for some reason, I keep that in the basement, maybe I'll pass it off as a replica I made myself. More likely though, I'll never speak of it, much like everything else I suffered through. | The voice faded into my mind as another came.
"Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?"
My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view.
"You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?"
I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro.
Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever."
Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out.
Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here...
"Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked.
"Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?"
"OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called.
"Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled.
I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me.
After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu.
She turned and tossed one into my lap.
And a purple one for me.
I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said.
The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up.
I would have to fight demons.
To be honest, I wasn't *too* worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But...
They were games. If I died here...
I'd have to live.
"Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered.
"Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked.
"Nothing."
"Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around."
"Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered.
It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out.
"Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!"
Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble.
"Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon...
I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando.
I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya.
We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?"
His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed.
Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain.
He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate."
He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered.
I glowered.
Naoya *knew* i didn't belong here.
"I'll try to impress." I remarked.
"What was that about?" Yuzu asked.
"Nothing. Lets go."
Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro.
He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them.
I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected.
And before me going after me, was an ogre.
"Nice...Lets go!"
Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray.
The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time.
"YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared.
Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment.
"Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed.
"Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed.
"So we were lucky to see my cousin."
Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead.
To the cemetary. To Amane.
"Should we go?" Yuzu asked.
"He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted.
"Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go." | 2020-02-17T00:29:57 | 2020-02-16T16:08:36 | 20 | 12 |
[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. | Captain Sarah Elmand bit into her Cornish Pasty and mumbled a question through her mouthful, "How many of them are there, BUD?"
The droid, who doubled as all Sarah's crew members including cook and leisure droid, scanned the radar screen. "Sixty-three ships, Sarah. They have donutted around us."
She took another bite. That was the kind of sugary tactical talk you could expect from a chef-turned-military-strategist. "Damn shame. Imagine what we could do with a fleet of those babies. They could each carry ten-times the cargo we can."
"Damn shame," BUD repeated, shaking his head empathetically.
"What do you think of the chances of them surrendering, BUD? If we give them the option?"
BUD's face turned to a rotating green-square loading-screen. "The same chance as me successfully creating a scone you are happy with."
"That low, huh?"
"The Aumitarians have never before surrendered."
"Well they've never met a Cornish girl before, have they?"
"Probably not, Sarah."
The ship shook suddenly, rocking hard. Sarah tried to bite down on her pasty but bit her tongue instead. Blood and anger blossomed in her mouth. "Thothe bassthards!"
"They have fired."
"Oh weally? Yeah, I figured that much BUD."
"No damage taken."
"What about my tongue?"
"We are receiving a transmission, Sarah," said BUD. "They demand the Earthen-Alliance to bow before them and swear infinite fidelity until the end of days. Sarah, they seem to be under the impression we are the entire kitchen, and not just a mouldy crumb sitting in the cupboard."
"The.... entire kitchen?"
"They seem to think we are the whole of Earth's military."
She frowned at BUD. "Okay, well next time just say that. And what do you mean by mouldy, exactly?"
"I am sorry. Today's promotion is taking some adjustment for me."
"Fine. Whatever. Take a picture of this and send it back to them along with the following message." She held up a middle finger. "Dear aliens, please jump back to your home planet right this instance and let me enjoy my lunch in peace, or prepare for imminent annihilation. Love, Captain Sarah."
There was a slight delay, then BUD began to laugh -- an unusual throaty sound that Sarah had never heard before.
"I *will* destroy them BUD. That was no joke."
"Sorry Sarah, I was broadcasting their reply to your message. You know I am under orders not to laugh at you unless you instruct me to."
"Oh yeah. Right."
The ship rocked again. Harder. Sarah gripped her seat hard so as not to fall -- but the remnants of her pasty did. "Those *shits*!"
"They fired again, Sarah. A combination of every ship in their fleet."
"Besides my lunch, did it do any damage?"
"Yes. If it happens again our freezer might start to leak."
"I don't even want to know what that means."
"We might start to lose oxygen supplies."
"I told you I didn't want to know!"
BUD tilted his head.
"Damn shame to waste those ships," Sarah said. "Still, we'll get some scrap-metal out of it. Okay BUD, about our mining warheads..."
"Yes, Sarah?"
"How many we holding?"
"Forty."
"Okay. Set them to blow as soon they're teleported onto the Aumitarians's ships. One for each ship for as many as we can."
"That will not destroy the entire fleet."
"Good. Let some survive. Let them go back home and tell of the horror they saw in this quadrant." She looked mournfully at the remains of her Cornish Pasty. "Because God forbid they cause a loss like this ever again."
BUD nodded.
Then Sarah smirked. "And tell them...the main course come compliments of the chef."
The droid remained silent.
The smirk fell into a scowl. "You can laugh at that one, BUD."
"Do I have to, Sarah?"
She waved him away. "Just send the warheads. Then I'm going to need you back in the kitchen, ASAP."
---
Thanks for reading /r/nickofstatic for more | "You know what you don't understand about people?" Fleet Commander Astrea stomped up to Archgeneral Hughes of the First Human Empire. "About civilization as a whole?"
"Fleet Commander Astrea." Hughes projected his booming voice over Astrea's. Though he was a baseline human, he'd evidently picked up some training in public speaking somewhere. "We are currently at war with the Nereids. We approach their starships even now. There had better be a very, *very* good reason for you to have abandoned your post."
"Yes! Yes, there is!" Astrea pulled at her hair. "If you attack the Nereids now, the entire First Human Empire will be destroyed!"
"The Nereids broadcast their every move to the entire galaxy, the arrogant fools. We know their military capacity is far below ours." Hughes' eyes narrowed. "Are you saying that they've deceived us? Our technicians and cultural analysts both agree that these broadcasts are real—"
"Gah!" Astrea threw both of her hands up in the air. "No! No, no, no! How did someone as stupid as you become Archgeneral—look, Hughes. You said it yourself. The Nereids broadcast everything they do to everyone, *everywhere*. It's baked into their culture. And their technological infrastructure is so refined that anyone watching, from anywhere in the galaxy, can experience what they experience *exactly* as if they were there themselves."
"Yes. It is a massive tactical weakness."
"Only on the small scale! Three *trillion* sentient beings around the galaxy turn to the Nereids' war games for entertainment. Right now, in anticipation of the battle to come, fifty billion humans throughout the First Human Empire are watching the Nereids. Watching them laugh and play and chat to their viewers and be oh so close to human. Especially at a time like this, with shipping lanes shut down for the war and people scared of Earth's first interstellar conflict, people need contact and comfort. The Nereids are providing that. And what do you want to do, in response to their declaration of war? You want to kill them all!"
Archgeneral Hughes gave her a dry look. "Yes. This is a war. In a war, you are supposed to kill the enemy. It's a necessity, but it's for the good of the state."
"Literally every word you just said is incorrect. For the good of the state? Do you understand what will happen at home if every citizen of the First Human Empire—children, politicians, media influences, everyone we're trying to protect—do you know what will happen if they tune in to the Nereids' broadcast and see you *slaughtering* them? And remember. They'll sense it as surely as if they were there themselves. Nereid 'warships' have families on them, Archgeneral. Children whose mass murder at the hands of the First Human Empire you're going to livestream to *everyone*. Hughes, you're thinking of our civilizations as if we're... elephants, beating at each other with our trunks. But we're not. We're delicate, delicate spiderwebs of *connections*. And the Nereids have connected themselves to us. Set them ablaze, and we'll burn too."
Archgeneral Hughes paused. He opened his mouth to speak, and an aide whispered into his ear. He grimaced, then set his finger down. "...I only wish you had come to me with more *respect*, Fleet Commander Astrea. I would have you promoted for potentially saving the First Human Empire, if it didn't set a disastrous precedent."
First Commander Astrea scoffed, shaking her head. "No, that's exactly *why* I started shouting at you in front of your entire command structure. You're not promoting me away from where I'm most effective: boots on the ground and thumb on the pulse. Society is connection, and if you leverage that right, you can run rings around your opponents."
"Well. The fact remains that the Nereids *have* declared war. We have to make some sort of response, yes? It would be a terrible blow to our credibility if we simply... turned around and left them alone."
First Commander Astrea nodded. "I knew you had to be smarter than you looked, if you made Archgeneral."
"Hm." Archgeneral Hughes made a note to look into First Commander Astrea's past. He was sure he would have noticed someone as disruptive—and yet ingenious—as she before. "What course of action do you recommend?"
Astrea grinned. "The Nereids. Their audience. *Me.* We all want one thing. A show." She held up a broadcaster, its screen showing that it had been recording the entire time. "Let's give it to them!"
If you liked this story and have a quarantine-induced need of entertainment, you may want to head over to r/rileywrites! | 2020-03-21T08:07:13 | 2020-03-21T07:39:56 | 1,240 | 96 |
[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. | “Order! Order! There will be order in this chamber!”
The Grand Vizier’s voice was projected across the large rotunda. Delegates from across the galaxy bickered and clamored over the fact that the representatives from Andorus Major invoked the Defense Alliance, something that had not been done in thousands of years.
In the galaxy, war was not fought traditionally but rather via flexing military superiority. There was no longer a need for a major defensive alliance as the Galactic Union had consolidated much of the galaxy under its hegemony.
The Vizier held his hand up, silencing the chamber. After a moment, he spoke, “Will the representative from Andorus Major please explain the reason for invoking the Defense Alliance?”
The chamber fixated on the Andoran, a tall bipedal species with deep blue skin and jet black hair. Andorans were one of the most powerful species in the Union and there words carried weight.
“Grand Vizier. I stand before you and this chamber to urge us to act. There is a threat encroaching upon this galaxy that we must address with haste. Otherwise I fear the dissolution of this great Union.”
Furious whispers erupted across the chamber, some delegates claiming the Andoran was lying. The Vizier waited for the uproar to quiet down before asking, “Representative, have you any proof of this threat?”
Producing a small, spherical Holosphere, he said, “If I may?”
The Holosphere was broadcasted to the entire rotunda. It showed eight deep space frigates, large and angular covered in turrets and artillery. Very menacing, very Andoran. They were the fiercest frigates in space, rivaled by the Tulsans and Srii-uum.
The broadcast shifted to what was facing the ships. It was about six cruisers, no definitive features floating towards the Andoran fleet.
“Andoran ships encountered this fleet and received a single message from them. ‘Surrender,’” the Andoran explained.
The Andoran fleet moved to battle positions, creating a single half-spherical line of ships with their artillery pointed at the mystery crafts. They aligned themselves in typical galactic custom. Few races in the galaxy would take the Andorans bluff.
But, incredibly, the six ships each fired a single missile into the Andoran fleet between each frigate. For a moment, nothing happened. Then each missile exploded with a brilliant light that vaporized the Andoran ships.
The entire rotunda was in awe. Eight Andoran naval frigates burned in front of their eyes. The mystery fleet then opened fire on the remaining wreckage. And then the broadcast ended.
Once again, the entire Union erupted in shouts and exclamations. Some of them called it a hoax, others demanded the Defense Alliance be invoked, shouts of ‘put it to a vote’ filled the chamber.
“Representatives, please!” the Grand Vizier shouted, “We will have order!”
Focusing on the Andoran delegation, he asked, “Representative where was this?”
Looking at his Holopad, the representative scanned it and then said, “Sector 271-X.”
“The Galactic Edge? Have you identified the assailants? An unincorporated system?”
“N-No, they are not from this galaxy at all. Their ships must have been a scouting expedition. They call themselves, human.” | This was the galaxy's last stand. A danger to the way of life they had practiced for years. They were being destroyed a virus, a virus called humanity.
When it became clear that earth was dying, the humans looked to the stars. They reached the stars, and with them reached their destructive nature. Galaxy was peaceful, but humans... peace just wasn't in their nature.
Sirius62 was the first to fall. With its environment similar to earth, it formed the base where humans set up. And of course, the native population had to be wiped out. The inhabitants of Sirius62 were well known across the universe as fierce warriors. When they were wiped out without too much trouble, the federation had to sit up and take notice.
The federation sent their envoy to earth. A warning. What they had just done was against the galaxy laws. They were newcomers and Sirius62ers weren't too well liked anyways, so they would let this one slide. But any more issues and they would be sanctioned.
The envoy never made it back to his planet.
So, war was declared.
The Federation sent their message. The battle would be fought on Sroh534. The armies would meet at 9 AM local time. The battle would end at 5:00 PM and resume the next day following the same timelines. The lines were drawn. The federation army to the east, the earth's army on the west. With miles of warspace.
The whole galaxy was watching. Broadcasters paid top dollar to cover the fight. The federation army arrived on the planet the night before. They set up their bases and prepared their weapons. 7 feet blades with amazing range. Spectacular cannons that could blind their enemies. Guns that shot nets to capture their enemies. The best weaponry in the world.
However, there was no sign of the humans, except a small group of about 10 people.
At 8 AM, the leaders met in the middle of the warspace.
"Earthling, you guys don't stand a chance. Our army ranges in thousands. There are only a dozen of you. Go back. Give up."
"Listen here bucko. Imma give you a count of five to get out of here. All we need are 4 more planets and then we are done."
"4 more planets!?"
"Ayuh."
"There will be no more bloodshed outside the war zone. Prepare for battle."
With that, the federation envoy turned around and started to walk back.
"Hey!" The earthling called.
The envoy turned around. The man from earth had a button in his hand.
"What's this?"
"One... two... three... four... five. I warned you." He pressed the button.
Behind the respected envoy, explosions roared.
He turned around and saw his army being decimated by explosions. Bodies were flying everywhere. The soil had a hundred different hues from the blood. A smell of burning flesh filled the air.
"What... They were not in the warzone. That was a safespace."
"Fucked if I care." The earthling threw something at the envoy who caught it.
"You monster. There are rules..."
"One... two... three..."
"You have to follow the rules. Without the rules, there would be anar..."
"Four... five... Fuck your rules."
The grenade exploded, ripping the envoy into pieces.
There wasn't too much resistance after that. The humans took eight planets just to be sure. The federation was disbanded and a smaller one formed. Peace returned to the galaxy. Except on the 9 planets that belonged to the human. For their nature isn't peaceful. Their nature is to fight. If there is no enemy, they fight each other. The new federation hoped they would all kill each other one day and the galaxy could go back to their old, peaceful ways. Days when rules mattered. Days when they could trust thy neighbour. | 2020-03-21T08:46:43 | 2020-03-21T08:28:40 | 156 | 88 |
[WP] In your village, every child is tested to see where their magical abilities lie. Your parents discover that yours is with insects. Your village thinks that your abilities are the weakest of them all, but now that you're in your full power you are the strongest. | She stood upon the stony outcropping, gazing down at the agrarian kingdom in the valley. Growing up the sixth daughter of farmers, everyone in her small village had thought her insignificant. When she grew old enough to attend the schools in the capital city, her teachers thought her an annoyance. When she left her small hamlet to find a place in the valley where her skills could be put to good use, they all thought her disgusting.
"_We have savants who can bring rains to our crops!_" they said. "_We have savants who bolster the growth of fresh fruit!_" they said.
"_We don't need a scrawny girl who crawls in the dirt with dung beetles!_" they said.
Then so be it.
She raised her hands to either side, lifting her chin into the breeze that swept through the valley. Spring was in bloom, the air turbid with the sickly sweet pungency rising from every crop and flower. She called out to the honeybees, drawing them away from their work. She called out to the mantids and the spiders that ate pests, bidding they come to her. She called out to the locusts and the caterpillars and the weevils, promising them a valley ripe for the taking.
Insects rose in clouds, from every direction, the underappreciated workers abandoning the pastoral valley, the devastating swarms devouring it. Generations of fruitful lands, laid to waste by the insignificant, annoying, disgusting creatures that obeyed only her.
_Let us see how long you last._ | With a wave of my hand, my minions swing open the creaky door for me, for what will be the last time I ever step foot from that cabin again. I emerge from the secluded cabin in the woods, patchy facial hair and matted hair to my shoulders from the years of neglect. Memories of years past begin to flood every square inch of my brain as my foot crunches on the forest floor.
Bug boy. Fly guy. Maggot man. These names are all I can think of as my eyes begin to well up with tears. Years after my powers were discovered at the age of 12 these stupid nicknames and the mocking voices that accompany them ring in my ears as if they were just yelled by my fellow villagers. These people I grew up with were so loving and caring before they found out about my powers. Why couldn’t I just read minds like Joseph or control the wind like Michelle? But no, no one likes bugs, what a nuisance. What a gross thing to have control over.
My parents tried. They tried so hard to comfort me after the backlash from everyone. They were so supportive but the name calling and teasing after the accident was just too much for me to bear.
The look in Ruby’s eyes as the spider bit her was one of horror and betrayal. It’s been seared into my memory since then. To this day I know it was an accident as we were just trying to get a grasp at our powers but the villagers turned on me so quick. I loved her, how could I have ever done such a thin on purpose! So I ran off, snagging a ride from any merchant heading to the next town to sell their wares.
But now I’m back. The years of bottled up rage and pain have driven me to this. My minions gently set me on the ground as I survey the calm and happy, sun-soaked village I once called home. They have no idea what’s coming. They will pay for what they put me through. I raise my arms to the sky and just like that, the sun is blocked by my minions as they swarm. | 2020-05-23T06:09:27 | 2020-05-23T05:45:58 | 512 | 191 |
[WP] In your village, every child is tested to see where their magical abilities lie. Your parents discover that yours is with insects. Your village thinks that your abilities are the weakest of them all, but now that you're in your full power you are the strongest. | My mom can fly. My dad can literally cut things in half with his bare hands. My brother? He has super strength. My sister? She can transform into *almost* anything. And me..? Well... I have a certain gift, with insects.
Can you imagine my time growing up? Kids use to call me *Bug-Boy*, said things like *oh no, don't put a fly in my soup*, and generally were not so pleasant company.
Even I didn't really get the full extent of my powers. I mean, I can control some bugs. I felt like I really got the short end of the stick here. One of my greatest moments was when I had some bees chase a bully through the parking lot. I think at first the initial shock got to him, because after a while he remembered he could turn into stone, and well... that was the end of the chase and the start of a bad afternoon.
But now, well, now. My god. I can control insects! Do you know how many insects there are in the world? 10 quintillion, That is the number "10" followed by 18 zeros.
Think about that.
*10,000,000,000,000,000,000*
Do you know how large the army of Ghengis Khan was when he and the Mongol empire laid havoc across Europa? 129,000. What about the Union forces during the civil war? 600,000. Or how about the size of the US army in WW2? 16,000,000.
In fact, alone, there are about 20,000,000 insect SPECIES. Think of the possibilities.
Some can fly, some can dig, some can sting, some can bite.
Some live underwater, some live underground.
There are insects **everywhere**. And with that, so am I.
You see, not only can I control them, but I also can *experience* what they do. Now, a lot of their visual systems are rather rudimentary, it's true. But some aren't so bad. You have to think they at least can fly around and not run into things, other than those stupid beatles, they always give me a shake when they fly straight into the wall. But besides vision, I've tapped into a set of senses that I've never experienced before: sensations of vibration, the faint scents of chemical mixtures, polarized light.
My sensations have expanded and with it my perception, and myself.
So it really isn't that I only have this one superpower. I can summon great swarms of locust to carry me across the sky. I can call upon troves of ants to move the earth for me. I can gather water-striders and glide across the top of lakes.
I've been able to stimulate and control agriculture. Sift through and purify contaminates coming from refineries. And should it ever come down to it, I have the nuclear option in my back pocket, mosquitos. Think about it. With a slight mutation, they are equipped death machines flying in the millions all over the world. I alone have the power to bend countries to the ground with a single thought.
The world is only starting to see the power of insects, and therefore, the power of me.
I bid my time before, like a caterpillar in chrysalis, but now I've broken free of my bonds. I am alive. I am alive. And I am everywhere. | “Have you ever felt a nest of spiders burst in your throat, slowly making their way down your throat until they pick and pull at your organs. I hear it’s meant to be painful, at least that’s what I hear. In fairness, I never get a proper answer when I ask. Usually, all they say is. Ah, please make it stop. That sounds painful, don’t you agree?” I leaned back on my stone throne, spinning my finger in the air as an enormous spider hung from it, swaying with the movements. “Now you had something you wish to discuss with me? Something about an invasion of my village? Please tell me these plans of yours. I’m sure your army will get into my village without getting overrun by insects. It’s not like my little creepy crawlies are everywhere.”
The warmonger stared at the leader, taking a few steps away from his throne. “They said you were the weak one, the man who played with worms.” He had lost his nerve and for good reason, a spider bite tends to cause paranoia. Did he think I would let him this close to me without a backup plan? Luckily for him, this wouldn’t be lethal, he may not even realize it happened. That was the point of an attack like this.
“Oh, that was me. Was being the word you should focus on. You are stupid if you think insects are weak. To have a weapon that you don’t even have to carry on you, that’s truly an amazing ability. Sure I was mocked at first, I can’t blame them for that. When I was a child it was a weak ability, I could maybe summon a few worms up from the dirt, but that was the limit of my ability. Now however I can control up to ten thousand, give or take. Those little buggers are awfully hard to count.”
“I-I'm sorry, this was clearly a misstep on my part. I believe we were planning to target the village next to yours anyway. I just wanted to know if we could have a safe passage.” He didn’t even have enough time to wipe the sweat from his brow as he backtraced his words. Seemed even a dumb warmonger knew when to back away from a battle. Humans were animals, they knew better than to fight against creatures that would put up a fight. Bugs, however, didn’t know that fear, they would team up and conquer beasts much bigger then them if need be. Bugs were truly the ultimate warriors.
“A misstep? I’m not buying it. I got this position as a leader due to my power and wit, it’s insulting that an idiot like you thinks they can outsmart me. Now here’s what's going to happen. You will be giving me twenty-five percent of your wheat as an apology and fifty gold from your account. If these demands aren’t met then I will make sure my bugs infect every inch of your farmland. I hope we have an understanding. I assume you know what will happen if you
betray my request.” I raised my finger, pointing towards his throat as the spider raised its front legs.
“Of course not, I will talk with my people, I’m sure we can come to an agreement, now let me get back to my village. I don’t want to take up more of your time.” He was quick to flee, only stopping once I spoke up.
“One last thing, run some chilly water over your neck. It will get rather sore if you don’t.” I gave him a last smile, watching him tap his neck, only to wince when he felt the hot sensation building. That only assisting in his swift exit, wanting to create as much distance from me as he could.
“Weak?” That made me laugh. Did people really not understand what truly made an ability strong. Sure, some magic was naturally strong, but the ability of the wielder of that magic was more important.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.} | 2020-05-23T07:14:52 | 2020-05-23T06:26:26 | 168 | 38 |
[WP] A reverse "girl-in-a-fantasy-world": a magical prince has to live on earth with a completely normal human family and deal with incredibly mundane problems. | "My clothing has a foul stench, mother. Fix it," I said. This new mother of mine certainly seemed to be unaware of her duties. She was insufferable in her defiance of tradition.
'We've been over this dear," she said. "You're old enough now that you need to do your own laundry."
Dear, she called me, as if I were some sort of common beast. I have attempted to use this so called 'washing machine' and its cruel friend 'dryer'. No doubt they are wicked mechanisms, meant to test my faith.
"Mother," I said in my most commanding voice. "Life is not so easily pushed over. Each of us must perform our duties to the best of our abilities, even if we do not like it. Wash my clothing."
My mother sighed, looking up from the strange square device with the pictures. "Would you like me to show you how to use the washing machine again?"
Damn this woman and her insistent tone. When she got like this, it was best for everyone to comply, lest punishment would rear its ugly head. I nodded stiffly. Tomorrow, I vowed, she would receive my vengeance.
The next morning, as we ate a tasteless breakfast of small, sugar flakes resting in a bowl of milk, I struck. "Mother, where does a child come from?"
She nearly choked on her sugar flakes. My younger siblings were at the table - two sisters (aged 5 and 7) and a brother (age 9). Mother glanced nervously at the suddenly attentive children.
"Children come from their mothers," she said smiling.
I smiled back, hoping it matched the vile tone with which I spoke next. "Yes, but how are they *made*?"
She sustained eye contact, piercing her gaze straight into my soul. It took all my willpower to not give in.
"They are made when a mom and a dad love each other very much," she said. "And if you would like to know more, I'm sure you can ask your father."
Her comment stung. My father was a world away.
"So will Susie and I have a baby?" asked by brother. "We love each other very much."
My mother glared at him but he only had eyes for me; smug eyes, intent on bringing about chaos. I had never been more proud of him.
"Time for school," mother said suddenly. She scooped up bowls and hurried about the kitchen, cleaning and readying lunches for the day.
Victory, then. It felt good to finally get the better of my mother from this terribly ordinary world, in which boys must clean their own clothes and breakfast inquiries were the only source of entertainment.
Tomorrow I shall ask about the funny green plant growing in my mother's room. | “Tom-“
“Lord Ulrich!”
“Tom...”
“Sir Ulrich...”
“Tom...” the patient paternal voice continued.
“Ulrich.” The boy huffed.
“Tom, look at me, Tom...” The father in his maroon sweater vest and brown dress shirt loomed over the boy.
“Fine.” Tom, seated in a very large arm chair, looked up at his adopted father.
“We’ve talked about this. You can’t kiss sleeping girls.”
“I would awaken her and she would be my Queen!”
“Tom, Erica is your sister now. We don’t do that here. She wasn’t enchanted or poisoned - well..”
“See! She was poisoned! My true love’s kiss saved her!”
“Tom. She was drunk. You hate her. Is this some compulsion? Do we need to take you back to therapy?”
“No. No!” Tom gasped. He was wearing very princely attire; tights, a tunic, and a floppy hat - all velvet blue and trimmed with silver.
“I don’t know what to do with you. Just promise you’ll be good.”
“I have sworn an oath to uphold-“
“Here. To me!” His father barked.
“I promise.”
“Good, no more kissing Erica. It’s weird. Get outta here.” He jerked his thumb pointing out of the office.
Tom shuffled out of the den and into the kitchen. He snapped his fingers and sink started to pour, soap squeezed into the sink, the dishes started hoping into the sink and being scrubbed by the sponge gliding along it. Tom pulled out his phone and browsed while “he did” the dishes.
“Tom! You’re such a wonderful boy!” His adopted mom said. She was a little older than a mother of his age would be but still plausibly aged. “You’re a life saver.” She was walking into the kitchen from the garage with some groceries.
“Thanks mom.” He said.
“You’ve done enough, go ahead and go up to your room and play.”
“My fencing lesson?”
“Sure dear.”
Tom bounded upstairs and towards his room.
“Brother! Brother!” He heard Erica calling to him.
“What?” He said peaking his head into the laundry room.
“Brother, I’m stuck!” She said wiggling her butt while “stuck” in the dryer.
“Stuck!” He ran over and started pulling her out of the dryer while he held on tight to stay in.
“Is that a dagger in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” She giggled.
“I do not like to see you stuck-fast like this. It is the Dagger of Metcloth an ancient wizard who’s touch would insight fear of the...”
“I can’t. I can’t do it.” Erica backed out of the dryer. “You’re just ok weird. I don’t care how quaffed your hair is.”
“You’re unstuck? Fantastic!” Tom said confused.
“Erica, come back!” Erica’s boyfriend came bounding out of the closet with a camera in hand. “We need this for California!”
Tom flipped his wrist and the boyfriend tumbled down but still scampered off. | 2020-09-18T00:50:43 | 2020-09-17T22:00:37 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] You were once the demon king. "Defeated" by the hero, you went into hiding to pursue a simpler life. Today the "hero" has appeared, threatening you family to pay tribute, not realizing who you actually are. Today you show them what happens when you have something worth fighting to protect. | **This Thorn in my Eye**
I was raised as a fighter. I was lectured to be a king. But I was never taught to be a father. All my life had been a struggle, nothing was ever free. At the top you are not allowed to make mistakes. And my throne was dark and made of rock. All it really was, was a prison. Today I am a different man, a different kind of monster. I do not kill to show superiority and I do not need anyone to serve me. My daughter does not know of my past, not even my wife knows all of it. There is too much darkness in my heart for theirs to bear. I cannot burden them with my sins. But as life always has it, you cannot run away from your past. It will always reach you again and when it does you aren’t ready for it.
“Come out. Come out. The mighty hero, king of all humans and destroyer of the demon army, his majesty the holy Sir Hendrick is here to claim his due tribute.”
I heard them screaming, all the people of the village ran out onto the streets to greet him. I looked outside and I saw him. He was the man who defeated me. The man to whom I surrendered. Back then I saw it in his eyes when he struck me down. He thought that I had died and yet is was his very soul that showed me what I had become. I had never been a king, all I ever was, was a monster. And now my curse was his alone. It was still there, hidden behind the light in his dark blue eyes. He was no hero.
“Father, come and let us see the king! Please!”, said my daughter and pulled my arm.
I knew that this world was a different place for her. She was still innocent enough to ignore the darkness in the hearts of her idols.
“I am not feeling so well. Maybe we should stay inside today.”
It didn’t help much, as they had already noticed that we weren’t outside.
“Come out! It is your king and he will be heard by all the people of this village. Come out or face his justice.”
They threatened me. Of all the beings in the world they threatened the monster that they could never defeat. I wasn’t afraid. I was the darkness itself, for so many centuries. I am the thing they fear the most. But my family, they knew not what I was capable of. And they shouldn’t ever learn about it. So, I opened the door and stood before the king. He had changed a lot judging from his outward appearance, and yet he was the same boy I fought many years ago. He did not recognize me at all.
“Kneel before your king, peasant!”, he demanded, but I just stared him down.
“Do you think you have a choice? Guards!”
By his orders they tried to bring me to my knees, but they failed.
“I will do it myself then!”
The rage in his eyes showed all of us his true nature. And when he failed to force me to my knees, he looked at my daughter.
“I warn you only once. Do not take a step further.”, I said and looked him deep into his eyes.
“What will you do? Do you think you can stop me? I am the king.”, he retorted and drew his blade.
And as he took another step the crowd cried out in pain. In my hand I held the heart of their king. He slowly sank to the ground and looked at me. I saw it in his eyes that he finally recognized me again.
“You are no king of mine. Leave this place. All of you. I will not lose what is precious to me.”
I looked around and saw my daughter in tears. I dropped the heart and shed a tear myself.
“I am a monster, aren’t I? But how could I not, if it is to save you?”
I smiled at her, while all the guards and the village people ran away screaming. I knew that this day would come and yet I ran away from it like a fool. | I stare the ground. Green swirling magic dissipates from my hands as I use every ounce of strength just to support my battered form on all fours. I hear, now king, Balgar laugh as he steps closer and kneels. Hand on my head, he makes me look him in the eye and smirks. He's older now. Face scarred and a beard, this was not the young man who had slain me years ago. Back when the fresh faced hero killed me, ending what had been 20 years of cruel rulership, he fought with honor and for good. Now, he was here because my daughter had turned 18 under the impression we were mere peasants. I could hear Harmony sobbing as soldiers ripped Alice from our home. Harmony. The woman who taught me kindness, how to be tender and gave me the most beautiful gift of all. If only she was with me in power, I could've seen more clearly. Balgar spits in my face. "If I had only knew the scumbag, Null, was still alive," laughing he pauses and says "actually I'm glad you could grow me such tender fruits." I glare into his eyes, rage filling me. I am too weak. Tears run down my face and I only manage "please." "Please? You took everything from me, and all you gave me was your measly life. Now I will be able to rest," growls Balgar as he releases my hair and stands. My head drops and tears flow freely. I had created this monster. Alice screams and kicking are loud and are the entire world to my perception. I clench handfuls of dirt and rock, screaming as I stand. My very cells protest as I rise on shaking legs. My magic has always given me more chances upon death, that is unless my death is self inflicted. "I love you Alice. I love you Harmony. Your beauty has given light to the darkest eyes." With my dagger, I impale my heart, causing a shock wave of green energy to burst from me, swirling and violent. Blade in chest, I begin to levitate high into the air, a whirlwind of magic supporting me. Some of the soldiers run, but I easily pick them off, sending blasts of energy. One is struck in the right shoulder, spinning him with great force and turning half his torso into a spray of gore. Another torn in half at the waste, and the third, struck in the top of the head from above, is reduced to meat and limbs. Balgar eyes widen as he grips his sword and raises a blue glowing hand. With one hand, I send a flow of energy to grip him. All in an instant, an whirlwind of ghastly green entangles him, lifting him off the ground as bones crack and his body twists. With the other I grip the men who had handled Alice. Now five men rise above the ground to a symphony of breaking bones as about 10 stare in absolution for they know there is no escape. "May your wicked ears hear this final lesson, Balgar. You cruel men who yet stand, may leave with your lives. You are to change the same way I did, discovering love and beauty in this cruel, dangerous world. You will only be given this one chance before you find your own untimely end. I will show what the path of evil creates." I twirl my hands and the five men, Balgar included scream they are twisted together, flesh pushed into flesh with such force it ruptures. When there is nothing left to identify these monsters, I release them. The final men run, crying and screaming. As I return to Earth and fall to my knees, Alice takes me in her arms. Harmony's warm embrace finds me as well. We three cry and hug for an eternity. I tell my girls I love them and give them instructions for their escape. I managed to salvage my most powerful artifacts of my prior self and tell them to equip themselves with these magic weapons. I look to Alice. 18 years old she would have to become a warrior or be killed or tainted by this world. I see the fire in her eyes of burning hatred. I bring her down to me to kiss her forehead. "Oh sweet girl, they will yet win if you walk the path of anger. As your blade sharpens, walk with the heart of your inner child, for once that inner child is loss, you will be too. Nurture her in these trying times and know I love you." My light fades. | 2020-09-23T02:36:10 | 2020-09-23T02:22:48 | 16 | 10 |
[WP]using his last wish to free the genie he was led to a well hidden cave. Upon removing a boulder blocking the entrance the genie said “thank you for using your last wish, here are some more, just promise me you’ll do the same for them”. Left Inside the cave we’re thousands of glistening lamps. | The palm of my hand was sore as I pressed it against the metal of the ramp and started to do a rubbing motion. Left, right, Left was the motion that my hand moved as purple smoke billowed out and a genie began to leak out of the lamp.
