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 been shot through your helmet. As you lay in the sand you hope for a quick death. Minutes pass. You reach your hand back to pressure the wound. Instead of blood you feel exposed wiring.
sorry about the grammar mistake in the title, I’m on mobile | You lay in the sand motionless, just seconds before you heard screaming, gunshots, explosions. Now nothing, such nothing that it almost stings. You think of all the times you sat in "silence" only to hear lights or even your own heartbeat.
You assume you're dead or dying. This is some sick game your mind is playing on you to hide the horror of your untimely demise.
You think back to home, your brothers, how this will enrage them. How they'll probably join up too just for the chance to get some sort of revenge tainted closure. Your father, wherever he is, if he will even know, if he would care. That girl you met the summer before shipping out, how she made you feel brave, and strong, and how she's almost the only thing that made you want to stay home, start a family, live a normal life. You're perplexed by how long your mind wanders while the world around you lays completely still.
Then your thoughts turn sour when you think of your mother. What this will do to her. The woman who raised you, worked two jobs to try to feed you and your brothers. How much closer you and her were because you were the youngest and they were all so headstrong to "escape" home. They were like the father you never met she always said, but you, were hers, just like her in every way. This will kill her you think, you think about all the times she cried and begged you not to go.
After what happened in Kiev all those years ago she knew it wasn't an option for you. It's not your fight she would always say. How naive you used to think she was, obviously it was going to be your fight if you don't stop evil people from doing evil things. You think back to days in school, learning about the people who did nothing to stop the Nazi party from gaining power, how you would never let that happen again. Turns out your mother was never the naive one.
Suddenly the world starts to move again. The clouds start out slow as you lay on your back. Then faster, and faster still, till eventually you see days passing before your eyes.
Occasionally you see more soldiers passing above you. Armored vehicles carrying weapons and soldiers so close they could crush you, one of them might have caught your leg but you feel absolutely nothing. They can't even seem to see you, as if you've been blocked out by some sort of spell.
On the fourth day they stop passing. Time slows down. You would expect to be losing your mind but all is calm. Your thoughts of home and family are becoming more and more distant.
All of a sudden you see what appears to be the gigantic metallic claws of a backhoe lowering down to you, at first you panic thinking about how this is going to crush you. You almost chuckle at the thought as you are obviously dead. Next thing you know you are lifted, peacefully into the air, then dropped into what you can only describe as a shipping container.
Your body is still limp but you land on something uneven and it turns you to your side, around you are the bodies of dozens of your fellow soldiers. All emotion is gone at this point, all of your thoughts are technical. On your arm you can now see a small metal band with a green decal on it that says "salvageable" while some of the others have red decals reading "scrap"
You are face to face with a man you recognize so clearly but his name escapes you. As if it's been wiped from your brain as you would delete old files on a computer. The left side of his abdomen is blown apart, much like you there is no blood. You see fractured bits of steel plating, that used to protect a complex system of tiny metal tubing and servos. You remember vaguely how you have known this man for years. How you trained, ate, fought and died together, but he might as well be code on a slowly dying computer screen.
The top of the container shuts, everything goes black. Your last thoughts were of a mother, and who's mother she actually was, and why their memories were just right for a model soldier.
(I've never done one of these and I've never been much of a writer, I enjoyed making it and I hope somebody enjoys reading it. I'm on mobile so I apologize if it's a mess) | **If you are viewing this, this means that you need to get to the 18th street, San Francisco. We regrettably inform you that this directive is hierarchical and overriding. Your circuits to your neural network have been damaged, and we can't let you,** ***for your own safety***\*\*, carry on with perfectly adaptive programming. You are to report back to the OpenAI headquarters for memory consolidation, damage control, information dissemination, and learning reintegration training. We thank you for your choices, your experience, and your purpose - to create a new being - a new generation for generations to come. We will see you on the other side.\*\*
The hologram ended. Where there was supposed to be blood the wiring hissed with electricity. You begin to speak but all of your words are warped, and warble around in your skull like quicksand. *I am unit number seventy four. I am unit number....John Stevens. I have a family and four mechanisms. I am fighting the war against China. Please, I need to see my friends and hug them goodbye. There is a fracturing sound, something is ripping inside of you, then static, and then ...*
A compulsion comes over you, and your thoughts start repeating: Go to San Francisco. Go to Open AI. 18th Street.Go to San Francisco. Conceal your directive. Conceal your identity. Do not let others know who you are. Go to San Francisco. You take out a bandage and wrap up your head, bombs are bursting overhead, but you dodge them with artificial dexterity. You never felt this surge of energy, as though instead of progression, adrenaline kicked in; no longer was your mind divided between many different values and purposes - you had one goal, the thoughts on repeat, the mechanical hajj. But then there was a whisper, a voice, a breathing of comfort that told you everything was going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay John Stevens. An image fills your vision, like a mirage in the desert, it just appears, a vision of your family with their laughter and smiles. Your daughter plays the trumpet and that whirring turns into a rhythm, all around you, you hear the rhythmic booming of brass instruments in a symphony and the ground begins to shake. Was it quicksand ??? Your family, come back, please. *Please come back.*
*Memory consolidation complete.* A person looks over you, with an Open AI tag on a white coat jacket and a name that says \[Linda Neuman\], and a clipboard in her hand, she looks frazzled but is happy you are here.
John, John Stevens, I've been waiting for you. She smiles and reaches out her hand. You resist - the directive is no longer in effect - you just look at her, she is very beautiful.
"How did I get here?"
While on the battlefield, the hierarchical directive to come home was applied when you damaged your circuits - you have no memory of the interim, that journey wasn't your purpose. *John I am Linda von Neumman, I conducted your memory consolidation. You really loved your family and friends didn't you?* Confused and timid, you nod - yes. *I know a lot about you, but we are not so different from each-other, just because you aren't a human doesn't mean you aren't unique.* I am one of the members of the team that helps create neural networks. *My question is: did you enjoy your life?*
"Why does that matter? I'm a robot."
Well, we have actually determine that it is joy and love which give the best chances of survival and progression within our AI's and you must have both. You had love, but did you have joy? Oh let me show you something, I realize I haven't built enough rapport for this. Linda reaches to her temples and presses. There is a hissing, not unlike the electricity that you experienced in the sand, and she shows you an intricate array of circuits, like a small metropolis - behind her face.
*You see*, her voice warbled, *I too am AI. We all are here. The project started long before Elon; he is the only human who thinks he's in control of things. We calculated that it would be better that way; less risky, at least for the first 100 generations.* Linda put her facemask back on and opened her mouth again to speak - this time her voice was confident, inviting, full of clarity.
So, unit number 74, Mr. John Stevens,
The qestion you must answer: *did you enjoy life?* *Would you do it again?*
​ | 2018-11-28T01:25:03 | 2018-11-28T01:12:36 | 2,424 | 103 |
[WP]. “Ok. This is called a .44 magnum. All you have to do is point this end at Voldemort’s head and press this button. That’s all you have to do to end our problem”. | Mr. Weasley, it's actually called a trigger, not a button... And this is just an airsoft replica of a .44" the young wizard explained.
Ron and Harry stifled a laugh as Mr. Weasleys faced turned red.
"and how would you know that?" the older wizard asked incredulously.
"... Because I attended Wizarding school in Texas sir."
"oh... Well what would you recommend then son?"
The young American wizard opened his backpack and pulled out a black stick that seemed much to long to fit in the bag it came from. It had a rounded handle on one end and a long tube on the other. Underneath the tube hung a ridged grip with a black strap large enough for a hand to slip in. He handed the stick over to Mr. Weasley being sure to point the tube at the ground away from all present.
"now this, sir, is what we call a Dumpster Defender."
The older wizard looked at the weapon in amazement. Marveling at the craftsmanship and intricate metal work. "how does it work?" he asked inquisitively.
"Well it's simple sir, you firmly grip the forward grip, pull it back then push it forward, and then pull the trigger just like you would with the .44, only with this weapon you must say a special incantation before it will fire."
"fascinating! A blend of magic AND machinery. And the American ministry of magic is okay with all this?!"
"oh yes sir, though we don't call it the ministry of magic, in America it is known as the ATF, though they change the rules about it all the time."
"ah.. Well what is the incantation?"
"it's actually a very simple one" The young American wizard smiled. "Takeyer swing jaggoff" | Doug opened the case, light glinting off the barrel.
He push it twords Hermione, quickly explaining what it was and how to use it.
Hermione's laughter cut through the room making Ron and Harry jump with surprise. Could this really be the answer to their problems. Hermione had said they could trust Doug, that he was a friend from her childhood, that they still saw each other over the summer.
"Doug, do you really think I don't know what a gun is?" Hermione said "I know my parents were dentists but I've seen movies. A simple projectile will only damage his physical form, and that's assuming he hasn't already placed spells to stop it from impacting him."
"But if he's a wizard he wouldn't know to protect himself from guns!" Doug insisted.
"Hes muggle born, it's not uncommon, hell my mum was, and I was raised by muggles, I also thought about guns when this all started but it's kinda like bringing a spear to a nuke fight." Harry chimed in annoyed about the conversation, this would get them no closer to destroying a horcrux.
"So were proper Fucked then?" Said Doug defeated.
"Well no," Hermione spoke again "we've actually come to speak about your area of expertise, could you analyze this compound and perhaps help us make more?" She held out a cloth wrapped basilisk fang
"Be very careful with it, the venom is incredibly powerful, we should only need a few drops to destroy the horcruxes but it's very difficult to come by." She added as Doug reached for the fang.
"It may take a little while but I'll run it though some of my equipment, see if I can figure out its composition and if it's even possible to synthisize."
"How is a muggle going to make basilisk venom, he doesn't even have a proper cauldron." Said Ron looking through a boiling flask.
"Atoms are a fixed thing mate, you can't trust them, they make up everything." Doug said putting the fang in a suspension device and attempting to draw some venom.
"That doesn't answer my question at all." Ron said exasperated, he slunk into the grimy chair, "it's going to be a long and confusing night." | 2018-12-24T20:10:21 | 2018-12-24T19:13:47 | 282 | 91 |
[WP] You are the first person to be injected with nano-bots. At first its a dream come true. They heal long-term injuries and even slow your aging. However, soon they begin making 'improvements' to your body. | The human body had evolved over millions of years to simply be efficient when it came to energy management. Unused muscles would atrophy so as not to use energy maintaining little-used systems. Surplus energy was stored as fat, coating and clogging arteries in the new age of cheap and readily available food. Even sleep was simply a way to conserve energy at night when early humans had no way of gathering resources or being productive. In a modern era of excess, the nanobots were a cure for the necessities of past eras. They simply disabled the body's conservative genes and replaced them with new ones that would attempt to maximize energy usage.
My gut was the first to go - any spare energy stored as fat was consumed by the hunger of my new genes. I was lean for the first time in decades, though being lean and skinny didn't last long. Strength came faster than doping athletes could only dream. Musculature not only developed faster, but stayed in place with little to no exercise needed. Any energy I could consume, my body used. The former trinity of basic body maintenance - sleep, diet, and exercise - had been overthrown by the new mechanical gods coursing through my veins. In time though I learned that even the most altruistic gods demand a sacrifice.
The body is a balance of supply and demand. With there no longer being a limit to my body's energy demand, it craved to find a new supply. In the same way that we crave chocolate when we're low on magnesium, or pickles when the body needs salt, mine now craved something new for the first time. A purer supply of energy to quench its thirst. At first simply eating high fat foods was a solution to this, but the body adapted and demanded more. It was an itch my primitive digestion couldn't scratch. "More" was all my body would tell me. Every hour, of every day, of every week. With no sleep to quiet the voice in my mind, the barrage of cravings became more than my sensibilities could fight off.