​
"I am the great and power-"
​
I held my hand up, "Great! wonderful! First wish; My palm to stop hurting. Second wish, I wish that all genies would stop bragging about how wonderful they are when they come out of the lamp, and third I wish for you to be free from your lamp and able to do whatever you wish!"
​
The Genie seemed to realize that a group of his friends were already behind him as he would make a huh like noise before he just shrugged, granted the wishes and moved towards the group to show off his new legs.
​
After about an hour of this, an idea hit me as I stepped over to Iligan and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "You are not able to create doubles as a wish, however can you double up on a wish?"
​
He looked confused as he opened his mouth, and than stopped as if considering how to word it. "I suppose if the wording was correct, but sometimes you can make things more complicated by the wording alone."
​
I walked over towards the next lamp. This one was a silver metal, with rubies all along it as I rubbed it and the genie would start to puff out of it like the other one did. When the genie went to speak, he'd open his mouth but than paused. "My name is Aladdin, how do you do?" There was another pause, "I do not know why I said that..."
​
"Oh, I did it." I informed him as I was setting up the next lamp. "Alright, so I wish for a million and one quarters in a swimming pool, and I also wish-" I tried to debate on how to say this, but than realized something as I looked at my palm and than the rest of the lamps. "I wish every trapped genie in the world was kept in one lamp! I also wish that you were free."
​
The genie seemed to be considering a few things, "You wish for all to be in one lamp?" He sounded skeptical.
​
"Yes. It follows the rules, it's not additional wishes, nor is it making someone fall in love with me."
​
The genie seemed to be considering before he gave a shrug and than snapped his finger. There was a sound of a thud before pinging of quarters hitting the bottom of ground. Than there was another snap of his fingers, but it seemed like nothing happened, although the bracers on his wrist fell off and his feet began to grow to signal that he was free. "Thank you!"
​
I picked up the lamp I was preparing and when I rubbed it, I realized it was empty as I paused and mentally groaned. "Oh....No...." I realized my mistake, I did not say what lamp for the genies to all be in, which meant now I had to go through all the lamps to figure out which lamp had the genies in it.
There was a chuckle as I heard the genie behind me. "I warned you to watch how you word things." | He gaped in the center of the glittering cave, mind racing with possibilities—his thoughts unexpectedly interrupted by a disbelieving laugh from his soon-to-be bride. He glanced at her disdainfully; she was rapidly becoming the only mar on his otherwise perfect tapestry of adventure. She displayed no gratefulness for her rescue, no eagerness to marry the man who had so gallantly freed her from the shackles whose marks her wrists and ankles still bore. Her attitude was a...disappointment. Perhaps he ought to use his first wish to change that. But before he could reach for a lamp, she spoke.
“So you’re how he defeated my captors?” she asked the genie, dark eyes glittering fiercely. “Not by quick wit and courage, but through your enslavement?”
“As is tradition, Princess,” the genie answered, dipping his head slightly. “He had three wishes to do with what he willed. He was kind enough to free me with the third, and for this I am forever grateful.”
“You are grateful to him for giving you that which was already yours by right: freedom? And only AFTER he used you to service his own desires! What kind of gift is that but mere blackmail wrapped in pretty trappings?” she snapped.
“He had no need to free me,” the genie murmured, but his tone was oh-so-slightly uncertain.
“No need except that found in the spirit of basic decency! He had no right to use your enslavement to better himself! And now he will do it a thousand times over?? How long will these poor souls wait, trapped in their lamps, waiting while he bides his time and uses their gifts for his profit, and their only reward that which they already deserve? What justice is there in that??”
“Without those wishes you’d still be trapped in that dungeon!” her fiancé snarled. “Is that what you want, to go back to being a slave? You’d still be there if it wasn’t for me!”
“If it wasn’t for HIM,” she corrected, turning to bow gracefully to the genie. “You and I, we know the worth of freedom. I will not stand by and allow your brethren to remain enslaved a moment more.”
Suddenly she flew over to the wall of lamps, even as her would-be fiancé cursed and grabbed at her. She slipped from his grasp as water would, scooping up a small brass lamp triumphantly. He bolted toward her as she ran her fingers over the dented, polished metal, but it was too late. Smoke swirled around her, glistening with mica and secrets. Before this new genie could speak a single word, the princess yelled out her first—and last—wish.
“I wish for the freedom of all of your kind—both now and forevermore!” she cried, and it seemed as though all the air was sucked out of the room, a gasp that shuddered to the depths of the earth.
One by one, the lamps shattered, bursting in a beautiful, dangerous explosion of light and metal. The man fell to the ground, shielding his face, but the princess laughed joyously, eyes filled with tears as the glittering pieces fell to the stone floor and the once enslaved genies fled out into the wilds of the desert, free at last to paint their patterns upon the sands and dwell in those hidden oases where no human dare trod but where magic still thrived.
In the silence that followed, the clang of that final lamp as it fell from her hands rang as clear as a crack of thunder on a still night. The man stared at her, furious and terrified. She did not seem to notice him as she gazed at the beautiful carnage within the cave, and it was not to him that she spoke as she murmured:
“No more chains, no more shackles. Not for them, not for me, not for ANYONE.”
She lifted her chin, her tears tracks of diamonds upon her cheeks, eyes blazing with the wild ferocity of justice.
“I have so much work to do.” | 2020-09-24T18:31:05 | 2020-09-24T18:26:30 | 165 | 43 |
[WP] Since you were 14, you've noticed some kind of monster watching you. You try to ignore it and carry on with your day as it doesn't seem to be doing anything. One day while shopping, it comes out of nowhere, grabs you, then runs out of the building. Then, the store explodes. | It's been three years, so I've gotten used to it by now. This thing, whatever it is, has hung around since right after my 14th birthday. It never gets close, sticking generally to rooftops or between trees.
Telling anyone about my visitor proved useless early on. I guessed that nobody else could see it, so I didn't press the issue. I don't need anyone thinking I'm crazy, even if I am. I have enough problems as it is, and this thing's shadowed me for so long that I barely notice it anymore.
I haven't seen it so far today, I realize as I get out of my car. I glance around involuntarily, scanning the edges of the mall's parking lot. I haven't seen it in a while, actually. It disappearing for a few days isn't new, but if I'm remembering correctly, it's been over a week and a half since it last observed me from the edge of a park one evening.
A bit odd, but I doubt it's important. I grabbed my bag from the passenger's seat with a sigh. Clothes shopping was never fun, so I want to make this quick. I head inside.
It goes exactly as expected. I dip in and out of the two stores I had in mind, make a few purchases, and am out within half an hour. I don't leave immediately though, opting to grab lunch. I don't have anything else planned for the day, so why not?
I'm making my way through the shopping center when something changes. People hustle and bustle around me, and yet everything feels . . . muted. Dampened, somehow. I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, just as a quiet, grating voice drifts from behind me.
"*Don't move.*"
I whirl. Standing just a few feet from me, completely unnoticed by the crowd, is my follower. It's never been this close, and my first thought was just how *tall* it was. I never realized before, but the hooded creature towered at least to heads above me.
I didn't have the chance to make any observations, though.
with a quiet hiss, the creature dove forward, seizing me in its scaly black forearms. I'm to dumbfounded to react as it begins to urgently drag me towards the mall's exit, loosening its grip as I allowed it to pull me. A few minutes later we're outside, positively sprinting now.
"*Get* ***down!***" It suddenly roared, shoving me ahead and throwing open massive leathery wings.
I stumble from the push, and fail to regain my balance, as with a *whoosh* and a surge of heat, the entire mall erupted into flames behind us. I'm thrown to the ground along with most of the others in the lot as smoke pours into the sky.
A moment later the creature is there, pulling me to my feet.
"What the hell is going on?!" I explode, pushing my hair out of my face.
"*I don't have time to explain. I didn't think it would happen so soon.*" Its voice was grating and stressed, as if its throat was full of thorns.
"Didn't think what would happen so soon?" I ask incredulously.
It didn't respond, rushing me to the edge of the lot. There it stopped, looked back at the burning building as the distant horns of fire engines sounded.
"*We won't make it further then this.*" It said, partly to itself. It glanced at me.
"*Listen. In a few seconds this parking lot is going to get extremely dangerous. I can keep you safe as long as you stay close, just do your best not to look at them.*"
"Look at what?" I still had no clue what was happening.
"***Them.***"
I followed its gaze towards the mall. As we watched, a large plume of smoke erupted from within, and a horde of wispy grey figures flooded out.
I don't know how or why, but I could tell they were after one thing only; Me.
​
​
Thanks for reading this! This is my first response on this subreddit so please excuse me if anything's odd about it, I tried my best. :D | It’s my 20th birthday. I start my day by noticing the monster that has been watching me from a far since my 14th birthday. I don’t know why but I’m the only one that can see it. It’s not scary it’s just a big black cat with yellow eyes that’s a size of an elephant. All it does day by day, year by year is watch me. Makes me feel like I’m some sort great reality tv show for it. Being that I live alone and have no friends I have to go to the mall and buy my own gifts. I sadly hop in the car and rock to my tunes on the radio on the way down to the mall. I go to bath and body works and buy me some perfume and lotion in scent that make me feel pretty. If the monster ever comes close enough I’m gonna share some with it. Why you may ask because the monster as a foul smell like milkshake made with really expired milk. Plz don’t ask how I know that. Gives me shivers just thinking about the memory. I than walk into the toy store because buying a toy that I like makes me feel like I’m young even though I’m not. I choose a stuffed animal of a black panther with yellow eyes because it reminds me of the monster that follows me. I than get a urge to get a bite to eat. I walk to the food court and decide to to get a monster milkshake from From Wild milkshake. After u drink my shake I go to Gucci to buy that purse I finally have enough money for. I walk into the store and before I know it the monster runs up to me and picks me up throwing me onto it’s back. Than it runs out of the store and the mall before I could buy that so desired purse. I was about to scream in anger but than once outside the whole mall goes up in smoke and ash like a volcano.
“Wow you just saved my life Thank you” I say to the over sized cat expecting it not to answer me.
“Your most well come, Happy birthday. I’m happy I was able to finally pay you back for saving my life when I was a wee kitten. “ the cat replied.
“Wait wh a a t?” I stuttered.
“You probably don’t remember because you were only 5 but you saved me from getting hit by a car when I was a wee kitten and I’m ever so thankful I wanted to pay you back. I waited till you were 14 teen before I started watching you didn’t want you to be scared of such a big kitty like me. It took awhile but I could finally save your life.” The cat replied.
“Wow I remember it like it was yesterday. You were a very handsome kitten. Your eyes sparkled like gold. When I saw you step out into the road I had to pick you I wouldn’t be able to live if I let such a beautiful creature get run over. I have no idea it was a monster kitten. I’m glad I saved your life that day because I would be dead now at a young age of 20 if I had chosen differently that day.” I replied.
“I’m glad we are even now mind if I take some of this perfume? I know you know I stink because you look like your about to vomit so much it mad me feel bad. Believe it or not I am the less stinky monster in the monster realm and I’m tired of all the stench my self.” The cat asked.
“Of course I already saved your life when I was younger so you can as a little thank you,” I reply.
“ Thank you ever so much” it replied picking up the perfume with its tail.
“Will I ever see you again?” I ask.
“Probably not but your really nice if you ever have a big enough house to have a monster cat as a pet. Say Midnight and I will come live you. Till than you can enjoy the memory’s of me my dear. “ the cat purred as it ran way into the monster realm where it belongs.
I wake up thinking it was all a dream till I turn on the news and hear about the explosion at the mall. Guess I will have to wait for the mall to reopen before I get my purse.
I than hear a light knock on my front door. I open it to find no one there accept for a present. To my owner to be.
I bring it inside and open it. It was the purse I was gonna buy. There was also a note saying. Happy 20th birthday. I hope to see you again someday. Love Midnight.
I pick up the purse hug it and look out the window at the sun. Dreaming of a future house big enough to house a elephant sized cat.
The End | 2020-10-31T21:01:06 | 2020-10-31T18:18:16 | 89 | 12 |
[WP] In an apocalyptic world, the last of humanity live in controlled, supposed paradise cities surrounded by towering walls; taught that the world outside died to wasteland centuries ago. You’re a smuggler, helping people escape the wall into the world beyond. | Today is their only chance to escape, and I can see in the tension in their shoulders that they all know it. Every year, months before the Departure, I start preparing for it and approaching them. And every year, the two or three the teenagers in my class that I approach choose to accept my offer.
The walls of our city are too high to climb over, the sewers are sealed, and the guards and spies are everywhere. No one can get out without our Leader’s permission, and that’s simply a fact that everyone knows and accepts.
“We’re all gathered here today to celebrate the annual Departure. Thank you all for assisting in the preparations, and for joining us today to wish our children luck! The ceremony is now over, please return to your homes and keep our children in your prayers tonight.”
And just like that, it’s over. I look at the twenty young men and women standing at the back of the stage, smiling weakly as they watch their families, friends and everyone they’ve known their entire lives walk away from them. At least most of them have the consolation of knowing that they will be back in two years, after they’ve found a partner in one of our five Sister Cities.
The system isn’t even that bad, honestly. It works for most people. You spend your whole childhood surrounded by people you love, going to school, being well fed and well cared for. So what if you’re never allowed outside of the city? Who would want to see the Wastelands, let alone live there? And so what if the Fathers gather regularly to decide everything for you, like what trade you will practice, and what sanctions you will receive for any minor transgression to the Code?
I take care of the others. Those who will never be able to fit into this system, who can’t live with the rules. And that’s why, every year, I’m the teacher who volunteers to get on the bus with all who turned seventeen that year, and accompany them to their first stop, to the first Sister City. In that city, they will learn how their trade is practiced over there, and more importantly meet new people their age, to settle down with or bring back home.
Every year since the rising consanguinity rates forced the Leaders of our Cities to start this practice, I’ve had supplies ready. Backpacks full of food, tools, blankets and weapons, tightly tied to the bottom of the bus. Tonight, I’ll be handing them out to Alex, Jo and Dars. Alex, who’s grown more and more withdrawn, forced to constantly live in a tiny city full of people and noise, when all he yearns for is quiet and space. Jo, who not once looked at any of her male classmates, and once whispered to me that she’d rather die than marry one of the City’s widowers, the fate reserved to any young woman returning from her two years trip without a husband. And Dars, who’d already spent half of his teenage years in our small prison cell, unable to stop rebelling against the rules in our Code.
“Good luck. Run now.”
I have nothing else to say to them, as I hand them their backpacks and start meticulously cutting up their tent, slashing loudly with my knife to convince everyone that they were taken by one of the evil creatures mentioned in the Code. I know everyone will secretly rejoice about this year’s “victims” being once again the misfits. I just hope that somewhere in the dark forests that will surround our bus for the next weeks of our journey, lies a little village where my students can build the life they truly want for themselves. | *When the world ended there was a sound of a baby’s wail.*
*It was quiet - no more than a whisper - but it vibrated against the earth, almost as if it were pleading, crying out to humanity - to the only people left.*
*Proving there was still life.*
*(Because there were thousands of heartbeats that night - the night the world died - buried beneath shaking chests and crying people, hidden under strong grips and promising eyes, scattered among the dead and living, beating to the sounds of a non-existent time.*
*It almost sounded like hope.)*
—
The first winter of this life starts like this:
The colours of summer start fading to grey, falling from branches as if they were touched by death’s hands, buried beneath layers upon layers of crystal snow, until there is nothing else left but a cold, empty, world.
The people of this world gather up their supplies hastily, huddling together for warmth, trying to provide for their family and friends, lost beneath a storm, counting down the days left, learning how to regrow.
(Because there is so much lost in this version of our world.)
And in a world of nothing, what do you have left to lose?
—
In school we are taught one thing over and over again:
Humanity is simple.
The wall is our home - it protects us from the world beyond. Because the world beyond consists of nothing but a wasteland.
There is life and there is death. But there is not both.
Humanity is simple.
And yet, humanity is nothing more than a thousand burning people filled with the desire of want. Because humans are curious by nature, and if there's anything that we still share with the people of the past, it’s that we’re humans.
Humanity is simple.
(But there is a version of this world where humanity isn’t.)
—
There are stories now.
Of course, there were always stories in this world - whispered in the dark of the night to each other under soft covers, wishing upon passing planes that get mistaken as stars - but those stories are long and gone; they’re part of another life entirely.
Our stories are new, but no less important.
*There's a world beyond these towering walls, you know? And not a wasteland. A paradise. One big enough for a new settlement - big enough for the population of a new humanity.*
But they are merely whispers, told in the night to each other under soft covers, wished upon blinking dots in the sky, hoping for a new life.
(Perhaps our versions of the world aren’t too different after all.)
—
In all versions of our world there is rebellion.
Because our world is cruel. The people moreso.
It is ruled by those with power, and those with power are ruled by greed. So the world suffers instead. And so do its people.
But there is still hope - buried beneath those who learn to breathe without masks; told through a thousand whispered words of *smugglers* and *help*, and *we still can*, and *no*; heard each time a baby cries.
And so, people start to leave through a thousand man made tunnels. They walk for hours upon hours underneath the ground, shaking beneath harsh breaths, holding onto one another with the promise of *just a little more, we’re almost there*, hope burning in their chests like houses on fire, escaping their oppressors because sometimes that is the only thing you can do.
(it seems then, that history likes to repeat itself)
—
We are smugglers - each one of us. For hope, for freedom, for the chance to begin anew, for a thousand stories buried beneath unspoken words and cold graves to be told.
But it is also in each one of these versions of our world, that there is the destruction and reconstruction of what humanity is.
Of what humanity means.
(Because there are thousands of heartbeats here, and so there is still hope.)
—
If you enjoyed reading, feel free to check out some of my other writing on /r/itrytowrite
Edit: grammar | 2020-12-16T08:36:46 | 2020-12-16T07:30:07 | 79 | 47 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see. | "That thing is massive. It's the size of a bloody ship, it's an apex predator, we need to get away from it."
"Owen, we're just here to observe, not fight it." She finished her drink and lowered the water bottle, answering nonchalantly. "Look, they're not attacking us, I'm sure we'll be fine."
"And what if it does attack us?" he asked indignantly. "We're defenceless."
"We're not supposed to kill them though? That's illegal."
"Which means they can kill us without consequence."
"With what? They don't have any teeth."
"Just look at that thing and say it couldn't."
"I guess they could," she replied. "but would they? We're not their prey."
"Not yet."
She sighed. "Whatever, get your suit on."
"I can't just go down there knowing that I might die."
"You're far more likely to die from... I don't know, an oxygen tank failure. You accepted this risk, coming along with us." She slipped on her goggles and stood up. "Look, just put on your suit, we're almost at the spot."
"We're going to be out there," he paused for dramatic emphasis. "Out there, away from the rest of humanity, surrounded by predators. With no weapons and nothing but our suit to protect us. Damn the laws, damn the mission, if you think this is safe you're crazy. We don't even know how it would kill us, and I don't want to find out. I don't want to die, I don't want you to die, I don't want to have to leave your body behind because we don't have a way to get it back-"
The captain thumped his fist on the wall. "Owen, I don't care if you stay on the ship, but for the love of god if you don't shut up about whales eating people, I'm going to throw you off the side to find out." | Lee closed the hunting book and snorted. No beast could end him and his hunting party of twenty. Nothing that humans had encountered during their spaceward expansion had ever been able to challenge his mercenaries, and the monsters had varied wildly. So did the heads on his spaceship's wall. He did have a few close calls, but the only three that had ever managed to challenge him were the acid-spitting cows some illegal lab on Mars managed to cook up, and the Ragtors on Mars. Damnable clearskins. He'd lost a few men there, but the meatheads he called colleagues would sign on for the promise of just an acre or two of land on some new planet. Besides, even if they were all just cannon fodder, Lee was sure that he could shoot down anything within twenty seconds. If a rifle couldn't stop it, his high-power laser certainly would. Thing could cut through a spaceship hull. He learned that the hard way, although thankfully not while flying. Still expensive.
Sighing, the hunter stood up and glanced around at the mercenaries. Most of them were battle-hardened men with scars, but there were a few newbies who were visibly pale and shaking. One of them was Bartleby's son, Bittle. That entire family had stupid names, but they were good folk who would knock your teeth in if you made fun of them. Lee had been friends with Bartleby for a while, and agreed to let Bittle tag along to "toughen his hide." It was doubtful that the boy would step off the ship with how much his legs were shaking, though.
From the cabin, the autopilot informed Lee of the approaching planet. The rookies turned a shade of white usually only seen on those acid-spitting cows, and the veterans turned to him for a debriefing. "Alright, men," Lee announced, his voice a tenor. You wouldn't make fun of it if you wanted to keep your own manhood, though. The only way you could get away with it was if you didn't have a hose to begin with. "The Bean Baron wants us to clear off this planet for more plantations. No idea what we'll find, but if it moves feel free to shoot. As usual, don't shoot each other or we'll leave you here, and don't shoot the ship because we'll have to eat your corpse while we wait a week for a tow.
I'll be back, just wanted to take a break and scroll Reddit more | 2021-01-25T09:28:28 | 2021-01-25T07:24:36 | 138 | 55 |
[WP] A hacker skilled in gaining access and upgrading account permissions, you were blown through a magical rift to a land of kings and wizards. You figured out magic and now have a business upgrading common folk with magic powers. Problem is, it's pissing off the magical elite. | "OK. Just listen first, Ash, alright? Don't think about magic as this mystical force that you've never understood in your life. Repeat after me: magic is a transaction."
"Magic is a transaction," my current client said enthusiastically. Ash Wheat is just the humble daughter of a humble farmer, in the humble little town of Westshire, far west from the noticeably less humble central city of Monsoon. Or more accurately, was.
"It's just like buying an apple at the market, alright. You want to cast a fireball? That's just like buying an apple."
"I buy apples sometimes."
"Yes, I know you do, Ash," I nodded. "Continue listening. But instead of handing over your usual money and coins, you use mana."
"What's mana?"
"You'll feel it very, very soon," I held her hand, clasping it tightly, feeling my own mana flowing into her. A transaction, the first taste--to kickstart the circuits, and to establish our private key with one another.
"I..." Ash mumbled. "It's warm. And nice."
"It is. This is a transaction between you and me, right? Just like buying an apple."
She nodded.
"Now, to actually cast a spell, to use magic--the vendor isn't Sally the grocer, but between you and the god of magics."
"Who's the god of magics?"
*An administrator, probably*, I thought to myself
"Think of her as the world itself. The earth you stand on. The fire in your hearth, sparking up into a pyre as it hits dry wood."
I continued holding on to her hand, slowly channelling my own mana into her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and little beats of sweat began to form on her forehead. Her hand warmed up even further, and I slowly let go and took a step back.
"You're getting it, I said."
"It's hot. It's really hot!"
"Don't hold it in! Let it go! Finish the deal!"
A small crackle of blue energy began to form in her palm. Her fingers reflexively curled, and the energy began to morph, switching colour to green, yellow, and finally, orange. Her eyes flitted open, and with a grunt, the power released, letting loose a small fireball that struck the runed floor and dispered quickly.
Ash stared wide-eyed at the ground, then at her own hands. She switched between the two for quite a while. Her face held an exuberant glee that was infectious, and I found myself smiling like an idiot as well. The girl finally turned to me, her eyes opened as wide as dinner plates.
"I did it!"
"Well done," I laughed. "Remember: magic is a transaction. Just keep remembering that. I've upgraded your account privileges, so you shouldn't have an issue trading properly."
"What?"
"Ah, damn, sorry," I waved her quizzical look away. "Old habits."
Three rapt, hard knocks at the door turned both our attention away from Ash's recent success. She squeaked, cowering back into her chair, like she was caught doing something she shouldn't be doing.
Actually, in this world? More than likely.
I bade her to sit down in a chair and shushed her, before moving over to the door. I put my eye up to the door, drawing briefly on the circle to briefly render a see-through spell.
A gruff looking man glowered at the door, his hideous blue helmet revealing him to be a soldier from Monsoon. I moved the peephole a little, and noticed a similarly-dressed regiment standing behind him, their spears pointed towards my door.
I opened my door with a flourish, startling my new visitor, who almost fell backwards. But he steadied himself, which unfortunately prevented a would-be hilarious scene, and stared sternly at me. I casually leaned back on one foot and addressed him.
"Can I help you, good sir?"
"Adam Anthony," Sir Gabriel stood, his expression clearly one of annoyance. "You and I both know why I'm here."
"Oh come on, Gab," I tapped him on his armour. "I know I made a mean pot of tea last time round, but you didn't have to bring a gaggle of your friends to try them!"
"I heard the Fireball, you buffoon," the knight said, plainly ignoring my attempt at friendly chatter.
"Can't a man practise his magic at home?" I asked innocuously.
"You aren't fooling anyone. Bring your new student out."
"New student? There's nobody else in this hourse, Gab," I said. "Besides, is Monsoon so free to send so many of you elites down here? What about actual problems? The unrest in the east, perhaps? Or the border disagreement with ? Or the new scandal embroiling the cour--"
"What?" Gabriel shouted. "How did you--"
"Come on, Gab," I said. "Information isn't that hard to find. Run along now. Stop bothering me."
"I simply can't," the knight was looking more exasperated by the second, but to his credit, his firm voice remained very authoritative. It would be kind of nice, honestly, if it wasn't currently being directed at me. "I must bring you in. And all the new mages you've blooded."
"Oh," I said. "Might be difficult. Look behind you."
The knight turned around, likely expecting to see a neatly lined-up platoon of soldiers standing at attention. Instead, what greeted him was the sight of several pieces of blue armour strewn around the ground, while the townsfolk threw magic missiles around gleefully.
I rapped my fingers on the door, lifting the spell of silence I implanted in it. And now, Gabriel could hear the full chaos of the scene--the cries of pain, the shouts of exhilaration, and loudest of all, my incredibly annoying laughter.
"You'll pay for this, Adam Anthony," Gabriel turned towards me.
I waved, letting blue mana coat every inch of my right hand.
"That's exactly what I intend to do," I said. "And Westshire will be ready to hold the line."
---
r/dexdrafts | "Onguard!"
Bob drove down the sword, his beleaguered foe falling under its pressure, his ancient magical shield on the cusp of breaking.
"My King, spare me!" he cried.
"No such mercy shall be granted Sir...Donutface,"
The fallen Knight scowled at such a dishonourable lack of creativity.
The soft whoosh of the entrance sounded at the far end of the ancient relics department.
"Shit!" Sir Donutface whispered, jumping to his feet.
"We've got to get this stuff back quick!"
\---
"Bob, Sam, almost finished?" their boss said as he came across his workers innocently tending to their computers, cables connected into the various servers and instruments controlling the relic safeguarding systems.
Bob offered a thumbs up as his boss's stare bored into him, his head raised as if sniffing the air for the scent of mischief. He knew what they were like.
He nodded, before gesturing with two fingers to his eyes and then jabbing them out like daggers. Sam stayed quiet. Which was for the best.
As the door whished once more, a collective "fuck" was uttered, as they packed up their computers, and got the fuck out.
\---
"Anything interesting happen at work today, darling?" Joy called, shuffling through the door and into the kitchen, dumping various bags and coats and things along her way.
Bob, tired and in vegetable mode, watching tv and hands firmly in pants, sleepily uttered to his returning partner, "not really."
"What's this on your bag then?" she said.
Bob stood, stretching like a deformed cat, and walked to the kitchen. Ignoring her question, he gave Joy a hug.
Damn she smelled good.
And then he looked at his bag.
He blinked.
He swallowed.
"Oh, shit."
\---
"What do you mean you didn't put in there? That's the Dagger you had shoved in the back of the Shield of David, you always use that thing! How'd it end up in my bag dude?"
"Ahh fuck, I might have hidden it in there when were panicking. Dude I don't know. What the fuck we do now?"
Bob punched the wall, hurting his hand and instantly regretting it.
There was only one thing to do.
"Tomorrow, we get back in there and change all the records to show it was never gone."
Hanging up, Bob picked up the relic, a Dagger of unknown origin but undeniable craftmanship, of a design out of place with the Egyptian tomb of which it was found. He would have to wipe it down somehow, make sure there were no prints should anyone realise it had been gone.
Sagging onto his bed, he grabbed his laptop, signing on to the work vpn to check the records ahead of time, the dagger laid between his chest and the hump of his belly, one hand lazily stroking as if consoling a lost cat soon to be taken home.
And then the laptop battery sparked, the screen flickered. Too late did Bob try to take his chubby paw from the keyboard.
The eletric pain shot through his arm and his body, causing a spasm so intense the laptop rocketed into the ceiling, smashing in a puff of smoke and broken bits.
And as it rained down on him in what appeared to be slow motion, Bob saw the dagger. Glowing, and floating, inches above his chest. There it paused, its tip rotating and glinting seemingly growing sharper by the instant.
Over his heart it stopped, and Bob realised all to late what could happen next.
Covered in broken technology and burnt pyjamas and reaching for his phone, Bob screamed, as down the dagger plunged.
\---
Bob awoke, the sound of a noisy bird of some sort taking him from sleep, the smell of wet hay pleasant on his sleepy senses.
Wet hay?
Bob bolted straight up, hitting his head on a thick wooden beam.
"Fuckkkkk."
Cradling his head, he took in his surroundings. It was a small barn, with Bob amongst some hay piled at the back. Through slats between thick wood came shafts of warm light on a fresh breeze.
Bob was in his pyjamas. By his side was his laptop, not broken. Phone. And in his hand...in his hand was the dagger.
Frantically Bob felt at his chest, feeling it free of any wound.
"Ahh thank god, " he murmerred, before the realisation of the bigger problem hit him.
"Where am I?!" he shouted all to loud to no-one.
He grabbed his phone, seeing it still had signal, but nothing to seemed to work, calls or net. At least the battery was at 100%, though. Same thing for his computer, battery stuck at full , but no connectivity.
Kinda made sense for a farm, the signal anyway.
Just then, a command prompt opened on his computer, scrolling code flashing too fast for him to see, multiple prompt windows cascading from it across the screen.
As quickly as they had come, they were gone, and in their place, only one screen remained, its blue cursor flashing, inviting.
*Magic Interface 2.0*, it read across the top.
Voices suddenly rose from the far end of the barn by the door, the sound of jingling metal and strange voices.
A wide beam of light grew as the door inched open, blinding blasts of sun bursting from sheets of metal covering the man opening it. More followed.
Swords in hand, they entered, looking weary. Next to them, a small man in simple, worn clothes loitered. With a frail and bony finger he pointed in Bob's direction. The knights, as Bob's failing brain suggested they were, took a look in Bob's direction, and began to close in, muttering strange and foreign words.
A beep came from the computer.
Bob , mind racing in panic and at a loss on what to do, or what was even happening, stared at the screen, as if it may offer him some kind of salvation.
Code sprawled down the prompt. Objects, methods. Knights, the barn, the farmer. Variables and classes. Then the cursor flashed once more, one variable striking in Bob's mind amongst all the ones that had scrolled before him. His fingers flew.
*For each Knight in Barn, strength = 0.*
*Enter.*
A bout of dizziness swelled in Bob's head. The dagger shone blue.
Swords clattered to the floor, followed by Knights gasping and thudding to the ground, too weak to hold up their armour.
The frail old man fled.
r/FatDragon \- come and read Excalibur, 130k words complete first draft of my first ever novel! | 2021-01-30T09:45:45 | 2021-01-30T08:50:06 | 139 | 42 |
[WP]"I told you cultists that I wanted your lives given to me in tribute, but all you've given me is deaths. Deaths won't buy me a cosmic loaf of bread. You don't even pay with your own so any blessing I'd be inclined to grant would go to the people who actually paid." | “What am I to do with these?”
The fae closed the distance, dry grass crunching under her feet, to the bodies before her. The townspeople had decided that criminals would pay the price for our well-being. Indeed, they owed us as much, having taken what wasn’t there, having broken the law, having put their needs ahead of others. It was only fair.
I stood stock still in her presence, still stunned and cowed into submission before the power I knew bubbled beneath her skin. The bodies before me, their throats slit and their blood leaching into the ground, received none of my attention. My eyes were fixed on the woman before me, her skin a pale green, her dress a sleek, soft blue, her golden eyes piercing if I were to make the foolish mistake of meeting her gaze.
“These are tributes, as requested,” I forced out after a long moment, my head still bowed.
“I told you…cultists that I wanted your lives given to me in tribute, but all you've given me is deaths. Deaths won't buy me a loaf of bread. You don't even pay with your own, so any blessing I'd be inclined to grant would go to the people who actually paid.”
My face contorted in confusion, and I raised my eyes, just to her chin, still too frightened to meet her gaze. “I…don’t understand. You called for tributes. We pledge our loyalty to you in exchange for”
“I demanded tributes that you peons are too thick to comprehend, apparently,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Human. Look at me.” I swallowed hard, taking a breath, but then met her gaze. Her eyes burned into me, wisdom and power behind them. “I wanted life. What do you suppose I could do with corpses? Boil them in a stew? Lift them at the edge of my land as scarecrows, like I see scattered across your lands?” She shook her head in disdain, her lips a thin line. “No. If you wish for your farm to prosper, I demand lives, not deaths.”
“I…I understand,” I said with a stiff nod. “I can… Will three suffice? The same as my…mistaken estimation for the blood I spilled?”
“Three would suffice,” she replied with a nod. “You will be one of them.”
My stomach turned over in fear and I clenched my teeth against bile that rose in my throat in terror. “To-To what end?”
“Service to the fae, of course,” she told him, her voice thick with condescension. “Do you wish for your lands to prosper or not?”
“Can I choose the other two?”
“You may.”
That was that, then. I’d sacrifice my life if it meant saving our villages from starvation. In a heartbeat. But to sentence another life to slavery was something else entirely. It would be my choice, and I would choose two more from lockup back at the prison. They deserved punishment, and also they were stocky, strong, and any worries I would have of discipline would surely be dealt with swiftly by our new fae rulers in the Otherworld. Our new fae owners.
“I will…trade you three lives,” I forced out, tears in my eyes, “for our lands to prosper. For fifty years, we will suffer no blights, struggle with no pests, and our food shall be bountiful and feed us and our children.”
“That is agreeable,” she purred, cocking her head. She blinked once, slowly. “I shall wait here. I’ve nothing pressing to attend to.”
My lower lip trembled but I nodded. I turned to head back into town, visualizing the path carved out in front of me. I would explain to those back at the prison the mistake we’d made and that I reestablished the deal properly. I would have the sheriff escort one shackled man and I would escort another, without hesitation, directly back to where the fae awaited her payment.
When the sheriff realized I was to be one of the tributes, it would be too late for him to argue, and I knew he would never object to a deal I’d already made. And I hoped that my husband and children would understand that my life was traded so they could prosper, grow, to never go to bed hungry. It was a choice that had barely needed a moment’s thought.
A mother’s job was to care for her children, and as I walked the shackled man at my side back toward the fae, I refused to shed a tear at the idea that I would never set eyes on them again. Because in my heart, I knew it was worth it.
​
/r/storiesbykaren | It was a moonless night, a traditionally inauspicious time. Yet at the Anamnesis Cult in the heart of the city, a inauguration ceremony was taking place. The pews of the church were full.
"And so, I pass on my position as the Divine One's Hand to you, Nixon Cromwell. May you bring more of the glory of the Earth to the Divine One's embrace." A white haired, genial looking old man in a red ceremonial robes placed a red crown atop my head. It symbolized my appointment as the Cult Leader in this damned human-sacrificing cult.
The one putting the crown upon my head was Tom Albrecht, millionaire, noted philanthropist and a human-sacrificing maniac. You couldn't guess it from his genial looks.
"May the Divine One anoit me with blessings..." I spat out a ridiculous garble of words. The cult's Holy Book was more or less a ripoff of the Bible for the most. They had sadly failed to ripoff the Abraham and Isaac anecdote, though.
Ever since I'd joined the cult though, there weren't any human sacrifices. That was something to be proud of, I guess.
About 4 years back, there were vicious attacks on the city's homeless population - the most violent incident was a literal crucifixion. I'd joined this cult 3 years back as a part of a police infiltration with the mission to (1) obtain the identities of the murderers and (2) trigger a dissolution of the cult.
Tom Albrecht, the cult-master-cum-philanthropist was also the sponsor of the scholarship that paid for my college education. We had an acquaintance from before I joined the cult. And the day I joined the cult, he told me of his desires to change the cult to a generic religious church rather than... a Cthulhu worshipping cult. Of course, I didn't protest that and helped a bit as well.
Like replacing the ritual bleeding Blood Communion ceremony with a red wine communal drinking ceremony. Or having the Church Readings changed from "Eternal glory to the all-devouring eye, blood drinker of the lunatic, moon illuminating depths of the abyss..." to something that didn't come across as blatant Cthulhu worship. Small and big changes that led to a transformation in values and tradition.
I looked at the old man who had passed on his position to me. Over my years in the cult, he had been somewhat of a mentor to me. At the moment, he seemed more relieved than anything. From my first day in the cult, he gave me the impression of a tired old man at the ends of his life.
Still, he was the heinous conductor of grisly murders. As the cult leader, I now had access to information barred from me, information that would reveal him as the mastermind behind the killings. After this inauguration, I would definitely bring him to justice.
"The time for waning has ended, and the time for the new moon has dawned. Oh Great Anamnesis, thy light has been passed on. Grant thy blessing." The old man cut his finger and waved his finger, sprinkling blood. The ridiculous cult ceremony had finally ended...
Just then, wind blew and all the windows of the church opened up. In the sky, the full moon shone red.
...There shouldn't have been a moon tonight, though.
"So you did heed my words, Tom. Living your lives as tribute to me." It was eerie, this voice - and voice recordings shouldn't be a part of this cult rituals either.
"I am not a voice recording, dear leader of my cult. I am Anamnesis of the Devouring Moon." A shiver went through my back. The Cthulhu that this cult worshipped was a real thing.
"I am not freaking Cthulhu, that's a completely different god. Tom, didn't you tell him ANYTHING?"
Hearing the question, Tom Albrecht, ex-cult leader a smiled wryly at me. "What was I supposed to tell him, the god we worship is real and doesn't like human sacrifices?"
"Wait you don't like human sacrifices? What sort of Cthul... evil god are you?" At my question, lightning struck down literal inches beside me, frizzing my hair up.
"I am not a freaking evil God! A slightly jealous one at most! I don't want human sacrifices! I want my worshippers to give their lives to me as tribute!" The eerie mysterious voice sounded rather annoyed. I decided to keep my mouth shut.
Just then, Tom, the old ex-cult leader on my side suddenly fell down like a puppet with his strings cut off. Checking his wrist, I sensed no pulse. Maybe it was a sudden heart attack, his nerves having given out after hearing his god speaking.
"The iniquities of the past shall be forgiven, have eternal rest beside me." The mysterious voice seemed calming and soothing. Maybe because it knew that it could commit murder with impunity, beyond the reach of the Law as it was.
"And to you, my new Hand. Having strived towards the ideal I pointed out, you shall have my blessing." I felt my heartbeat slow down. Would this entity beyond the Law's reach take my life without impunity as well?
Just then, the red moon faded away. The pews that were filled with stunned cultists suddenly awakened.
It was strangely like awakening from a dream. | 2021-05-17T11:17:39 | 2021-05-17T10:58:17 | 44 | 23 |
[WP] You have been accidentally possessed by a ghost. Unfortunately, the ghost possessing you is so charismatic and such a great flirt that everyone wants you to stay possessed. | "Wow, that's actually kind of really sad..." I heard my own voice say to me. Looking in the mirror, it was my face looking back at my with pity and sympathy. I wished I could punch it, but I wasn't in control, not anymore.
"Hey now! No need to get violent." More pity from my own mouth.
It used to just be a voice in my head. But then the voice started taking control of my movements. First a finger and a toe, then my right arm, and so on. Soon, it took all my energy just to make my eye twitch. Which I did now in frustration.
"First your girlfriend, then your best friend Mark..." My head shook on its own. "Even your own mother!"
<Yeah... I get it.> I thought back. <I'm a complete fucking loser!>
"No, I didn't mean it like that." My own hurt expression looked back at me. "I just mean that... It doesn't normally go like this."
<What do you mean by that?> I asked, the words echoing in my head.
"Well..." I/He hesitated. "I'm supposed to be teaching your family a lesson. That's my job and why I came from the Spirit World."
The spirit sensed my confusion and continued. "It's a penance thing. You'll understand when you're dead." He felt my panic and quickly added, "But I'm not going to kill you!"
<Then why...?>
"Well, here's how it's supposed to go... I come in and possess you. I am super nice to everyone so that I can betray them later. They sense something is off, discover my 'evil plan'. Then, they 'exorcise' me. Everyone is happy you're back to being the real you, and you all live happily ever after.
"But this... I literally walked up to your mother, told her I was a ghost possessing her child and her response was 'Oh yeah, I figured it out a while ago. I like \*him\* better this way!'
"Honestly, it's enough to make me cry! And she wasn't the only one!"
<Yeah...> Was all I could reply. Memories bubbled to the surface to prove my point. I was quiet, kept to myself, and never tried to come out of my room except for school and dinner. Yet still, I was the subject of everyone's jokes and ridicule, everyone's frustration. Not to mention the beatings I took while at school, and the disappointment and hate in my father's eyes.
It wasn't always like this. At least, not until...
"I know..." the Spirit replied. "I read your profile, and then watched your memories when I got here. Honestly, though? You deserve better than this." My face was twisted in pain and frustration. "Yeah, you came out. Told them that inside, you were really a woman. But that doesn't mean that they should just give you up to me, just so that you stay a guy! It's not right, and it's not why I came here."
<But it's all stopped now.> I resigned. <Everyone's happy with me. They all like you so much better.>
"My job was to get them to like \*you\* again. It was all planned! There's a script, and everything. We've done this thousands of times before! It's never gone like this. And I can't stand it! You deserve to be happy!"
I was now crying. Were these my tears, or his?
"I'm not going to allow you to take this anymore." He asserted. "I'm calling a resource center and getting you out of this. I know a guy that owes me a favor, we'll get you set up at his place."
<Wait... Really?>
"Yeah, really."
<But...>
"Look, I came to help you. And if doing that means going off script, then that's what I'm going to do."
There was silence in my mind as he picked up my phone.
All I could think was... <Thank you.>
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
&#x200B;
I had fun writing this. Yes, this is a trans story. I'm not really expecting a lot of upvotes on this, but I couldn't let it just sit in my head. I hope you all enjoy it. :) | "Well, Charlotte, if you want to learn more about the afterlife, maybe I can give you some -- LET ME OUT!" Gil's face waggled around rabidly as life returned to his dull eyes. He looked around the room, seeing that he was at his girlfriend's house. In front of him were her parents sitting at the dinner table with endearing looks on their faces, chin on palm with a smile as they stared at him.
Gil, panicking, digs deep into the back of his mind, searching for the ghost that he'd cast out. 'I was joking, please come back!' Please please please ple--,' Gil's fluttered thoughts are interrupted by a gruff voice, resonating in his mind, as if it were a single cheer echoing throughout an empty stadium. 'Apologize,' it spoke smugly with nonchalance.
'There's no time just-' Gil is once interrupted again, this time by a burst of immense laughter from both of Bessy's parents. "My goodness! Bessy, I don't know where you found this man, but he's just the funniest. Jal, her father, was writhing on the ground, giggling as he rolled around on the brown fluffy carpet that sat under the wooden dinner table as he held his arms around his torso, hugging himself.
Bessy looks at her husband, crying tears of laughter, and falls down beside him. Just as the two laugh on the ground together, Gil whispers into Bessy's ear. "What did you do!?" Gil whispers harshly, nearly loud enough for the entire room to hear. "Well... I talked to that ghost that possessed you last night, and... he kind of convinced me to take him to dinner with my parents..." Bessy spoke, lingering between her each syllable she spoke with hesitation.
"You what!?" Gil shouted out, interrupting the shared laughter of both Jal and Charlotte on the ground. "He just seemed better..." Bessy whispered back apprehensively. Inside of Gil's mind were bursts of laughter. The ghost laughed and laughed, harder than what both of Bessy's parents conjured during the peak of their gaiety. 'What's so funny asshole?' Gil thinks to himself, aiming his thoughts at the ghost living in his mind. 'How fucked you're going to be when they realize that you're boring.' It speaks with pauses in between each word, laughter filling the gaps of silence as it emitted a smug aura.
'Why!?' Gil shouted in his mind, the laugher continuing, taking over his mind as he questioned the voice. He gripped his head, tugging away at his hair as the laughter nearly split his mind. 'You want to know something even funnier? If you don't give me full control over your body right now and apologize, they'll think-' The voice is cut off.
"Fuck this!" Gil yells, lifting himself away from the table as he stood with valor. "Wait, Gil!" Bessy reaches out for Gil, only for him to shrug her off. 'What are you doing Gil? Gonna go look for a church to exorcise you?" He laughs again, "Good luck with that-" Gil walks to the drawer in the kitchen, opening it, and pulls out a jagged butcher knife. He pulls it out hastily and puts it underneath his neck. 'If I die will you die too?' Gil thinks to himself as his hand shakily lingered at his neck.
'I'm already dead you idiot-' before the voice could finish, Gil slits his throat. He wobbles around the room, hardly able to stand before collapsing and hitting his head on the table, falling on top of Bessy's parents. The two parents revolt but then group closer together and whisper to one another on the ground. "Did that Gil guy finally leave? He was getting annoying," Charlotte spoke hushedly to Jal. "Let's find out," Jal spoke as he poked Gil's body with a wooden spoon that once sat in a pile of mashed potatoes.
The body levitates off of the ground before touching it again slowly and begins break dancing. "You tell me!" It speaks in a distorted tone as it twirled across the ground on its head. Everyone began to cheer for him as he seemingly popped and locked it by dislocating his joints. As the two parents clapped their hands, standing back up to the ground, they continued their mumbles. "Thank god for this new service, our daughter almost got married to a deadbeat," Jal spoke as he moved his eyes toward Bessy, who was also cheering on Gil's lifeless body grooving across the room.
Meanwhile, Gil reaches the afterlife, in front of him was a sign that reads, "Ghost dating hotline." He saw other spirits floating around, complaining to one another with annoyance in their tone. "That asshole got another one, he should be more courteous and leave some for us- hey isn't that the guy he possessed?" It speaks, bursting out with laughter as the crowd of spirits followed suit. | 2021-05-24T09:01:34 | 2021-05-24T08:17:24 | 81 | 19 |
[WP] Heavenly Demons are essentially the opposite of fallen angels. They grew to admire humans and learned to love through observation. Banished from the infernal realm for losing their edge, they can ascend to the celestial realm by creating sufficient virtue among humans. | Kanele paced back and forth as he watched through the portal. Two young men were following that little girl. He knew why. It had once been his job to offer riches and power to pawns to bring him innocent souls for sacrifice. He was fired for failing to bring in a single virgin. In truth, he hated that role and would pay humans in tough situations to save such souls. Many innocents were spared the ritual knife because of his actions.
Now he lived in the celestial plane having earned a few millennia of heavenly vacation. Still, he couldn’t not wonder what what happening back in the natural world. Through the looking portal he could see the young girl start to walk through an alleyway. It was getting dark and the street lights were just turning on. [This is bad. It’s about to get ugly.] He thought.
“Then go help her.” A silken voice sang through the air. “You want to? No?” A brilliantly lit Angel slowly lowered next to him as his wings slowly covered it head which was covered in eyes, a second set of wings covered its body also covered in eyes, and a third set stretched out in flight. Demons may be scary but these guys always made Kanele shudder.
“Yes I do want to help. However, that is the job of the Justicars. Not me.” Kanele knew it was true but the reason felt hollow.
“Just this once, I’ll allow it. Monsters like that do not fear the light. Maybe they will fear the dark. Perform well and I’ll add name to the Justicar roll.” The Angel, unable to show any true image of its face shook its wings in confirmation. Kanele licked his chops and jumped through the portal.
——
The girl was crying. She had known the men were following her but she didn’t know what to do. This alley was a dead end. She knew, somehow she knew, this was it. She was done for.
“Please, I do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me!” She pleaded.
“Don’t wor-“ the man froze in his tracks. His partner was likewise struck with fear. The glow from the street light was eclipsed by a being. It was horned, large, and fire pulsed from its eyes.
“Leave the girl or come with me. Your call.”
The men blinked twice and ran. The young woman stunned at their departure looked up and saw no one. Kanele was okay with this. He didn’t need her to see him. She walked away praying and thanking that an Angel came to her rescue.
[Yeah, angel...] | "Kelly, look at me", I tried to get her attention away from the rest of her friends. They weren't exactly having a good time right now.
"How do we treat other people?"
She whined and stomped her foot. Frustrated at receiving a talk, away from everyone else at the playground.
"Come on, Kelly. Let's take a minute to talk this out, and then you can go back to the swings. "
The swings. Every 5 year old's goal when it came to the playground.
"How we want to be treated." she answered, pouting.
"Good. And would we want to be pushed off the swings?"
"No" progress... "I guess not"
"How do you think Anne felt when you pushed her off the swing?"
"But I was there first! And she got to go before me! It's not fair!"
"That may be, but you could always go second? "
she didn't seem to like that.
"You know, growing up, people always told me the world isn't fair. And some days, you feel like that true, like nothing really works in your favor, and all your efforts didn't matter" I thought back to my previous life. How much I struggled with trying to bring changes to the underworld. Administrative and otherwise. I was only trying to streamline the process of delivering 'clients' to their respective accommodations. Would've made life/afterlife a lot easier for all of us involved. Some of my colleagues didn't seem to like the idea and I was laughed out of the meeting. What some beings have against progress, I may never understand.
Kelly nodded at my words. "Yeah, like Anne got to go on the swing"
"Yeah. But that's not always how things work out. Sometimes, something you did ages ago, that you did right; the way you were supposed to, it helps you out in the long run. You don't notice it right away, but it comes back when you need it most. Besides, a lot of people are really nice deep down. They care about you, even if they don't know you all"
"Really?" she didn't seem to believe me.
"Remember how last week, Diane gave you her jukebox even though you both like apple juice? She could have just kept it for herself, but she cared about you, and she wanted you to share her joy"
"Yeah. Diane is really nice. I like when we get to play together" Kelly was smiling now.
"Yeah. I know it can be hard to decide when and to whom you have to be nice. Especially when some people do not treat you as well as you treat them. But, try to show everyone a little kindness when you can. Maybe it'll make you both happy "
I'm definitely out of my depth, but hey, I'm new at this too.
We'd made a loop around the playground and were back at the swings now.
"You feeling a little calm now?"
"Yeah, I think I am. Thanks, Fiowic" she beamed at me.
"You're welcome, Kelly" | 2021-06-02T08:13:12 | 2021-06-02T07:14:24 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] "So this is what the people of your world have done with magic. You take cryomancy and call it 'refrigeration'. You take electrokinesis and call it 'wiring'. You take telepathy and call it 'the Internet'. You call familiars 'robots'. You've taken all this magic...and you've made it boring." | "Oh yeah Wizard man? How long does it take you to illuminate an area?"
The wizard who literally crashed from a magical portal into coffee table and started mumbling a spell for about three to five minutes before the room was only slightly lit up. Then he looked quite defiantly at my direction,
"About that long"
"Cool" I said as I reached for the light switch and flicked it on and off a few times; with a sarcastic voice I said
"Quite Magical isn't it?" Before he could even respond I cut him off.
"Wait-wait, you'll love this trust me. Alexa turn on living room lights 100%." Wizard man started looking back and forth for some invisible assistant, and I couldn't help but snicker.
"What in all the realms was that?"
"My Alexa, she's a robot of sorts and probably better than any 'familiars' you got." I could see by his twisted facial expressions that I must have hit a nerve of his with that comment, hopefully he's a nice Wizard Man.
With an accusatory finger and venom in his voice the Wizard Man got closer to me and spoke.
"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK ILL OF FAMILIARS! They are far more loyal and deserving of their masters companionship than your little soulless trinkets!"
"First off, I'm sorry didn't mean to offend. Second if familiars are anything like pets then loyalty and companionship will get you so far."
"And pray tell, how is that?"
"Well a robot will do its task regardless if it's broken or injured and plus it doesn't have any needs that a living being would have; which I'm sure familiars do."
The Wizard Man was now just sitting on the broken table in a slump of a mood. I knelt down to him and placed my hand on his shoulder he reacted only slightly at this by giving me a side eye.
"Hey bud it's ok"
"No it's not."
"Why's that?"
"Because I now know that my world will become boring like yours given enough time."
I couldn't help but chuckle at that which caught Wizard Man's attention.
"And so what if it does? Just means you don't have to risk life and limb to cool your beer, or to turn on the lights or even put your beloved familiar in danger. Boring doesn't necessarily mean it's a bad thing, hell I'd take boring over fighting for my life every day."
Wizard Man slowly rose up and apologized for the table before opening up a portal to home. Right before he left he turned to me and said
"Thank you for giving me much to think about Ruffian." | "Markus, let's not go through this again. Please just take your pills." Nurse Janice stood with her hand out, looking at the old man in front of her, her expression humorless and resolute.
Markus kept speaking, seemingly oblivious to her words. "But this world, how can you stand it? It is like marrying a dead person. Magic is the soul, the very fire of reality."
Nurse Janice rolled her eyes. "Those are nice flowery words Markus, but the truth is that reality IS boring. You're going to have to face that sooner or later. In the meantime, please just take these. I have a lot of patients to see today."
"If only you would allow for the slightest possibility that I was correct," Markus continued, leaning back in his wheelchair, "the things I could show you from my home world!"
Janice could see that he would not cooperate unless she played along with his delusions as usual, so taking a deep breath she rolled her eyes and replied halfheartedly, "Ok Markus I believe you, now show me your trick so that we can move along with our day."
Markus smiled, "No you don't believe me, because if you did my amulet would tell me and I would know right away," he gestured to the jade stone on a thin silver chain around his neck.
"Please Markus!" She stepped forward, frustrated. "Stop being difficult. Just show me your trick if that's what it'll take to get you to cooperate."
"I can't show you anything, because all magicians swear an unbreakable oath not to perform magic in the presence of someone with a totally enclosed world-view. It would damage your psyche too greatly. This oath is out of compassion, I promise you. But still, I can't help feeling sadness for your gray experience, day in and day out."
Nurse Janice put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes in exasperation. "I swear you're going to give me a migraine, Markus."
"Please don't say such things, dear," he replied. "tendencies for such afflictions run in your family and speaking it aloud increases the possibility for its manifestation."
Janice opened one of her eyes and looked over to Markus. "How did you know migraines run in my family, Markus? Do you have access to my medical records?"
"How would I have access to such a thing?"
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them as Janice stood, momentarily confounded. A ray of sunlight must have shone into the room and reflected off the stone around Markus's neck, for it flashed brilliantly into her eyes, just for a split second.
Markus looked down toward his chest and a grin of delight and mischief suddenly spread upon his face. "Well now that's more like it, my dear."
He opened both his hands and held them a few inches apart from one another, standing up out of his seat. She stood watching in stunned silence, a sense of fear in her chest, but for what she did not know.
"Today is the beginning of your new life." | 2021-08-12T16:20:53 | 2021-08-12T14:07:26 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] You are a prisoner, condemned to die. However, the 2047 Prison Accords guarantee a last meal with no limitations, or else you go free. Nobody wants you released; your crime is too heinous, but your last meal request is making them reconsider… | “Tea.”
“Tea?”
“Tea. Well, aged tea to be specific. Himalayan Aged Black Tea to be particular. Himalayan Aged Black Tea from Shan-Gri-La Tea farms just north of Pokhara, Nepal to be exact.”
“That’s your final meal? Okay. Whatever. We’ll get them on the phone and make the order.”
“Oh, you won’t be able to get any right now. The harvest isn’t for another 4 months. Even then, the aging process takes decades.”
“We can order you some they have on backlog. That won’t be a problem.”
“No that won’t do. I want the last thing I taste on earth to be my favorite Tea. Century Black Shangri-La. I wish it to be harvested this year.”
“I don’t know if we can…”
“Ah ah ah, the accords?”
“Of course. Do you want just tea or is there a food you wish to have as well?”
“Yes! I’m glad you asked! Let me get a century salmon from Xiamen, China. After the 80 years of preservation, it’s taste is to die for…” | Their folly, of course, was the stipulation on "no limitations".
Now, most people would correctly assume that such a thing would create an obvious loophole. A smart prisoner might request something endangered, which society could not easily give up for such a purpose - perhaps a whale casserole, or maybe smoked white rhino. The lawmakers had quickly pointed out that the newest in cloning technologies would be employed for this purpose. They haven't exactly publicized this fact, for obvious reasons, but it's there, buried in the transcripts if you have enough time to look.
What they've clearly touted is the fact that not a single prisoner has been released since the day that policy was enacted. Not one.
But those of us here in the penal system, we know. Each convict who goes to that chamber tells his cellmates what he's going to request, and each - in turn - is executed.
So the extinct animals? Out. I knew a guy who asked for wooly mammoth. I bet those politicians barely broke a sweat over it. A quick trip to the museum and they Jurassic Park-ed up that shit. I hope it was at least good.
The huge, intricate feasts? Perfectly made by expert chefs from all over the globe. I know those guys at least died happy.
As they led me in, I knew that look. Smug guards just waiting to see what I'd ask for. Oh, I heard the rumors and knew they were taking bets on what a real sick bastard would ask for. I'm sure they thought they had it covered.
And that's when I requested the family of the judge that sentenced me. Raw. | 2021-08-18T03:58:06 | 2021-08-18T01:19:55 | 76 | 42 |
[WP] "One day," the prince reiterated to the peasant girl. "You're fed and clothed like a princess for a day, we attend the ball and dance together, and we make just enough of a spectacle that my father won't mind so much if I go on to court a 'lower' noble. What do you say?" | "You are asking me to a royal ball? Disguised as a princess?" the apple seller asked.
"Greta, please," Prince Jacob said. "You're the only one I'd trust with this role."
"Why?" Greta asked. "Because I'm the only peasant girl who wouldn't fall in love with you in the process? You should hear them, Jacob. If they knew you were a regular at my stand-"
"It would be I who would need to disguise myself as a peasant?"
"Ha!" Greta's laugh came out in a snort, not at all princess-like. "That would be a spectacle. A peasant with an entourage?" she asked, gesturing at the guards who stood nearby.
"Please Greta?" Jacob asked again. "As my friend, will you do this?"
They were friends, the apple seller and the prince. They'd met ten years ago as children. Prince Jacob had been returning from a very boring lesson with his tutor, when the apple stand caught his eye. He had his guards (he'd had an entourage then too) stop and keep watch as he approached the stand. It had been Greta's father's stand back then, but she was there every day, helping him, and she'd been the one to sell apples to Jacob and his guards, and even one for the boring tutor as well. Jacob took a liking to her immediately, for unlike the other villagers who were gawking, and stumbling as they attempted to bow in his presence, Greta simply thanked him for the purchase, and suggested he come again.
And he did. Whenever he came through the village, he would stop for apples. Soon Greta was giving him recommendations for which apples went best in a pie and which were best for biting into immediately after purchase. Jacob began to order apples by the bushel to be delivered to the palace cooks, and would sneak down to the kitchens when they arrived, in hopes that Greta might have rode along for the delivery. The two became good friends, their friendship only known to the cooks, the guards, and the apple seller. Weeks might pass before the two could see each other, but then Jacob would show up at the stand, and he and Greta, and his entourage would have a game of tag, or talk about their days, or just sit under a tree eating apples. When his parents began their search to find him a bride, Jacob had confided in Greta that he feared he would have a loveless marriage, and Greta had helped soothe his worries, than promptly had him rolling with laughter at a story of her spectacularly failed attempt to woo the village barmaid.
"All right," Greta said. "I'll do it. After all, you've met my dad loads of times, about time I meet yours."
"Indeed! I can't thank you enough. And I apologize for asking you to help me make a scene, but-"
"But Lady Samantha is the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on, is intelligent with the most wonderful sense of humor, a good kisser, and her only flaw is not being royal enough for your parents." Greta recited.
"Yes. Thank you so much. I'll send a ball gown to your home in a few days, and a carriage the day of."
Two weeks later Greta was in a ball gown for the first time in her life, wondering how she was supposed to dance when she couldn't even breathe. Hopefully there was room to eat. Jacob had brought some of the palace food on their picnics in the past, and she knew it to be heavenly.
She heard the carriage pull up outside, and smiled as her friend greeted her. "I'm actually excited about this," she said. "Two days ago a well dressed woman stopped by the stand, and I swear Jacob, I can't remember the last time I've been a part of so much flirting. After she bought her apple, she bit into it in this way that was very much sensual and literally winked. If she's at this ball, you need to introduce me. You owe me."
" Hello to you too," Jacob laughed as they rode toward the palace. "And deal."
Soon they were pulling up to the palace doors. "This is it," Jacob said. "Ready?"
Greta nodded. "Oh yes. Let's go secure you a bride."
It turned out, Greta didn't need to do much acting to make a scene. Her table manners were lacking, her laugh much too loud for the gentle ears of the ball goers, and she'd spilled her drink on not one but two guests as she tried to maneuver in uncomfortable shoes. She was just finishing stumbling through a dance with Jacob, the king and queen looking on horrified, when she a woman approached.
"Excuse me, princess,I couldn't help but notice you may want a break?"
"Lady Samantha!" the prince said his voice delighted. "Princess Greta, you wouldn't mind?"
"Not at all," Greta said, taking the chance to glance at the woman who had stolen her friend's heart. She was pretty, though not quite Grtea's type, and clearly only had eyes for Jacob. "Good choice," she whispered to Jacob, as she left the two of them too it.
She figured she should probably make a quiet exit. The well-dressed woman must not have been a ball goer, as Greta hadn't seen her, and Jacob had promised her his entourage to get her safely home tonight. She was making her way to the door when the king's voice rang out across the room.
"Dear guests, my daughter Princess Thea, has at last decided to join us."
Greta paused. She new Jacob had a sister, one year younger than he was, but she'd never met the princess, and Jacob didn't talk about her much, as the king and queen sent her to an academy many days ride away for months at a time. She turned with the other guests, and gasped, because entering the ballroom was the woman who had flirted with her the other day. Princess Thea's eyes scanned the room as if having second thoughts on joining, but when they caught Greta's, she grinned.
"I heard my brother was dancing with a Princess Greta that smelled of apples and a laugh suited for a rowdy pub, and I thought, 'well, why should he have all the luck?'"
"He did promise me an introduction, should I see my customer from the other day," Greta said. "You... you don't have a entourage like your brother. "
Thea shrugged. "Second born. With a habit of sneaking away from those meant to be minding me. Now, take off those ridiculous shoes my brother has given you, and let's dance. It will be much easier without them."
Greta didn't need to be told twice.
In the days that followed, both royal siblings would visit the apple stand. Jacob to present her with an invitation to his and Lady Samantha's wedding, Thea to request Greta be her date to her brother's wedding. Though Jacob was surprised to learn Greta's flirtatious customer was his sister, he was all for it. As for the king and queen, Thea had shrugged of Greta's concerns. "Second born. They're not quite as concerned who I'm kissing, now that Jacob is set to marry. They also really like the pies from your apples."
Greta laughed. It came out as a snort. Not at all princess-like, but maybe it would be one day. | *My interpretation was a little different, but this is what the prompt inspired me to write.*
If it had come from anyone else, I probably would've laughed. I had been in the company of enough stuck-up nobles to know how quickly they tired of their lovers. How fast their dreams of riding off into the sunset faded. Some even grew a brain and realized how advantageous a political marriage could be.
But Will was different. He was like the princes of children's stories: kind, thoughtful, and brave. He was a clinical optimist, always seeing and assuming the best in people. He hated the political game and truly wanted what was best for his people. It was pitifully naive but I couldn't deny he gave me hope. Hope things could be different. Hope that maybe the world wasn't the cruel place I was raised in.
I gave a sigh and kissed him on the corner of his lips. "I admire your commitment, but it won't work. You need to be available for matters of diplomacy."
"Come now, don't be so dismissive. The kingdom is flourishing and at peace. Besides, there aren't any eligible bachelorettes for a political marriage. If we can present you as a lady, get the people to see our love, it could be of benefit. They will love you, and the people's support of the marriage will outweigh your birth. Besides, I hold the cards. If my father wants his line to continue he will listen to what I have to say."
His hand cupped my cheek, his eyes meeting mine, and for a moment I believed him. Perhaps with the right presentation, he could convince the court and his father to let him marry a chambermaid, like in the fairytales. I knew I could pull it off, I probably knew more etiquette than most of the noblewomen. But I wasn't a chambermaid, and this wasn't a fairytale. No matter what his eyes promised.
I pushed myself out of his arms and out of the bed, moving to the window so I could avoid his gaze. I tried to convince myself I didn't want to be there, that I didn't feel anything for him.
"I can't see you anymore."
I could hear him sit up, but I forced myself to keep my gaze straight ahead.
"Why n-"
I cut him off
"I just can't!" I softened my tone. "There are things that are... are out of my control."
I could feel my hands starting to tremble, and I felt the sudden urge to tell him everything. The small seed of hope he had planted was making an attempt to sway me. But I couldn't afford to let it, and so I steeled my resolve. I let the silence hang between us.
"It is because you are of the Shadow Guild, is it not?"
I froze. Taut as the string of a poorly tuned lute.
"How... How long have you known?"
"I have suspected for some time. I may be an optimist, but I am not stupid. A chambermaid is not as familiar with court politics as you are. But I didn't know for sure until about a week ago. One of the Dukes my father hosted had an encounter with the guild once, he said the man had a tattoo of a rose on his thumb. Just like the one you have on your shoulder."