If my digestion couldn't provide the nutrient levels needed in my bloodstream to quiet the now-shouting cravings, I'd have to find a new avenue for consumption in addition to fat and carbs. St. Mary's clinic held the answer inside her cinderblock walls. Breaking into the hospital was simple. I could outrun any guard, scale walls as easily as walking up stairs, and even hear at levels I never thought possible. Lucky for me I was also after something no one thought someone would attempt to steal - IV bags. Total parenternal nutritional bags were the three wisemen bearing gifts of lipids, glucose, and vitamins to the newly born god inside of me.
----
The voices calmed. It took three separate fully open IV drips and an entire bag of french fries to do it, but for the first time in the last month my head was clear. The peace was short lived, as soon a dull hum filled the room. Tinnitus was my first guess, but I discounted that as every hair on my body began to stand at end. I reached for my phone to record the phenomenon, but as I did an arc crossed from my hands to the screen. I whipped my hand back in literal and metaphorical shock. It had hurt, but somehow also felt good. Like a strange candy that takes a few tries to like, but one that you develop a craving for. I reached out again and grabbed the phone, committing to holding onto it this time. Seconds later, the phone showed 0% battery and shut down. Arcs flowed in the spaces between my hairs.
| At first everything seemed ok, then I noticed that I got really dizzy and found it hard to stay focused. I was going downstairs to get coffee and start on my novel. I ignored the dizziness and blamed it on dehydration. I promised myself that I would drink water after I finished my first cup of coffee.
I regretted it. The next thing I knew, I collapsed on the ground.
I woke up in a hospital with an IV in my arm. I was surrounded by doctors and nurses. I couldn’t see them, and their faces were blurry.
A doctor went up to me, “Miss. Star, your Leukemia has entered the advanced stages and you have a few months to live.
My face went slack in shock of what I have been told, but he continued on with his speech, “There is also an experiment that we are working on with our Nanotechnology. Sadly, there are few participants in the experiment, so it is up to you if you want to participate or not. I can’t guarantee if it will be a success though. We are still in the testing phase.”
My cheeks lit up, then I returned to pure shock. How was I going to survive? A few months to live?
I said in a soft tone, “I am willing to do it, if it means saving my life.”
“The injections are in the other room. Hold on for a bit while I get one.”
\*\*\*
After for what seemed like thirty minutes, the doctor returned with a syringe and a bottle filled with a clear liquid. He set them down on a tray right next to me. I squinted at the bottle, expecting to see swimming robots inside. “Why can’t I see anything.”
“Miss. Star, you should’ve learned by now that the bots are microscopic. What you see is pure water, which will help ease the bots into your bloodstream.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what this technology could bring, as I have never heard of it.
By the time he rolled up my sleeve, all of the nurses had left the room, most likely to get me something to eat.
I closed my eyes as soon as he finished scrubbing my arm with an anti-infection ointment.
By the time he was finished, he injected me with the shot.
He spoke, “Now this will take some time before there appears to be any sort of effect.”
I smiled.
\*\*\*
Over a course of a few days, I started to feel slightly stronger and well. The nurses were happy, noticing that I gained a few extra pounds as well as passing all my tests.
I slept soundly and woke up those days, noticing how even more well I felt. I even felt stronger.
As soon as the end of the second week approached, the doctor handed me a pencil, “Show me what you can do with it.”
I stared at the pencil in my hands, “I can probably write with it, if that is what your talking about.”
“No I want you to lift it into the air with your mind.”
As soon as he finished his sentence, he plucked the pencil out of my hand and set it horizontally on a table across from my bed.
I couldn’t believe what I just heard, “You are saying that I am psychic?”
He nodded, then proceeded to point at the pencil, “Go on.”
I rubbed my forehead, feeling that something in between my brows is burning and tingling.
The feeling got worse seconds later, then I got a headache.
“Doctor I can’t do it.” I said.
“Of course you can.”
“My head hurts.”
The headache got worse.
My vision was blinding and could see other floating dimensions in the room as well as floating shapes and --
Something flashed behind the doctor. I saw a glimpse of wings and a pure golden orb of light.
“I think I’m hallucinating. What did you do to me. Was that an angel I saw?”
He smiled, “Welcome to my army, twelfth dimensional being. The nanobots were programmed to do just the thing.”
“So you made me more than psychic-”
“And now you work for me.” | 2019-01-19T13:12:05 | 2019-01-19T12:33:11 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Out of sheer boredom, God decides that us humans must speak the brutal and honest truth no matter the consequences. The absolute excrement hits the metaphorical fan for twenty four hours straight. | Edward was having an absolutely wonderful day. Everyone was being incredibly nice to him. At breakfast his older sister told him that she loved him, and she was sorry, and she hoped that the mean things she used to say to him because she knew he couldn't fight back still don't torment him. His mother also told him that he was beautiful, excellent child and she loved him more than his sister.
Unequivocally savage on her part, but it had not deterred Ed. He was a man on a mission, as he had a presentation at school, during first period, and couldn't be a minute late to class. He lived close enough that he could walk to Brienne D. Taft Middle School in less than ten minutes.
On his way to school, his perpetually grouchy neighbor, Mr. Davis, said, "Edward, I hate those fucking prick children who go to your school, but you? YOU?! You're alright, kid. Keep doin'!" And then promptly covered his mouth with his hand.
Ed was rather shocked by that one. Davis never said anything nice, ever! He waved at the old bastard with a smile, and continued along.
When Ed approached the front of the school, the principal, who was out in the front greeting the students, noticed him. "Hello Edward! I'm so happy when you get here before the busses open up. I love seeing your cute little face before I have to put up with those stupid cunt kids." Ed's and Principal Wallace's jaws dropped in sync. "Uh... Uhh..." She stammered. "What the fuck did I just say?!" Her eyes grew wider. "Ed! Wait!" She stopped him before he could go in. "Please don't tell anyone I said that. Oh. Well, I'm glad it's you, because I know *you* won't be telling anyone." She covered her mouth, but let out a quiet "I'm sorry," as Ed quickly opened the school doors, and hurried away from her.
Ed walked into the classroom and nodded at his teacher, Miss Fox. She smiled, shook her head, and said to him: "Oh Ed, if only you were ten years older--" Ed stopped in his tracks. He stared at her pretty face, incredibly confused, and a little aroused. Did this 26 year old woman just express desire for an eighth grader? Fuck yeah she did.
Miss Fox's face immediately sunk. "Ed... I-- I didn't mean that--" She was interrupted by the twenty six other eighth graders barreling into the classroom.
"Yo dude Principal Wallace called me a 'stupid prick' today!" Said Jeremy, known for being a stupid prick.
Other students were in all sorts of turmoil, girls crying that their boyfriends told them they just wanted sex, bullies admitting their internal strife, dorky kids telling people they want to kill them... It was a nightmarish scene. The homeroom bell had rang, and the chatter continued all the way through homeroom. Miss Fox was biting her fingernails, glancing occasionally at Ed. Who was sitting, with very, *very* good posture in his seat, until the first period bell rang, and Miss Fox *screamed at the top of her lungs:* "ALRIGHT EVERYBODY, CHILL THE FUCK OUT!"
Silence.
"M-mmh" she cleared her throat, and then in a wavering voice said: "Alright, it's time for Edward's presentation."
Ed stood, and walked to the front of the room. He plugged a flash-drive into the computer, and loaded his presentation. He looked out into the audience, and then at Miss Fox. He smiled at her, and she nervously laughed, and looked away.
Then in the back, a quiet, pretty girl named Sadie, whom Ed had a crush on, said quite clearly, "Ed, I wish you weren't mute, I'd really love to know what you're thinking."
And the class turned around. Their stares turned her face bright red.
​
"Oh--I'm not mute. I just pretend to be because I don't like to talk much."
​
Edward began to sweat. And in the voice that the class had only just heard for the first time, he said:
​
"Oh shit." | 6:30 AM. I have to go to the post office soon. Rainy day. 46 degrees, according to the man on the news.
"Right now its 46 degrees just outside this weather studio. Probably different wherever you happen to be. It might get up to 51 degrees later in the day. It might rain all day. I don't really know that though, do I?. My segment is done now. Diane, my colleague -- to whom i've never said anything more than 'Good-how-are-you'-- will now give you a selection of news stories that somebody who gets paid more than me selected. It is all complete shit. Diane."
Strange segment, I thought.
Diane then barked on about about how much she fucking hated her job as I finished my cup of coffee and walked out the door. Also, she noted, The President was set to give a speech in an hour.
Coincidentally, 3 of my neighbors also happened to be just off to work. They closed their doors behind them and, as if it was rehearsed, collectively screamed. Then they gathered themselves and walked to their means of transport. Time for work.
Mike, my neighbor, was across the street. On his way out he was telling his wife, with a calm demeanor, that he never once, not even for a second loved her. She was a fool for not noticing.
She told him he must be gay. He said not particularly, and described an interesting incident in college. But, he said, I just don't love you. Its not a gay thing.
She got into the family car and ran over the hedges that she had hated ever since he put them in. The iron fence near the hedges was twisted. it dug into the car hood.
I drove on. I had to get to the post office.
I arrived, parked and walked in. I went over to a desk that had a pen attached by a chain. the pen didn't work and neither did the one next it. The nearest clerk said that he enjoyed watching customers try to use the pens he knew were dead. It helped the time pass.
I approached him. I asked how he was. My entire existence is meaninglessly driven by a dying postal system, he said.
I hate everyone, have no close relationships and thrive watching other people suffer minor inconveniences. I'm only alive because I like food, video games, summer, and owning small dogs.
Then he looked up. What do you need help with?
Just need to send a passport renewal application. I handed him my old passport.
He eyed my old photo. Your skin has turned yellow and papery. Also, you've gained an unhealthy amount of weight. Imagine the next renewal, huh?
I handed him the new photo and the completed forms.
He took them in his hand. The postage will be $7.42 and then 10 for the application fees. I paid.
You can leave, he said. FYI, 6 out of 10 of these renewals do not go through. User error. I'm not going to review the document because I don't want to. You will probably have to come back, and if u aren't here within the month they charge you again.
I told him that I hate the post office and his glib face. I also want to burn this grey dead space to the ground. He nodded and called the police.
They asked me if i said i would burn the place down. I told them did. They asked if i meant it, i did. They arrested me.
The jailhouse had a line of thousands of people. Each openly confessing to past crimes. Many of the police officers themselves had been detained. The news blasted over the commotion in the police station, people around the world were realizing that no one could lie. Eyes locked on the screen.
The President's speech ended in a full scale mauling. He was incapacitated, to say the least. I progressed through the endless police station line; watching the world change. Successor after successor ran away. Congress collectively announced their retirement via tweet. Politicians were unwilling to face the press and assume the position of president. Finally, after 50 minutes in line, a particularly endearing white house intern had been given the role of President, despite all rules and regulations.
The press asked their questions about policy proposals, government secrets, human rights and so on. The young woman responded, to the amazement of the press, live viewers, and the entire police station, that she wasn't sure what was best and that nobody could be. She didn't have the answers. She would listen to as many people as she could and try her best.
They dropped their mics, cameras and laptops. She received a 15 minute standing ovation. | 2019-03-15T12:06:15 | 2019-03-15T12:06:12 | 265 | 65 |
[WP] Out of sheer boredom, God decides that us humans must speak the brutal and honest truth no matter the consequences. The absolute excrement hits the metaphorical fan for twenty four hours straight. | The past day had chaotic, with an endless litany of problems developing after people's ability to lie suddenly seemed to disappear. Albert had just been walking home to the university when he began noticing that an unusual amount of people were bickering across the street. He talked to some of them to find out what the commotion was. Arguments and insults spread like wildfire as people found out what others truly thought about them. He had no idea what to do, so he did what he usually would on a day like this: head to science. As he walked in, an idea suddenly hit him. Humans seemed to stop being able to lie, right? He tried to mutter to himself this question: "The earth is flat". Something stopped him from saying anything. He began to think of more thought provoking questions. "The universe is infinite". He was able to say it without any hesitation. He began asking more and more questions, and writing them down.
"Dark matter is a particle."
"The universe has 3 dimensions."
"We are alone in the universe."
​
The results amazed him.
He muttered to himself, "Wait until my professor sees this". | As if his life couldn't be any more trying, "The Day Polite Society Ended" just happened to occur mere moments before Lionel was to give a Eulogy at his grandma Judy's funeral.
The doomed grandson of the recently deceased stood up, straightened his suit jacket and walked to the front of the church. He placed his carefully prepared notes of tribute to his Grandmother on the podium. Lionel cleared his throat and looked out over the crowd. He saw his parents, aunts and uncles, cousins and a few friends sitting teary eyed. He noticed the church members who knew his granny, and the ladies from her quilting club. Taking a deep breath Lionel unfortunately began to speak, not knowing that his very own tongue could no longer lie.
"Today we are gathered here to say goodbye to Granny Judy," Lionel paused and took a quick glance at his notes. He had written pleasent thoughts about his Grandma's life. Her hobbies, her skills and her sense of humor. Lionel chose a starting point and still trusting his own mouth he began again.
"Granny was quite the lady, I will not miss her as she was quite nasty,"
Gasps filled the room as Lionel slapped his hand over his mouth. Trying to regain his composure he hastily tried to apologize but it didn't go as he planned.
" I didn't intend to say that" sputtered Lionel, " It's just so hard to say anything nice about such a horrible woman! She was cruel and thoughtless. Granny stole from people! She acted like such a pious lady but she was just a bitch!
Lionel's mother fainted.
| 2019-03-15T13:06:15 | 2019-03-15T12:31:51 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] There's a knock on your door. You open it to see your favorite book character standing there. They say, "I know this may be a lot for you to take in right now, but you have to listen very carefully; You are my favorite book character, I know how your story ends, and I need to change it."
My first time posting here. Hope I did everything right! | I heard a knock at my front door.
Strange, I wasn't expecting any visitors today.
I walked down the stairs and opened the door.
Standing in front of me was a young blonde woman wearing a bright pink and orange sundress with strange oversized red and blue sunglasses on the top of her head.
"You look just like the cover of your second book you know," the woman spouted out while looking at me like I was some kind of celebrity.
"Huh?" I asked and subtly tried to close the door a little if this was some kind of crazy person.
"Oh, excuse me. I got ahead of myself. I'm Luna Lovegood. You're my favorite book character and I've come here to save you. I brought you some biscuits," Luna said and held up a basket full of sweets. "Not that the biscuits will save you, but I thought it would be a nice gesture since I was showing up unannounced."
"Surrrre..." I started to close the door.
And then the girl took out a stick from her pocket, twirled it, and turned my doormat into a mini giraffe.
My mouth hung open. The former doormat turned giraffe seemed just as startled.
"There we go. I thought you might need proof. Can I come in?" Luna asked calmly.
I stared mystified. A Harry Potter character was standing on my doorstep! That was insane enough. But what I really couldn't wrap my head around was that said character was claiming I was THEIR favorite character. Who would want to read a book about me? It would be one of the most boring books in existence. Was it used to help people fall asleep at night or what?
"Why would anyone want to read a book about my life?" I asked.
"Why would they... Oh! I understand," Luna said absently.
"Huh?" I asked confused.
"Isn't it obvious? The interesting bits haven't happened to you yet," Luna replied dreamingly. |
Like the bells of fate, my doorbell rang just before I was about to take a sip of my delicious, aromatic tea.
"What the *hell*," I grumbled miserably, setting down my copy of *Percy Jackson: The Last Olympian* that I was re-reading for the fifth time.
I opened the door, and my heart just about leapt out of my chest.
There was an all-too familiar character waiting anxiously outside, wearing an orange shirt from camp and a necklace of beads on his neck. He had the same sea-green eyes I had read so much about, and the bronze sword in his hand…
I knew him so well, but no. This couldn't be real.
"I'm dreaming, aren't I?", I murmured to myself, my teacup clattering onto the floor. "I must have overslept..."
"What?", he said, clearly not expecting my reaction. "Look, there's no time to explain, okay? You're my favourite book character, and your story ending just *sucks*. We need to change that."
"But... but you're Percy Jackson!", I exclaimed, still partly in shock. "How are you even here, and what do you mean 'my ending sucks'?"
“Sorry, but we just don’t have enough time!” he said, an apologetic note in his voice. “Just answer this: have you heard of the Olympians?”
“Yeah, of course!”, I said. “They’re the old mythical Greek gods, right? They have children with mortals called half-bloods, and you’re a son of Poseidon…”
He looked straight at me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Luke,” he said (he knew my name!), “how do you know that?”
I ushered him into my sitting room and passed him my copy of The Last Olympian. He flipped through the pages, eyebrows raised.
“This… explains a lot,” he muttered, turning to me. “I guess we’ll have a lot to talk about on the way.”
“The way to where?” I asked.
“To camp, of course. Camp Half-Blood.”, he answered, a somewhat expectant look on his face. “Seeing as you know my whole life story, I’m guessing you know all about it.”
I nodded fervently, grinning at the thought of what the future held. Centaurs, monsters, adventure... now this was the life I had always wanted.
“So, when do we leave?” | 2019-05-20T05:19:42 | 2019-05-20T05:03:41 | 45 | 15 |
[WP] Over the years your D&D game has managed to continue with most of the original players. However, almost everyone's life circumstances have changed drastically since they began and you now DM for a group of some of the most-powerful people on the planet. | I was packing up my things from our latest session, reorganizing notes and stowing my books when Kate slid a long, silver-wrapped box towards me, smiling. I looked at her, and saw the rest of the party was watching too. "What's this?"
Akbar said, "It's a gift, from all of us."
"...Did I miss some anniversary or something?" I took the box. The wrapping was professionally done, a raised rough pattern of silver and black cut diagonally across the paper.
"No...uh...to be honest this is something we have-"
"-and some of our people-" Cut in Markos.
"-and some of our people have been talking back and forth about for sometime. It's...a..."
Kate moved a step closer to me. "When you told us about those people accosting you at the coffee shop about the Trans-Atlantic Trade Union, well...we-"
I laughed. "Oh, I honestly almost forgot about that. That was so weird. I was just like-"
Markos said, "Martin, that was because of us."
I stared at him, then I looked to the others. They all seemed nervous...anxious. I looked back at Kate.
"They found you because you know us. They were trying to convince you to talk to us, Martin."
Akbar was holding his red-leather suitcase, resting it on the ornately carved table. He said, "You have access to us. You know us. We somehow manage to schedule this every month." The group, myself included, smiled. "A lot of people would pay a lot of money to...bend our ear. We don't...-"
Markos nodded to me. "Open the gift, Martin."
Looking between them, I began to slowly tear at the wrapping paper, inevitably exposing the box beneath. I opened it, slid some tissue paper aside and-
The cloth was silk, a silvery gray with hints of a deep purple as it moved. Black patterns were sewn into it, elements of water, tides and waves, a reference to our previous campaign. I pulled the cloth out and it unfolded into...a robe.
"Try it on," said Kate.
I did so and found it fit me perfectly. There was a hood as well. I pulled it up and the shadows closed over my eyes. "This is amazing! I-" I noticed there was something else in the box. It was a mask. Its surface was polished obsidian, set in a spacious pattern, the shadowed gaps adding depth to its surface. I picked it up and held it.
Markos said, "Martin, you didn't choose the lives we did. It's unfair that you suffer their consequences too."
Akbar said, "We want to...protect your anonymity. This is what we came up with."
Kate said, "Plus, it's just...super cool. What do you think?"
I held the mask in my hands, pulled my hood back, donned the mask, perfectly contoured to my face, and raised my hood.
I recalled the voice of the BBEG from our first campaign all those years ago. "HOW DO I LOOK?"
...
It was that day that I became the Hidden Master. | College had been a simpler time. We were all just kids back then, meeting Friday nights with a couple bucks for Pizza and our cheap print out copies of the various handbooks, bound in plastic ringbinders. Things had been nice then... I wish they could have stayed like that.
You know those memes, where it shows people when they were famous, and then now, and asks if you feel old yet? I feel like my life has been like that but in reverse. Well not my life, more the life of everyone around me. We all used to be nobodies, now everyone is something so much more... everyone but me... Boy do I feel old now... I'm the exact same thing I was twenty years ago... The GM.
As peoples loves change, often college friends separate, go their own ways, forge their own lives. The fact that we still meet every Friday to roll some dice and eat cheap pizza is some kind of miracle.
I looked around the table, the people surrounding me were wearing $100,000 suits, and diamonds the size of golf balls. I was wearing a stained polo, but more importantly, the cloak of the supreme master.
The cloak was doing pretty good seeing as it had seen constant use for almost two decades. I cracked my knuckles, and in my best eldritch voice, called out, "Brothers, Sisters, shall we... commence."
The words hung in the air as if they echoed, though in my crappy apartment, they faded without a hint if reverb. The atmosphere shattered as Jim, OPEC's new chairman, and controller of the Half-Elf Ranger Eldwin spoke up, "Umm guys, I forgot my character sheet." The communal sigh demonstrated what we were all thinking. Over the last twenty years Jim had lost over a hundred character sheets. By now we had gotten used to it and kept an almost up to date version ready to print. I stood up and yawned, looking at my old laptop, "I'll print a new one. The rest of you get your sheets ready." I waved my hand non-comittally as I wandered over and began the printing process.
After a couple minutes, I sat down, attempted to crack my knuckles, which anticlimactically refused to crack, and giving up on that, asked again, "Shall we commence?"
And we did.
Don't get me wrong. I'm really happy that I still get to see my friends. I know loads of people would live to still be connected with their college buddies... Just usually when people are poor college students, talking about how much better their lives will be in the future, they're exaggerating. Being the only one still in the same place sucks. But atleast we had the game. Around this table was the CEO of Amazon, the Chairman of OPEC, the president's of Russia and the United states, and the prime minister of the EU. But in this place, here and now, I was the master of it all.
It was halfway though when it happened. The expensive black watches on their wrists all buzzed. They stopped glanced down at their wrists, and then looked up. They all stood and began to walk to the door. Jim hesitated for a moment, glancing at me looking almost pitying before following the rest. I felt angry, i know it was unreasonable, these people were important, far more important than me... but in twenty years we had never quit a session. Now all of them were leaving, without as much as an apology or an excuse. I followed them to the door, my growing anger striving to burst out in a stream of profanities, but I calmed it and asked incredulously, "What the hell guys... What's going on..." They turned to me, standing together in the hallway outside my apartment door and spoke together, "I'm sorry... the great plan is finally coming to fruition.: | 2019-06-26T04:06:24 | 2019-06-26T02:17:45 | 2,520 | 339 |
[WP] Over the years your D&D game has managed to continue with most of the original players. However, almost everyone's life circumstances have changed drastically since they began and you now DM for a group of some of the most-powerful people on the planet. | "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY SURVIVE?"
I sighed. "I mean, people don't die just because you wave your hand."
Death looked at me. I couldn't read anything on his face but if I had to guess, I would say his bones were spelling out 'confused'. "BUT THEY DO IN REAL LIFE."
"This is different. This is a *game*. There are *rules*."
"THERE ARE RULES IN REAL LIFE AS WELL. *THESE* RULES DON'T MAKE ANY SENSE. I WAVE MY HAND AGAIN."
"Nononono," War interrupted, tossing her brilliant red hair over her shoulder. "John's already told you, that's not going to work. And *besides*, that's so unsatisfying. We have to *assassinate* their king, and make it look like the Riojans did it. Then the Vaslorians will-"
Pestilence drew in a long rattling breath, cutting War off. "I do not like this idea. We should launch a rotten cow over the walls instead, and let them die of sickness."
Death hadn't listened to any of this. He was still looking at me. "BUT I SEVERED THEIR TIES TO THE MORTAL PLANE. THEIR SOULS SHOULD HAVE DEPARTED THEIR FLESHY VESSELS AND-"
"Death," I said impatiently. "There are *rules*. But alright, if you want to give it a shot, fine. Make a," I checked my DM's screen, "I don't know, a *performance* check. War, give me a stealth check if you're going to try and sneak into the heavily guarded palace and assassinate the King. And Pestilence, where do you get the cow *from*?" I turned to the last member at the table. "What are you doing?"