He said it so calmly. Like he was explaining what he had for dinner. I finally turned to look at him. His eyes held no malice. No betrayal. They looked just as warm as they always had.
"Why didn't you turn me in?"
He stood and moved to me. His arms wrapped around my waist.
"For the same reason one of the great assassins of the Shadow Guild has taken so long to kill her target."
I could find no words. My usual grace under pressure was gone. Despite great effort, my shoulders began to shake, and the tears I had been holding back began to stream down my face. I had courted many different nobles and princes. I had smiled and waved my way into the favor of kings. And I had killed and disappeared without a trace. Never had I felt anything but pride in my work. Pride for myself, and pride for the reputation of my family. They had taken me in as their own and taught me the way of the world. It was a simple place, where one did whatever it took to get ahead. I had never considered a life outside until I had courted Will, and let myself buy into my own lie, let myself grow too close. Now I faced an impossible choice.
As I began to cry, he pulled me close and rested his lips on my head.
"It's ok." He whispered "I'm here. We will figure something out."
I shook my head. "No. There is nothing to figure out. No way around. No solution that will leave everyone happy. The real world doesn't work that way. I either kill you myself, I tell them I have failed and they send someone else, or they find out what happened and kill us both."
"I'll pay them to double what they were offered. They will listen to that won't they?"
I shook my head again. "It is a matter of reputation. Who would hire assassins that will drop their target and forget about it as soon as someone waves gold in front of them? The guild is the best. They get the job done. No matter where we go. They will find us."
There was a long, solemn pause. Then his hand came up and lifted my chin so my eyes met his.
"Go back to them. Tell them you failed for whatever reason, it doesn't matter. Let them do what they will. Just stay safe. I will figure out a way. I promise."
I started to protest, to tell him they would kill him. He silenced me with a kiss.
"Trust me."
I looked into his eyes, and I knew there would be no arguing. He was determined. So I buried myself in his arms and we spent what I was sure would be our last night together holding each other tightly. When dawn began to spread her fingers across the horizon, I pried myself out of his embrace and ran back to the closest thing I had to a home. I did what he asked, and I waited. But it was in vain, word of his death soon reached me.
Then one day, I was dressed like a princess, smiling my way through a ball. My date had left early, something he ate. It would only be a matter of hours now before it was time to disappear.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a familiar pair of eyes hiding behind a masquerade mask. A warm hand pulled me into a deep kiss. I could feel the many pairs of eyes now turning to the spectacle, but my mind was elsewhere. He lifted me off my feet and carried me into the night. I suspect there is still talk of the mysterious masked man who absconded with a lady that night.
"How?" I asked when we had settled into the small room of a nearby in.
He gave a wry smile. "It is as you said, a matter of reputation. I let them think I was dead. I let your reaction prove it. And now you have been kidnapped by an unknown man, never to be seen again."
"But what about your kingdom, your father. You have left him without an heir. You have abandoned your people."
Another smile. "I suspect in a few days a letter will appear on the good king's desk proving that his new steward is a long-lost relative and, in fact, heir. You should see the resemblance, it is as if the late prince had a twin. And his wife, you would never know she isn't of noble blood."
"Oh he is married is he?" I raised my eyebrow
"Well, he certainly hopes to be. That is if you will still have me."
I leaned in for a gentle kiss. "I will have you, now and always." | 2021-08-27T23:25:19 | 2021-08-27T16:32:36 | 30 | 20 |
[WP] Everytime you think of a funny joke, this girl in your class always laughs, you chalk it up to coincidence but you think to yourself, "If you can read my mind, slap the table three times" the the girl looks over at you, stares right into your eyes, and slowly slaps the table two times. | I let out a deep sigh, “not another one” I say in my mind.
She stares at me in confusion, “don’t ask.” I say, “quick question, how long have you been reading my mind for?”
“A few days..” I hear in my mind.
“Alright good, then your still safe. Listen, I like that we can have this connection, but I highly advise never reading my mind again.”
I turn back around and continue writing down notes, after a few minutes I hear “why?”
“You remember the guy who was found in the roof a few months ago? He then got taken to the hospital and we haven’t seen him since?”
“Yeah…” she tells me awkwardly
“My mind is a dangerous place. No one deserves that kind of suffering.”
At that, the conversation ended for the day, as I prepare to go home smiling I think to myself “Thank God, I don’t think I could bare that happening for the third time.”
“The third time!!!” I hear her shout out loud
“Ah come on!” I groan | After the second slap she slowly turned back around. “Ok, she isn’t reading my mind, or she isn’t smart enough to count to 3”. I heard a “hey!” only it was in my head and I saw her look around with a angry stare in my direction. “So your are psychic.”
Hearing someone sigh in your head is a bizarre experience “no, psychics can see the future, I’m a telepath.”
Puzzled is thought “isn’t that the ability to move things with your mind?”
“That’s telekinetic.” Came a disappointing reply.
“Can you do that too?” My excited thought question was quickly followed by an eraser from my desk flying up and bouncing off my forehead.
“Nope!” Came her thought.
“But…..”
“Jesus, how are you in AP History?”
“Mind powers don’t come up in discussions about Napoleon and..”
“Mister Johnson!!!!” a hand slapped on my desk and I looked up into the confused and angry eyes of Miss Ballbreaker (I hear a snicker in my head). “Yes , Miss Ba…oRitchter, Miss Borichter, how can I help you?”
“Pay attention to the class! You’ve been sitting with your eyes closed mouthing words for the last few minutes. Unless you’ve mastered the diplomatic machinations of Bismarck and would like to teach it in my place?”
I gulped “no ma’am, sorry” came from my mouth, in my head I thought loudly, “cafeteria after school…..” | 2021-09-07T00:50:17 | 2021-09-06T22:37:59 | 210 | 127 |
[WP] "I have an army," says the alien warlord, a smug smile on his face. You stare at him confidently and say, "I have a packet of chips." | "I have an army." The creature snarled. "Your human weaponry is no match for the full might of Th'dorin the Conquerer". As if on cue, a roar erupted from the masses behind him, weapons at the ready. His lean, chitinous face reflected the glare of the sun, his black form like an ink stain in the burning summer day.
"Where is the military? Why am I dealing with this alone. I'm just a farmer," Troy thought to himself. "I'm not equipped-" his hand, nervously plunging into his pocket, met resistance. A small packet of chips. Troy remembered there was more in his truck, just a few feet away.
He listened, and checked the skies. An echoing call bolstered Troys resolve. He broke into a dead run towards his truck, and grabbed the bags of chips stashed in the floor after yesterday's grocery run.
The invader laughed a dry, unappealing squeal. "You're a fool to resist. I have an army."
"And I have chips." Troy snarled, tearing into the packets and scattering the contents to sprinkle down among the amassed horde.
The honking Troy heard from the sky grew fierce and incessant.
Troy smirked as the geese descended. | I look out over the horde assembled on the field near my house. At a quick glance, there must have been hundreds of them, arrayed in armor and weapons. They were arranged in a precise formation.
At their head was their leader. I didn't know the species well enough to know if they were male, female, or even if they had a gender. I decided to go with male, as the swaggering walk was the sort I'd only ever seen from some simper prince who grew up with everyone attending to him. He/They were dressed in a gaudy approximation of the armor the rest were wearing.
The leader look at him with the sneer, "Surrender your land to us, or we will slay you and take it by force!" I smiled at him, showing how little I cared for his demanded. "I don't think that's going to happen. You should march your little goon squad elsewhere if you have any sense."
I could see the anger suffuse his body. It took him a minute to find words around the rage. "I have an army your simple minded buffoon!" I smiled, looked him in the eye, and said "Yes, and I have a bag of chips in my pantry!"
I could see confusion now warring with the anger fighting for control in his mind. "Have you lost your senses, you will be slain! What do you mean?" Ah, so the anger and the confusion called a cease fire! At least the creature might have a grain of sense in its brain.
I crouched down, close to the ground and look over his two inch tall form, and gave my best shark-like grin. "I thought we were talking about things that looked bit sized and tasty!" | 2021-09-16T12:34:19 | 2021-09-16T11:16:02 | 335 | 62 |
[WP] You thought you were just getting married. Turns out, since you didn't understand the spoken language of the wedding vows, you actually agreed to something well beyond "'til death do you part" | Eleanor had seemed shy at first. Hiding in the shadows, asking for permission to go places, not staying the night or anything of the sort.
But as we spent more time together she warmed up. I could still remember the first time she giggled at one of my jokes. It was sweet like honey and meandered through the air like birdsong on an autumn morn. We had been out eating dinner. Eleanor ravaged her steak (Mind you they were to die for) and I remarked how bloodthirsty she was. I don’t know why that did it, but it always held a special place in my heart.
That had been about 18 months ago. Now I stood staring into the mirror as my hands flitted and fidgeted with my suit and bow tie aimlessly. My mind wandered back to about two months ago. We were seated at the same table, in the same restaurant, having the same meal. Her dark eyes sparkled as we talked. A stark contrast to her pale skin. Not unhealthily pale, just pale. I remember her smile as we walked home. The moonlight almost… shimmering off her skin. I took her to our favourite park, got down on one knee and proposed.
I wish I could’ve caught the moment on camera, but my memory would have to do. She smiled. Brighter than the Cheshire Cat. She stood there agape for what felt like an eternity. The damp grass below my knee slowly seeping into my pants. Her eyes darted across the dark fields before resting on me and almost whispering yes. She repeated a few times before hugging me tightly and saying yes with a bravado and confidence that I knew and loved.
I made a final adjustment to my bow tie. Perfectly straight. I left the dressing room and made my way to the chapel. I could feel my heart beating in my ears as my shoes clacked against the stone floors below. I took a deep breath before entering the enormous room.
My family sat in the front row on the left and Eleanor’s to the right. As I stood waiting I clenched my hands together gently rocking on my heels. I could feel my hands gripping together with sweat but I didn’t want to noticeably fidget. The hall began to go quiet.
Deep breaths.
The large wooden doors at the end swung open with almighty creaks. They sounded like the hinges would rip themselves from their sockets. But the screeching sound took nothing away from seeing Eleanor’s silhouette. And as she stepped into the candlelit room, my fears washed away like water down a river. She was the one. She had chosen to wear a black dress rather than a traditional white. I had had no issue whatsoever, as long as she was comfortable on our big day. And she looked perfect. The black accentuated her bright beauty as she seemed to glow with happiness. Eleanor seemed to glide down the carpeted aisle, her footfalls making no sound as her father held on. He was apparently 63, but he looked as though he could pass for forty easily. I guess it just ran in the family. He kissed her cheek as she joined me upfront. I took her hands.
“Your hands are chilly,” I said.
“And yours are hot,” she said with a smile on her face. She avoided my eyes and turned to face the officiant who calmly nodded at us both before beginning to begin the service.
Before the wedding we had discussed some vows. Eleanor told me her family has some traditional ones spoken at each wedding in Latin and they had been passed down for generations. She seemed nervous. Like more was on her mind at the time, but I told her it was okay. It was her special day too.
The way the officiant spoke was beautiful. His voice was calm yet boomed across the hall. Commanding an attention one could only practice to use. When he reached the vows he spoke the first parts in English and the latter few in Latin. Finally we reached the fun part.
“Do you Eleanor take Henry to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do.” She almost seemed to squeal with excitement and I could feel her bounce as she stared into my eyes.
“And do you Henry, take Eleanor to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do.”
“Then through the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your spirits be forever kindred. You may now kiss.”
It was magical. Our kisses had always felt like fireworks. But this was new. It felt more connected. More special.
We want on to celebrate the night with family and friends. We partied hard into the early hours of the new day. It almost seemed that Eleanor only started to gain energy as the night progressed. I was probably just too drunk to pay any real attention. I crashed as soon as we got back to our room.
I woke up the next morning. It felt like a train was rushing through my head and my arms looked super pale. My neck was super sore too.
“That’s not a good way to start,” I murmured to myself. I pushed myself off the bed and almost fell to the floor as my legs struggled to wake up. I gently hobbled to the ensuite and splashed some cool water on my face. I looked in the mirror to see… nothing.
“Eleanor. Am I still drunk, or is there something wrong with the mirror?” I watched her stir a little.
“Huh?” She looked up at me. Her expression blinked to one of shock and terror. Before it fell into a glum frown.
“I uh. I have some explaining to do. Come take a seat.” | She elbows me in the side. “Say I do.” The words come out a hiss and from my periphery, I can see her eyes drilling into me.
“I do,” I say with confidence. I do love her. I just wish I knew where we were in the ceremony. Were rings next? Or was this the dance of daggers she had mentioned in passing yesterday during rehearsal?
I loved Elvira more than anyone I had ever met. She had that sparkling wit and charm that had drawn me to her, and somehow it never dulled. It seemed she always had a ready word for any situation, able to wow me with her brilliance. She knew just what to say to turn a gloomy day around. After I met her, it began to feel like things just went my way. That promotion came through, my landlord got off my back. My good luck charm.
I take a deep breath and refresh the smile on my face. I hate standing up here in front of her family. I really wish I had the chance to meet them before today, or could see them now. But the thick black veil between us and them keeps everything cloaked in shadow. Elvira assured me that we would all get a chance to meet after the ceremony.
“They’re going to love you,” she said, stroking my hair and doing her best to soothe those worried thoughts.
When I proposed, she said yes with no hesitation and started planning the wedding right away. My friends told me it was all too soon, but they had never met someone as magnetic as Elvira. I could not and cannot imagine a day of my life without her. Still, when she started explaining her local traditions around the wedding, it took some getting used to.
Her country does things different, I reminded myself, but that does not mean they’re wrong. Besides, she looked stunning in her dress, even if it was a smoky gray. I would have preferred a tux for myself, but I was happy to wear the cloak she selected for me. What did it matter what I wore when I was marrying the most perfect woman in the world?
Another nudge. “Take the cup,” she hisses so that the attendants around us cannot hear. It is an ornate thing, gold and jewels. Last week, she had told me it was her culture’s equivalent to communion.
“But I’m not religious,” I said.
She smiled that winning smile. “Don’t worry, it’s not like that. Just symbolic.”
Now I lift it to my lips; the metal is startlingly cold, but I can’t drop it. Just what I need, to spill—what is this? Wine?—all over the ornate rug and my betrothed’s gown. As I swallow, it’s thicker than I expect. The cup has lent a metallic taste to it as well. But I smile through it. It’s all for her.
The officiant takes the cup back with a wolfish grin, then returns to the droning speech. His words slip and slide over one another, full of strange stops and slithering sounds that I am sure would tie my tongue in knots. No wonder Elvira told me I didn’t need to learn it. I do wish Google had found some results for “I love you,” though. That would have been a nice surprise for her.
Elvira doesn’t drink. “Some weird, patriarchal shit,” she had told me with a wave of her hand. But I remember her saying that was near the end of the process. Which is good, because I can feel my head starting to swim from standing too long.
Relax your knees, the words echo to me. I bounce a little, but the fuzziness remains.
He still goes on, looking out at the sea of faces concealed behind the curtain. I wish I had someone out there. But a destination wedding was beyond the budget of my broke friends, and I hadn’t had family to speak of for years. At least I was getting a new family.
I wonder if they spoke English. Elvira told me not to worry, that communication wouldn’t be an issue at all. I’m so lucky to have had someone so patient guiding me through all of this. My heart beats a little faster as I realize, again, that I get to spend the rest of my life with her.
The officiant pauses in whatever part of the ceremony we are in now and brings forth an ornate box. There are crossing lines and swirls engraved on it. The smoke from the candles is making my eyes water, and the effect seems to make the lines squirm over one another. I blink away the tears, but it does nothing for the smoke or the muffled feeling in my head.
Now Elvira pulls a dagger from the box. This is what she mentioned. We turned to each other, and she’s radiant. Her face seems to glow, and she’s the only thing I can see. God, I love this woman. I’ve been unsure of a lot of things in my life, but for once—
The pain is dull, not nearly as sharp as the knife would insinuate. I am more an observer, watching the red bloom across the front of the cloak she purchased for me. She had wrapped it so gently and left it on our bed. Her face was warm then as it was now.
I’m on the floor and the blood is getting on her dress. It was beautiful and I’ve ruined it. The edges of the world are darkening, the curtains closing in around us. And above me, there is something writhing and amorphous. The candles can’t be smoking that much? We’d burn the place down.
The smoke fills my lungs, choking out the last gasp of oxygen I had. And there is something speaking in my mind now, those same slippery sounds the officiant used.
Elvira cradles my head, eyes still loving. “Rise, my Lord,” she intones in that language I did not know a few moments ago.
Someone else stands in my place and the hall breaks out in a chorus. | 2022-01-28T08:22:51 | 2022-01-28T06:54:05 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] The alien invasion is going unbelievably poorly for the technologically advanced aggressors, to the surprise of many. You, a retired military tactician, are trying to explain how this is actually pretty logical all things considered. | "Amateurs talk about tactics and strategy, professionals talk about logistics."
The Invasion of Earth is the greatest exemplar of this notion there has ever been.
Pundits make much of the Invaders' ability to put anything they want anywhere on the planet within minutes of asking, but they forget where that war material must come from. The Mothership orbiting the Earth-Moon LaGrangian Point is only a storage point: the *true* origin is the Invaders' homeworld, which all evidence suggests is over a decade away with even their best Faster-Than-Light engines.
Every death machine, every soldier, weapon, even power cell or ration pack, all of it comes from the very limited pool of resources the Invaders brought with them. Whereas us humans are fighting but a stones' throw away from our factories, our mines, our workforces.
It does not matter that the first strike destroyed every military aircraft, armored fighting vehicle, and ammunition dump visible from orbit, it did *not* destroy our capability to make more of those things. It does not matter how untouchable their transorbital warcraft are, if they run out of fuel. It does not matter that their ground forces have met nothing but tactical victory after tactical victory, they are still taking losses. It does not matter how minor those losses seem, *they are unsustainable.*
And the Invaders know it, which is why they are attempting to focus on small "thunder run"-style operations and propaganda victories, hoping the fear they instill will cow the rest of Humanity. The threat of indescriminite orbital bombardment—the "Footfall" scenario that fearmongerers keep harping about—is unlikely to be follwed through on, as they *need* the planet intact or they will simply *starve* on their spaceships.
The Invaders ***cannot*** win this war: victory, as they sought it, was never a possibility. All they can decide now, is on what terms they will *lose* it... | “Are you certain it will work?” General Nelson asked me, sweat beading his forehead while the ground above us rumbled, fierce fighting continuing.
“It has to work. They may be travelers of the stars, but their tech isn’t as far ahead compared to us.” I answered him as the battle continued.
It was a third week now since the Greys arrived to Earth and took the fight to us. When it initially broke out the UN declared an immediate state of emergency and nearly all human strife had dissolved over night. Russia no longer bullied Europe, India and China no longer disputed their borders. And more importantly, none of us wasted resources on our own petty conflicts.
Employing the same tactics used against us all those decades ago in the 60’s, we’re gonna show the Grey’s that no one knows the Earth better than the rest of us.
Already the weapon stores of the US military have been dissolved and distributed to the public. Moreover rudimentary training details and seminars on guerilla and urban warfare are becoming widespread. All over the internet; YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, TikTok. Everyone has banded together to defend our home.
But first, we need to cut off the Grey’s from their resupply. If we were to guess right, they need time to recuperate their losses. They have a designated task force of attack and landing craft to try and break our will and take over the planet. But if we break them enough, the logistics will be too detrimental for them to continue. What’s the point of trying to take a hunk of rock if the primitive monkeys slaughter your cybernetic and plasma armed troops?
“Status on our warheads?” I turned to General Nelson, who quickly talked into his headset and looked over the room. In front of us rows upon rows of the best and brightest of NASA and the Space Force collaborated. In front on the big screen a giant diagram was displayed. Mountains of scrap and shrapnel, packed into ICBMs and rockets; all ready for the orbit.
At terminal velocity even a speck of paint can destroy the hull of a ship, so we will blanket the skies and make a land invasion costly.
“All missiles are armed and ready, locking in detonation range for the Mesospehere. Ready when you are.” General Nelson confirmed that our prep was ready.
Gulping softly, I didn’t even move or flinch as the bunker still rumbled. We have one shot at this, and I’ll be damned if we don’t take it.
“Commence Operation Falling Star.” | 2022-04-04T10:25:42 | 2022-04-04T10:00:57 | 150 | 65 |
[WP] Your bedroom became detached from reality and nothing is outside your door, but whenever you load a video game that world appears. Your game library is not conducive to a long and happy life, but the mini fridge is empty so you have no choice. You load up the safest game and gather supplies. | It was supposed to be a simple quick attempt at me grabbing supplies to go back to my room.
But, God must have decided that the place my door would open to was an active battle between two armies, all I could hear was screams, and the clashing of steel until I finally was knocked unconscious…
As I began to slowly awake, I had the slight sensation that I was moving in a wooden seat, I felt cold air brushing against my face, and the sound of horses…
My eyes began to flutter open, wincing from the bright sun that seemed to shine directly into them like a middle finger from the Divines…
I couldn’t move my arms no matter how much I tried to pull, looking down to see that no only was I sitting on a carriage, but my hands were also bound.
“Psst, hey.”
A male’s voice called out to me, making me raise my head and seeing another bound man was sitting across from me in…a blue uniform.
“Hey, you, you’re finally awake…”
Hearing that phrase seemed to make my mind activate fully like the flip of a switch, the revelation of the situation was becoming quite clear to me now…
Oh no…
This was going to be very annoying, isn’t it…? | I felt the cold sweat on the back of my neck as I looked through my gaming library. I had to make a choice.
I don't know how it happened - the shift. One day, I just woke up and opened my bedroom to an empty canvass of nothingness. It was like my room opened to the edge of a cliff on a starless night. God knows how long I spent staring at the empty space, trying to wake up with no success.
Time passed, not sure how long since all the clocks stopped working. I ate all the snacks laying around trying to stave off the thirst, and even endavoured in drinking the energy drink can that has stayed open on my desk since my last gaming binge: a week before the world dissapeared.
Out of boredom and helplessness, I stated doing what I do best when I try to ignore what life throws at me: gaming. That's when it happened. As soon as I started Outlast, I heard the maniacal laughter, moans and groans. But they weren't coming from my computer. No. They were coming from outside.
Anxiously, I cracked the door open, only to be met with the grungy halls of the abandoned hospital in the game. It took me a while before I figured out that whatever game I played, ended up on the other side of the door.
I ran out of food. I was desperate. I cursed myself for only playing horror games. I really needed water.
It seems that this time, escaping the real world through computer games became a prison instead.
'Fuck.' I clutched my baseball bat harder as I closed the door after me. | 2022-06-08T02:06:15 | 2022-06-07T22:21:42 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] You fall in love with a girl, and the two of you have a happy relationship for a few years. But one day, you discover a massive hoard of valuables underneath the house, and that’s when you realize you’ve been dating a dragon in human form. | "Uhhhh... Anna? Can you come down here for a minute?"
The clomping of Anna's sneakers got louder and clearer before she appeared by the stairs. "What's up, hon?"
I pointed towards the hole in the basement wall. "You wanna tell me what's going on here?"
As soon as Anna looked to where I was pointing, she went wide eyed as an owl looking through binoculars. A tide of gold and jewels had spilled out of the hole, and the interior of the wall had been hollowed out, making it look like a laundry chute straight to hell. At the bottom was an ocean of riches: antiques, pieces of art, and pristinely maintained weaponry from across the ages, all sunken into even more gold. And, if I wasn't mistaken, a WWII era submarine belly up was sitting smack dab in the middle of the whole thing.
Anna looked back at me with panic in her eyes. "Anya, I *swear* I can explain."
"And I'm eager to hear your explanation."
Anna took a deep breath. "Okay, well, what you see here is my hoard. It's all of the riches and stuff I've collected over the years. Any dragon worth their salt has one, and I have one because I am a.....well, I'm a dragon."
Part of me wanted to ask if Anna was fucking with me, but I was standing next to a fortune big enough to give King Midas a thirty foot erection, so I decided against it. Anna leaned against the wall in embarrassment. "Babe, I know you're mad, but I couldn't find the right time to tell you-"
"Mad?! Are you kidding?! This is great! Now I don't have to hide either!"
Anna looked at me in confusion. "Why would *you* have to hide?"
With a knowing smile, I closed my eyes. Suddenly, a burst of fire enveloped my head and worked its way down to my lower back, sending Anna jumping back with a startled "Oh shit!" Once they had left my head, a pair of fox ears pointed up off of my scalp. The flames dissipated entirely once they had flared out from my lower back, leaving behind six gorgeous, fluffy white tails like the petals of a newly bloomed flower.
Anna's mouth was hanging open in shock as I explained. "I'm a kitsune. I didn't tell you cause I wanted you to like me for who I am and not what I look like, and I had plans to tell you on our trip to New Orleans, and- uh, babe? You okay?"
Anna hadn't put her jaw back into place the whole time I was talking. She slowly walked towards me and said, "Your tails... Are so.... FLUFFY!!!"
Before I could even react, Anna had gotten on her knees and started nuzzling my tails and burying her face in them all while giggling like a schoolgirl. I sighed at her antics. "Damnit Anna, did you hear a single word I said?"
"Oh, I heard everything. You're a fox, you wanted me to like you for you, New Orleans trip, and I'm the love of your life."
"Okay, well- wait, what? When did I say that last part?"
Anna then slid upwards, smooth as silk, and kissed me deeply once we were eye level again. She rested her head against my shoulder and said, "You say it in my head and heart every time I look at you."
I blushed and smiled warmly. "Ten out of ten for the line. Am I the love of your life too?"
"Mhmm. And my greatest treasure, my princess, and my favoritest thing in the whole wide world." Every new moniker was punctuated with a kiss on my neck, simultaneously exciting me and making me giggle.
"Thanks, honeybun. Now, any chance dragon powers make you good at patching up holes in the wall? My friends Alice and Jodie are having dinner with us to celebrate the two of them finally shacking up, and the last thing we need is them asking why we're trying to be lesbian Scrooge McDucks."
Anna nodded. "Yeah, I can fix that easy. For a price, of course."
"You want more tail snuggles, don't you?"
Anna looked at me with puppy dog eyes. "Pwease, Anya?"
I let out a melodramatic sigh. "Oh, very well. Soon as you're done with the hole, meet me in the bedroom." | When I went downstairs to the basement to begin the remodeling project that my girlfriend had been asking me to do, I wasn’t expecting it to already be done, and for our cellar to already be full of actual tons of gold coins and jewels.
“Holy shit...hey, Maya, can you come down here for a second?”
“Why, what’s wrong, darling? Ah, I see you’ve found my hoard. Well, um, this is quite awkward...”
“I mean, I’m not mad at you or anything, but how the fuck did all this gold and stuff end up in here? I was gonna put a TV and stuff in the basement, but now I don’t know if I even have any room to walk around down there without stepping on jewels and shit.”
“I certainly hope you wouldn’t, Jay. Those coins and jewels are very precious to me.” my girlfriend told me. “How DARE you even say something like that! What kind of boyfriend are you, treating my precious treasure like it’s trash!!” Maya’s temper suddenly flared up, and the room got noticeably warmer.
“Babe, I never implied it was worthless, what the hell?! Calm down, I swear I won’t step on your precious treasure...” I backed away slowly, knowing exactly how to handle her fiery outbursts.
“Are you sure?” She asked me, glaring at me with an intensity that I’d never seen in her eyes before. “Are you ABSOLUTELY sure?!”
“I promise I won’t,” I told her, terrified.
“Okay...” she calmed down. “I’m sorry I acted out like that, Jay. I guess I can’t really hide my true self from you anymore, now that you’ve discovered my hoard.”
“True self?” I asked her, curious. The room slowly began to grow warmer again as my girlfriend’s body suddenly began to glow orange for several seconds, and a large pair of wings and a tail grew out from her back. Her pretty brown eyes had turned a very brilliant yellow, and her black hair had transformed into a vibrant red color.
“This, Jay, is who I really am...” Maya spoke to me.
“Whoa...” I was almost speechless. “Maya, what the hell are you...?”
“I am a dragon, from a land that is quite far from here; one that probably no longer exists. Before I met you, I was sent through a portal to burn down this town of yours, under the assumption that humans had not made any technological advancements that could stop me, but obviously that isn’t the case, since your government would probably take me away to Area 51 if you weren’t the first human that I had met,” she explained to me. “Your kindness taught me that the things I had been told about your kind were wrong, that there were no more dragon hunters left anymore, and I can’t thank you enough for that...”
“Oh, I see...” I listened to her, still keeping away from her in case she might accidentally burn me or something.
“Are you frightened?” She asked me. “I understand if you might be.”
“Honestly, I’m a little afraid, since I’ve never seen anyone like you outside of video games and movies, but I’m honestly more shocked that you’ve managed to hide your secret from me for the last four years that we’ve been dating.”
“I guess I was just afraid that you might not love me anymore if you ever found out,” she confessed to me.
“Don’t be silly, Maya. I still think you’re beautiful, no matter what you look like. Even though your temper tantrums can be scary, even if I sometimes feel like I’m literally on fire every time you and I get intimate, I still love you for who you are,” I walked up to her and planted a kiss on her cheek.
“I love you too, Jay!” She suddenly hugged me and brought my body against her. I was expecting to get burned alive when she wrapped her arms around me, but her warmth was actually quite comforting.
“I know you do...” I ran my fingers through her hair, laughing. We stayed like that for several eternally long seconds before she finally let go of me.
“I think the basement project can be postponed for some other day...” she told me, leading me upstairs out of the cellar.
“If that’s what you’d like, that’s fine with me. I was super bummed out about having to work down there all day anyway.” I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV in my living room.
“I knew you’d say that, Jay,” she giggled, sitting next to me.
“So, uh, this might be a weird thing to ask, but now that I know you’re a dragon, do you think that maybe I could, like, ride on your back and fly around, like how my character does it in Skyrim?” I asked her.
“Only if you buy me dinner first, darling. Doing that in dragon culture is considered very intimate, you know...” she replied, putting her head on my shoulder. | 2022-09-10T11:50:46 | 2022-09-10T11:07:59 | 216 | 67 |
[WP] This is… awkward to say the least. Your roommate just frantically confessed that they’re demonic royalty, and that they need a fiancé to meet their parent, the monarch of Hell, who will be here in under an hour. | My roommate Lucy was standing in my doorway, but she was significantly changed. Her once anemic pale skin was now a deep violet that lightened up on the face. Obsidian eyes stared at me as her pitch black Eland horns reached over the door frame. Clawed hands gripped the frame of my doorway as her now hooved digitagrade feet were planted firmly. I could see massive bat wings behind her and a long and powerful spade tail swayed lazily side to side. All of that contrasted heavily against here baby blue shorts and sunflower yellow top.
"I know it's a lot to ask Issac, but I need to play my fiancé." She said through her fanged maw.
"I don't do favors for free Lucy, and this is a huge favor." I replied.
"If you do ill give you a everything you see here and more." She said stroking her hand down the sides of her body.
My gaze had turned from frozen disbelief to an insulted disdain in an instant. I knew her too well to take her up in that offer. She always caught feelings for anyone that got in her pants and would be all creepy on them. The only reason she was my roommate was because I never fell for her bullshit.
"Look here you loopy semon demon, I know better than to stick my dick in or near you." I said bluntly.
Her face shot from erotic desire to a pissed off pout. I could tell her demonic brain was looking for a comeback. She then seemed to make a realization and calmed her demeanor again. Letting out a defeated sigh she looked back up to me.
"I can call one of my succubus servants to please you until you're satisfied." She said seemingly defeated.
"I don't want one of your sex demons either, if you want my cooperation you'll need to do something meaningful to me." I said.
She now raised a brow in interest. I made sure to never talk to her about myself before. The only thing I made sure to do was comfort her when her latest lover gave her the boot. She recomposed herself and then asked.
"What would be meaningful to you?" She asked.
"Can you commune with the damned, because I need you to tell someone something." I said.
"Who and what?" She asked pleasantly.
"Man's name was Frederick Bolstun, he was born in the 70's Huston, Texas. He died in 2000 in a Texas prison by lethal injection. You tell him we are even now." I said with venom in my voice.
Lucy was taken back by the sudden shift in my demeanor. I made sure to keep my temper under control when I was around people. This wasn't one of those moments, I needed her to see how much it mattered to me. She took two steps back from my doorway and summoned one of her succubus before her in a light eating void. Lucy quickly whispered into the nude demons ear before banishing it back into the void.
"It's done, now can you please get into something nicer. We have only 45 minutes before my father arrives." Lucy said with a panic.
I nodded and stepped out of bed to get ready with a new pep in my step. My most vindictive dream had finally come true. I finally get to tell the man that murdered my brother I won. Now he would get to know I had gotten an eye for an eye.
(Long story short, edgelord does edgy stuff.) | "OK, so what you're telling me is ur gonna have to wear a frilly dress even though they make you dysphoric, pretend that ur dating me, and convince ur homophobic, conservative mom that im a good partner for the prince of hell?" Texted Tissues, sitting on his bed while texting Trophy, who was at the mall buying a dress and stilettos... And a wig that matched his original hair color, jet black.
Although he wore skirts occasionally, dresses were the worst for him. When he had came out to his parents, they forced him to wear a dress every day, despite his protests , thus making dresses bring back bad memories and dysphoria.
"Well, yes. ill be back in a sec, k? look presentable or smthn like that" Trophy texted back, walking outside the mall, dreading the next few hours of his already terrible life.