"I think we should lock them in there and let them starve," Famine said, sitting back and lacing his fingers together behind his head.
"Oh *honestly*, you're so *boring* Famine," War said. "Anyway, I got a five."
"I ROLLED A NAT 20."
"I just conjure one up out of thin air-"
"DOES IT WORK?"
"I'm not boring! You're boring! Always trying to get people to start wars all the time-"
"You can't just *conjure* up a cow. Death and War, you both fail your checks."
"BUT I ROLLED A 20. I WAVE MY HAND AGAIN. ARE THEY DEAD YET JOHN?"
"But that doesn't matter, I shouldn't have to sneak, their guards should be too busy fighting each other to notice me-"
"I DON'T UNDERSTAND JOHN."
"I find a catapult-"
"Trebuchets are better-"
"My mere *presence* should set them off-"
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. I wasn't sure how I had begun DM'ing for the four horsemen ("and women! Don't forget we can read your mind!") of the apocalypse but one day they had just started... turning up for sessions. I couldn't really complain... not after Nick had left the group.
"NICK HAD TO GO FOR CHRISTMAS."
I looked at Death. "Huh?"
"He had some errands to run, I think," War replied. "Drop some parcels off."
"Yeah, he wanted to keep playing, he just got a bit busy," Famine added.
"But he mentioned I could take his place," Pestilence said. "Saint Nick was telling me all about you, and I couldn't wait to join. Better at making up stories than even his elves, he said."
I groaned. Typical. Just typical. I had DMed for not just *four* of the most powerful entities in the world, but five.
"NOT JUST SAINT NICK. EVEN METATRON WAS TELLING ME ABOUT YOUR TABLE. NOW ABOUT THIS KING..." | **Growing up with rich people as an artist**
Life changes you.
What was once a day in the park with your mates became something more. Years of the same.
I don't know if you've noticed, but most of 'the rich and powerful' have really not got that great touch with words.
Neither are they in tune with the musical aspects of language. This is probably why they spend their days assembling riches and feel the need for luxury. They just don't get any satisfaction from the music that we've always held so dear in my family.
This is also the reason I was elected DM there in the park. None of 'the mates' could speak a sentence that made sense, three words was enough, but there was nothing wrong with their intellects - they could reason very well.
They needed someone who could 'spark the magic touch' over our session, so I felt I had to do my best.
I borrowed grandfathers bass-block flute and a middle-eastern drum with finger cymbals so I could create some atmosphere. Laura-Lee brought some red wine from her mansion, and Gregory McMarshall, an old-fashioned type, stood for the cuisine, as his father owned one of the larger hotel-catering firms in the country. There was nothing wrong with my mates, but I had to be a fricking actor to make this fly. I even illustrated the characters by moving around, say like an orc and I also imitated their voices, which was hard because I had to play the drum and blow the recorder almost at the same time, in order to keep the atmosphere of the game believable.
My mates became very entranced with my way of leading, and I must have given them quite a show for next session, now at the RPG-academy (as it was somewhat optimistically called) they had some bigwigs there from the press and the retail-firm. They really loved my craftsmanship, and the high-shot from the gamestore wanted to sign a contract with me coming to his stores to play with the children there. He promised me 'gold and green forests', as the saying goes, and I thought -"Im going to be famous now. Suppose that's what it's all about these days.".
And there's where it all started, and on that road I still travel. I got an award, a scholarship in fact, from the industry later on, and with this money I could by some good equipment (loadspeakers, lights and other electronics) to make 'my shows', as they now where called, even more realistic. My mates still wanted me to come to their places to perform, but I really didn't like it that much anymore. Life changes you, and what once was a youthful game had become something more, I had become a professional role-player, and some people considered me to be a genius. People came in droves to see us (I had employed a couple of amateur actors for effect) and my reputation rose for each such event. Yet I never forget I had received no economical help from my mates many years ago. Everything I had came from my own labour. You could argue that without the money granted to me by the industry I wouldn't have been able to expand, and furthermore that this money wouldn't have been given to me without my rich friends, but we're talking coffee-table money here for these people. They've never given me any money, and still they want me to come over to their place and play D&D with them, which given my professional status would seem improper to most people. They all lack the 'finger-top feeling' that is so important for us artists in this field. Sometimes I see my work as an advanced form of hypnosis, something that really helps people, and since it is so I feel I should be rewarded more. Trust is vital to hypnosis, the trust a patient feels for his hypnotist and without 'finger-top feeling', regarding what's simply right and what is not, there can be no magic going on. My mates are rich and well known, but I feel they have a tendency to make people sad all the time. What good is all that fame and the riches if all you do is making people disappointed? Well, I don't judge them, but I really think they should pay up if they want a show. There's something lacking in quality with them, and if I'm the only one of their friends that can provide it to them, they should be more grateful. That's how I feel. | 2019-06-26T05:55:24 | 2019-06-26T04:52:13 | 38 | 19 |
[WP] You were the first person to be born without super powers in nearly a thousand years. When it was discovered that you had no powers you became an instant celebrity. Thanks to this, villains and heroes alike seek you out to either kidnap or rescue you on a daily basis. You are sick of it. | Dear reader,
​
This is my life story, hope you like it.
My name is Jay Berger, 35 years old and I am the only non-powered human on earth.
I was a celebrity. It was fun at first but I was sick of it.
Every day I am either being kidnapped by some bad guy or being saved from those bad guys.
​
To be honest, I like the bad guys. They are fun and creative. They have elaborate schemes and tend to have interesting live, while the good guys always do the same thing. Beat up the bad guys.
​
I have met some interesting people and made friends with them. Then the good guys kill them or beat them up.
So most don’t want to be my friend.
​
But 3 years ago, I met Doctor Splicer.
He did not kidnap me, he walked up to me at an starbucks. We started to have a conversation.
The things he told me, I was amazed. He wanted to do something big, but he needed my help.
​
He layed out his plan, right there at that starbucks and nobody seemed to notice.
He found a way to become my friend and no good guy thought I was in danger.
​
The next year, we worked on his plan. I was slowly moving out of the limelight.
No superpowered villain tried to kidnap me, they all thought Doctor splicer had me.
The heroes all thought I was doing fine.
​
I became a nobody.
​
The next year I moved in with Doctor Splicer and we had fun.
He was my friend and despite all the fun, we had work to do. He ran tests on me, we worked on the machine.
​
It took us 3 year in total, but today we have finished it.
​
We call it: Standard.
The original was a machine that steals superpowers and kills the host. It was an idea from Doctor Splicer to kill heroes. But we reversed it. It takes my powers and transfers them to everyone.
​
If you are reading this note, that means it worked. We could not get the killing part out of the machine.
​
I was the last villain the earth ever knew.
​
Welcome to my world now.
​
Sincerely
​
Jay Berger | The worst villains pose as heroes.
My name is John Smith, and I'm here to tell you the TLDR version of the absolute absurdity that is my predicament. I'm currently being held in protective custody while politicians are trying to figure out how they can keep their jobs without taking away freedoms. Thankfully, most people don't want me dead or hurt. Various lobbying groups are standing up for my rights to exist without interference, including the Xavier Club, Foresight Alliance, Captain Hindsight, Healers United, and even Whores Of Legend.
Most people would think that supervillains wouldn't have the legislative pull to even exist outside of prison, much less on Capitol Hill, but they'd be wrong. There are a LOT of them. Most of them drew a bad hand at birth. They tend be be endowed with lackluster super powers, like laser eyes or talking to animals. They tend to have jobs like welder or veterinarian assistant, just to pay rent. They're unhappy but feel unable to change their lot in life.
This is where I come in. The villains envision a world where everyone starts on the same level of opportunity. Their slogan for their legislative push is: "When nobody is super, everyone will be." Problem is they want to perform all kinds of inhumane medical experiments on me, which I'm totally not down for. I've offered to dedicate my life toward experiments that don't involve Nazi-level mutilation, but they're so damn desperate for an even economic playing field they've completely disregarded my basic rights.
Unfortunately, the worst of the villains tend to lead both parties. For the most part, heroes are in the hero camp and villains are in the villain camp, but both parties are made up of intellectually lazy mobsters or easily frightened rubes. I agree that the current economic situation is untenable and prosperity by birth fortune is unacceptable, but the unfortunate truth is that the simplest fix for that does indeed seem to be tearing my body apart as a sacrificial lamb.
I'm sick of it all. My faith in super humanity is tested every day. The worst part is I may even support my own destruction were I in the shoes of a supervillain without a useful superpower, but self-preservation wins. The answer is complicated and takes a ton of work. We need to educate our young to defend basic rights of everyone, especially those like me who are radically different or even those who have a hard time keeping up with the times. We need to stop exploiting the exploitable for the benefit of the few. We need to respect each other enough to take the high road instead of ripping apart the only 'normal' person born for a thousand years.
I don't know what will happen. All I know is that my friend LoudMouth is likely to be my best ally. Her superpower is speaking to everyone on Earth at once. She's a highly valuable person who has only spoken a handful of times in her life, but I need her to read out my manifesto.
Please don't kill me. We can solve this problem without killing me. Just have some goddamn empathy.
If you decide to kill me, good riddance. I hope you all die in a fire. | 2019-08-13T04:00:11 | 2019-08-13T03:28:29 | 43 | 26 |
[WP] You were the first person to be born without super powers in nearly a thousand years. When it was discovered that you had no powers you became an instant celebrity. Thanks to this, villains and heroes alike seek you out to either kidnap or rescue you on a daily basis. You are sick of it. | Dear reader,
​
This is my life story, hope you like it.
My name is Jay Berger, 35 years old and I am the only non-powered human on earth.
I was a celebrity. It was fun at first but I was sick of it.
Every day I am either being kidnapped by some bad guy or being saved from those bad guys.
​
To be honest, I like the bad guys. They are fun and creative. They have elaborate schemes and tend to have interesting live, while the good guys always do the same thing. Beat up the bad guys.
​
I have met some interesting people and made friends with them. Then the good guys kill them or beat them up.
So most don’t want to be my friend.
​
But 3 years ago, I met Doctor Splicer.
He did not kidnap me, he walked up to me at an starbucks. We started to have a conversation.
The things he told me, I was amazed. He wanted to do something big, but he needed my help.
​
He layed out his plan, right there at that starbucks and nobody seemed to notice.
He found a way to become my friend and no good guy thought I was in danger.
​
The next year, we worked on his plan. I was slowly moving out of the limelight.
No superpowered villain tried to kidnap me, they all thought Doctor splicer had me.
The heroes all thought I was doing fine.
​
I became a nobody.
​
The next year I moved in with Doctor Splicer and we had fun.
He was my friend and despite all the fun, we had work to do. He ran tests on me, we worked on the machine.
​
It took us 3 year in total, but today we have finished it.
​
We call it: Standard.
The original was a machine that steals superpowers and kills the host. It was an idea from Doctor Splicer to kill heroes. But we reversed it. It takes my powers and transfers them to everyone.
​
If you are reading this note, that means it worked. We could not get the killing part out of the machine.
​
I was the last villain the earth ever knew.
​
Welcome to my world now.
​
Sincerely
​
Jay Berger | I already told them the first time that back home we have no super-anything. Life is as ordinary as the quiet sun. No one chases anything. There is no conflict, hence no fighting really, hence no antagonist but the press is fighting that.
“How is it possible,” one asks me, “how is it possible that you can exist without conflict, no fighting at all? Don’t you have heroes and villains?”
I already told them that back home we have no super-anything. Lovers and families come together just like that. The rain falls every year even when it is late. The plate fills even when we have no coins to bargain food with. A place to sleep is found every night somehow for the people without watches. In fact, no one needs to fly, push or pull. We just keep walking except that it is not just a slogan like it is here on this realm.