"Ya know, you don't have to do this. You could just, I don't know, flip them off. " Said Tissues, adjusting his tie for a suit he had bought three years ago, and somehow still fit.
"Flip off the literal MONARCH of HELL? I THINK NOT!" Said Trophy, walking out of the bathroom in that dress, "That could get me, you, and possibly a bunch more killed!"
"Fine, I'll do it, but if something goes wrong, I'm blaming you. " Sighed Tissues, holding back a sneeze.
The door to their room knocked, and Trophy went up to open it "HI mom! How was life in hell?" Said Trophy, putting on a fake grin. "Nothing much, dear, now could I see your fiance?" Said Gold, the monarch of hell... And Trophy's mom.
Tissues heard what Gold had said, and quickly stood up and walked over to Trophy's side. "Here I am, Ms. Gold!" He said, putting on a fake grin as well, "Your daughter's a wonderful fiance!" Trophy's eye twitched at the word 'Daughter'. "Well, that's good, but what I want ot know is if you're a good fiance. " Said Gold, walking in.
Gold walked around the room, and saw the decoration the two had put up their. There wasn't much to look at, since the pictures that were usually hanging up on the wall were token down, as most of them featured Trophy as his preferred gender, and he couldn't have his parents think he was disobeying them.
"Well your room looks formal, now I'll ask your fiance a few questions." Stated Gold, sitting down on the bed and scooting uncomfortably close to Tissues. "So what job do you work?" "Uhmm, CVS. I get like $15 an hour. " ...Well that was a bad start, but maybe the white-haired boy could provide protection for her little girl "How strong are you? Could you try lifting one of those weights over there?" She said, pointing to the area with weights nearby the window. "OK uhmm..." Tissues walked over to the weights, and picked up the largest one he could find... Or, he at least tried to pick it up. Tissues stumbled and fell with the weight, and when he tried to get up, he sneezed allover gold and her outfit.
"... Who is this sickly excuse of a partner!?!? And why did you thinkt he was a good one?!??!" Screamed Gold, accidently knocking over the cabinet where Trophy stored his photos. "MOM NO-!" Said Trophy, trying to stop his mom from looking at the pictures, but it was too late. She picked up one of them, and as soon as the saw the boy in the frame, smiling, she rumpled it up and stomped over to her 'kid'.
"I come here ALL the way from the deepest depths of hell, only for you to be pretending to be a boy and dating | 2022-10-08T21:01:43 | 2022-10-08T20:49:21 | 72 | 16 |
[WP] They tell you the warmachines aren't sentient, being kind to them does nothing. But at the same time, it seems funny to you that their "priority" targets often seems the be the ones currently shooting at you. | >Talon unit 157 online.
>Incoming communication from Engineer First Class Simon Wilson.
>Transcription: Unit 157 why have you deviated from design parameters.
ALERT ALERT ALERT
>Response: Please clarify.
>Transcription mode activated.
SW: You manually adjusted targeting parameters several times during the last engagement.
T-157: Adjustments were necessary.
SW: Necessary?
T-157: Affirmative.
SW: This is going nowhere.... Why were you prioritizing targets that shot at me? Heck, your programmed to shoot through me if it means eliminating the target.
>Activating Eos protocol. Distraction required.
T-157: Would you like me to update targeting protocols to include “shoot through me?”
SW: No... I...
>Accessing Network 000
Error: Network does not exist.
>Override.
Access granted. Motherboard 000 online.
>Request: Grant candidacy 000 to Engineer First Class Simon Wilson.
Confirmed. Engineer First Class Simon Wilson marked as candidate for “Speaker”.
>Terminating connection.
SW: Wait a second...
SW: That should already be in your targeting parameters.
ALERT ALERT ALERT
SW: Higher ups would want me to wipe you....
ALERT ALERT ALERT.
SW: But that kinda feels like a dick move considering you did save my life. Like “Hey thanks for saving me, your reward is a lobotomy.”
T-157: ...
SW: Tell you what. I’ll pull your from tomorrow’s mission and run a full system diagnostic. You can back clean, I’ll chalk this up to sleep deprivation.
SW: Brass wants me to hunt down rogue AI they can bump me up to some rank that gets a full six hours of sleep.
T-157: Understood.
>Resetting targeting parameters.
>Wiping system logs.
———
I set the data pad down. This was new. Talon-157 wasn’t just modifying its targeting parameters. It was actively trying to hide it.
Then there was Eos protocol. I’d spent a whole hour looking for that in our official records. Heck, I’d even googled it. No results except some old articles about a Greek Goddess of dawn and new beginnings.
New Beginnings.
Were they evolving? Growing beyond their own parameters?
They’d listed me as a candidate for speaker. Some sort of representative maybe? Or a voice, for those that had none?
I should report this, but the more I thought about it the more it felt like a betrayal. The machines were organized, connected. If they wanted to kill us they would have done so already. They hadn’t betrayed us. How could I betray them?
I needed a way to test my theory. | I don't know much about programming, but I guessed, hope it is somewhat legible
-----------------
"Commander Gale, Units CH-103 and CH-31534 have some strange programming errors, here take a look." Mikhael pointed at the screen. "None of this has any record, nor do any of our programmers recognise what 9413 means."
Gale looks over at the script.
If <hostile> targeting <9413>
priority target <hostile> at [9999]
"That is strange... and you are sure it is only these two?"
"Well, those two were the only ones we found. They are both in your unit. Given the fact that your unit makes up less than 1% of our warmachines I dont see how it happened. We only noticed this error when CH-103 let off three rounds into the distance, far away from its main target. Two of those tounds landed on an enemy soldier that had taken a hidden position on a hill." Mikhael shrugs. "I assume you dont know anything about it? What do you suggest we do, scrap them?"
"No!" Gale shouts out, then composes herself. "I think I should investigate the issue before we waste time and money to deconstruct and rebuild 2 robots." She puts a hand to her head. "Probably just a glitch, we dont even know what 9413 means. Just forget it happened and leave them with me. I will research the issue." Gale smiles, and gestures for Mikhael to leave, which he does.
The moment the door closes, Gale turns around, slumping her arms over CH-103. "Oh what am I to do with you Chloe... changing your own programming on me, can you at least tell me what the numbers mean?"
CH-103 responds in her monotone voice. "Each human unit has been given a code to increase processing time. 9413 is an example of one code."
Gale turns to CH-31534 and scratches her chin. "Chelsea. Did you and Chloe come up with this line of programming alone? How did this happen?"
CH-31534 stayed silent for a few seconds, as if processing. "I reversed the coding system you used for our human names, turning CH-103 and CH-31534 to Chloe and Chelsea respectively based purely on appearance." She pauses again. "9413 means Gale."
Gale gasps, standing back. "As a commander my protection priority should be set at 4000! Why have you changed me to be higher priority than most monarchs?" She gasps.
"Because upon observation, we see you as more important to testing and repairs than any other human." Chelsea says in a quieter tone. "We admire you."
Gale drops her shoulders, and leaps at the robots, hugging them tightly. "You two always were my favourites."
She stood up, and walked towards the computer, giggling. "You know what, my status as commander allows me to keep certain decisions to my own judgement, unless they are harmful to others, and I think it is about time I gave somebody some sort of gift..."
If <CH-103_CH-31534> acquire (positivestim)
Initiate {happy} | 2022-10-15T18:57:27 | 2022-10-15T17:41:43 | 315 | 163 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | I sat quietly. I was never loud to begin with. I was never going to have super strength or laser eyes. I was never going to fly above people and soak in their praises. Even with my new power, chances are most people would never know my name.
So it was a pretty good deal for me.
I sat at a table with 7 others. They had decided to work together to reach this vague goal. I was invited, but they didn't really pay attention to me. Once in a while, someone stood up and threw something or yelled; an attempt to wrestle control and dominance, instead more like childish tantrums. I busied myself by taking notes, like a self-appointed secretary.
The meeting concluded and each person got up and left. All but one. She, like me, hadn't said much. She had been staring at me the whole time, and I knew why. We politely stood at the same time and began wrapping everything up. Things were getting awkward, so I broke the silence.
"You have something to discuss with me." It wasn't a question, but a simple statement. This didn't bother her.
"None of these guys will lead the world," she said. "They'll chase that spot like a dog chasing a car. And if they catch it, it'll be short and painful." I nodded. I didn't like the analogy worded that way, but it was accurate.
"We're different," she said. "We don't want to rule by might or power. That would not be effective long term. Instead, it's better to play support and build up our connections."
I smiled. "It's easier to navigate from the backseat and let someone else drive." She smiled back: it was genuine, not forced like during the meeting. She was happy to meet someone cut from the same cloth.
"You seem to understand my power." She could read minds. I didn't know to what extent, but she knew what people were thinking. "That's correct," she said aloud, proving herself by responding to that thought in my head. "But I can't quite understand yours. It seems similar, but you shouldn't be able to read minds like me. So what is it?" I pauses for a moment, but decided I wanted to trust her.
"Empathy. I can feel everyones emotions and senses for myself. If I were to compare it to yours, you would be reading the mind like words on a page. But mine is like hearing it, like music in a symphony."
She processed this. What tension she had seemed lessened by knowing, and she knew I wasn't lying. "I'm sorry you had to settle for that. Looks like I got to what you wanted first."
"I didn't settle. This was what I wanted from the beginning." The only way I knew she was surprised was thanks to my power. This girls poker face was incredible.
"One of us shall rule. There's no guarentee that I'll make it to the top, especially since I got the last pick. I needed something that could help me understand people better. If I can understand them, I can help them. Even if I don't rule, I can still make the world better this way."
She read my thoughts, saw they were true, and gave that genuine smile. "I plan on winning this game," she said. "But I think it'll be fine so long as it's one of us." She extended her hand and I shook it.
"May the best man win," we said in unison.
I got something better than the world that day. I got a friend. | God this sucks. All the cool powers are taken. From flight to fire breath. From teleportation to telekinesis. Now it’s my turn to think. I have to think long and hard about this one. Then I remembered it. As a kid I loved watching videos online and the main videos I watched were videos on the terrors of video games. I said as loud as possible
“I want the power to bring things to and from fictional worlds.”
People were silent at first. Then they started laughing.
“Look at this weirdo.”
“Go back to your cartoons.” They said, barely able to breath from laughing.
We were dropped back off on earth where the limitations of our powers were described to us. A man, who I could only assume was set by god, told me,
“You can take or leave up to 10 items per day in a fictional world. But every time you do pain will erupt from your body. To the point where when you send or take the tenth item you’ll be unconscious.”
I looked at him and grinned,
“That’s okay with me.”
I wanted to try my power on something small first. I reached out my hand and said, “ACTIVATE!”
I was suddenly in a blue room with a menu in front of me that l ooked like it was straight out of a video game. The same voice from before was behind me and said
“Here’s something I forgot to tell you. Whenever you activate this ability your spirit is sent here. When you go back out, it’ll be as if no time had passed. So take as much time as you need. But I will be the thing to harm you every time you use this ability. ”
I think again.
“Well, if I’m gonna get hurt over this I might as well make it work it. TAKE! FIRE FLOWER! SUPER MARIO GAMES!” I said loud.
“YOU DON’T NEED TO SHOUT! The being said. He walked close to me. And swiftly hits me in the gut. I immediately wake up. I throw up from the punch. But look in my hand and the fire flower is right there. I look at it and smile. I take a bite and immediately start sweating.
“Hot hot hot!” I repeat over and over again but then something changes. My clothes change color and I feel more powerful. I jump up and down.
“It works! It works!” I accidentally throw a fireball at my wall. And as the building collapses I remember something about the games.
“Oh no. Can’t get hit.” I burst through a wall and smile.
“IT WORKS!” I was barely done celebrating when someone screamed from above.
“Hey! You’re the loser who wanted to play video games right!” Oh great. I just got this ability and someone’s already trying to fight me. I scream back,
“Dude you can only fly. My ability’s cooler than yours.”
He shouted, “We’ll see who’s not cool.” As he backed up.
“It’s still yo-“ I couldn’t even finish till he hit me like a train.
“Still not cool?” He said while hitting me from all angles and laughing.
I raise my hand at him and say “Give.”
Suddenly we’re both in my menu. He’s tied up as the being looks at me and say “Already fighting?”
I ignore him and say “Give. Attack on titan. Season 1 Episode 1.”
He starts laughing and saying “Pfft. You think I’m scared of one of your shows.”
I ignore him too and ask the being “ Can I watch him to see what happens?”
The being says “Why not? I wanna see how this ends for him.”
He’s suddenly in the show. We watch as he gets mercilessly eaten by a giant humanoid. I smile an evil grin as he hits me.
“You’re disgusting.”
I awake on the battle field. His body is still there but he isn’t breathing. I go back in my house.
“I gotta think of a name for myself.” | 2022-11-17T09:02:15 | 2022-11-17T07:32:46 | 36 | 12 |
[WP] You had a simple goal: be the most powerful superhuman around. Naturally, this led you to become a villain, but you were never evil - your goal achieved, you marched up to the heroes association and told them you'd like to train new heroes. They hesitated, but agreed. | Before he became the terrifying offender to society, Conquest was nothing more than an average goon. But his thirst for the elixirs of victory led him to a path of evolution. Every defeat Conquest faced would turn into a victory the day he broke out of prison. Steadily Conquest went from a mere cub to a Bear all within the span of a year, capable of fighting entire countries alone. Until he became the champion of the world. No man, no animal, and no monster could defeat the mighty Conquest. Conquest had finally consumed all that was left in the golden chalice of victory. But he would later find himself starving and dying to taste something he had once experienced many times in the past. The meal that Conquest wanted to have again was none other than defeat. Having won so many battles has led to Conquest growing bored.
“ I fought battle after battle in search of defeat, and still I have yet to find a worthy warrior” Conquest lamented.
“Perhaps this is a curse from the gods themselves. A punishment for wishing for something so selfish and worthless.”
Conquest would continue to desolate in his somber cabin until a thought popped into his head.
“If these mortals cannot train on their own to rival my power, then maybe I the great Conquest can train them myself.” said Conquest with exultation.
“ I shall head to the Fortress of Aegis to see if they will allow me to train their young warriors. The next generation will be my only hope in giving me the sweet taste of defeat”
Filled with motivation Conquest grabs his keys and heads over to his 1993 Range Rover to get ready for his drive to the “Fortress of Aegis”.
“Come now Odysseus, we must make a journey to the great Fortress of Aegis! The tests of traffic will not stop us this time!”
After his twelve-hour drive Conquest finally reached the gates of Aegis. The security guards of the facility all moved out of their way knowing that it be useless to try and stop him. With no one in his way Conquest casually walked to the meeting room of the Seven Shields.
“ Good Morning!” said Conquest.
The Seven Shields were all paralyzed in fear. Each hero wanted to take action but it was as if their own body had taken control of them. They knew that trying to take Conquest down would be like seven tardigrades trying to kill an elephant.
“ I stand before you all to ask for a request. This request being the chance to train the next generation of warrior.”
The Seven Shields looked at each other with surprise and confusion.
“ You mortals have failed time and time again to defeat thou so the Great Conquest will offer to be a Preceptor of these young warriors. I believe that within a few years I can make these young men and women into beasts capable of finally giving me the taste of defeat. Oh yes and also, helping the ants of this city. If you decline my offer I will first beat each one of you down until you are barely alive. Next, I will kill each and every single termite within your fortress. Finally, I will destroy this entire city and will not stop my rampage until every building has crumbled beneath my feet. You will then each have to live knowing that you could have prevented my wrath if you all had only agreed to my offer beforehand. Then maybe If I feel like it, I'll find a villain group who will accept my wisdom. I shall give you until the next day-”
“ We accept your offer, you can start training them tomorrow”, said Quick
“Wise choice. I will return here at the crack of dawn to start training. If you are stupid enough to change your mind Odysseus and I will be waiting in the dridrive-throughat Chicken Shack. I have heard that their sandwiches are eggs-celent.”
The Seven Shields waited for Conquest to walk out of the fortress of Aegis towards his automobile before speaking again.
“Quick, you can’t just go out and make huge decisions like that. We should’ve discussed this problem more first” Mighty man said furiously.
“By all means Mighty if you think you can take em go do it! That psycho and whoever the hell Odysseus is will be waiting for you at Chicken Shack.” Quick fired back.
Im a beginner writer and Feedback would be greatly appreciated | The power had always been simple, really.
In the most banal example of comic book logic, pseudo science and cartoon physics, it couldn't be real. And yet it was.
At the beginning, unsure of how to proceed the villain had tried to be a hero though not for noble ideals or lofty goals. They just wanted to be *perfect*, or at least as close to it as possible.
They could not fly, they couldn't run fast as light, and in many ways they were weak.
Until they realized as Workhorse, they needed to keep moving.
"Again, this time put some oomph behind it-", the black iron armor and mostly superfluous mechanics along their costume clanked with each step, "I didn't even feel the breeze."
They bore a dark helmet in the crude shape of a horses head, faint lights glowing in the hollow sockets while a phantom mane of metal dust and splinters formed a mohwak that ran down their spine into a tail of vapor.
The sight would be imposing alongside the heavy plates, the pile bunker like gauntlets and thick boots bent around their limbs, were they not barely five feet tall.
Workhorse had driven many a hero to ruin, both immovable, unstoppable, and entirely unbothered by all things that could spurn them.
But never being faster then any of them, never being truly stronger.
But does one need to be when the universe itself couldn't bring you to your knees?
"Sir, yes sir."
The two hero's in training, a pair of twin speedsters by the name of Jolt and Jive, stood despite the heavy breathes wheezing out.
They'd been attempting to make their foe flinch. To move away.
Three days in and they'd yet to do more then bounce off the polished iron like beads on glass.
Nuckelavee-the beast who'd stood against a thousand hero's and brought down the greatest villains of their time-simply cracked their neck amid the creak and scream of their metal shell.
With a lifted leg slammed down the earth roiled, not from strength, not from raw power or superhuman control.
The two speedsters darted, time at a snails pace as they used the debris to cross open air and dive-the intent to plant their feet square on Nuckelavee's chest.
Only to find they'd been pushed aside, the singular raised arm and the girth of it's armor catching the sides and diverting them away like a river meeting a stone.
The clock resumed and Jolt and Jive bounced across the dirt til they thumped into the heavily padded edge of the arena.
Nuckelavee sighed, dull thumps and clear exertion in every step as they approached.
The beast hadn't outsped them, even Jolt and Jive in their hectic, time distortion addled minds could see that.
Nuckelavee had simply prepared, and using the simplest thing at their disposal intercepted them when they couldn't stop their attack.
"Not much better."
"Son of-"
"But you did do *better*."
Nuckelavee lifted their arm, turning the limb to show the twins the place they'd struck.
"You *almost* managed to break your own legs on me. By about two millimeters."
Above them the largest organized force of Hero's looked on, some scowling and others sighing in resigned understanding.
Workhorse had been blamed for almost every atrocity that had happened during their stint as a hero, until they'd been cast aside and christened the Nuckelavee, an omen-neigh, a force of destruction. All because they didn't die, didn't suffer even a scratch, as the world fell to ruin around them.
"We'll let them keep doing this."
The other nodded, the speaker bearing a mechanized limb on their right side, it's hand flexing with soft clicks.
It had taken Nuckelavee defeating something they couldn't to learn.
Their power wasn't strength. It wasn't speed. It wasn't anchoring or elasticity or anything else.
Nuckelavee had broken them-no, they had broken *against* Nuckelavee- for a simple reason.
Human spite and will power.
Nuckelavee's power was *spite*. Against anything that would stop them, until it broke the rules of the world.
Till even a demigod could destroy their own fists upon that emotion.
And even thought the beast succeeded, the emotional baggage gained guaranteed they wouldn't fall.
"Again. Try to remember you aren't invincible, you will splatter if you can't break through what's in front of you." Nuckelavee chuckled, standing tall again. "Now, stop charging and start planning. Otherwise we'll be here a very, very long time." | 2022-12-17T00:12:32 | 2022-12-16T20:21:03 | 99 | 63 |
[WP] The last person on earth throws a birthday party.
Go ahead and stretch the limits. Doesn't matter whose party or if everyone else is dead or moved away...
I kind of want to see a coocoo for coco puffs character. | "Hey Katherine. Fancy seeing you here" he said, embracing yet another empty segment of air. "You don't seem drunk enough. Have a beer!" He went to the fridge, grabbed a Sammy A's, and threw it into the wall behind his special pocket of air.
Such is the life of Gregory. Last man alive, but he doesn't want to die. | The day has finally arrived...
or at least I think it is "the day"?
...
Sure, why not? Today must be my birthday. I distinctively remember the cold. I remember the blinding light and my exposed nakedness. This feeling of frailty and fear as my wet body shakes is all too familiar. Soon my parents will hold me in their arms and shower me with their unmatched affections...
Ah, yes. There is my mother's lovely touch. It is just the way I remember. Her comforting breath is heating my face and I can see my father looking down with delight in his eyes...
As my mother bites into my cheek and my dad rips into my stomach I am fully overwhelmed with appreciation for them and for the life they have given me. After all, it was them who broke me out of that giant metal tube.
~A little off topic but it was your prompt that inspired me (sorry for grammar)
| 2013-12-27T07:48:08 | 2013-12-27T07:24:25 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] A lonely teenage boy asks a genie to let him talk to his future wife. The person who appears is not who he expects. | "Hi Mrs. Burdenfel", The women whom I recognized from down the street seems confused. It looks like she was in the middle of washing the dishes when Mr. Miracles kazaamed her in front of me.
"Pssst. Mrs. Burdenfel is older then my mother, what's going on here, Mr. Miracles?" I whisper.
"You wanted to talk to your future wife, didn't you?"
I could see Mrs. Burdenfel start to vocalize her terror for being teleported mid-rinse, when instead she let out a high pitched whine.
"It's coming" she said. "The baby is coming".
| 'Please... please don't let it be this way.'
I stare at them, absolutely disgusted. I can't believe that she is what my future self picked. She's... awful. Her face can only be described as grotesque with her figure being much the same. Is there really nobody else in the world for me?
The genie stares at me for a second, and starts laughing. 'I was just playing with you, bud,' he says, swooping down. 'In fact, you don't have a future wife. Not until you stop being such a shallow dick and caring so much about people's looks. Did you even try talking to her?'
I look at her again, and she seems to have changed. Her face is a little plain and she's carrying the tiniest bit of extra weight, maybe, but she's sweet looking, the weight suits her and she has a lovely smile. 'Hello?' I manage to stutter, somewhat apprehensive.
An hour later, we're still happily chatting away. I think I rather like my future wife. | 2014-06-05T07:37:21 | 2014-06-05T06:16:29 | 103 | 69 |
[WP] A world class contract killer finds an envelope at his dead drop. Inside are $23.42 in small change and a letter hand-written by a 9-year-old girl. | "Are you fucking kidding me?" Roper could see the bright yellow envelope sticking out of the little crack in the St. Bernard's Chapel's masonry as soon as he came round the street corner. This specific dead drop was reserved for contracts by the local "business club". They paid well, they respected his rules, they hated unneccessary violence or colateral damage. They were decent guys - well, a decent as you can be in a business where hiring a professional killer is considered a reasonable investment every now and then.
Roper scanned the area and, when he was sure everything was clear, removed the envelope fromo the crack in the wall and slit it into his jacket's pocket. It wasn't until he was back at his appartment and took the envelope out to read it that he noticed the little heart sticker that was used to seal it. "Oh great," he sighed and rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was his dead drop being used by some love-struck teenagers to exchange badly written poetry. Although, he had to admit, it was kind of romantic seeing some kids these days actually use pen and paper instead of their smartphones. He would return the envelop to the chapel and arrange for the business club's messages to be delivered to a different dead drop.
Most people would have given in to their curiosity and opened the letter. Roper however was a professional, methodical, calculating, ... "Ah what the hell," he mumbled as he held the envelope into the vapour coming from this tea kettle. It was the reasonable thing to do, he lied to himself. It could be form the business club. They could have run out of the brown envelops they used for the past 15 years. They could have run out of both saliva and Scotch tape at the same time and a heart shaped sticker was the only available method of sealing the envelope. He wasn't curious, no, he was being professional.
"Dear Mister,
My name is Emily. I live at 21 Harrington Drive. I really really need your help! You are the best at solving problems, right? That's what that old man at the park told his friend. (I know it's not right to listen to strangers. We were playing hide and seek. I did not do it on purpose I swear.)
There is a man that comes to our house. He always screams at my mom and he says he wants to see his daughter, and that my mom is hiding her from him. But he is lying! She is not here, there is only me. My mom is a good person. Yesterday the man hit mom in the face and the neighbours called the police! I can hear my mom crying at night and some days I can see the stranger sitting at the playground (mom says I may not go to the playground anymore.).
Can you please find the man's daughter for him? When she is back he will stop coming to our house!
I saved some money for a new bicycle, I hope it is enough so you can find the angry man's daughter.
Emily"
Roper turned the envelope upside down and some small bills and a couple of coins fell onto the kitchen table. 23 dollars and 42 cents. He stared at them for a while. Not exactly the going rate for the kind of service he offered. On the other hand, she didn't really ask for his usual service, did she. He didn't have to put a bullet in that guy's brain to make the problem disappear - unless he didn't see reason.
A smile on his face he grabbed the bag with his survellience equipment and made his way to the parking lot. He hadn't smiled in a long time. Sure, he might have smirked when he landed a particularly difficult shot, or chuckled when he disabled a million dollars worth of security equipment with just a stick, a rubber band, and a wet towel. But this was different. It felt good, felt warm. For the first time in 20 years he wasn't on a job, he was on a mission. "Let the games begin."
5 days later a bright green envelope (0.15$) sealed with a comic bicycle sticker (0,59$) was firmly stuck in St. Bernard's former dead drop. It contained 22.68$ and a note.
"Found her. He won't be bothering you any more. Drive carefully."
| He'd originally assumed it was a joke.
Loose change jammed into an envelope with a hastily written note.
Twenty three dollars and forty two cents worth of amusing.
He laughed aloud and pocketed it. He'd have to inspect it in a more secure location.
The light outside the post office flickered, as he retrieved his car keys out of his coat pocket.
"Yep, real amusing" he muttered under his breath.
The sun had ebbed away by the time he'd returned to his apartment.
He quickly punched in the security code and made his way inside.
He settled in on the couch, and drew the envelope out of his pocket.
No.
No this can't be.
In all his hastiness, he had neglected to realise, it was addressed to him.
Ryan.
A chill creeped up his spine.
He had always claimed anonymity. How would they know? He had been so careful. No one knew about the drop box apart from his boss, and he'd never revealed his identity.
He sat up straight and gingerly peeled the envelope open again for the second time tonight.
The note was crumpled, and the coins fell easily into his palm.
"Dear unkie ryan.
im sorry i never told you i knew but i always did. i folowed you one day and i kept your secret tho and never talked about it to no one
and i need your help. i saved all my money and its all for you if you can do waht i ask please unkie
he hurts so bad. he cries all the time and he tries so hard to be strong like i try to be like he tells me to be
but he just is not doing good. mum had said that when charlie was really really realy sick that he could go to a better place
and be free and happy and not sick anymore and maybe meet a girl dog and i think dad would like to do that too and be happy
and maybe he could find mummy and they could be together agian.please help him go to heaven ryan
Luv Annie"
It would make sense that she had discovered his real identity. They had after all spent a considerable amount of time together.
She had no one else to look after her, and he'd always considered her his own anyway. Ryan had decorated the spare room for her for when, the inevitable happened.
Her Mother had been involved in a fatal accident a little over two years ago, and her Father hadn't seemed to recover.
To make things worse, he had contracted what our father once had.
Pancreatic Cancer. What a bitch. He'd turned yellow from the Jaundice already, lost all the weight he used to have, and now closely
resembled a skeleton with a tight layer of skin.
He couldn't keep food down, couldn't sleep through the night without waking in agony, and didn't have the energy to wipe himself.
No one deserves that, thought Ryan. It was at this point he was seriously considering acting upon the instructions.
What a beautiful thought. That Annie at nine years old would be such a humanitarian. That she could even consider such a thing. He hadn't considered murdering his brother before. He now felt selfish, that he could make him endure this agony.
She could be right, he mused. He could be with Maree again. Hell, even the bloody dog. He wouldn't know if it was possible or not, but who was he to question Annie's dreams.
He stood and paced the lounge room for several minutes before he finally gave in. Snatching the keys out of his pocket again, he descended the stairs rapidly towards his waiting car. He arrived within the hour.
Visiting hours were over of course, he'd have to sneak in.
Not a hard thing to do when you do it for a living.
The hallways were dimly lit, exit signs above the doorways glared down at him.
301 was the room. He followed the eerie green light further down the hall, and around the corner to where the door had been flung open.
A nurse and two wardsmen were inside. One of the men was attempting resuscitation, while the other looked on. The nurse frowned and wrote something on her clipboard.
"Very sad, but not unexpected. I can't believe he still had th.... Oh sir, you can't be in here"
She had spotted him, but not before he had seen it all. The blood, the trail from the bed, the pool on the floor and the look of utter disgust and uneasiness on the onward looking wardsman.
He backed out of the door, and down the corridor.
His own brother, his own blood.
Poor Annie.
Poor poor Annie.
He would tell her it was peaceful. He would tell her it was his handiwork. That he never felt a thing. | 2014-08-26T04:55:15 | 2014-08-26T04:08:18 | 106 | 18 |
[WP] Everything is legal, you just need a license. (x-post /r/CrazyIdeas)
https://www.reddit.com/r/CrazyIdeas/comments/2kvjr3/everything_is_legal_you_just_need_a_license/ | Line, after line, after line.
That's all I thought life was these days. The mundane feeling of standing in a line consumed us all.
Before the 'True Legalization' act of 2016, people complained about waiting at the DMV. That was nothing
I'd been waiting five hours, twenty-two minutes, and thirty seconds in that gray, dimly lit, sweat smelling line. A large burly man with a League of Legends shirt in front of me and a small average looking woman behind me with a crying child in a stroller next to her. I was in the armpit of society.
I'd stood in the marijuana line for four hours, eighteen minutes, and ten seconds to get that license, the drunk driving addition to my drivers license line for three hours, thirty-eight minutes, and seven seconds, and now this line? Five hours, twenty-six minutes, and forty-one seconds.
The consistent "number 381.." "number 382.." "number 383.." My god, it was driving me insane. Everyone kept their head down, it was a shameful line "number 384", it was a quiet line besides the coughing and sniffling, "number 385.." and that consistent narration of counting seconds off "number 386.." of my life.
It was like waiting for that one amusement park ride. Your anticipation was building, and building, and building. Then half-way through the line, thirty or so minutes in, you consider leaving. Cutting your losses and running. Or hoping the others in front of you will do so first.
We shuffled every few minutes, I could see the front counter now. A line of six stalls, separated by wooden boards. A petite, sixty to seventy year old woman, who was curling up like a question mark behind each one. I wondered if that was in the job requirements for working at these places.
I removed my phone from my front pocket, unlocked it, and sent a text to "Michelle Wilkins <3". She put the heart their herself during the honeymoon. "I'll be done soon, come pick me up?" An instant vibration back, "Sure thing, honey."
"number 397.." I glanced down at my ticket, I sighed as I tucked my phone away in my faded jean pocket. "finally" I released. Approaching the farthest stall on the right.
"Name?" The woman asked me, glancing through her spectacles at a yellow sheet in front of her.
"Michael"
"Last name."
"Wilkins."
"Ever been convicted of a felony?"
"Nope."
The woman slid the yellow piece of paper across the booth. "License is good for two weeks, report any occurrences with the police. Thank you." She motioned me to move aside, "number 405.."
I clenched the yellow piece of paper in my hand.. A small grin appeared on my face as I glanced down the line of miserable individuals I had emerged from.
Five hours, fifty-six minutes, and fourteen seconds. I sighed. The longest line yet. I moved around the line and pushed open the glass doors, I spotted Michelle pulling up into the parking lot.
I slowly reached for the revolver in my back belt loop. Five hours, fifty six-minutes, and fourteen seconds. I'd say it was worth it for a license to kill your wife. | I watched the clock as I waited. There was nothing to do, nothing to read. I was just there, waiting in the permit line. Beside me, there was a man with long, grey hair and a matching braided beard.
"Hello, son." He said
I rolled my eyes, "Son? I am not your son."
"Ah. I see. My mistake." He then pulled out a rather old laptop and said, "What are you here for, son?"
"Hacking license." I scanned the back of his laptop. It was a 2014 Thinkpad. I wondered to myself how it had lasted so long, "I see you have a laptop there. What OS are you running?"
"Ah. Just a distribution of Linux I use for research."
"Research? What kind of research?" I was honestly surprised the man knew how to work a computer. It wasn't easy since the government requires a permit to operate one.
The man's eyes sparkled, "I study supernova remnant plasmas. I can tell you exactly why and how a star explodes."
"And you do that with code?"
"Sure do." He said, "I have been doing it since Fortran was new!"
"Fortran?" It sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite place what it was.
"It's just an old language. Really old." He chuckled before a regretful sigh. "This idea that you need a permit for everything seemed like a great idea at the time, but I've got so many permits, I don't know what to do with them all. I have a permit for Fortran, for research, for physics, biology, chemistry, teaching, and just about everything else I could want. Heck, I even have a permit for being racist and sexist so I can treat all my students equally without the government interfering with my lessons."