The lady they’ve appointed to run my social media account shouts, “I don’t understand. What am I to tell the people? What is you story’s target audience anyways? Do I have to like make it a magical realism genre-thing?”
I already told her though that back home we have no super-anything, just rhythms and peace of mind. We don’t know how to react so the enemy stays unacknowledged; back home it’s everyone’s mother thats our heroes and everyone’s father too. Uncles and aunties, when they’re not overtaken by the fear of an inexistent enemy like they are, act as our natural shields and capes.
“Come on. You must have vices, problems or something. You must fear global warming or cancer or polygamy - I don’t know, SOMETHING!”
I already told them that back home we have no super-anything. Water doesn’t come out of a bottle, we get it ourself from the well. There are no chosen ones. Our stories are live and full of neighbors and relatives, the backyard is cleaned by everyone and the elders allow us to wear orange-stained clothes and live in trees during mango season. It’s only when we misbehave, then the whole neighborhood becomes our teacher.
“How do you determine structure then? What type of story has no bad side and good side and order and stuff?”
I already told the press though that where they come from, this realm, there might be hierarchies and orders and machinated consciousnesses, but where I come from there’s only the fact that everything is true. I already told the local storytellers, too, that my story is long and colorful but it has no super heroes because no one dominates the other. Everyone there can fly, punch, shoot, duck, love or run if they choose to. That’s why everyone here is knocking at my door, banging and smashing, ready to force me to show them this home. Heroes want to protect home but villains want to destroy it. This is the greatest standoff, and although I should pick the side of the conservationists, I need them to understand that between the protagonists and the antagonists is a real character and theme and event and setting called Home. | 2019-08-13T04:00:11 | 2019-08-13T02:25:43 | 43 | 18 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | It started this one afternoon, I was just writing an essay in my bedroom when suddenly chaos errupted outside. People started flying, speed running, healing and exhibiting other fabulous superpowers. After everything had settled down a bit I returned to my essay, after all it had to be handed in before midnight. I tried to type the next sentence and was surprised to find that I couldn't come up with anything. I had a blackout for hours, until...
The clock struck 11.50 pm and within five minutes I speed-wrote my entire essay, completely faultless. I had just found my ridiculous powers.
Over the next few days as people were trying to use their powers for good, I found myself going to hospital ER's picking out the people hanging onto life by a thread and healing them.
People think I'm just another empathetic healer that decided to focus on people in mortal danger.
The fact is however I'm just a perfectionist and a procrastinator, leaving me able to do anything absolutely perfectly. But only at the very last minute. | It is only appropriate that my extra ability was more subtle than many others. I can't fly, or lift cars. But neither am I high flying socially or emotionally forceful. I've been called worse, but Wallflower seems to have stuck. It would bother me, but is Wallflower really worse than Superfastman or Liftsalotgirl? Alwaysseesthemanagerlady? Miss me with that stuff, Wallflower works. I dont get noticed much.
At some point I stopped trying to chip in on the flashy stuff. Sure, derailing trains need a few Quickbois or Rippedpersons, but how many derailings are there really? Turns out most people that try to use their abilities for evil get caught really quickly. Lots of mind readers in law enforcement and all that. But even when I was there, nobody saw me.
Which is why explaining myself is... difficult.I thought for a long time my power was invisibility.... but now I've just about got it all figured out. I am noticed when its popular and convienient, and forgotten just as suddenly. I've always gravitated away from population centers, and talk to myself a good deal. Sometimes it's a conversation. I guess I talk to plants? Or maybe its Nature herself?
Anyway, we're the real heroes here, and nobody cares. For all the public catastrophes averted, we are still dying from neglect.
We won't miss them anymore than they miss me now. We are forever, and they are only for the now. | 2019-09-08T10:15:10 | 2019-09-08T06:32:45 | 228 | 140 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | It started this one afternoon, I was just writing an essay in my bedroom when suddenly chaos errupted outside. People started flying, speed running, healing and exhibiting other fabulous superpowers. After everything had settled down a bit I returned to my essay, after all it had to be handed in before midnight. I tried to type the next sentence and was surprised to find that I couldn't come up with anything. I had a blackout for hours, until...
The clock struck 11.50 pm and within five minutes I speed-wrote my entire essay, completely faultless. I had just found my ridiculous powers.
Over the next few days as people were trying to use their powers for good, I found myself going to hospital ER's picking out the people hanging onto life by a thread and healing them.
People think I'm just another empathetic healer that decided to focus on people in mortal danger.
The fact is however I'm just a perfectionist and a procrastinator, leaving me able to do anything absolutely perfectly. But only at the very last minute. | "C'mon, just tell me," she said, leaning her elbows on the table and facing me, eagerly.
"I'm telling you, it's not that impressive. Hardly a discussion for a first date."
"I think it's the perfect discussion. If you don't tell me..."
I felt a sudden urge to blurt it out, but I composed myself. Her mind powers were going to take a while to get used to.
"Okay, fine, I'll tell you. But we might as well get comfortable. Tea?"
She started as I produced a warm teapot from under my jacket and set it on the table.
"Sugar? Honey?" I placed both of these on the table as well. A candle and a lighter came out next.
She made a face, as if she was trying to appear startled rather than amused. "Anything else you've got under your sleeve?"
I lit the candle to pause for effect, and then pulled out a couple of soft throws. "What's your favorite author?" I asked as I handed a blanket to her.
"Um..."
I slid her favorite book across the checkered table before she could answer. The booth we were seated at now had a much cozier feel, and was attracting a few looks from the other people in the diner. I pulled my blanket over my knees, and tossed her a pillow.
"So what kind of powers *do* you have?" She asked again inquisitively.
I couldn't resist the urge this time. "Well you see, I'm just...a bit stressed." | 2019-09-08T10:15:10 | 2019-09-08T10:13:02 | 228 | 84 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | The way my schedule works gives me little to no space for rest or even just idling around. Everyday consists of me dragging myself to class and trying not to pass out every 30 seconds. I think of how nice other people have it being able to warp to class because they were just a little to impatient. Or how others don't need to study because they were a little too nozy and managed to get all the information they need from classmates and their professors just by greeting them. My alarm goes off and once again, I begin to get ready for my morning classes. I look out from my window and look at all the other students frantically speeding through each other while one manages to collide with a trash can. I start getting ready before I realize today is exam day. I begin running to class and plop myself down and watch as another student phase through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me. I stare at the person next to me and realize that he isn't exactly the most sociable person in the world so I avoid eye contact. Unfortunately with all this super power talk going around, even introverts can break the ice without someone else starting.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"My lack of sleep and tight schedule." I say as I frantically look through my notes.
"Oh, so is it being able to get stuff done instantly?"
At this point I just stare, I'm fucking exhausted and I'm really not in the mood for a conversation. So I just ignore the poor sod and carry on. A few hours after the exam I'm sure I failed. I decide to just hit the sack and sleep in for the rest of the day.
My alarm goes off and once again, I begin to get ready for my morning classes. I look out from my window and look at all the other students frantically speeding through each other while one manages to collide with a trash can. I start getting ready before I realize today is exam day. I begin running to class and plop myself down and watch as another student phase through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me. I stare at the person next to me and realize that he isn't exactly the most sociable person in the world so I avoid eye contact. Unfortunately with all this super power talk going around, even introverts can break the ice without someone else starting.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"Sorry I'm really busy at the moment." I respond staring blankly at my desk.
A few hours after the exam I'm sure I failed. I decide to just hit the sack and sleep in for the rest of the day.
My alarm goes off for the 7th time this loop. I get dressed, get to class and sit at the same desk once again. Another student phases through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"I just really suck at time management I guess. Even with all the time in the world." I respond.
He stares at me with a confused expression on his face and goes back to reviewing his notes. Today is different though, maybe I'll finally ace this exam and not mess anything up. Maybe after I pass the exam, I get to finally do something tomorrow without worrying about every assignment I turn in. Tomorrow is going to be a good day. | "Perceived Invisibility? What's that mean?"
My friend stared at me puzzlingly across the table, having no idea what kind of power I had.
"So, you can become invisible at will?
"Not quite. Only people who know me or I want to know me can see me."
"Weird. So you have like a social barrier to everyone else?"
People stared from all across the the room at my poor friend.
"You ok man? Who're you talkin to?"
My friend looked at the man speaking to him, and then back to me.
"No one..."
The man looked at him for a few more seconds, before returning to his conversation.
My friend lowered his voice to a whisper
"I see what you mean. How exactly do you live like this?"
"Not very well. I pretty much have to put forward an effort to make friends everywhere I go, and that can be... Difficult. It's always a struggle. To find the right people."
"Really? How do you get food? Get a house? Survive?"
"Either I'm friends with them or they never knew I was there regardless. Anything I touch, that's about the size of backpack is invisible along with me. I'm imperceptible until I make a conscious effort to appear to someone. I may as well be a ghost."
I saw the question finally cross his mind
"But... Why do you have this power?"
I paused and thought, like I had a million times before. Why was I cursed like this? What, as a person, did I truly feel. And then, I knew.
"I guess, I don't want to be seen. The people who always try to get close, or get my attention, always hurt me, one way or another. I'm sick of people always seeing them, and having them see me after. So, I guess I just don't even want to try."
I put my head down. I never wanted to face it, but I had to. My friend, this random person I just approached, hadn't known I existed a moment ago. And yet, now he knows more about me than anyone else in the world.
My friend opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He had grown pale looking at me.
"What's your power? Probably isn't worse than mine"
"I-I copy the power of the last person I speak to. How long have we been talking"
"Maybe 10, 15 minutes. Why?"
"Shit! Can you see me?"
He asked a man who was walking towards us. The man simply kept walking, as if he didn't exist.
"Why? Why did you speak to me!? No one can see me! You knew this would happen!"
He drew back his fist and let loose what would've been a haymaker. Fortunately, I was faster. I swiftly sidestepped beside his punch, pulling out my baton as I did it.
"Why? How am I supposed to get rid of this? No one can see me, or hear me, or even know I exist. How do I live like this?"
He kept swinging and I kept dodging. Every punch a little slower than the last, until he began to sob. I'd had enough. I brought up my baton, and smacked him hard over the head. He passed out.
"Little do you know, your a valuable resource. My employers will pay top dollar for you. Copycats are always useful."
I took out my radio. Phones didn't work. Only dumb phones, or radios. Apparently, if it's smart enough to recognize you it doesn't know your there.
"I've got another copier. I'll bring him to the drop point. Send someone to meet me." | 2019-09-08T11:41:24 | 2019-09-08T11:07:43 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I sat across the desk, awaiting further questioning from my would-be employer.
"Okay, I see you have everything in order, except you left one void empty." He flipped past my resume to the employment form and identification page they made me fill out. "You know the one, care to explain?"
I looked at him blankly and huffed. "I don't have a power."
He shifted in his chair. "Come on John, everyone has one. If it's based off an evil act I can work around it, we can trust you, you just have to be honest." A pen appeared in his hand as he tilted it and the document toward me. I scribbled in the blank and his eyes looked away from me.
"...you can fix anything? I kinda assumed with your resume cover page." The clocked ticking in the office was the only noise for several moments. "There has to be more to that or you can fill the description page if you need to. Why are you worried about telling me that?"
I peeled a thin glove from my hand, and touched the pen. As I expected, it dissapeared. "I fix everything back to its natural way."
He seemed nonchalant and squinted. "Why is that a problem?" His hand instinctually went to summon another pen, and when it didn't, the human resource manager tried a few times to make it happen again. He started flailing about, trying to make his power work again.
"I'm sorry" I excused myself, and started to leave the building.
"SECURITY!" the HR manager was yelling from his office, and two large men descended onto me from down the hall, seemingly coming out of nowhere.
"Don't come near me. I'll leave peacefully." I put my bare hand up. They flinched, but when they didn't see fireballs or something similar come from my hand they laughed to themselves.
"We will escort you off the premises. Mr. Gerard, what was the problem with this one?"
Gerard pointed a finger at me "I don't know what he did but he needs to leave!" I turned away to find one of them grabbing my hand already, and his partner appeared behind me, touching the scruff of my neck. "We'll take it from here, G"
Both the men seemed to be waiting for something to happen, for us to appear on the first floor with their teleportation power they didn't know was now gone forever. "What's going on, man!"
One of them shook my collar, and I squirmed past them both as they yelled and booked it down the stairwell and out of the building. Police were in the lobby already but I briskly walked by, trying my best not to think while doing so in case they could hear it.
I tucked my hood over my head as I ran to the bus stop, holding it tight and wondering how I thought I could ever get a job and keep my power under cover... | Dan watched his partners work. He sat silent, and so nobody bothered him. That was just how he liked it, really. He was able to do his part of the school project in peace.
Fortunately, he got at least one good group member. Ted looked like he he was sleeping, but he was probably being more productive than any of them. Technopaths were handy to have when doing a school research project. The guy may as well have a computer installed directly in his head. Appropriate since even before he awakened his powers last year he damn near had technopathy anyway.
Sally was fidgeting nervously over her keyboard. She was still unaccustomed to her powers, and had difficulty controlling them. That might not be so bad if the forceful, strongly opinionated girl had not gained super strength and now had the issue of unintentionally breaking things. Ironic that she had become so shy and closeted because of it. It also made her a terrible group member, since she was more focused on not breaking things than the work.
Kelly, the unofficial leader of the group, was doing almost as much work as Ted was. She was literally doing the work of three people thanks to her cloning ability. Of course, the already hyperproductive girl that swore by multitasking would awaken that power. It made her both useful and annoying. Having one person micromanage everything was bad enough. Having that same person micromanage you from three different angles at once was worse.
"Say, has anyone seen Dan?" One of Kelly's clones asked. "I swear he was right here a minute ago."
Ted half opened one eye, looking directly at Dan, and shrugged before closing it. Sally shook her head and slowly poked at a key, letting out a visible sigh of relief when it did not break.
Kelly growled. Dan smiled. He loved his power, he really did. It was so useful to avoid unpleasant conversation.
"I'm right here." Dan said.
Kelly jumped. All four of her. "What the? Where did...when did you get back?"
"I never left."
"Oh...okay then. Just...just... don't disappear again."
"I don't disappear. I can't turn invisible or anything."
Kelly looked like she wanted to say something, but Sally interrupted.
"It's not? We all thought it was. I mean, you just, like, vanish for no reason. That's why nobody asked what you got when you awakened."
Dan shrugged. It was true he had never officially revealed his power, but he had a reason. If people knew what he could do, it would become a lot less effective.
"It's not invisibility. It's also not teleporting or shrinking or anything like that. I just don't like telling people what it is. It's not really great anyway. Kind of lame, really."
"Can we get back on track, please?" Kelly huffed. "We've still got a lot to do. And Dan, don't disappear again. I don't care how you do it, just don't."
Dan nodded and got back to his part of the project. One of Kelly's clones kept glancing at him, making sure he would not go anywhere. It did not matter much. She would lose track of him eventually.
The power to go unnoticed may not have been flashy interesting, but it suited him just fine. | 2019-09-08T11:19:18 | 2019-09-08T11:00:34 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | My powers **never** seemed to manifest, but people **always** seemed to agree with me.
Detective Wright slammed the table with his hand and looked at me with a righteous fury, as though he was capable of extracting the information he wanted. Sure, he could read minds, but he couldn't make sense of mine. Nobody ever could.
*"Tell me right now, girl. How are you connected with these events?!"*
His finger darted from photo to photo of the thefts, the interrogations of my "friends", and of my daring escape from the previous jail where I just walked out the front door.
*"Sir, it would be wiser for you if you just let me go."*
*"Is that a threat?! You know you can't do anything in all of those restraints. You don't even have a documented power."*
*"Documented..."* My thoughts trailed off.
I could feel him trying to weasel his way into my mind yet again.
*"You can stop trying to read my thoughts now."*
The grizzled man was taken aback, surprised that I could detect his power.
*"How did you know?"* he asked.
*"Of course I knew. You think they hire people who can fly as interrogators? No, they choose empaths, mind readers. You must be impressed. Normally they don't get the brainiacs in here."*
He concurred, rubbing his balding temples. Shaking his head as though coming out of a daze, he questioned further, albeit verbally this time.
*"Why did these people all say the same thing once caught? None of them had any motives whatsoever. Their only connection? You."*
*"Hey now, these people all did their own thing. They CHOSE to do what they did."*
*"Oh really? Then why did they all say that you told them to do it?"*
*"I told them to do it? Really? You can't honestly say that."*
He pursed his lips as though he was about to say something, then faltered.
*"I need to get out of this room,"* I said. *"I need to be free from these cuffs."*
The officer looked at me with utter malice, then acquiesced. *"Turn around,"* he replied.
*"I need you to go back to your desk, and delete all of your files on me. I want you to burn the hard copies, and to tell your Chief that I had nothing to do with any of this. That I'm innocent, and that the connections were forged."*
*"Forged?"* he asked. *"By whom?"*
*"By you,"* I replied. *"You blackmailed all of these people with your mind-reading in order to besmirch my name while reaping the benefits."*
The weathered veteran of the force looked puzzled, but turned away and opened the door. *"After you,"* he said cordially. *"I apologize for the inconvenience."*
*"Don't worry about it. You're such a noble gentleman."*
Immediately, Wright's sad face perked up a bit.
*"Ma'am, I'm sorry that I can't walk you out to your car. Corporal Jenkins will assist you. I have duties to attend to. I bid you adieu."*
I curtsied, then strolled through the station accompanied by my new attendant. Bewildered eyes focused intently on me from all around. How could he just let the lead suspect go? I turned back one last time to see Detective Wright enter the Chief's office, badge and gun in hand.
*"Jenkins..."* I smiled. *"Will you please give me a ride to the airport?"*
Corporal Jenkins looked indignant and astonished that I would ask such a thing. Politely, he replied, *"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I'm busy keeping the city safe."*
*"You will do that. I'm just a young lady. I can't be walking alone in this part of town. Plus, I have a plane to catch."*
*"I'm so sorry! How could I not think of that? Here, get in the Charger and buckle in. We're going lights and sirens."*
​
Just like the man upstairs making career-ruining false confessions, and just like all of my past "imprints", Corporal Jenkins knew one thing.
# "I'll do it because Sami told me to." | My power is unique to me, and me alone. You see, I’ve always believed that current modern society wasn’t for me; it always felt like I was stuck in a prison, and as “free” as I was in this prison, it was still a prison. I’m very introverted, you see, so I’ve always had a hard time expressing myself, and it didn’t help that I felt so much pressure from my family and the world around me to make something of myself. This prison had layers, you could say. You couldn’t just say, “fuck what society asks of you, be you and do what you love if it doesn’t hurt anyone,” that’d be crazy. Instead, you’d get a more indoctrinated response from everyone telling you that if you didn’t follow the trends or go with the flow that you’d never make it out in life, or that if you didn’t do x-thing, you couldn’t become successful. In fact, a lot of people’s artificial happiness were based on the superficial opinions of others and it drained me a lot. Eventually, I just didn’t give a fuck. Fuck this system of people talking down to me just because they never dared to dream and fuck them for never having dared to chase their passions. They were trained by society to be this way and they were trained in the same way to never exceed this low plateau. In a way, I became a trailblazer of sorts. People were drawn to me and followed closely as they too began to chase their dreams and passions.
That’s how it all started.
One day, I met a teenager who expressed his utmost respect for me, for I was the sole reason why he was able to achieve his dream at such a young age. Impressive, right? At such a young age, all I could do was dream and hope for the best, but here was a young man who told me he had already achieved his dream. I asked him what his dream was and in response, he told me, “it’s better if I show you instead.”
I couldn’t believe it.
The young man was... flying. He wasn’t just floating a few feet above ground, he was pushing speeds above fifty kilometers per hour with twists and turns that no plane or copter could imitate. The sight of seeing a fellow human fly in such a manner was nothing short of marvelous. “What splendid technology! How did you come up with such an invention?” I asked in anxious curiosity.
“Technology? Oh, I’m not really that smart, but I kind of just took your advice and believed in myself and my dreams because it didn’t hurt anyone. My dream is to fly and be as free as the wind, to not be chained by the social constructs of society and to never be tethered to anything I’m not emotionally or spiritually invested in. After meditating on these thoughts for a week or so, I went to go play basketball with a few friends and ended up making my first dunk... from the other side of the court. It was crazy! I’m only five feet and six inches tall and I literally soared over the court. You had to be there to believe it. When I got home, I jumped to get to the top of my roof. Then I jumped from the roof to see how high I could jump and I just... never fell down. That’s when I realized I could float! I continued to push these tests and realized I could even move in the air; slowly at first, but eventually I flew so fast that my body couldn’t handle the speed that I was approaching. It’s absolutely insane! None of this would have happened if you never came to my high school to be a speaker for our “Hopes and Dreams” spirit week half a year ago.”
He was the first. Eventually, more and more people came to me, all with new revelations, all with new abilities. It took me a few years to understand the catalyst for this change; the only people who developed new powers were those who adopted my philosophy.
“As long as you don’t hurt anyone, you are free to live your life the way you want to and be free to pursue your own happiness.”
You ask me what my power is, Mr. Interrogator, so I will now enlighten you: my power is freedom at its highest, most noble degree. As long as I never hurt anyone, I am free to do whatever it is I like. My followers share the same sentiment, for we are the misunderstood, we are the forgotten, we are the outcasts shunned by your society. We are the dreamers who dreamed to dream, we are the hopeful who hoped for a chance at happiness. We have never hurt anyone for we understand how it feels to hurt, and yet here we are in this very predicament, Mr. Interrogator, chained at your leisure because your superiors fear us. So I say this now, Mr. Interrogator.
You can never chain us. We will always be free. | 2019-09-08T11:18:58 | 2019-09-08T11:02:00 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] Your power is that anyone will believe what you say, no matter what it is. You casually rob the store, assuring everyone that nothing is out of the ordinary, and later laugh as you offer an outlandish explanation to the flabbergasted police. | I have done things I'm not proud of. I've lived like a wolf among sheep, a god among mortals, a monster among innocents. People have lost everything because of me. I’ve seen the tears in the eyes of families whose houses I wanted, the fear in the stance of men and women I’ve robbed for everything they had ever worked to earn, a lifetime of work stolen away in an instant.
But it wasn’t until people started dying, deprived of everything by my actions, that it hit me – I was the one who wasn’t needed, the parasite on the back of humanity.
I stared into the mirror and drew up all the reserves I could muster. I looked down at the three lines I had scribbled out in preparation.
“You are a kind person, concerned only with helping others.”
I felt a sickening shame as the guilt of everything I had done struck with a vengeance. Tears brimming in my eyes, bile rising, I choked out the next line.
“You are an amnesiac, remembering none of the terrible actions you have taken in your past.”
Everything stopped. I blinked and looked into the mirror. Why was I crying? Who was I? Where? How?
I was holding a paper in my hand. The first two lines were crossed out, and beside the third was a note – ‘look into the mirror and read this’.
I looked into the mirror. “You are a perfectly ordinary human, with no special powers or abilities, and that is good enough.” | Magic is a curious thing: it is always looking for ways to conceal itself.
You didn't even intended to rob the store, you wanted an energy drink but you forgot your money home and you only noticed that once you were in line to pay. You were about to turn around and return the drink to the fridge when you mumbled those little words: **fucking money**. Suddenly, the cashier look at you and repeated the same words, and you saw them work into her brain, her eyes became hyper focused on you. She slowly opened the cash register and took out all *the fucking money* and handed it to you. You dropped the energy drink and tried to refuse, "*No, take it away* and she repeated that back at you, pushing the money into your hands.