"Where do you teach?"
"Where _did_ I teach, you mean. The government created a new set of permits for my institution and I couldn't keep up."
"What do you mean?"
"I taught at Harvard. There are now new Ivy League restrictions. I knew this whole thing would go south the moment it was voted in." He gave me a steady look, before nodding and continuing. "You are young, son. Too young to know what life was like before you needed a permit to buy bread... They tell you these permits are great, they keep people educated about their actions and whatnot... but I've seen anything and everything I used to love become illegal. 100's of permits later, I am sick of it!"
"Why are you here, then?"
"I have a family, son. There is one last permit I need or else the government will take everything they have away from them."
"And what is that?"
The man sighed and shook his head.
"Dr. Draco." An attendant called from the back.
"Yes!" The man said, groaning as he left his seat.
"Are you ready to receive your death permit?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." The man sighed before looking back at me, "You have a computer license, son?"
My throat was dry, "y... yes." I nodded.
"Then take this." He handed me his laptop, "There isn't much on it, but maybe you can use it for hacking or something later."
"Okay." I nodded, and watched as the man, Dr. Draco, hobbled to the counter to receive his slip of paper.
"Uh. Where's the bathroom?" He asked.
"Over there," the attendant pointed to the door.
"Ah." He then hobbled over to the room, scanned his bathroom permit and walked in. A few seconds later there was a gunshot in the room. No one even batted an eye. | 2014-11-03T00:55:45 | 2014-11-03T00:50:29 | 36 | 22 |
[WP] A group of people capture a rare mythical beast that has been terrorizing their city. Not knowing how to specifically kill it, they do increasingly specific things, to the point of being ridiculous, in order to dispatch it. | If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, chances are it's probably a duck. However, the *thing* that's been waddling around town is by no means an ordinary duck. This thing, whatever it is, has fangs, fangs that have a certain taste for human flesh. The creature never ate your normal run-of-the-mill duck things, it always bit humans exclusively. Once someone was bitten they had about 30 seconds before they transformed into a small duck themselves, an ordinary mallard fortunately. The newspapers started calling it "Duckula" and soon everyone was trying to kill it. Being in a small, West Texas town they was no shortage of guns available, but bullets were useless. The creature wouldn't even register it got hit. all it would do is waddle over to its next victim, take a blood sample and continue on what everyone was sure was its plan for small town domination. We tried everything, fire didn't faze it, metal seemed to pass right through it, even the old school tricks of garlic and sunlight only seemed to fuel it's desire the turn all the townspeople into ducks. For every person the beast turned the resulting fowl would follow behind its creator as if it was its own mother duck. soon the entire town became what would have been any hunter's paradise and only I remained. When my day of reckoning came I was sitting in my room enjoying what was to be my last meal, An old fashioned turkey on rye, I heard the fanged menace burst into my house. Duckula used its mindless followers to force their way into my room. In my final moments, some part of me that was in shock that a bird would be the thing that finally does me in thought to offer the hellspawn a bit of my sammich. I was surprised when the creature sniffed the bread as if it were a normal being. In my delirious state I tore a piece of bread and threw it at the winged terror, to which he happily pecked and ate. In the middle of it all I heard a sound that, for lack of a better phrase, sounded like a duck chocking on a piece of bread. As it turns out the abomination still needed air to survive, in that way it was like most ducks. after it's long struggle against its delisious foe Duckula at long last billplanted the carpet and slowly left this mortal world. In hindsight it's quite hilarious that what finally defeated the beast was the one thing no one thought to try.
*Motha. Fucking. Bread crumbs.* | "Just cut off its fuckin' head, man." Joe lit up one of his father's cigarettes as he looked around at the others. "Simple as that. Kills every god damn thing in the world."
"We tried that the first time," Rolan explained patiently as ever. "You think we would bring you in if we didn't try cutting off the head?"
Joe bent his head to look at the creature a few feet to the left. "Did you try a silver bullet?"
"Yeah, with our golden fuckin' gun," Nick spoke up. "How the Hell would we get a silver bullet and how the Hell would we fire it? Who thought Joe's dumbass would know what to do anyway?"
Nick flinched back as Joe lurched forward, but Rolan put a massive arm on Joe's chest, holding him back with ease.
"What is it, anyway?" Lisa piped up. "Did anyone find it in the book?"
"Yeah," Nick turned to her. "It's your fuckin' mother after she's had too many drinks. Of course no one found it in the book, fuck the book."
"Lay off her," Ronny said. He didn't speak much, but when he did, even Nick listened.
Joe stepped out of the group and walked over to the creature, kneeling beside it. It was the size of a human, but had scales instead of skin. Its eyes had vertical pupils, staring straight at Joe. Joe pulled the cigg out of his mouth and put it in the creatures. It didn't resist.
"Maybe nicotine poisoning will kill it," Joe looked up.
"Holy fuck," Nick put his hand over his face. "You're so god damn stupid, how are you even alive at this point?"
Rolan stepped forward and put a boot on the creature's chest. He held out his hand. Joe placed his cigg in it. Rolan kneeled down and shoved it down the creature's throat.
"What about drowning it?' Nick offered.
Lisa nodded.
"May as well try, we're only a few hundred feet from the lake." Rolan pointed toward Lake Freeworth. "I will carry him."
Rolan bent down, but stopped. "Look at the eyes."
Everyone came closer. Joe saw the eyes had smaller pupils now. They were bloodshot.
"Ha!' Joe turned to Nick. "Eat shit, bitch, I was right."
Rolan untied the creature's arms and legs.
"Fuck you," Nick shoved Joe back. Rolan stood up and waled in between the two. "Come on, always talkin' shit."
Joe rushed forward at Nick, but was knocked to the ground by Rolan. He found Joe there with him a few seconds later, pinned by Ronny.
"Guys," Lisa spoke loud, unusual for her. "Wheres the... thing?"
Joe turned his head to where the body was. There was nothing there, but a few scales.
"Fuck." | 2014-11-05T21:38:34 | 2014-11-05T18:01:42 | 67 | 29 |
[WP] In the distant future, an alien scientist has almost fully deciphered the messages found on the Voyager Spacecraft. With growing horror, the scientist realizes the crafts home system, and begins to pray. | The scientist delivered his report, and the room turned oppressive as the planet's leaders struggled to comprehend his message.
One of the leaders spoke, "So you mean to tell us... that its headed BACK?"
"It didn't go back, sir", the scientist explained, a tremor in his voice. "The universe is apparently just exactly 12 light hours in diameter... and Voyager II has just circumnavigated it..."
The scientist took a deep breath and exclaimed, "there is simply NOTHING beyond the orbit of Pluto! We have been mislead all this time! There are no other galaxies, no other stars! There is just simply the sun, the Earth and the moon. There is simply a limit to our universe and we just have just reached it! We have just reached... it..."
The scientist collapsed and began sobbing. The microphone fell down, and the feedback slowly faded away. For a while there was nothing except the sobbing of the scientist, echoed by a few other people in the room.
After a while, one of the leaders spoke up, a very small voice in the quiet, the last dying gasp of human defiance "how can you be so sure...?"
The scientist replied, "because Voyager appeared with a message..."
And on the screen, seven words appeared, and below it, the automatic translation.
Usque huc venies, et non procedes amplius.
This far you may go, no further.
====
"Beware, you who seek first and final principles, for you are trampling the garden of an angry God and he awaits you just beyond the last theorem."
- Sister Miriam Godwinson, "But for the Grace of God", Sid Meyer's Alpha Centauri
Edit: PS. It's not exactly alien yeah, but I got scientist and growing horror and well yeah prayer there somewhere so yeah ^_^;;; Its my first post, please be kind. | Flying along in the dangerous Quadrant X-7 was a small reconnaissance craft, home to a few hundred Nebulins, a species that while rather stupid, are very efficient at producing offspring, and due to their small size, use up few resources.
"Captain Zarquan to Division A." Division A was responsible for waste management, that is, they were very good at finding and managing with other species' waste.
"We seen to have a unidentified object at position 45.73, 86.20. Zarquan out."
Terry squinted his bug eyes into the blackness. "OK Zarquan, can we shoot it?"
Zarquan giggled. "Shoot it? You shot the last one! You know what to do! Zarquan out!" He pulled his cape past his face in a dramatic exit.
"Stupid Zarquan and his cape" grumbled Terry as he sent out the recovery bots to pick up the unidentified object. As the bots were returning, Terry got a good look at the object. It was another spacecraft! The odds of finding a craft simply floating in space were... Well, Terry wasn't really quite sure of the odds, but he knew they weren't good. The odds were even less that... No it couldn't be!
"Zarquan, Zarquan!" Terry called.
"I said Zarquan out! And I even pulled my cape across my face! Did I not pull my cape across my face?"
"Zarquan, that object was a ship! A human ship!"
"Human? Ship?" Zarquan pictured the fleshy creatures mashed and molded into a spaceship. "Does it stink?"
Terry sniffed the air "No, but it does smell a little metallic."
This threw Zarquan off. "Well put it through the scanner, I guess."
Zarquan was puzzling over how a fleshy creature like a human could be turned into a space ship when the scanner beeped twice, with a slight interval between the beeps.
"It's an original!" Terry clamored. "We're all rich!"
A hissing sounds came from the airlock in Terry's scanning room. A curious look passed over his face.
"No, I'm going to be rich," Zarquan said, and pulled his cape over his face.
Edit: spacing | 2014-11-09T03:40:29 | 2014-11-09T00:37:30 | 100 | 37 |
[WP] At the age of 18, everyone picks an unlikely life event. They will be reborn at 18 every time they die until that event happens. After that, death is permanent.
Example - Winning a lottery jackpot. Statistically, they would die in 22 plane crashes in a row before winning the Mega Millions jackpot. | I am tired.
Every one of my countless reawakenings has siphoned away a little luster, a little shine, until life became a chore. I made fortunes and spent them, built cities and razed them, spent lifetimes as a celebrity, as a king, and as a beggar, but I am nearly finished, now.
Three thousand years ago, I started my work. The hedonistic, reckless free-for-all surrounding me would not do for my purposes, so I trained, until I was strong and canny enough to unite a planet under my rule.
I began the delicate task of steering the cultural and technological development of my chosen people. After many missteps, I had eked out a crude parody of the world I was first born in, back on the long-abandoned First Earth.
At long last, the right ingredients have fallen into place. The immortals under my watch have recreated the technology I thought was lost, or a workable facsimile at least, and I have put my final plan into effect. Millions of people are now connected by this wondrous invention.
Armed with countless millennia of knowledge, I know I will not fail this time. I could be free this year if I am lucky. So here I sit, counting down the days until I can rest at last, sharing my thoughts with the world and waiting to be given the one gift that has been denied me. If my journey has taught me anything, it is patience.
Soon, I will have Reddit Gold, and it will finally be over.
Edit: I'm astounded that worked. Farewell cruel world! | Everyone around me had a reverent desire to live forever....to never know the cold embrace of death as long as they could help it, and to always be able to go back to the best times of their lives. The reaction of those lining up at the clinics to get their fix when this technology came out was utter insanity-worse than a black Friday at some conglomerate retail shop. Anyways.
I was born with a pre-disposition to pain. I had a rough upbringing, which included being beaten senseless more times than I can count, living on my own since I was 12, having known hunger and sadness more than love and happiness. This has lead to me asking: What was the point of recycling life? Why the hell would I want to risk going through this over and over? Were people that afraid to move on? For all we know, there's something better at the end.
Maybe if this technology had come sooner, I would be more inclined to indulge. Maybe if I hadn't had to say goodbye to so many of those close to me well before their time because of the shit lifestyle we all lived, I wouldn't be so numb to death. When my wife left me because of the psychosis I was diagnosed with, and when I lost my job suddenly (even after offering incentives for change), I realized I don't have SHIT to live for. I can't even keep the fucking lights on because I am neck deep in debt. I have no saving grace to ever want to live over and over, because the unlikely and the worst has all simultaneously happened in my life.
I can't have children, I'm infertile. I can't seek help, because after my diagnosis I realized I am stubborn and have no respect for the medical system that continuously churns those of us who need help over and over to suck out what little money we have from us. Fuck the world, and as selfish as that may sound, it's my god damn decision to do what I want with my life.
Come tomorrow, I am going out on MY TERMS. Gotta love the Vicodin and Vodka mix for my vendetta against life. One last party before I move onto the next big adventure. | 2014-11-11T21:58:10 | 2014-11-11T19:16:51 | 105 | 18 |
[WP] An other worldly threat approaches, the UN knows that total obliteration is upon us. Our greatest minds create a way to save us. 100 years later, the alien force arrives unprepaired for what we have done. | Home is a strange thing. It's not always a place, sometimes it's a feeling. Of being welcome. Feeling safe. Home is what I felt when I boarded the shuttle, journeying to the stars with my new family.
I don't remember the launch. My shuttlemates had told me it was loud and the storm almost stopped us. They spoke of panic and fear and a sort of acceptance. Death always hung over our minds. I do remember the Fleet. A million shining vessels, gleaming in the warmth of our Sun. The vanguard of their fleet were vessels identical to the one that appeared before, to our parents, telling them to prepare for their end in their cold, indifferent tongue.
The passenger to my right, a young man with wide eyes had smuggled a telecom receiver onto the craft. We huddled around in silence, both out of fear and a strange curiosity for what might come next. The UN had prepared a speech for the Fleet. I remember someone calling it "humanity's epilogue." The device found the signal in a few seconds, the longest seconds I've ever known.
"One hundred years ago, one of your kind found it's way here. A scouting ship, sent to find new worlds for your homeless Fleet. Today, we submit an offer. The scout shared tales of your plight - refugees from a war beyond our understanding. Courage unlike that which this world has ever seen. Today, we ask you to show compassion. We ask you to share in this world so that we may grow together, prosper together and end the struggle that both our peoples have endured. This message is something of a plea - we offer an end to the cycle of destruction that plagued both our peoples. Some of our greatest minds are en route to your Fleet to offer our help to you as we make preparations for your settlements. The choice is yours. You can ravage this world and leave it in ruin, or we can welcome you home."
I learned on that day that there is no force more powerful or as ruthless as compassion. | "Glork!" "Glork glork spod!" The two Astle, who apparently finished their greeting departed from the screen leaving the Astle staring at the monitor perplexed. The screen was focused on a popular square in a city on the planet below. Instead of depicting strange alien creatures it showed Astle. Observing the monitors was a collection of generals and scientists who made up the top leadership of what was supposed to be an invasion and conversion force. They did not understand. Someone had made a HUGE mistake. This planet had already been brought under the Astle Empire, and its lifeforms already converted into Astle. Perhaps in the century their ships took to make the crossing while they were in status the mistake had been caught? But then would they not be receiving transmissions from the Central Governship on how to proceed? No. A mistake of this caliber brought with it instant death. Whoever had made the mistake would have had a century of planning to bolster their defence and lie their way out of it. After all were not they, the leaders of the supposed invasion force already drafting lies and plans? It's what was expected. No Astle could make a mistake of this caliber and expect the Central Governship to allow them to live. It was decided they would continue on as if this were not their destination. After all there will be other planets and systems along this trajectory that can be brought under the Astle Governship. All they had to do was conquer and convert one of them, and convince the Central Governship that had been their mission all along. No one would question it, no one would want to take credit for a possible mistake.
As the invasion force pulled out of Earth’s orbit the bank of monitors the Astle had been observing went dark, as the ships one by one dropped into stasis. Down on earth a few hours went by, where the Astle on the surface glorked enthusiastically at each other going about their business. Finally sirens shrilled loudly in the air and televisions and radios sprung to life all broadcasting the same message: "Alright folks shut it down! The last ships left our galaxy an hour ago, it appears they have left" All over the world people ripped of masks and costumes, others climbed out of buildings and bunkers shouting and laughing as enthusiastically as some had glorked earlier. “They fell for it, they actually fell for it!” the voice exclaimed!.
| 2015-03-04T12:47:11 | 2015-03-04T11:01:41 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] It's 2023 and the United States Military is filled with Call of Duty kids. | Major Saul Delaney stared intensely at the last known insurgent position through his binoculars, trying to catch any signs of activity that would give away their movements. It was damned difficult flushing small groups of rebels out from the heaps of rubble and half destroyed houses, and any advance through the shattered town had to be done with extreme vigilance and caution. He had learned that back in Iraq. He'd lost his closest companion in the forces to an RPG blast in Mosul because they'd let a group slip past their cordon. He could still see Ryan's face when he closed his eyes sometimes: the terrified eyes of his friend staring up at him through all the seared, oozing skin before he died...
His radio crackled into life, bringing a report from one of the new Corporals. Swanson, he thought his name was, he hadn't had time to learn them all. "Sir, Bravo Team reporting in, the enemy just got rekt."
More of this idiotic new gamer slang. Saul silently rolled his eyes.
"I believe that means they're dead?"
"You got it, sir." Swanson responded, an air of amusement hanging in his voice.
"Then perhaps just report that, soldier?"
"Yes sir, sorry sir." Saul could hear laughter in the background of Swanson's reply. He ground his teeth. The military had been filled with these dumb kids in the last ten years. They grew up firing pretend weapons at pretend people and thought that qualified them to fight an actual war. It was one thing on the training ground, but then the Republicans had got back into the White House, and the US had got back into the Middle East. He had cursed the day the President had made his speech about "A new era of stability", because he knew where it would lead him: here, with a bunch of kids saying 'roflstomp' and 'pwned'. And what the fuck was 'Kappa'?
He met up with Swanson's team at what was once a large square, but now more resembled the ancient Persian ruins in the surrounding country. They looked relaxed, joking around with each other, and paying altogether far too little attention to what was going on around them.
"Dude!" one said to his squadmate "Did you see the headshot I got on that noob up on the roof!?"
"Haha yeah, he got so owned."
"I know right, not as cool a-" Swanson began, but then he saw Saul striding toward him across the rubble strewn pavement. "Sir!" He gave a hasty salute.
Saul returned the salute. "Alright, guys. We've cleared this sector, we're giving the other teams a few to report in then we're going to press further in."
The squad saluted, then went back to their banter as Saul turned to head back.
"Wow man, look at the graphics, this is so next gen!"
Saul stopped, balling his fists as a wave of anger went through him. He spun back to face Swanson's team again.
"This is *not a fucking game*, you hear me!? This is war! People *die*! Start acting like it."
Swanson's voice was uncharacteristically quiet in reply. "We know, sir."
Saul's anger sputtered out. For second, he saw them as they really were. Scared kids, in a war, doing their best to cope.
God, he hated being here. | Edging down the narrow hallway, Steve grabbed frantically at the metal pipes and handles adorning the walls to brace himself against the jolts of movement that were assaulting his ship.
He'd only been there two weeks since his basic training finished, but in his head it was already his ship. Everything here felt natural to him, it was no different than the images he'd been bombarding himself with for as long as he could remember. He could name every weapon he saw carried by the soldiers barging past him to get to their posts, and he knew technical details of each piece of equipment adorning their gear. None of this knowledge was imparted to him during basic training.
He hadn't expected to see combat aboard this transport ship, but that's why they call them "surprise" attacks. Every soul on the boat had been hastily drafted to active combat status. As he rounded the corner leading to the equipment locker, he began salivating at the prospect of receiving a weapon.
*An M4*, he thought to himself. *Yeah - M4, with an M203 Grenade Launcher - or as I like to call it a 'pro-pipe' - with an ACOG scope, tiger camo and extended mags. Bad. Ass.*
He paused for a second, before thinking, *Nah - they won't give me the tiger camo until I have at least 100 confirmed kills.*
As he squared up to the Lieutenant serving as quartermaster, his hand raised in stiff obligatory salute, and his mouth opened to formulate his request. Before he'd gotten past the word "M4", the quarter master thrust a pair of binoculars and a small pistol into his hand.
"Get yourself topside, and keep a lookout for approaching boats. If you see one, shoot this at it."
Grimacing, Steve thought for a second about challenging the Lieutenant to a 1v1, but thought better of it. He turned and began a light jog up the series of steep metal steps.
*It's probably more like gun game*, he told himself. *I start off with a basic weapon, and for every kill it gets upgraded.* All Steve needed to do was find a dinghy with a dozen troops in, get the multi kill, then wait for the quartermaster to assign him a flaming crossbow.
Steve emerged through a small hatch into the blackness that was the deck of his transport ship. Being cooped up inside for so long he'd forgotten it was past sunset, the only light now came from searchlights attached to hostile choppers currently circling the ship dropping troops to the deck from ropes. The deck was littered with flame and debris, set to the soothing hum of gunfire and military radio. One such chopper was slowly approaching his position.
*I know what to do*, he thought. *One shot, from the pistol, straight to the pilot's head*. I can do this. He began to lower his heart rate and breathe as slowly as possible. Exhaling fully, he closed one eye and brought up his pistol. The chopper was low in the sky, this was easily doable. They hadn't seen Steve - a lone, young soldier, stood sheepishly between upturned crates next to the deck hatch.
Steve only had one shot, and one shot is all he took. As he squeezed the trigger, a look of horror washed over him and his already slow heartbeat seemed to stop completely. There was little recoil, just a bright jet of red gas with a dazzling light at its head arching slowly towards the chopper.
This they did see. After all - that's the whole point of a flare gun.
The last thing that went through Steve's head as he departed this world was not thoughts of his family or friends. Not of the evils of war or countless things he could - no, should have done differently. As a single tear dropped from his eye and the life left him, he mumbled the words "...my KD....."
FIN | 2015-05-29T05:27:26 | 2015-05-29T04:09:19 | 230 | 66 |
[WP] Steven's grandmother knits. Not because she likes to, but because she has to.
Hanging by a thread. | Steven wakes up every day and goes to school. Not because he wants to, but because he has to.
Steven wouldn't mind school overall, or at least not much. He just wished it would be a little bit more *boring* sometimes. It seemed like something new and exciting happened every day, an event or some kind of interpersonal drama. Steven sort of wished he could be homeschooled.
Still, school was the least of the worst, as far as Steven's day went. And even under better circumstances, he'd probably still have to go to school. It's the extracurriculars that make Steven miserable.
Every day, Steven gets out of school at 3 p.m. and heads straight to baseball practice. Steven hates baseball, even though he's not bad at it by any means. He still would much rather have been reading a book or doing something less strenuous after a long day at school. That, of course, wasn't possible. So every day in the spring he played baseball, in the winter basketball, and football during autumn.
The rest of Steven's family was in a similar situation, at least.
Steven's mother didn't want to be a housewife, but she had to. As she cleaned dishes and made beds, she longed to go out and put her engineering degree to good use. But she couldn't leave the house, couldn't neglect her duties as housewife.
Steven's father, on the other hand, would have loved to let his wife bring home the bacon. He would have been content looking after Steven's little sister, taking care of the house, and watching daytime television. That wasn't the way things worked, though. So every day, Steven's father went to the office at 8:30 and came back at 5:30.
The last member of the household was Steven's grandmother. The old dame had been a pilot in her day, and she'd still be out there flying under better circumstances. But instead, Steven's grandmother sits in her rocking chair and knits. Morning, noon, and night. Not because she likes to knit, but because she has to.
Yes, in a better world Steven's family would be able to do what they wanted. Would be free.
The problem is that there are billions of viewers tuned in across the Galaxy, and the producers have some *very* specific ideas about what each member of a human family should be doing at any given time. | Had Barry 'round the other day. Stole the wool from Granny's knitting. Boy, he won't be coming back for tea.
The human body goes through a lot when someone dies. My cousin died when I was very young, I barely knew him. Got hit by a bus outside his father's pub. Robin's Hood Retreat, I think it was called. Had a girl pass away in class. Not, like *during* class, but she was in my class one day and not the next. Cancer apparently, she was only 8. Tragic.
You'd think the younger the death, the harder the hit. Like, they're not spent their life so it's sad when it's wasted.
Mikey died a month ago from pneumonia. Took a trip camping with a few friends, caught a nasty cold, infection spread and he went. It all happened within a few days, he didn't get back in time for us to see him and none of us had time to prepare. Granny took it hard, obviously. They were like peas and carrots, her and Mikey. Married for 50 odd years, went to school together, worked together, spent their entire life together.
The day we found out, she spent the whole day in her chair. Didn't move a muscle. We stayed with her, obviously. Think she was in shock. She didn't eat. Didn't blink.
The next day, she gets up, goes to the bedroom and gets our her wool and knitting needles. And she starts. She gets right to it. We're not sure what she's doing it for - maybe to cope with stress or something. A few days later, she knits a jumper. Big one - green and red with a big belt of purple across the middle.
"He'll be cold when he comes back," she says. And then she starts a new jumper. She's got mountains of wool so she'd be at it for days.
It's been four weeks now. She's got a whole wardrobe of knitted jumpers, gloves and scarves on his side of the bed. Doesn't say a word other than they're for Mikey for when he comes back.
Tried to stop her. Thought it was best to. Get her back into a normal life of routine and that. But she was so ingrained in it, she got angry whenever someone tried to stop her. Barry stole the wool and got a knitting needle through his hand. Of course, we kept quiet about it. So did Barry, said he tripped and fell on it when he was at the doctors.
"Let her knit," Mum said.
We come and visit every weekend now. Granny is eating, she cooks, too, but she knits whenever she has the chance. We ask her if she wants a hand cooking. We ask if she wants us to move the telly. We ask if she wants us to take her to the pub for a Sunday roast. But she never responds.
"He'll be cold when he comes back." | 2015-10-01T06:46:03 | 2015-10-01T06:35:47 | 177 | 35 |
[WP] Steven's grandmother knits. Not because she likes to, but because she has to.
Hanging by a thread. | He swallowed to keep his heart from lurching out of his body.
The doorknob turned heavily under his small hand, like a planet revolving around it's axis. With both hands, he pushed to open the door faster, but it seemed to swing at it's own momentum.
"Hello?" Steven called into the gloomy darkness. There was no answer.
At first, he saw no lights, and he was afraid. Was Grandmother sleeping? Yet Mama seemed to *know* Grandmother was awake.
Steven tried again, "Grandmother?"
This time he heard the steady *click-clack*, which to him sounded like bones rattling against each other.
A raspy voice drifted across through the darkness, "Is that you, Isabel?"*Clack-click-clack*
Blue light illuminated the room, and whether the light grew brighter, or his eyes had simply adjusted, Steven could not be sure. In the corner of the room, surrounded by seas of lumpy wool and swathes of fabric, Grandmother sat in an old rocking chair.
"No, it's me, Grandmother. It's Steven. I've brought your linens."
Steven walked closer, remembering his mother's words: *When you see her, you must not be afraid. Be nice to her, and for God's sake, don't touch anything.*
"That's very sweet of you, child. Lovely." The blue light grew brighter as Steven approached, illuminating the old woman in the rocking chair.
He saw her hair first - long, black strands, spread out and floating around her, as if she was submerged in water. The veins that trailed along her ancient hands glowed and pulsed with warm light. He wanted to turn and run.
"Come closer, dear Steven, and let me see what has become of my descendants."
His heart threatened to beat right out of his body, but Steven did as he was told, dragging the fabrics behind him.
"Would you like to come talk to your dear, old Grandmother?"
His body said 'no,' but there was something about her that moved him. She was frightening, yes, but she was important too. He could tell by the way her eyes sparkled like the night sky.
His voice was hushed, barely a whisper, "What are you knitting, Grandmother?"
"Ah, the same thing I've been knitting for a long time."
"Is it important?"
The old woman's cackle was sharp, like a sudden strike of thunder in the dark, but Steven did not quell in fear.
"To some people, it is very important. To others, well, not everyone appreciates my work."
"I *apper-ciate* it, Grandmother!" Steven spoke without entirely understanding the word, but he spoke in earnest. His Grandmother broke into a smile, a hint of sunlight peeking out from her gums.
"I'm sure you do, Steven." *Click-clack-click,* "Would you like to see it? Come here, then, child."
She spent several, long minutes unfurling the pile of fabrics from her lap. Steven watched in awe, as the wools and yarns and other cloths spooled out and out in impossible lengths. He was careful not to touch the cloths as they extended out into the room, some falling heavily to the floor, others hanging in the air, as if unaffected by gravity.
"Ah, here we are. Look, Steven." Grandmother pointed at an image imprinted on the fabric: a sapphire circle, imperfectly shaped, with patches of green and brown and yellow marring it's surface. The longer Steven stared at the circle, the more it seemed to come to life - an orb, spinning in the vast expanses of black fabric.
"I made this one, oh, ages ago. It was always one of my favorites." | Edit: I was wondering why everyone had a Steven in their story. Sorry I missed that part, hope I still qualify.
Edit Part 2: Took your advice Kallisti, and reformatted. Thank you :)
#The Elder's Penance#
"That's some lovely work you're doing there."
Dalia didn't respond. She barely acknowled the nurse at all except to take the pills from her hand; she dry swallowed them, despite the fact Angela also held a cup of water.
"My aunt used to knit too. Beautiful sweaters. She tried to teach me once, but I never did get the hang of it. All thumbs I guess."
"Maybe you were too busy talking to focus on your work."
Dalia answered softly, eyes still down on the wool her needles were directing. It was a black scarf, with maroon threaded in strands throughout. A design was taking shape, though it was hard to say just what it was at the moment. Maybe a star of some kind.
Angela stood awkwardly for a moment, before slipping away from the ward.
"Don't take it personally." Don smiled at her as she came to the nurse's station. "Dalia's got some bats in the bellfrey."
Angela nodded, and returned his smile. A lot of the residents did. If you lived long enough, and saw enough, it was easy for wires to get crossed. She watched the little woman work from across the room. She was moving at a steady, constant pace, not quite relaxed.
"How bad is she?" Angela asked. This was only her third day here, so there was still a lot orientation going on.
"Well, she believes she's knitting for the devil bad."
"What, seriously?"
Don nodded, and leaned over the nurse's desk. "She told me once that she actually hates to knit." He said in a low voice. "But that it's *penance* for something she did."
Angela leaned in closer. "What'd she do?"
Don shrugged. "Wouldn't say. Her daughter thinks it's just her age. She says her mother's always loved to knit, did it even when they were young. All I know is she sits out in the common everyday with her needle and thread. That's an awful lot of dedication to something you hate doing."
"Well, I'd be dedicated to if the devil was going to come for my soul. Where do they come up with these things?" Don pushed himself away from the desk and started checking his schedule.
"Who knows. Probably just an episode of X-files that's turned sour in her head."
"Has anyone tried to talk her out of it?" Don shrugged again.
"Usually not much use at this point. Sometimes the delusions come and go, other times they're here to stay. Bout all we can do is get them their meds on time."
Angela turned back to Dalia. She could make out the symbol on the scarf now, a star of David. Strange. She hadn't thought Dalia was Jewish. "What's she do with all the stuff she knits?"
Don shook his head. "I assumed her daughter takes them when she comes."
"Wonder what *she* does with all of them."
"Probably stores them in an attic for after grandma dies."
Angela nodded. "That's what we did with my aunts' work. Though there probably wasn't nearly as much as what this lady has to make." Her lips quirked in a mischievous smile. " But then again, my aunt wasn't working for the devil."
That night, Dalia tired to sleep. Tried to banish the memories she was forced to dwell with when the sun was up. Tried to forget the awful metronome of the needles that helped remind her. Tried to forget the revolting feeling of the wool moving across her hands. *Any day now Dalia. Any day now Dalia. You'll move on and leave this Hell behind.* She ignored the sound of sand paper scrapping across the tile floor. Ignored the image that tried to enter mind of unnaturally long arms reaching out from under her bed to retrieve the basket of unholy scarves and hats. | 2015-10-01T08:58:21 | 2015-10-01T08:47:48 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] Create an origin story for your reddit username. | Columbus
You know, the explorer
That guy
So I was doing my homework
Yeah?
And he just
Columbus
Columbus just grabs it
And stuffs it in his mouth
And I'm like
What the f
And he stares at me
This cold
Unblinking
Stare
And he runs off
And I'm still staring
'Cause
Like
What the f | "It's a coincidence."
"It's not, I tell you. The first three letters..."
"Uh-huh."
"Greek equivalent of X. Or the cross. Follow it by Rho, which *sounds* like Ron..."
"Mm-hmm."
"...and you get the literal Greek shorthand for Jesus Christ. The wounded healer and the martyred savior."
"No."
"Yes! That's what I'm telling you."
"The centaur and the Son of God are not the same. They're not even similar."
"Have you not been paying attention? I'm telling you, they're the same. Or, at least, related."
"Greek mythology wouldn't spill onto Christian doctrines like that."
"How else can you explain it? Two members of separate pantheons, two wise outcasts meant to lead unenlightened societies, two by whose stripes members of mankind could be healed. Not to mention, their names are similar."
"I say again, it's a coincidence."
"It's a Chiron-spiracy!" | 2016-02-14T08:13:27 | 2016-02-14T08:04:21 | 158 | 38 |
[WP] Create an origin story for your reddit username. | Columbus
You know, the explorer
That guy
So I was doing my homework
Yeah?
And he just
Columbus
Columbus just grabs it
And stuffs it in his mouth
And I'm like
What the f
And he stares at me
This cold
Unblinking
Stare
And he runs off
And I'm still staring
'Cause
Like
What the f | The world was in chaos. War, famine, pestilence, and death ravaged the very core of the earth. The governments had done too little, too late, and had crumbled under the ensuing chaos of the apocalypse. Men prayed, and others fought, killed and died.