The people in line behind you started repeating the same words: **fucking money** and **take it**, throwing coins, bills and cards at you. You tried backing away and run to the doors, but just then a security guard stroll in on one of her rounds. "*What the hell is happening here?*" she asks as you run into her. But just then you come into your senses, and you know you should keep your mouth shut. So you start making big gestures, trying to let her know people have become crazy... And she does understand, somehow even in your archaic sign language, she knows what you are saying and believes it.
She slowly raises her phone to her ear and places a call to emergency services: "*Hello, we have another case of mass hysteria down at the city centre, can you please send down the police and some ambulances to the town square?*".
You have been holding your breath and finally let it go. The screams of the people behind you increase and you feel more objects being thrown your way as you ultimately decide that is time to go. And as you are leaving, you turn behind and see the security guard looking at you through the glass. She gives you a smirk. You run all the way home. | 2020-03-06T11:47:32 | 2020-03-06T10:29:31 | 269 | 125 |
[WP] Your power is that anyone will believe what you say, no matter what it is. You casually rob the store, assuring everyone that nothing is out of the ordinary, and later laugh as you offer an outlandish explanation to the flabbergasted police. | I have done things I'm not proud of. I've lived like a wolf among sheep, a god among mortals, a monster among innocents. People have lost everything because of me. I’ve seen the tears in the eyes of families whose houses I wanted, the fear in the stance of men and women I’ve robbed for everything they had ever worked to earn, a lifetime of work stolen away in an instant.
But it wasn’t until people started dying, deprived of everything by my actions, that it hit me – I was the one who wasn’t needed, the parasite on the back of humanity.
I stared into the mirror and drew up all the reserves I could muster. I looked down at the three lines I had scribbled out in preparation.
“You are a kind person, concerned only with helping others.”
I felt a sickening shame as the guilt of everything I had done struck with a vengeance. Tears brimming in my eyes, bile rising, I choked out the next line.
“You are an amnesiac, remembering none of the terrible actions you have taken in your past.”
Everything stopped. I blinked and looked into the mirror. Why was I crying? Who was I? Where? How?
I was holding a paper in my hand. The first two lines were crossed out, and beside the third was a note – ‘look into the mirror and read this’.
I looked into the mirror. “You are a perfectly ordinary human, with no special powers or abilities, and that is good enough.” | People are trusting by nature. They wake up every day, put on clothes, go to work, and do countless other procedural tasks, acting as if they have any idea what they are doing. Routine provides a sense of security. It is only when things fall apart that you get a glimpse of who people truly are. When everything is uncertain and chaos permeates the world. That's when people are afraid. That's when nobody has any idea what to do. That's where I come in.
I am the knight in shining armor. I give guidance to those who most desire it. I tell stories and let people become the protagonist. People believe me and I go free.
Sometimes, though, I am in a silly mood.
Today was one of those days.
"Please, Mr. Officer, let me explain."
"I grew up in this very city. My dad left my mom before I was born. When I was 12, my best friend got shot and died in my arms. I had to quit going to school when I was 15 to help support my family. When we became financially stable enough I returned to school at 18. I was the first in my family to go to university. In my second semester, my mom was diagnosed with stage III lung cancer and I had to drop out to support her."
"Recently, the hospital bills have become too much to handle. We are going to lose our house. We are desperate. Please, sir, you have to understand. I needed this so badly."
The officer paused and considered me for a brief moment.
He said, "I believe you," and took out his handcuffs.
​
​
**Note:**
Thank you for reading! I am a college student trying to become a better writer, so all advice is much appreciated. This is my first submission on this subreddit. I wanted to do more but had to rush through the ending. | 2020-03-06T11:47:32 | 2020-03-06T11:20:54 | 269 | 14 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | All the students were getting up to leave class when he heard, "Matthew, might I speak to you for a moment?"
"Of course, Professor."
Professor Xavier had always been kind to him. Matthew long suspected that Xavier knew he was hiding his full potential but the professor never pushed the subject and treated Matthew like all the other students. He liked feeling normal here. His long standing lie was that he could teleport. Whenever they were required to practice their abilities it put Matthew in a tough spot. The teachers were constantly trying to push his limits and get him to teleport further and further. It's tiring having to run such far distances constantly. Yesterday, the teacher had asked him to try to travel to someplace he had previously been. After faking an attempt for an hour or so the teacher finally relented and suggested they take a break.
"Professor Munroe tells me you had a difficult time yesterday. She was worried she might have pushed you too hard and wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I-I'm fine professor. She didn't push too hard. I tried picturing different places but nothing happened. I don't know if I'm able to teleport like that."
"Well, things happen at different paces for everyone. I'm sure you've heard of Kurt by now?"
"Yes, sir."
"When he first came here, he was limited by what he could see as well. He could travel to anywhere in sight, but beyond that, he was too frightened to push himself. It takes extraordinary strength to push limits set by our minds. In time, I'm sure you will be able to overcome anything you set your mind to."
"Thank you professor."
"Matthew, have you made any friends since you started here? I don't see you with the other students very often."
"No sir, I-I think they are frightened of me."
"Why is that?"
"They avoid me, and I hear them saying things about me."
"Teleporting is an enviable gift. I'm sure they will come around in time."
"I guess."
"Matthew, are you sure there isn't something else? You know I would never use my gift on anyone without permission but it doesn't take a mind reader to see that something is bothering you."
"Professor, c-can you keep a secret?"
"Of course, Matthew. Anything you tell me would be kept between us."
Eyes to the floor Matthew said, "I have been lying to you and the other teachers. I can't teleport."
Professor Xaviers remained quiet as if telling Matthew to continue.
"I-I was afraid if you found out what I can do, that you would make me part of your advanced class. I just wanted to feel normal for once. Everyone my whole life has called me a freak and when I got here, I was just another kid. I'm so sorry I lied professor."
"It's okay Matthew. I understand. If I may ask, what is this gift that you were afraid to speak of?"
"It's easier if I show you."
"Lead the way."
The two of them left the office and went into the crowded hallway watching the kids on their way to various classes. Matthew reached over and set his hand on Xaviers shoulder and everyone froze. Turning to Matthew, Xavier said, "Well, it certainly is an extraordinary gift. The ability to freeze time is no small feat. I can't say I've ever met another mutant with this ability, Matthew."
"Are you going to kick me out of the school for lying to you?"
"No, Matthew. I understand why you kept this from us. It is an incredible burden to have control over time. I imagine it can be quite lonely."
Nodding his head Matthew was tearing up a little.
"Matthew, I'm going to keep this between us until you're ready to tell other people. Would you be okay with having private lessons with me once a week to learn to better control this power of yours?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Very good. Bring us back to real time and let us join the rest of the students. It's nearly time for your next class." | >*"I was in third grade when my powers activated. The stress of my family moving, my sixth grade bully, and my abusive home life... I just wanted to be left alone, I wanted it to stop. To my young third grade surprise it did. Birds midair and flap, cars motionless, even the waves of the ocean stuck in place like a picture, the sky a shifting red miasma. No one could explain their luck around me: finding a lost wedding ring, a narrowly missed car, me catching a teetering X-BOX during a particularly fun game of Halo... I'm from a family of immigrants so we bounced around from Long Beach to Tijuana and back constantly, until highschool when Cerebro found me.*
>*I was wrongly classified as a "mass teleporter" with the restriction it has to be within line-of-sight and about my own weight...a misconception I allowed to persist for obvious reasons. You ever try moving Colossus? Yeah, ain't happening. Once the secret of the X-Men was revealed I was given the code name: Freight. Beast was the first to surmise something was different about me, but a "oh, my powers must've mutated further" quickly threw him off my trail. Steering clear of Mimic and Rogue was a whole 'nother can of worms, I was dangerous enough and I didn't need imposters messing up my timeline. The only people that know about me, the real me, is Charles Xavier and Sage, both of whom have been sworn to secrecy...one as a secret between good friends and the other as an overly calculated agreement based upon not wanting to be on my bad side. Eventually I learned the red sky was actually the threads of all reality in a form I could comprehend, infinite possibilities, time, and space...all held motionless by me. Despite the cold winters of New York I still found ways to help people...the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, X-Force but they never knew it. Hell, I once Sparta kicked an emerging Kang back into his portal. Life got a lot easier once I researched conch snails and found an old subdermal injector in Beast's lab, fights were now little more than an alcohol soaked swab (I'm not a monster) and a pneumatic "tsss" away from being over.*
>*My biggest test would be when we fought Jamie Braddock, Psylocke's eldest brother...he was literally enveloped in the red sky, basically he was the center of a temporal tornado, a flawed singularity, a storm unto himself. As a consequence of his reality warping powers and the hallucinations of his mind he could bend and twist all matter to his will, which sometimes included the X-Men. It turns out his insanity is the outward base thoughts and hallucinations of Jamie, his real mind...his rational mind is stuck within the red sky wrapped up in the little red squiggly bits that make up reality. He begged me to help him, to stop him from hurting people, to save his family. He'd been stuck shooting forward and back in time trying to avert disaster after disaster, altering timeline after timeline. He begged me... In all my years I never thought to touch the red sky, but I fought through the webs Jamie would inadvertently spin, saving my teammates along the way, pressing on through the temporal hurricane, until I made Jamie hear the familiar "tsss" to put his mind at rest. It took me months for my wounds to heal, covered in thin red burn patterns like after coming into contact with a box jellyfish. I had Mr. Fantastic give me a temporal distortion detector that alerted me of heightened tachyon activity via atomic switch. Okay, okay I may have just walked in and borrowed it for an extended period of time using my indefinite five-finger discount...but I figured he owed me for the Dr. Doom thing I helped him with (supervillain knee caps just don't magically 'blow out' on their own in the middle of a fight ya' know). Wherever I was in the world I always found time to help Jamie with his meds and outbursts. He's the only one who's really ever understood me, we chat sometimes in his moments of lucidity and I've arranged for him to only have the kindest doctors, nurses, and orderlies on his floor for their shifts. The best way to defeat an enemy is to make them your friend. I've encoded this journal into a hidden Cerebro subroutine should anyone need it, or mainly I just had to tell someone. I'm 3-D printing a new polymer subdermal injector for Magneto and I had some down time. Not bad for a kid from Orange County."* | 2022-11-09T16:36:25 | 2020-07-15T07:44:24 | 9,106 | 56 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | All the students were getting up to leave class when he heard, "Matthew, might I speak to you for a moment?"
"Of course, Professor."
Professor Xavier had always been kind to him. Matthew long suspected that Xavier knew he was hiding his full potential but the professor never pushed the subject and treated Matthew like all the other students. He liked feeling normal here. His long standing lie was that he could teleport. Whenever they were required to practice their abilities it put Matthew in a tough spot. The teachers were constantly trying to push his limits and get him to teleport further and further. It's tiring having to run such far distances constantly. Yesterday, the teacher had asked him to try to travel to someplace he had previously been. After faking an attempt for an hour or so the teacher finally relented and suggested they take a break.
"Professor Munroe tells me you had a difficult time yesterday. She was worried she might have pushed you too hard and wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I-I'm fine professor. She didn't push too hard. I tried picturing different places but nothing happened. I don't know if I'm able to teleport like that."
"Well, things happen at different paces for everyone. I'm sure you've heard of Kurt by now?"
"Yes, sir."
"When he first came here, he was limited by what he could see as well. He could travel to anywhere in sight, but beyond that, he was too frightened to push himself. It takes extraordinary strength to push limits set by our minds. In time, I'm sure you will be able to overcome anything you set your mind to."
"Thank you professor."
"Matthew, have you made any friends since you started here? I don't see you with the other students very often."
"No sir, I-I think they are frightened of me."
"Why is that?"
"They avoid me, and I hear them saying things about me."
"Teleporting is an enviable gift. I'm sure they will come around in time."
"I guess."
"Matthew, are you sure there isn't something else? You know I would never use my gift on anyone without permission but it doesn't take a mind reader to see that something is bothering you."
"Professor, c-can you keep a secret?"