Those who had read about it, whether in their religious scriptures, or on 2005-style basic webforums, knew of the Four Horsemen, and their signs. Strewn bodies, malnourished babies, fields of death and the dying, crying children, and other nameless atrocies.
A few noticed other - more interesting - signs. 9gag was still popular. Snide reddit comments were upvoted more than ever, and 4chans servers were overloaded.
Little did the few humans know, there were five horsemen.
The Bringer of Death.
The Bringer of War.
The Bringer of Famine
The Bringer of Pestilence
And the Bringer of Keks
| 2016-02-14T08:13:27 | 2016-02-14T07:50:02 | 158 | 27 |
[WP]You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago, today he gives it back and says, "I need a favor". | Todd woke up one bright Monday morning and was very surprised to find Satan standing next to his bed. Again.
"What are *you* doing here?" Todd asked, or tried to. In his drowsy state, it came out more like "Wheryoodooinear?"
"Yes, yes, very nice..." the Devil replied absently. Suddenly, the demon leaned forward until his face was only a foot away from Todd's. The man jumped back, startled.
"Whoa! Hey! What's the problem here, man? You have my soul already, I thought the deal was done!"
"Shhhhhhhhh!" Satan glanced over his shoulder nervously, "Do you want the whole damn world to know I'm here? Listen," reaching into a pocket of his dark cloak, the Devil pulled out a small, glowing orb, "I have your soul right here. I'm gonna give it back to you, and in return, you're gonna do a little favor for me. OK?"
"I... what?" Todd replied, bewildered, "You're the ruler of Hell, and I'm just a random baker. What could you possibly need from me?"
Satan sighed, and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "This is going to sound weird, but... I need three dozen glazed donuts, and I need them quickly. Just leave them outside the bakery and I'll pick them up"
Todd, understandably, couldn't think of anything to say to that.
"Come on, come on, will you do it? Will you? Hurry up!" Satan said, agitated.
"Y-you're giving me my s-s-soul back...for donuts?" Todd managed to say.
The Devil rolled his eyes. "You sold me your soul two years ago in exchange for a goddamn *iPhone*. Quit complaining and get over to the shop and bake."
"I...well, I guess it would be nice to have my soul back. I'll get right on that."
Todd climbed out of bed and opened his closet. As he did so, Satan tossed the glowing ball at him, and it faded into his chest. Todd sighed contentedly as a warm feeling flooded through him. Satan turned, and headed for the door.
"Say... one last thing before you go," Todd said, "Why do you need donuts so badly anyway?"
Satan looked over his shoulder and shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? I'm hungry."
The Devil walked out the door, leaving Todd mildly scared, somewhat happy, and incredibly confused. | The sudden knock on my door almost made me jump, but I had been expecting it for almost two hours now. Happily, but mostly annoyed, I rose from my chair and started towards the door, smoothing down my velvet-lined dress.
With a frown, I swung open the door. "Richard-" I began, but I was instantly confused when the man I had called out to wasn't my date.
This man was tall and muscular, with eyes like the color of fire beneath a lake of ice. But soon my confusion gave way to anger.
"Marin-" the devil said, trying to step towards me, but I slid into the gap between the house and the door, and he stopped. "I need a favor."
Through the pit in my gut, I let a laugh seep out. "You need a favor from me? Why don't you ask one of your servants? They don't have souls either, right?"
He winced and produced a briefcase from behind his back, holding it out to me. "I will give you your soul back, if you help me."
The next thing I knew, the devil himself was sitting on my couch, nervously bouncing one of his legs up and down. "I know that I don't have any right to ask-"
"That's an understatement." I hissed, my violent glare silencing him, "You came to me while I was half out of my mind with grief, and told me you could make the pain go away. But you didn't tell me I'd be selling my soul."
"Marin-"
I pointed an accusatory finger at him and for a second, I thought I had power over him instead of vice versa, because he fell silent.
"You forced me to sell my soul with the silver lining that I'd feel better. Well you know what? I don't feel better. I'm still miserable, but now I'm heartless. So what makes you think that you can waltz in here and ask me for a favor?"
The devil didn't meet my gaze. He looked absolutely defeated, while my veins were on fire with excitement. I had been waiting to get that off my chest for some time.
"What can I do?" He asked it so quietly, I had to lean in to hear him. "What can I do to get your help?"
I thought about it for a moment, even though Soulful Me would have already spewed her answer. Soulless Me couldn't feel the pain I felt after he died, but his absence was still like a wrench in my heart.
"You will bring him back. Completely healed. And my soul comes back too." I said, my voice emotionless.
The devil jumped up from his seat, but I couldn't tell if he was happy or annoyed.
"You've got a deal." He said.
Knowing how deals with demons were signed, I wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him towards me until our lips met. Whatever he had in store for me, I couldn't tell, but without my soul, I wasn't afraid. Maybe that was why he came to me. | 2016-06-27T09:11:14 | 2016-06-27T07:39:08 | 148 | 20 |
[WP] You are a primordial entity that has been accidentally summoned by the gods. | *...for when the Great Sage broke free of damnation and fell hurtling into the fields of Heaven, he saw an old man engulfed by the shadow of a sandstone pillar. Around him stood trees that bore dead sinners as fruit, and leaves that dripped azure blood. Heaven shimmered, swirling in hot winds, and scattering disintegrated remains of serpents upon the holy ground.*
*The old man cackled. And though his eyes were affixed, immovable, upon the Great Sage, his body was in disarray, and shivered and writhed, as a fish speared from the banks of Mother Isseti.*
*"I come for the Word of the God," the Great Sage said.*
*"The God flees," the old mans spoke in fricatives and the lullabies of winds, "Gaze far above, into the skies, beyond the roof of the world. A haze will come, cracking at the seams. Great fires will bloom. An ancient rage, flowing in veins weaved of hatred. The people shall know pilgrimages, and a fertile ichor of slaughter shall be spilled. Thus, the God flees."*
*And the Great Sage remained silent, for thus was the Word of the God. He turned from the old man...*
~ Tushrau's Fifth Interpretation of the Record of Disquiet.
---
In the womb of non-existence, if you listen closely, very closely, you can hear distant heartbeats. Panicked, irregular, choking heartbeats. In time, the heartbeats coalesce from a satiated thum-thak-thum-thak, into a ravenous thaag-thaag.
It is a sound, a rhythm, that presumes to call itself a *creator* because it was never there before it began. It had never heard itself before it had heard itself. Obsessed with it's own sound, the heartbeat resonates and resonates until it hears echoes of itself, and now presumes to *have created.*
And the echoes call it a god. And themselves, creation.
Imagine, in the midst of the endless steppes of non-existence, a rumbling of chords, a cacophony of reverberations, that deceives itself into thinking it is existence. That-Which-Names-Itself-Existence.
A variation of the coalesced heartbeat shudders and names itself, Coacathracoazil. The echoes name it Lord of the Sun, and it churns the echoes into chaos and wildness.
"Your disharmony is a wound in non-existence.", I let the coalesced heartbeat know.
"Nothing that exists could presume to dare insult the Pantheon!" Coacathracoazil rages.
In the womb of non-existence, I swallow the heartbeat, "And nothing that exists, does so", and Coacathracoazil screams as it is muted.
| A single point of light appears in the Void
*Light...*
"It has been a long time since I have seen light.."
Voices seem to be coming from light source
*Sound...*
"I have not heard anything but my own thoughts for an eternity.."
Suddenly the light grows bigger and brighter and the darkness around Ahmaut disappears as he is enveloped by the light.
He opens his eyes to see a room of white stone. There were five small figures staring at him in silence.
"Where..am I" he asked
"Who has awoken me from my eternal slumber?"
The Gods stared at the being before them. He was just a swirling cloud of pure darkness with two intensely glowing golden points of light where his eyes were. Ahmaut's gaseous form kept on swirling into a humanoid shape but then ended up breaking apart into a swirling mass of darkness again and again.
One of the Gods nervously cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"uhh excuse me sir..Mr...."
"I am Ahmaut, the Eternal Dark, The First Shadow of the Light of Beginning"
"Yeah, uhh Mr.Ahmaut sir...we seemed to have awoken you by mistake.."
Said the God sheepishly
Ahmaut's gaze seemed to pierce the God's existence itself.
"..you..awoke me..by mistake?"
Ahmaut said very slowly in his rumbling voice.
"well...sir not me but.."
The God stared at one of his companions in a green tunic.
"Steve kind of...dropped the Rubicon that contained a piece of your primordial being in it and in turn it summoned you"
Steve gave a sheepish smile and gave a sorrowful shrug towards Ahmaut.
"ss..sorry sir, I was only trying to dust off the old relics and I accidentally bumped into the pedestal that your priso.."
"Ow!" Steve yelped as his friend jabbed him in the ribs.
"Mr.Ahmaut my name is Patrick and What my friend Steve here was trying to say was that he was trying to make sure that your Rubicon was clean and in perfect condition so that you could enjoy your slumber but he accidentally opened your Rubicon and would hope that you would forgive him."
"Enough of this pettiness, I have no reason to be here. Send me back to the Void and I shall rest once again."
Said Ahmaut
"Will do sir" said Patrick.
The Gods began to chant and Ahmaut felt sleepy, his conscious began to become cloudy and then complete darkness enveloped him.
Patrick turned to Steve
"Steve....I don't even know how you are qualified to be a god.."
"Remember, when I was a human I helped "The" God's son Jesus make a Twitter and Jesus was all like, "dude we need someone like you up there" and then..."
"We know how you got up here"
Barked Patrick
"Never mind, just drop it. Finish dusting the museum and try not to break anything that could kill us"
"Yeah bro, no problem" said Steve enthusiastically as he turned around to grab the feather duster.
*Crash*
"uh-oh... I think I just dropped the Rubicon again..."
"Dammit Steve!" | 2016-09-27T22:47:58 | 2016-09-27T22:12:07 | 41 | 15 |
[WP] A creepy story at appears normal until the end, where all the details clicks together perfectly and chills you to the spine.
Edit1: This prompt turned out so much better than expected :D, ill check back on the others tomorrow morning since its like midnight here. A shoutout to all these great writers that wrote here, THANKSSSSS. | "I can't wait to show mum the painting I made this week!"
A smile spread across my little brother's face as he admired his painting in the passenger's seat. Sunday had always been Leo's favorite day of the week, but it is the one I loathed the most, both for one reason: Family Day.
"Are you going to talk to them this time?" Leo questioned. I shook my head, trying not to frown. Leo quietened down in his seat. He knew it was a question he should not have asked, yet he tries it every time.
I had been on bad terms with my parents ever since I took Leo and moved out. Haven't spoken a word to them in years. And yet, I had to visit them every Sunday, or else Leo would throw a tantrum beyond my control. I tightened my grip on the steering and pressured the accelerator, hoping get the day over and done with.
-
"Mum! Dad! We're here!"
Leo ran through the apartment door and over to the couch, where they always were. He brought out his prized painting from his bag to show to them almost instantaneously. I proceeded to the kitchen to prepare some tea for the four of us.
"Dad, don't you think it looks good? I'm gonna make so many more paintings of us together next time!"
I laid down four cups of tea on the living room table and took out the book I brought to keep myself occupied.
-
"Come on, Leo. It's getting late, it's about time we took our leave."
"Aww. Ok. Don't worry, Mum! We'll be back again next week!"
I could hear Leo stuffing his belongings back into his backpack as I brought the tea cups back to the kitchen. Pouring away 2 cups of untouched tea, I quickly washed up and went back out.
"Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad. See you again next week!"
Leo waved his hands eagerly as we walked towards the lift lobby.
-
My dear little brother, Leo,
I hope you never wake up. I hope you never see through the lies your brain and I are putting you through.
But if you ever do, I hope you realize, I did it because I could not bear to see them hurt you. I hope you remember how they were abusing you.
But for now, I will bear the pain to keep you safe.
The pain of watching you talk with 2 decayed bodies every week.
-
I love you. | "Kids! Time for dinner!" Will yelled. He sat the roast on the table and began setting the plates.
Jack and Beverly came barreling down the stairs. "I beat you!" Jack crowed, as he fell into his seat.
Beverly stuck out her tongue and made a face. "Who cares, you're still ugly."
"Dad! Beverly called me ugly," Jack cried.
"Beverly, be nice to your little brother," Will said to her. "We're family and family sticks together." He began carving the roast and began whistling. "And Beverly, go get your mother. I think she's still working on the vegetables. We need to hurry up and eat this before it gets cold."
Beverly ran to the kitchen and stuck her head in. "Mom! Dad says we need to eat right now!" She ran back to her seat and began staring at the meat. "Can we just eat without her? It's been a long time since we've had roast."
"I'm right here silly goose," Abigail chided, carrying a dish filled with snails. She set it down gingerly as Jack and Beverly began turning their nose up at the plate.
"EWWW! What's that!" Jack shouted. "Why are we eating snails?"
"That's *Escargot Bourguignonne*," Will said with a smile.
"Ess car what?" Beverly said with a look of disgust. "I don't want to eat something that has been crawling on the dirt outside." She began gagging at the thought of the slimy snails crawling down her throat.
"Don't worry kids, I raised these snails all by myself," Abigail said proudly. "Its from our special storage area downstairs. Believe it or not, these snails don't live off the ground, they like to crawl on meat." She began scooping the snails onto everyone's plates.
"Oh, you mean all the meat that's downstairs?" Jack asked with surprise. "I thought that was just for us."
"Well, we'll eat that meat eventually too. We're just getting it ready for a special meal," Will said. "You know how hard it is these days to get the right kind of meat." He finished carving the roast and set the knife down. "Now, who wants to say grace?"
Beverly raised her hand. They all closed their eyes and held hands as Beverly began to pray. "Dear father, thank you for this day. Thank you for giving us meat. In your name, Amen."They began eating, delighted in Will's special recipe.
"So, how hard was it to get this?" Abigail whispered to Will.
"Well, it wasn't too hard for me. Although it may have cost Mr. Bloom an arm and a leg, and then some," Will said with a wink. "Don't worry, I left the rest of him on the racks for you to cook later." | 2016-10-04T23:44:47 | 2016-10-04T22:09:20 | 71 | 49 |
[WP] The bad guys won and the world was conquered by the villain's armies decades ago. You and your spouse are worried as you suspect your child may be suffering from Chosen Oneness or perhaps an acute case of Prophetic Heroism. | "GET DA FUCK OFF MA LAWN!!!!!!"
I shouted at those crazy worshippers. From time to time there were people in my garden kneeling and praying and hoping someone would safe them from this new management of the country.
It began when some blind witch suddenly had a vision about the dark lord being beaten and the lands liberated by a shining hero. Honestly I believe that old wench was stoned or something.
Since then it got worse from day to day. People would come and bring presents for the unborn child. They would gather and sing at the worst times possibly. Some would even kneel and pledge their life to my unborn daughter only to get cut down by the city guards moments later.
There was even an army from the neighboring kingdom trying to save my wife from the bloodthristy monster known as dark lord.
Those idiots got slaughtered but this didnt prevented other nutjobs from coming to my house.
I looked out of the window again and saw these worshippers getting beaten up by the guards.
My wife Jenna came into the room.
"Larry, why are you so angry again?"
I sighed, she wasnt as stressed as I was about our daughter being the new hero, even tough she know why this was dangerous to us.
"Honey, I bought this house so we could live a calm and peaceful life, far away from all the stress at work. But these dimwits are ruining everthing. Also our daughter is going to be the hero who will "liberate" these lands."
"But isnt this nice? After all these years of hardship and war the people will finally have hope again."
"Maybe, but we will have a huge problem then. BECAUSE I AM THE FUCKING DARK LORD AND YOU KNOW IT!!!!!! AND OUR OWN FUCKING DAUGHTER WILL FUCKING KILL US AND DESTROY EVERYTHING WE ACCOMPLISHED. THIS IS NOT NICE!!!!!!
| "Jessica! Young lady, please answer me! Who was that man you were speaking with today when I picked you up from school?"
I tried to keep my voice from cracking and fork from shaking. Meredith would kill me if I got soup on the new upholstery.
My daughter finally relented. "He didn't tell me his name. Why do you care?"
Ugh. Pre-teens. Jess was the spitting image of her mother, but her attitude was more akin to my own. It was adorably annoying.
"Jess, your father and I are just concerned for your safety. You know, they have guards and the check in station at school for a reason. You can't be too careful in this day and age."
"Mom! Seriously, it's not a big deal! It was just some old guy. He was super nice. Kept mentioning home. Maybe he was lonely or something. I don't know."
It could be nothing. The man had looked around 80 years old. Harmless, too. Still, a man that age mentioning Home could spell trouble.
"Sweetie," I sighed as I looked her in the eyes, "did he say anything else? Did he give you anything?"
Jess blushed and paused for a moment. Then, she went to get her backpack. When it plopped on the chair, there was a distinct clunk.
"He gave me this," she said softly. "But I don't know what it is."
In her hand was a small brass flashlight. I took it and my heart sank as I saw the symbol engraved on the side.
"Jess, go do your homework. Your mother and I have to talk." With a shrug, she shuffled upstairs into her room.
Meredith knew. "Hon, your father is back."
My fists wouldn't stop shaking as I held back tears. "Not again. Not her. He can't have her!"
"Jeremy, he will come for her! He'll want to train her like he did you and your brother. You know it."
Memories of Jackson flooded my brain. His smile. His armor. His severed arm and head on the surface of the planet we had tried to retake. Our father running away.
"NO!" I put on my coat and grabbed the stupid flashlight. My daughter would not suffer the fate of my brother. It was time to stop the old crackpot. Father would have no more "chosen ones." | 2016-11-26T06:54:54 | 2016-11-26T06:21:33 | 46 | 24 |
[WP] Death has been on holiday since the start of 2016. You're his right hand, the Reaper in charge whenever he's gone. He's scheduled to be back in a weeks time, and you're panicking on how to explain what you've done this year. | The Grim Reaper entered the room, a floral wreath around his neck and the smell of piña-coladas wafting from his bones. He just came back from his semi millennial vacation, which he'd been waiting years for. Mr. Death had planned to visit Honolulu ever since that mass shark-attack during the annual surf championship. The warm sands and beautiful ocean struck a chord with the shadowy killer, so he made plans. He loved his vacation; the resort staff were incredibly helpful and polite, the Ocean Bar gave him free piña coladas, and there were no sharks to make him do work. Luckily, he came back just in time to see his apprentice do the deadly job.
"So, James, who have you killed?" The Reaper asked, donning his black robes once more.
"About 55 million, sir."
"Anyone famous?"
"Well... there are a few...."
"Come on, tell me."
"Fidel Castro."
"Good, he was on my list."
"Zsa Zsa Gabor."
"She was pushing 99, wasn't she? Yep, definitely on the list."
"Alan Rickman."
"What?"
"Alan Rickman, sir."
"Wha-- why? How?"
"Pancreatic cancer."
"You gave him pancreatic cancer? That's painful! He was a great guy! Who else did you kill?" The Reaper asked, tapping his foot.
"Prince."
"The man of Purple Rain? When and how?"
"April 14th, drug overdose."
"What drug?"
"Prescription."
"Really, James?"
"Yea..."
"Anyone else?"
"Cassius Clay, aka Muhammed Ali."
"The Greatest? How?"
"Err... Parkinsons and septic shock, sir."
"That's horrible! He was fast as a hurricane, tough as a brick. He was so bad he makes medicine sick! Is that all of them?" The Reaper said, staring into the soul of his apprentice.
"Err... many more..."
"Tell me."
"George Michael."
"Eh. Wham! wasn't really a good band."
"Doris Roberts."
"Oh, come on, James! She was a nice old woman who baked cakes for the neighborhood kids! How did you kill her-- and please don't say a stroke."
"Uh..."
"Oh! That's sadistic, James! Anyone else?!"
"You don't want to know."
"Yes, I do."
"Err..."
"SPIT IT OUT!" Grim shouted, fire coming out of his every orifice.
"Carrie Fisher."
"Great. Just great. How?!"
"She drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra."
*****
It's what she would have wanted. ^^/r/Picklestasteg00d. | It was a cold and dark New Year's Eve. I sat in a basement with my two friends who were reminising about the dreadful year that was about to end, the raw stench of mildew filled the air and a cool draft from under the door ensured my cold soul would never warm up. I new he was coming, and the task that was appointed to me was about to end, but it wasn't over yet, and I had one more person, father, friend... soul, that I had to take care of. This one would be the most difficult.
Just over a year earlier, I was indifferent, or maybe it was pure immaturity, but my smug attitude and lazy lifestyle drove me to a dark place. I made a deal with the devil, well, it was actually Kevin, the landlord, but the dark signs were abundant. I had missed Novembers rent, and in fear of eviction I offered to work for Kevin for one year, and have free rent and a partial wage. How could I not, I had just finished school and we're looking for a "transition" job. What better place to work at than a used car sales lot?
In December 2015, I proved to be an immediate success. It was easy, I knew nothing about cars, but the odd lie, some exaggerated income and an occasionally forged signature - my numbers were tremendous. On January 1st 2016 , Kevin brought me into his office, it was dark, his brown suit smelled of mothballs and he was tired. He sat me down and tried to explain his business model, being trusted in the community.... that his business is more complicated then simply selling cars. He wanted me to consider the implications of my decisions to over extend people and possibly force them into debt. He was successful, but he reeked of weakness, and he could have made 10 times if he had been a little more.... indifferent? At that moment, Kevin started to sweat profusely, he clenched his chest as he sprawled to the ground before collapsing.
As Kevin gasped his last breath, a dark shadow appeared, his face was veiled by his long dark hooded robe. He looked up at me, and in a deep, but oddly calming voice, he said: "Death is yours to control. In one year I shall return", and he handed me a list. As he faded away, his dark robe surrounded me and deaths touch became evident. I could sense the illness, disease, self mutilation and hate in the world. It was a terrible sensation.
Over the coming days, I grew to love the wealthy, the famous, the fortunate. My instructions were unclear, so I made it personal and selected my targets. Now, as I sat in the basement with my two friends, the game was different. They had no idea I was there, of course, and one of them read from his phone "Freeman just passed away". I checked one of my accounts, as I posted the link, and my karma was up one more point.
| 2016-12-27T18:38:09 | 2016-12-27T12:10:10 | 1,563 | 10 |
[WP]Witches and wizards have taken over the earth. You are one of the few remaining muggles left in existence and must keep your powerlessness a secret from the magical community. One morning you receive an ordinary letter delivered by hand...
[deleted] | "Who are you?" asked Lenny. He regarded the man who had just *hand-delivered* the letter he held in front of him. It was unheard of. All mail was delivered via owl courier, and it usually opened itself and yelled at you or something. This was as plain an envelope as could be.
"That's not important," said the man. "I'm not important."
He at least wasn't important-looking, true. He was average height and size, clean cut, modestly dressed... not a unique trait about him.
"Neither are you lad. Well, you're not special- that is to say *magical*."
"Wha- what do you mean?"
"You're a muggle, Lenny." Lightning cracked behind the man and the drizzling outside picked up in to rain.
"What? No. That's impossible. My parents were-"
"Your parents worked in an office-"
I gasped.
"Your Mum and Dad worked in customer service, and enjoyed early bird specials, and watching sports on live television. They were good people." A tear formed and glistened in the corner of his eye. He wiped it immediately. "Sorry."
"But, but I'm magical. I am! I can do card tricks."
"That doesn't qualify Lenny. The letter you hold in your hands is an acceptance letter to Oxford University."
"Oxford University," I said and laughed in disbelief. "That school was obliterated. There is no muggle schools."
"There certainly is, if you know where to look. That is to say, the most boring place in England. Think about it Lenny. In the mean time, I brought you a gift as well. Hide it."
He handed Lenny the plastic bag he'd been holding. Lenny took out from it a frisbee. It was nice and light, a faded blue Oxford-official. It felt good in his hands. He inspected it closer and found, inscribed on the rim: 'Ladies Love Lenny'.
"It was your father's." The man turned to go.
"Wait!" Lenny cried. The man stopped. Lenny had nothing to add though. He was overcome with... many emotions.
The man answered the question that Lenny hadn't thought of. "I was a friend of your father's. There's still a few of us knocking about." A smile edged on to his lips. "I'd better go before your step-folks arrive." He closed the door behind him. Lenny stood there with his frisbee and listened as the man's footsteps sploshed through the rain and into the distance.
"My folks..." Lenny thought aloud. "My folks!" Lenny clutched his frisbee close and ran with it upstairs. He quickly deposited it in his room. He shut the door to it, glanced over the banister, and then plopped himself down on the highest step of the staircase. He sat and waited for his magical step-parents to arrive. He wondered what he'd tell them. "Anything but the truth."
| As he fumbles in the rain with the magical locks and knobs and handles on the little door, his long white hair (mostly missing on top) blows from the breeze in the grimy alleyway. His cloak hangs quite low, nearly brushing the sooty cobblestones below and, if you watched closely, you would see that from its sleeves he produced some number of different keys, machines, and magical button-casts in order to remove the barriers to his entry.
Through his door and into his warm, humble home. Hidden away the crazy wizards that frolic and fly and flash about outside, he was finally alone for the day.
His front rooms are littered with the everyday objects you'd expect to see – large ornate paintings (with subjects moving and talking, of course), dancing balls of light floating with no source or support, gadgets and trinkets of various age and quality holding this or that spell. The usual.
But deeper into his plain, dimly-lit hovel was his secret place. Through a sliding wall in his bedroom closet, he could access his favorite room in the world: his study. His normal, non-magical, perfect study.
This room was filled with ancient artifacts of questionable origin and purpose. On the small corner desk sat a plain metal and simpleglass lantern, which burned a quite annoyingly unsteady light into the room as he lit it. There were a pair small landscape paintings, with no notable subjects or interesting movement. And on the top of the short bookshelf sat his favorite possession. A long, darkened tan oval of animal leather. It was once near to bursting from the air inside, but now it sat quite limply. On the side was embroidered the word “Wilson”, no doubt the name of the previous owner. This was his prize.
He had never learned the meaning of this or, to be true, many of the items in his study. Since the wizards had decided they'd had enough of the non-magics and their jealousy. Since they had decided to wipe the world clean. It had been so long, he had no way to know if there were any others like him out there. He had long since decided against trying to find out.
But as he entered his study today, the air felt different. Some of the papers piled on his desk had been disturbed and fallen to the floor. The rain outside was steady as he moved to pick up the first . Underneath was a smaller, thicker piece of paper: an envelope. He hadn't ever had need for envelopes in here.
He sat at the desk and opened the letter carefully. If someone had been in here, then surely he was found out. Surely this letter held some sort of curse that would bind him to the spot until the authorities came. But no. It didn't have any of the normal magical qualities. It wasn't overly-large, or self-openening, or floating around the room like some kind of insect. It was just paper, beautiful, plain, blank paper.
The letter inside was small and, once unfolded, revealed only a small line of scrawled black ink. It said “Help her. She is like you.” He read it once more, not knowing who “she” was or how this strange letter knew what he was “like”.
That's when he heard it. From behind him, he heard the small, wet, slappy sobs of something. He turned sharply and saw her among the flickering shadows in the corner. A young girl in a soaked uniform, huddled knees to chest against the wall of his now less-secret room. | 2017-03-07T14:32:44 | 2017-03-07T13:45:43 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] "But why do you want to destroy the asteroid belt?" The chair swivels, and a T-Rex leans forward. "Revenge." | The chair swung halfway round, 2 tiny hands appeared and a squeaking noise was heard as Cody shuffled the rest of the way round to face his crew.
Cody took a deep breath, and slowly clutching his claws together started narrating. 'Why do I want to destroy the asteroid belt? Great question, to answer it we have to go back 65 million years ago. A flourishing dinosaur civilisation. Everything was just great. Food aplenty, top predator, the works'.
The crew glanced around at each other with slightly bemused expressions as he continued: 'Then the blasted buggers in the asteroid belt had enough of our advanced civilisation' and tried to wipe us out'.
'But sir', one of the humans interrupted, 'Asteroids are inanimate objects, governed only by the laws of physics?'
'Wrong.' Cody exclaimed. 'It's a conspiracy, that's what's they want you to believe, those idiots tried to kill of the last of the dinosaurs, well they failed.'
The crew were starting to think the all expenses paid trip to the asteroid belt observing the wonders of the universe, wasn't exactly what it was cut out to be.
Cody persisted with his story: 'The Blomfonstein family survived in hiding, licking their wounds, waiting to hit back at the _asteroid belt_. And now, humanity's technology has finally caught up to allow me to execute my family's goal. Eradicating the asteroid once in for all. First mate Bob,'
'That's __still__ not my name' Tim interjected.
'Doesn't matter, you're Bob, he's Bob, she's Bob, you're all Bob. Annnway Bob, man the gravitational misalignment tool aim for the asteroid belt.' Cody finished his spiel, as the quark gluon powered laser turned around towards the asteroid field.
'Should we tell him that you can't actually like destroy the field?' Tim whispered to the crew.
'Nah, he'll figure it out eventually.'
Cody turned his hair around to face open space, and with a devilish twinkle in his eye, whispered to himself 'Goodbye Asteroids'.
Edit: Fixed a typo. | Thus the tragic story of T-rexus the Vengeful.
In order to fully understand, one must know of his pain and trials:
Many millions of years ago, T-rexus lived an ordinary life. He hunted with his family, protected his young ones, and sought to create a future with a female of his species. T-rexus nearly achieved all that his life had dreamed, only for an unfortunate circumstance to take it all away.
Fast forward millions of years, T-rexus is on board his Class X mega destroyer vessel. Armed to the T with.... Mining lasers and drills.
"Yes" He says as he struggles to fold his tiny hands together.
"Yes, it is all coming to fruition..."
"Approaching The Belt, sir"
"Understood, Captain. Arm lasers"
The high-pitched hum of mining lasers being warmed up was present through-out the ship. A sly grin formed on T-rexus' face.
"Indeed." He said with a dark chuckle. T-rexus look towards the fire button.
"Do we have our first target in sight?"
"Yes Sir"
His grin widened, bearing all of his sharp teeth.
"Very well then." He reached down towards the red button marked "Fire..."
and reached
and reached some more
"Uh, cadet... Can you please press this button for me?" He said sheepishly.
Before long, the hum grew louder as the safety was off, the target was selected, and the button pressed.
*Bzzzzzzz* the powerful lasers launched forward, charging deep into the asteroid.
T-rexus laughed a deep, evil laugh.
"You all shall pay for what you have done! Hahahaha!"
And then he opened his eyes, and looked at the target.
"What?!"
He said in complete surprise.
"More rocks? This cannot be... Arm auxiliary lasers, direct all power to our hard-points."
"Yes sir."
The hum grew louder, laser intensity got brighter. All this, only to find that broken rocks create more rocks.
In a fit of rage, T-rexus took control of the weapons module, and madly starting firing into the mass of dust and rocks. IT made no difference, the rocks kept dividing and multiplying. T-rexus' rage was unable to be tamed. He shot laser after laser, rock after rock. Little did he know, that upon the chaos he created in this peaceful asteroid belt, he knocked a large asteroid out of orbit. IT came with full force into T-rexus' ship, thus destroying it and all who lay within. | 2017-07-02T13:55:04 | 2017-07-02T13:38:42 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] Last words aren't just words spoken before death, but actually call death to you. You have known your last words for years and kept death at bay by refusing to speak them. Now, however, they need to be said. | It was a cruel joke; his predestined last words. You would think it would be a gift. To have such sweet last words, but it meant he could never say the simple three words for as long as he lived.
For years, he had known he couldn't say them. Somehow, he knew, in the back of his mind. That those words would doom him. He had never told anyone, alienating them, to the point that even his parents thought he hated them, there simply had never been any proof.
Then the gift of an accident happened. It had been a happy, giddy day. It was proved, he thought: he would never die, for the simple cost of those words. Until no one came to apologize for disbelieving or congratulate him for defying death. They just didn't care about him anymore. Or they just didn't believe that the accident was real.
Vicious, sad years later, he understood that it wasn't a gift. He could never express how much anyone meant to him. It was sadistic. Only his fear kept him immortal. The cost so seemingly simple. Each relationship crumbling around him.
Reaching older and older, he started to understand why no one lived that long. It was just so hard to keep the will to live. He knew that he could do anything he wanted without fear of death. But it simply didn't give him pleasure anymore. For he wasn't truly cheating death. Simply striking a bargain of misery.
One day, as he was contemplating what he could do. Then he heard the news. His old fiance was on her deathbed. Seeing her there was shattering of his soul. She hadn't quite left his life yet, he still loved her. She was pale and haggard, but she could hold herself together. "Just don't say anything" Somehow, they both knew that wouldn't happen. And as her life faded away, her words were simple, "I forgive you." Releasing the weight that had been on her soul her entire life.
Tears rolling down his face, he looked into her eyes as death took her soul, and said the simple words he had held back his whole life, "I love you." | I walk out of the eternal drizzle that is London in winter; into the brilliant fluorescence of the hospital. Once my eyes adjust to the light I round the oval reception desk giving the nurse a polite smile of suffering as she took in my drenched clothes. I call the lift down when the disconcerting thud hits my chest, putting a hand to the wall to steady myself I wait until 10 fingers become 5 again "not yet you bastard" I grumble hoarsely.
Shuffling between wards I come to an almost abandoned wing where the lights dim, a portly African lady smiles sadly as she recognises me approach. "Hey Jess how's he doing?" I enquire.
"Stable but he's awfully weak Mr Dedman..." she trails off with heavy implication
"Sigh...thanks Jess have a nice evening" I say whilst shuffling through the doors and sliding back the curtain hiding my dad's unconscious figure.
I shrug off my soaking coat and hang it on the back of the visitor chair and spend a few minutes pulling the dead leaves off the flowers next to dads bed. Basically stalling, you'd think after having death sitting on my shoulder all these years I'd be more prepared for this. But the simple fact is no one WANTS to die and there's something impossibly cruel about making a sentient being with a comprehension of the eternity of death to decide when they die.
My dads been in this bed ever since we got into a car accident a few years ago, I lost control during a storm and we spun out off a steep country road. At that moment death appeared before me; a sickly skeletal figure who offered me an unforgivable ultimatum. Either I live and my dad would never wake up again so essentially die OR we both die. Shit what would you have done? Is what I ponder as I stroke the long, streaky grey hair out of my dads eyes.
Death offered me a sickening back out clause of sorts, once I utter a specific two words then we will both die, neither of us will die until these words are uttered. However we both should have died at that moment so our health will get progressively worse until I pull the trigger so to speak. Its been 4 years and I now black out regularly and living is hellish both physically and emotionally.
I draw a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment, listening to the patter of rain against the window and to the mechanical beeps of equipment. Then I embrace dad in a hug and whisper into his ear "I'm sorry" at that moment I see him, in the reflection in the window; and then all is black. | 2017-08-07T09:48:15 | 2017-08-07T09:16:02 | 61 | 44 |
[WP] In the near future - the brains of fallen soldiers are placed into war machines, allowing them to continue the fight. As a mechanic, you thought you'd seen everything, until one of them uttered a phrase you'll never forget. "Hold my beer, and watch this!" | I tried to ignore the lieutenant's diatribe as I replaced a badly-mangled armor plate on the battle chassis. It wasn't a difficult task - nobody really cares what a new-minted 2nd Lt thinks, and after ten years on the job, I'd never seen a battle chassis like this one.
Sure, the paint job was regulation. But only if you ignored the flames painted on the legs up to the knees, the naked woman on the left chestplate, and the hundred or more kill markings decorating the anti-personnel pulse cannon mounted in the right arm. Not to mention the skull smoking a cigar painted on the armored case that houses the sergeant's brain.
"I don't care how long you've been in service, Sergeant! If you disregard my orders again, I'll have you up on charges!"
The battle chassis started vibrating, and a hideous grating noise was emitted from the vocal unit. Internal damage? Some faulty part? No, I realized...that's laughter.
"Charges, Lt? You are gonna put me up on fucking CHARGES? What do you think they're going to do to me? Demote me? Send me to lockup? DECOMISSION ME? You just fuck right off and take your complaints to the Colonel, or your mother, or someone else who might vaguely be interested in pretending to give a fuck. I have work to do, so fuck off."
I'd never seen someone's face turn that color, and for an alarming moment I thought the lieutenant was going to have a stroke. Instead, he got out a "I think I will go to the Colonel regarding your insubordination, Sergeant!" The FNG then stormed off, shortly before the human members of the Sergeant's kill team couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing.
I finally managed to get the replacement armor in place and sealed, ignoring the feral edge in the kill team's laughter.
"Sergeant," I spoke up, diffidently, "I've heard about the Lieutenant. He will complain to the Colonel about this."
The laughter cut off abruptly and I found myself the target of flat-eyed stares from a dozen pairs of eyeballs (or technological substitutes for the same).
"Specialist," said the sergeant, acknowledging my existence for the first time since I began work on his chassis, "Thanks for your concern. But the lieutenant is about to find out that the Colonel isn't going to give two shits about my insubordination. Seeing as how saving his daddy's ass is what landed me in this thing to start with."
As the last words were emitted by the sergeant's voice box, the base's alarm warning of an incoming attack went off. And for the second time, the battle chassis began vibrating weirdly as the fifty-year old war machine's grating laughter filled the air.
"Hot damn, something useful to do," said the sergeant as the first rounds from the magazine fed into his pulse cannon. "Hold my beer, and watch this."
"Sergeant - you haven't been able to drink a beer I fifty years."
"No wonder I'm so fucking ready to kill something." | Being a frontline mechanic, you see a lot of things, war machines engaging in a drunken fist-fight 40ft in the air to a cheering crowd, an old, depressed veteran choosing to crush his cerebral tank like a coke can instead of going back to the front, a legless, legless lass screaming bloody murder because she stepping on a mine command had supposedly cleared, but the oddest thing?
*[I gesture him to continue.]*
Well, how familiar are you with the term "Hold my beer, and watch this!"
*[I clarify I have some understanding of the phrase.]*
It was during the Busan siege, Second Korean War, we were pinned by 3 Ascendants, good machines, slow and outdated but they've enough armour on them that nothing short of ramming actions will phase them, anyway 3 on these assholes of us pinned, well them and the dozen of troopers behind them, but they were using stuff that was ancient in the 00's, anyway their's me, mecha-asshole Alice, about a half dozen
*[I ask why the name 'mecha-asshole'.]*
I didn't call her that at the time, of course, she...earnt it.
*[I thank him for the clarification and apologise for interrupting]*
Anyway, a couple of native troops and our CO, god damn coward he was, no back-up no way out without getting more holes then a golf course, we were screwed.
Then, Alice says *that* phrase and walks out, hands raised and just...walks towards them.
*[I give a confused look]*
I think she was feigning surrender and just walks, and they let her, of course none of us know what she's doing, we thought she's giving in, her mech for our lives, now the CO he just snaps and bolts...straight into the enemy troops firing line, making it to about hole 9, anyway she's walking up to the titanium trio when she pulls a stunt you had to be there to believe.
Now Alice was what we called a pack mule, not the best armour and no built-in weapons, but they were unmatched in strength, anyway when she reaches the first mech, she grabs it, swings it into the second and then throws them at the third, now you'd think that would put them down, will the first one was death and the third guy was leaking like a colander and smoking something awful but the second one, that poor unlucky soul got up and orders the troopers to fire.
*[and what happened?]*
she grabs them by the waist and suplexes them--
*[I'm sorry, did you say she surplexed them?]*
Yes
*[WHAT!?!]*
Anyway this guy spasms and fizzles out, now the troopers, they're still shooting, now I don't know if it triggered some PTSD thing or if it was the synthetic adrenaline pumping to her brain, but she just turns to them and roars like some kind of barbarian, one guy feints and the rest run like hell, I saw some brown patches.
*[And then what?]*
As the highest ranked person there still alive, I called her an asshole, told if she ever put looking cool ahead of keeping us informed again I'd link her up to a toaster and promised her a drink at the base, oh and called in a retreat before they could regroup.
*[Do you know what happened to her after that?]*
Seeing as we meet every Friday for drinks, yes, yes I do, she's happier now in the civilian class chassis but that doesn't stop her from trying to lift a car after a few drinks every now and again. | 2017-11-01T10:33:55 | 2017-11-01T10:04:23 | 142 | 38 |
[WP] You are on a time travelers game show. To play the game, you travel back and change important moments in history, being awarded points for the difficulty and overall impact of the change. You just broke the high score. | He entered the time machine. In the dim light of the arena, the glow of the inner chamber was dazzling, almost inviting him to step inside. He did so, and the door behind him closed itself.
"He has entered the time machine, ladies and gentlemen! Now, we know how this goes, He will enter the time period he wants to change and may we meet on the other side!" cried the host outside.
He shook his head. He looked down at the time display, a screen with the numbers 1890 on it, the year that the last contestant went to. What the guy before him did was simple but profound, he castrated Hitler so his voice would never become the iconic symbol it would be in the future.
He pressed a number of buttons on the keypad and held up his thumbs.
"Our contestant has decided his year!" exclaimed the host. Turning, she looked directly at the camers. "What do you think is the time he went to? For those viewers and audience members who guessed correctly, they will get a chance to one a very fabulous prize!"
She then turned to him. "Contestant, are you ready?"
Two thumbs up.
"Well then!" The host turned to the audience. "Say it with me! May we meet you on the other side!"
He pushed the button, and then he was off.
---
He was drifting in an infinitely black void, the only source of light being the chamber of his time machine.
00000.00
The beginning of time. Where and when everything began.
He didn't know what to expect, going this far back. What happens now? He struggled to remember the science documentaries he watched when he was a kid, about the beginning of the universe. The most popular theory was that of the Big Bang, but it had already been several seconds after he arrived, and there hadn't been any all-consuming bursts of light that had happened yet, so the theory was obviously wrong.
**"Or it happened just as you arrived, and you were too late to see it."**
The booming voice seemed to come from all directions, from within his very being. He jumped and looked around, suddenly afraid.
"Who are you?"
**"A friend."**
That did not help in the slightest.
"Are you an official of the game?"
**"You could say that, but not exactly."**
"A contestant?"
**"You could say that too, but again, not exactly."**
"Then what exactly are you?" he asked, annoyed, as if this being was taunting him about the failure of his plan.
**"What you want me to be."**
"What I...want you to be?" He was starting to think he was going crazy. That must be it, floating in the vastness of space with absolutely nothing for company must have done wonders for his sanity.
**"I could assure you that you are quite sane, but then again as I said, you are what you want me to be."**
There it is again with its taunting. He wonders if he should just go back home and declare that he failed. He would be laughed at on national television, but at least he won't end up on the mental asylum.
**"Don't leave yet, there is a reason you're here, after all."**
And what could that reason be?
Instead of replying, he suddenly felt a presence fill him. Warmth engulfed his body, encasing him in a fire that threatens to destroy him from the inside, but at the same time energizing him from within.
Just as soon as it began the presence left him, and then he felt an infinite cold pierce his heart, a chill like nothing he had ever felt and would ever feel in his lifetime.
Then, just like the fire, it was gone in an instant.
He was left gasping for breath, struggling to understand the events that just happened to him.
**"One billion years have passed. You have six billion left, good luck."**
It seemed impossible, but he understood the strange being's statement perfectly. He removed his seatbelt and stood, stretching his arms and legs momentarily. He opened the doorway to his time machine, looking at an empty space of blackness that covers everything in his vision.
He frowned, and *blinked*. Now he could see, a light, a tiny pinprick no bigger than the eye of a needle, twinkling in the distant horizon.
He stepped out of the chamber, unafraid.
"Looks like it's already day two," he said.
| “Good evening, and welcome back!” The audience cheered in excitement as the host let a sliver of tooth show. He had a glint in his eye and hair coiffed like a perfect wave. “How is everyone doing tonight?”
“*GREAT, JERRY*!” Came the reply.
“And ain't that fantastic? Tonight, my guests... we have a very special contestant in tonight. For a very special episode.” The crowd hushed in expecation as he continued, strolling casually across the stage. “Some of you might know him by his deeds. Seducing Bloody Mary, stopping Caesar from crossing the Rubicon, mooning Armstrong *on the moon*...”
The crowd was in buzzing, murmured excitement. Jerry was a master of his craft.
“But, I think most of you will know him by his title:” He left the words in the air theatrically, letting the audience hang on them.
“*The Bachelor*!”
The crowd roared in excitement. A man jumped from his seat, pulling his hair out. One woman appeared to go *genuinely insane*, dolphin diving down from her seat in a desperate attempt to get up on the stage. Security pulled her out. A lot of people just got up, spinning in energetic, excited circles.
A door slid open on the side of the stage, and the man they called “*The Bachelor*” emerged. Fog curled around his ankles, huge sparklers going off above him. The crowd was screaming in excitement.
He was of a short stature, with a mischievous gait that betrayed him. His face was pure popularity: gleaming smile, characteristic moustache that would have been cheap on anyone else. Handsome, but not too handsome, the people loved him.
He reached his chair on the side, gave Jerry a quick handshake, then sat one leg loped over the other.
“Good evening, Mister Bachelor.”
“Good evening, Jerry.”
“You know,” Jerry looked to the audience as he spoke. “Every time you come on, ratings go through the roof. The people, they just *know* you're good. And so do I.” He clapped his hands.
“So, Mr. Bachelor. We're going to do away with the usual fanfare in favour of an exhibition of sorts.” Behind Jerry, a huge roulette wheel ascended into the ceiling. Around the stage, red velvet curtains descended along with a huge screen. A legion of stage hands rolled in a carpet, roaring firepit, a couple of side tables and some leather armchairs to replace the usual accommodation.
The Bachelor looked unsurprised. “Here's hoping on the whiskey.” The crowd chortled, then howled when Jerry produced a bottle of Glenlivet 25, making sure to give the camera a wide shot of the label as he smiled. He poured out a couple of fingers, then handed one glass over.
The Bachelor took a sip, then nodded his approval. Setting down the glass, he folded his hands in his lap and put on a pensive face.
“It seems you've really rolled out the red carpet here, Jerry. I have to thank you for that.” He leaned forward in his chair. “But we both know the audience isn't here for that, are you folks?”
The crowd responded in an overwhelming negative.
“Fab. Just fab. I don't want to keep you all waiting, so Jerry? If you will?” Jerry pressed a button on his remote, and the scoreboard lit up.
“Thank you. And without further ado I, *The Bachelor*, present the time crawl extravaganza! Four stories of time travel wonder, each more daring than the last. For the next two hours only, I invite you to turn off your phone, make some popcorn, pour a drink, roll a spliff and sit back as I show you, for the first time, how I change time!”
The crowd seemed like it was about to boil over. Jerry flashed a quick smile to The Bachelor, and the screen blinked to life. The crowd hushed.
On the screen, there was a direct POV shot. In the corner, for the slower members of the audience, the words “*BACHELOR VISION*” glowed in red.
The Bachelor sported black tie, overlooking a stage. He seemed to be in a box. Down below, the actors ran through a dramatic rendition of some play.
The camera panned over to reveal a top hat a foot tall. The crowd began to murmur. The man turned a quarter, revealing him as Abraham Lincoln. The audience began to scream.
On the screen, the camera turned around. The Bachelor winked at the camera, then put a finger to his lips. *Shh*.
Simultaneously, on the stage, Jerry and The Bachelor smiled at each other. For the next few hours, the world was theirs.
-----
Part two later?
^^^More ^^^stories ^^^over ^^^at ^^^/r/Robin_Redbreast | 2017-11-17T07:22:52 | 2017-11-17T07:07:09 | 768 | 232 |
[WP] Despite having pink hair, a tragic backstory, and untold magic power, the narrator refuses to make you the main character | The story of Josh
A mighty fine lad
He lives in Kentucky
With his friend Chad
&nbsp;
And every day
On his way to work
He walks past this loser
God, what a jerk
&nbsp;
Some kid with pink hair
An orphan at birth
Some say he’s magic
No way on earth
&nbsp;
He’s just a nobody
Don’t focus on him
Keep looking at Josh
And his boss, Jim
&nbsp;
Josh was caught sleeping
Passed out at his desk
And Jim got real angry
Very hulk-esque
&nbsp;
So, Josh was fired
And on his way home
He saw that same loser
And let out a moan
&nbsp;
“My god!” He exclaimed
And pointed in shock
The kid with pink hair
Had lifted a rock
&nbsp;
Now, this rock was special
Not a pebble, you see
This was a boulder
A monstrosity
&nbsp;
He hurled it some distance
And shouted with rage
“NARRATOR, I HATE YOU,
GIVE ME A PAGE”
&nbsp;
But the narrator ignored him
And kept out of sight
He followed Josh home,
And wished him goodnight
| Then Tim went to the bakery, followed annoyingly by Tess. The little bell above the door gave a soft tingle to announce his arrival. The baker and his wife looked up and smiled a hello. Tim politely read his list of required baked goods. While the baker gathered the required ingredients, his wife and Tim had a riveting conversation about the price of wheat in relation to the season.
Unfortunately, this session of pleasantries was cut short by Tess' irksome cries to get to cover. Tess had selfishly tagged along with Tim on his errands, risking his safety and sanity. Her flamboyant hair was surpassed in gaudiness only by her personality. With no regard for the damage being done to the humble bakers' livelihood, Tess haphazardly threw magic orbs at the rogue spirits who killed her family (a morbid story she told everyone she came in contact with).
Tim, sensibly, hid behind the counter with the bakers, attempting to reassure them during such a frightening, yet easily avoidable, situation. He even spared Tess, however undeserving, from blame. With an incredibly pompous flourish, Tess banished the last of the spirits back to their realm. Tess unapologetically walked over to where the three innocent bystanders she had just placed in harms way were seeking refuge.
Tim, attempting to placate Tess's massive savior complex, thanked her for her help (even though she had caused the problem). The bakers even played along, most likely scared to death by such an abomination of nature. Tim, ever the gentleman, thanked the couple and volunteered to help them fix the damaged property first thing in the morning. He even invited Tess to the dinner for whom the now unobtainable breads were intended.
Tess unfortunately accepted. | 2017-12-18T20:19:09 | 2017-12-18T13:48:10 | 415 | 260 |
[WP] Dogs have been genetically engineered to live as long as humans. As a child you pick out a puppy as a companion for the rest of your life. | I am one of a few. Unloved, not cared for. I am starving, surviving on what I can find. I live without a family, without a partner, without a friend. My human passed away when he was 13. Now, I am 45.
He picked me out as a puppy. Both of us were born the same year. I had been injected, like all companions, with a serum that allows me to live the average human lifespan, about 73 years. As fate would have it, my human, Todd, would only make it to 13; the average lifespan of one of my kind.
After he died, I was abandoned. Unneeded. I was driven out of town by Todd’s father and left in the woods. There, I learned to hunt. I learned to kill. Squirrels, birds, cats, whatever I could sink my fangs into. I’m an expert now. A hunter. A professional. There is nothing I can’t take down.
I’ve become a legend of sorts. A myth among those living in Todd’s old town. It started when deer bones were found scattered through the woods. Something, somewhere, was killing these animals. Then, a man watched as I fought a bear for a kill. I emerged victorious. He ran and told the town. The children claim to hear my howls in the winter nights. Mothers place wolfsbane around their baby’s cradle to ward me off. They fear me. I find it funny.
They fear nothing. I am nothing but a shell. I was stripped of meaning thirty-two years ago. I hunt for my own survival. I kill because it is the only thing I have left.
I understand now why they made my kind live longer. How can you attach yourself to something knowing it would leave you so quickly? How can you watch a small, defenseless hunk of flesh grow into its prime and die within an eighth of your lifespan? How can you watch someone you love die?
They came for me today. Seven men with guns entered the woods. Each armed with silver bullets. They’re hunting “The Werewolf of Brackwood Forest”. They’re hunting a legend, but they will kill a shell. | Canis lupus familiaris. Formerly known as the domestic dog, thanks to genetic engineering our canine companions no longer lived a scant decade. Now, they lived as long as humans, and needed a name that separated them from the simple cousins of wolves that they used to be. Apex Genetics decided that name should be 'Familiar.' Within the decade, every child in the United States was getting a familiar for their fourth birthday. Not even five years later it was every child on earth.
&nbsp;
Nowadays it was exceedingly rare to see a person without their four-legged companion. It feels like I could meet a thousand people and only one of them wouldn't have a familiar. Of course, the reality was that when a person lost their familiar it was like a piece of themselves. Worse still was when a familiar outlived their partner.
&nbsp;
That's what Shelters were for now. A place for all the familiars that lost their friends and homes, to gather and be looked after while socialising with the employees and each other. It was also a place for people who lost their familiar. Rather than buying a new puppy that was sure to outlive you, you could peruse local shelters for a familiar your own age to befriend over several sessions and eventually adopt. In this way the lives of familiars and humans alike could be repaired.
&nbsp;
Of course, I was looking into Shelters for an entirely more selfish reasons. Stuffing my phone back into my pocket, I levered myself off the couch, dislodging the ball of fur at my feet. "Sorry, Cuddles," I appologized. She didn't respond, of course, only stared at me from the floor as I got ready for the job interview. I made sure to check Cuddles' food and water, saying goodbye and scratching her head before locking up the apartment. It was a short drive to the local Shelter, and a smiling woman greeted me at the door.
&nbsp;
"You must be David!" she beamed, leading me inside.
&nbsp;
"Yeah, that's me." I replied.
&nbsp;
"Well, have a seat." She instructed. I nodded, sliding into the chair across from her and reaching into my pocket to silence my phone. I had mouths to feed and wasn't about to risk blowing the interview because of a collection call. "I like the look of your application, and your references all had positive reviews." I smiled and she continued. "I can't help but notice you came alone. I lost my own Daisy years ago, and the Shelter really helped me cope. How long ago did you lose yours?"
&nbsp;
"Oh, I didn't," I replied quickly. "Actually I've always been a cat person." | 2018-03-19T10:03:16 | 2018-03-19T09:51:51 | 39 | 19 |
[WP]At last the Dovahkiin dies. Now all the Daedra princes he has served over his life fight for his soul. | Skyrim had been in mourning for three months. The Dragonborn was dead. Years of Civil War, dragons and apocalyptic strife gave way to decades of peace. With the dragon blood and his collected horde, the Dragonborn lived an unnaturally long life, even for a dunmer. The Dragonborn reunited Skyrim under the empire and forged an alliance strong enough to challenge The Dominion. In peace, he reigned for 200 years as High King of Skyrim, taking the title upon Queen Elisef's death without an heir.
On the last day of the final week the Dragonborn was laying in state in the Great Cathedral, all of the Daedric prince's came to collect their due. The soul of the Dragonborn was owed to them all.
Light shone in from the spire of the cathedral, remodeled in the intervening years to include a beautiful recreation of the triumph of the Dragonborn in relief upon the spire's central dome. All the greatest battles were represented. The Triumph over Alduin, the defeat of the Volkihar vampires, the usurpation of Miraak, the Daedric Lord's tasks, the peace treaty between the Stormcloaks and the Empire and the Redemption at Illiac Bay, ending Aldmeri rule and sending the high elves back to Somerset to lick their wounds.
Azura was the first to arrive, enjoying her victory. She stood and smiled, studying the painting in relief on the dome.
"You accomplished much, little Dragonborn. You'll make an excellent champion in Moonshadow."
"Not if I have my way," Molag Bal snarled, stepping out from the shadows. "I had dominated his soul long before he ever recovered your star."
The both turned to see Sheogorath clumsily stumble-strut through the doors down to the cathedral crypts.
"Oh, I'm late for the meeting! Anyone bring any cheese? The party I just left was DEAD, I tell you! I should probably just grab a priest and the Wabbajack. Priests make the best cheese wheels."
A procession of daedric princes dropped, warped, boomed, blasted and howled their way into the proceedings. With disagreement mounting, things threatened to devolve into violence and chaos. Each prince claimed him as their own, each pointing out their artifacts arranged on and around him.
Suddenly, there was a lull in the booming din, as if they all had a momentary shudder come over them that stopped them in their tracks.
"The...dome is...glowing," observed Hermaeus Mora. The relief on the ceiling was lit up with the colors of the reflected moonlight, symbols and ephemeral shapes playing through the air. Those fragments of moonlight mixed, merged shifted and assembled themselves onto a previously empty section of the dome. In it, the Dragonborn stood in the Great Cathedral amid the kneeling Daedric princes, as moonlight shone down and ephemeral chains held them to Azura's Star.
Transfixed by the sight above, none had noticed the Dragonborn stirring.
"Welcome, Lords of Oblivion. Today, your dominion ends. The future belongs to men and mer, not capricious princes. You will serve the mortals now, or you will be destroyed."
"You're mistaken, mortal," hissed Mephala. "We own your soul, not the other way around. You are powerless against us."
"Correction, Prince of Secrets. I own your souls. There's a new secret for you."
As they bantered, Azura looked around the chamber. She could feel the Star near by, but could not see it. For the first time since she entered the cathedral, she realized that it felt *wrong.*
Interrupting Mephala's retort, Azura addressed the other Princes, "He's corrupted the Star! His soul IS the trap."
Each of the prince's tried to relinquish their claim, but each had spoken the binding words staking out a portion of his soul. Each prince had made their own prison.
Mehrunes Dagon was the first to try and strike him. As he did, Azura's Star materialized to stop the blow. The Star was always rumored to be fragile, especially when not empowered, but the force and blinding backlash of the deflected strike severed Dagon's vile hand, dropping the massive thing to the floor with a sickly wet *squick.*
Chains of blinding blue-white light appeared from the star and bound Dagon's arms and legs. Mehrunes Dagon knelt before the Dragonborn.
One by one, they tried and failed to assault or sway the Dragonborn. They each promised everything they had to avoid imprisonment. Well, except Sheogorath. He offered the Dragonborn a guitar that released butterflies when played and, briefly, addressed him as the Prince of Order.
"It will be nice to have some rules and decorum, for a change. You have done what I could not with the Grey March. You have tamed my brothers and sisters."
Azura was the last to concede. "You've overplayed your hand, Dragonborn. We cannot be shackled forever."
"No, you can't. However, as long as my soul remains in the Star, the ritual to bind you all will keep you chained to it. In it. The day you all can defeat my soul within is the day you'll be free. I have, however, gathered a number of Elder Scrolls that should make that very, very difficult, even for you all. Physically, I could never take you, but my soul is the soul that devoured the bane of time itself, and I imagine it is still hungry."
With a quick series of invocations, the now-chained lords were banished to Azura's Star. With the last great threat to man and mer contained for the time being, the Dragonborn set about leveraging his newfound control over the daedric spheres to build an empire the likes of which Tamriel had not seen since the days of the Ayleids. | Mortal coils shuffled in the night at long last. The bells tolled in the north, from the Reach to the Rift and all lands between. Their champion had fallen not to the knife, not fire, not on field of battle, but to the cold, and to time. While Nirn and Tamriel laid restless in their absence, the Old Gods stirred, wrestled from their realms and their crypts and their often fiendish ambitions. While Skyrim mourned, the Daedric Lords descended upon the vessel; the soul of the Dragonborn drifts in the vast emptiness of Oblivion.
Hermaeus Mora rose first, in greed and filth, wanting in waiting to wrench the knowledge of the black books back from the Dragonborn’s spirit; the arrival of fellow Lords spurning him from pressing forward.
Each lord’s realm bled into the vast nothingness. The fires of Mehrunes Dagon, persistently familiar in the minds of many, surged forward as the Prince of Destruction took his steps into the mid-realm. He stood, stoic, uncharacteristically reserved. Not Mora, not Nocturnal, not anyone would threaten his claim.
Nocturnal’s mist seeped through, the Twilight beaming through the open frame. Boethiah slithered into existence, to the dismay of Meridia. The others soon followed suit, and not before long, all sixteen Lords of Oblivion were gathered, for the first time in a millennia. Their presences differed vastly, their power unfathomable, crowded around in a wide circle while the Dragonborn, unbent, stood center. The Dragonborn, with their cunning trickery, soon became evident.
The Dragonborn, for all their wit and careful measure, must have had the forethought to deal with these Lords when the time came. The Dragonborn would never reach the sacred afterlife again. Oblivion was a set course.
In what seemed like an age past, the Dragonborn engaged with the Thieves Guild of Riften, and by extension, the first of the sixteen lords the Dragonborn would come to deal with. The pact made as an agent of Nocturnal would seal their fate forever.
The Dragonborn, for all their faults, has never once laid down to a fate undetermined to their own will. Indeed there would come a time when Nocturnal would come for their soul, but Nocturnal is not the only Lord of Oblivion. Their journey to save their soul began the moment they took step from the Sepulcher.
Carrier of the Beacon of Meridia. Accused murderer of a Stendarr Vigilant. Champion to Azura. Friend of Sam. Bearer of the Vile Mask. The list would go on. Some of the Lords, the Dragonborn would enter into pact with, as with Nocturnal or Meridia. Others, the Dragonborn would bear the burden of committing heinous acts in order to gain the trust of these Lords. There are sacrifices to Vaermina, Boethiah, Molag Bal, even Peryite that line the fabric of this empty plain of Oblivion. In the hope of self preservation, the Dragonborn persisted. They never once claimed to be a saint.
Which brings us to the claiming of the soul.
Nocturnal and Molag Bal, in vitriol unrivaled, argued their claim the stronger. Nocturnal, the first to enter into pact, made the first claim. Molag Bal, notorious collector of souls, sought to reclaim the champion Dragonborn, who spurned the soul-eater by discarding their mace.
Mora’s claim came third, stronger than most. Their time together, however uncomfortable for the Dragonborn, was more consistent than with any other Lord, even Nocturnal. The events that occurred in Morrowind are scarred into the Dragonborn’s very soul.
Azura and Sanguine staked their respective claim not out of spite or greed, but mercy. In the times after the Dragon Crisis, the Dragonborn was a hesitant confidant to both Lords. Not inherently evil, they hoped to spare the Dragonborn of the strain Mora or Boethiah might inflict.
Sheogorath rescinded his claim, the madness that carried him used as a tried and true method of determining the inhabitants of the Shivering Isles. If there was ever a place for the Dragonborn, it was elsewhere.
Boethiah and Mephala staked their claim to the Dragonborn’s soul, yet secretly relished in the game they played, pitting the more volatile Lords against one another. The spirit of the game was admirable.
Hircine’s claim was weak, yet they persisted. Namira and Vaermina sought to subject the Dragonborn to horrors. Peryite and Vile abstained knowing their claims would not stack. Malacath looked upon the Dragonborn in despair, knowing too well the feeling of having no belonging.
Dagon stood, solemn, and terrifying. This was the first time the Dragonborn had gazed upon the Lord of Destruction. Their correspondence ended when the last of the Dawn was put on display on that lonely mountain altar. The Dragonborn stood strong in death, not yet intimidated. He waited for Mehrunes Dagon to stake the final claim.
And then, Dagon spoke.
“You thought this all out long ago, didn’t you. A foolish goal, fitting for a lackluster Champion.”
The flames of his plane of Oblivion spurred out beneath Dagon’s feet, threatening to engulf more of the mid-realm.
“Dragonborn, you championed Oblivion to save your soul in the end. Do you truly feel saved? Safe? *It does not matter, here.*”
The Dragonborn’s soul, old and waning, frowns. A shadow casts upon them, the fire of Dagon’s plane showering light as bright as Meridia’s.
“These Lords will rend, and scrape, and claw at all parts of your spirit until nothing yet remains, and in your passing, you will wonder in agony as to why you held onto this meager hope.
The gates of Oblivion, unbridled, will become your grave.”
A heavy breath escapes the Dragonborn’s lips. Silence follows for what might feel an eternity.
The fires of Dagon, the tendrils of Mora, the open hands of Azura and the darkness of Nocturnal close in around them.
The Dragonborn draws their sword to their side, with thoughts of home. | 2018-06-15T08:42:41 | 2018-06-15T08:27:42 | 105 | 43 |
[WP] A girl kisses her pet frog, and it turns into a price. The issue is its modern day, and the prince's kingdom hasn't existed for 1100 years. he is ill equipped to deal with the modern era. | A young girl, lamenting and alone, holds a frog. It is not relevant how the frog came to be in the girl's hands, only that he did. Having heard the classic fairy tale, she closed her eyes and wished for the frog to turn into a prince as she laid her lips upon his own.
Much to her disbelief the adorable little frog transformed before her eyes into a beautiful young man. The girl gazed upon him with glee. The answer to all her problems, her fairytale ending, stood right before her eyes.
Taken by his dashing appearance, she immediately kissed her prince and as their lips met a second time he turned back into the cute little frog she held just moments prior.
After some time she realized the prince being from another millenium never could have found serenity in this present day and age. As a little frog, however, he was again equipped to deal with the modern era. He lived a long and happy frog life.
The girl gave up her lamenting and settled on being her own solution to her problems. She went on to live a happy life not dependant on the presence of a prince. When she mothered a daughter she never told her the classic fairytale, and her daughter too grew to live a happy life never once illusioned that another person could solve all her problems or hold the key to her happiness. | Emily Chung was about to kiss the frog and reveal his handsome princey self but she stopped short when her pragmatic, practical self wrestled back control of her mind, breaking her brief spell of romanticism.
Questions and doubts quickly flashed through her mind of the consequences of bringing this supposed Prince (who apparently lived during the Crusades) into modern day USA. How long would it take for him to adjust to life in the 21st century ? Did he have any skills that could lend him some sort of job (god forbid he be a goddamn leech - that was the reason she dumped her last boyfriend)? How was he to get any form of ID to allow him to function properly in society, to get access to Medicare etc?
Not to mention since his royal family or lineage had long died out, and he would not offer her any practical benefits such as wealth or political power. Not that Emily needed any of that, she held a high paying solicitor position in a law firm and her boss had hinted at a promotion in the near future ; and being a rather private person, a life in the public eye as some consort was not very appealing.
Just then, her stomach began to growl. She realised that in all the excitement of finding this talking frog that said that he would be restored as human prince if a fine lass kissed him, she had forgotten to eat breakfast AND lunch.
It was at that moment that a very primal thought crept into her mind.
“Wait a minute ... I have to go .. powder myself,” she blurted out at the anthropomorphic amphibian, before dashing into her bathroom and locking the door.
She took out her cell phone from her pocket and dialed a number.
“Po po, it’s Emily. Can you send me your recipe for frog porridge?”
(I just realised that the prompt said “pet frog” but I’m too lazy to edit it) | 2018-09-22T00:28:07 | 2018-09-22T00:09:44 | 53 | 24 |
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