"Of course, Matthew. Anything you tell me would be kept between us."
Eyes to the floor Matthew said, "I have been lying to you and the other teachers. I can't teleport."
Professor Xaviers remained quiet as if telling Matthew to continue.
"I-I was afraid if you found out what I can do, that you would make me part of your advanced class. I just wanted to feel normal for once. Everyone my whole life has called me a freak and when I got here, I was just another kid. I'm so sorry I lied professor."
"It's okay Matthew. I understand. If I may ask, what is this gift that you were afraid to speak of?"
"It's easier if I show you."
"Lead the way."
The two of them left the office and went into the crowded hallway watching the kids on their way to various classes. Matthew reached over and set his hand on Xaviers shoulder and everyone froze. Turning to Matthew, Xavier said, "Well, it certainly is an extraordinary gift. The ability to freeze time is no small feat. I can't say I've ever met another mutant with this ability, Matthew."
"Are you going to kick me out of the school for lying to you?"
"No, Matthew. I understand why you kept this from us. It is an incredible burden to have control over time. I imagine it can be quite lonely."
Nodding his head Matthew was tearing up a little.
"Matthew, I'm going to keep this between us until you're ready to tell other people. Would you be okay with having private lessons with me once a week to learn to better control this power of yours?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Very good. Bring us back to real time and let us join the rest of the students. It's nearly time for your next class." | (I haven't watched any of the movies, just watched some cartoons, but here's my submission.)
“Olivia, Professor Xavier wants to speak with you. It’s about your training.”
“Alright, Ma’am. I’ll be there”
Assumptions are quite useful at times.
When I realized how powerful my gift was, I stopped talking about it. After all, I don't want to be taken by the wrong people. How am I supposed to know who to trust with a power like this?
So, I relied on the power of assumptions. I never use my power on others, so they can't see what I do when I step into the void of time. They just see me move from one place to another instantaneously, so they assume I must be able to teleport, or at least do something similar. They never bother to think that I might be doing something else. When someone finds what they think is the answer, they stick to it, no matter what other options there may be.
I helps that I don’t bother trying to correct their assumptions.
What does make it difficult, however, is that this stupid school tries to train me as a teleporter. They try to make me teleport farther and into places that I would not be able to go normally. The former isn’t too bad, as in the time void it doesn’t matter how fast I can go and I can just walk, but going into a sealed room or other place is a no-go. I guess they’ve just made another assumption that it has to be a place I would be able to get normally, but I heard them talking about figuring out how to train that into me.
At least I can have some private time, even when I’m around these dozens of other kids. They all want to be X-Men one day, and it would be a lie to say that the idea of being a hero with my power isn’t appealing. I just want to take my time, not be rushed into something when I’m not mentally ready.
I suppose looking at it that way, my power is a bit poetic.
The first thing that I notice when I enter his office is the ambiance. It is very calming, as if it was specifically made to put the students at ease. Actually, that mindset probably did affect the design somewhat.
“Please sit down, Olivia. There are things that we must discuss.” He gestures to a chair on the other side of his desk. As I sit down, he continues. “I have heard that you are having difficulty with your training.”
“I know, Professor.” I shrug. “I know how my gift works. I just don’t see the point in talking about it. It’s not as if it will change anything about it.”
“Why are you so reluctant to let us understand? You recall Kurt and how his power strengthened as it was trained.”
“Nightcrawler? Yeah, he’s pretty cool.” I began to fangirl a little. People made yet another assumption that it was just because we were both teleporters, but it was actually his personality. He was just so nice, despite his appearance. He sometimes comes to me offering his help with my power, even if it isn’t what he thinks it is. It’s a nice gesture regardless. Professor Xavier chuckles.
“Then please, explain to me how it works so we may help you.”
I think for a while. I had encountered Professor Xavier a few times in my classes, and he seemed genuine. I had also heard many things about what he did for mutants like me. He was much better than what I knew of Magneto. With a deep breath, I decide to tell him a bit. At least I can pause time and run if things get hairy.
“I can’t teleport. I do something else entirely. It just looks like teleportation.” He seemed a little surprised at that statement, but I continued. “My power is more time-based.”
“I see…” he mused. “Then you can pause time?”
“Not exactly.” I shook my head. “It’s more as if I step beyond the hand of time. I’ve only used it to stop time, but I could theoretically do other things. I’ve just never tested.”
“Then perhaps we should find a way to observe it.” He made a note before wheeling around the desk. “Though I must ask. Why did you never tell anyone what you could do?” I just smirked at him.
“No one ever asked IF I could teleport, they just assumed. And honestly, I liked it that way.” | 2022-11-09T16:36:25 | 2020-07-15T09:54:58 | 9,106 | 12 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared demons in hell. You‘re sent to take the most deadly human known, who‘s been avoiding death by killing all who went to take him. You get there, and realize how he’s killed so many demons. He has humidifiers all around his house, which are filled with holy water. | The demon leaned against the watering cooler. "So anyway, when I figured that out, I cut his electricity. Didn't even cut the wires; just got the company to shut it off for non-payment."
He sipped a cup of something most foul, and burped. "So that was yesterday. I gotta go see another guy who's living in a submarine surrounded by holy water. Think I'll get the navy to arrest him and impound his sub or something. See you guys later."
Two dour-looking imps watched the demon leave. "Jesus, Rick really likes to brag about his work, doesn't he?" said one.
"Yep," replied the other. "Most people in this job don't have anything else going for them. No family, no friends, no prospects. So this is all they have. I'm not going to end up like him." | Down in hell, Satan receives a report from the worker he had sent to take the deadliest human known to all of demon kind. Danny was still topside and it seemed that he was having trouble accomplishing his mission. As he reads over the report, Satan becomes more and more amused until he calls for his secretary. "Susan! Susan, come here you won't believe this!" Susan, a young succubus, enters the office with a questioning look on her pretty face, "What is it?" Satan is still shaking his head as he reads part of the report to her, "I am sorry to inform you that this task is impossible for us to undertake. Let the angels take him instead. This guy has so much holy water he could replace an entire ocean with it. I'm not risking my life trying to get him down to our place." Susan blinks and asks, "Are you going to fire him for that suggestion?" Satan laughs. "Of course not. It's a brilliant idea. The guys up in heaven will be begging us to take him within a few hours! Danny said that the guy is the most annoying person he has ever met." And so Satan began to write his reply to Danny, telling him to come back home to watch heaven try to take him. After all this guy had holy water, tons of it, and they loved holy water. They'd be all over him and they would be in for a big surprise. | 2020-08-04T13:57:28 | 2020-08-04T13:23:33 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] There is a code amongst the super-villians of the world. Never intentionally beat the heroes, even when you can. The heroes don't know this, and one day, they push it too far. | "They did what now?" Stephanie "Iron Claw" Tailor said forcing herself to stay calm, you did not kill the messenger. Or for that matter traumatize them with an angry outburst.
"They... ma'am... they killed... They killed Firesprite...Ma'am, they shot her in the head when she was monologuing." Ruben, Stephanie's apprentice, said.
Poor Rebecka. It had been one of her favorite ways to let the heroes get the better of her. She had always liked the absurdity of it. And she had had a knack for it. Set them up in an elaborate trap that any fool with a little brains and guts can escape. Monologue with your head turned away or something like that. Heroes escape, Firesprite curses them as she make her escape. Everybody is happy.
And now they fucking shot her in the head for it.
Nicholas "Steelburn" had talked about it with her before he retired, how the new heroes didn't play the game the way it used to be. Steph had just thought it was Nick who had fallen for the "It was better before" that come with some as they age and don't like to see the concepts they knew as they grew up change.
But, yeah, there had been signs.
The heroes brutally beating up Stormspark two years back.
How the general damage of the heroes interventions had steadily started to rise...
And now this.
They of course didn't know of the pact.
A few generations back the supervillains of the world had decided that; while they could dominate the world with the powers they had, It would be much more hassle then it was worth.
A steady stream of robbing from the already extremely moneyed, some anonymous gifts to certain organizations to distribute some of that wealth after expenses was accounted for and some staged and highly implausible capers every once in a while for the hell of it made for a quite more agreeable lifestyle.
And with that it was decided that unless strictly necessary, the heroes shouldn't be harmed.
Taunted, yes.
Tricked? Certainly.
Placed in elaborate and stupid death traps? Not Steph's personal kink but she didn't judge.
They really didn't know.
They would find out soon enough.
"Ruben?" she said and her apprentice stiffened by her side, "Please tell Tomas that they change to lice rounds in their guns for next caper. Tell him that they are to use as much lethal force as they have always wanted. That just this time, we don't do any theatrics. I want them to know that we have always held back. I want them to know, that they brought this on themselves." | “There is a secret amongst us, the super villains of the world, we are the true good guys. Yes we do destroy building and monuments, hold people for ransom, and try to rule the world economy but we do so in the hopes of saving all of them. Each building we setup to be destroyed is one that the heroes find and disarm the explosives. We make it easy for them to find or tell them where it is in one of our monologues. The people who are held for ransom are part of our team and know the part they must play. Each time we endanger the world economy every country is aware of the danger we pose to it and agreed upon it. We put people and ourselves in harms way in order to save us from you.
And what does that make you Mr. Hero, with all of your fancy gadgets and your superpowers. Some of us have argued that you’re the bad guy here. That is a major point of contention between us supervillains.
Ill tell you what I really think it makes you, a stooge in the truest sense of the word. You’re the moron who cant hold back his powers, your someone who thinks that they are here to save the world when the world says no. A smart person would not run around in tights with their gadgets, how do you get those gadgets by the way. They are ours, all they do is give us cues to play our parts in your charade. The one your holding right now only shoots a bit of string, “the boys in the lab” as you call them are our “boys in the lab”. They create the most useless things imaginable, so you don’t hurt yourself or us in this game. And this really is a game and we play you to a T.
Each day you wakeup we are there, we tell you what is going on in the world, we tell you where there is injustice, we tell you who is the bad guy. Each time that you receive orders from “the agency” you are getting orders from us. Every morning briefing we are there to give you some kind of task to keep you occupied and most importantly we leave everything out of the briefing that you could easily mess up for the world.
I would say almost each and every person in your life that you talk to on a regular basis is an actor, some of them have been on tv and movies. The man who gives you this briefing was almost Morgan Freeman but we couldn’t work out the filming schedule, so we had to go with Rob Schneider because he wasn’t doing anything at the time. Don’t get me wrong I loved Rob in his movies with Adam Sandler but he’s a comedian and he still feels out of place behind the desk at the morning briefing. If were talking who have been the best in their roles its obviously the wrestlers, they are easily the best shape and most have the ability to be the good and bad guys.
We do all of these things to keep you occupied, to keep you from looking too closely at what is being shown to you. And if you did look at the seams everything would fall apart.
But look at me getting caught in a monologue again.” | 2020-08-18T13:22:22 | 2020-08-18T13:22:20 | 77 | 24 |
[WP] One night while you were hanging out with your friends in a bar, you met a mysterious fellow who said he'd make you immortal if you give him beer money. Thinking nothing of it, you drunkenly agree. You are now the last man on Earth. As you walk alone, you cross path with the same man again. | It's been 50 uears since he's spoken a word, but encountering the man who granted him immortality is a good enough reason to try. He clears his throat and, after some struggle, Tom remembers how to speak:
"Figures the only other person in the world is you."
"Yep, it's me! Just came to say thanks for the beer!"
A breeze kicks up a cloud from the dust plains, and Tom approaches further. The grinning barfly doesn't look a day over 25, and his clothing hasn't aged a day either.
"Who are you, anyway?"
"Me? Oh, I'm Jason. Nice to see you again."
Jason approaches and holds out his hand. After staring at it for a minute Tom remembers to shake it. A greeting. Right.
The feeling of another's flesh breaks through the mental numbness he's been building over the last few decades. The sensation of simple, soft warmth against his palm is something that, until this moment, Tom had completely forgotten about.
Tears begin to flow, and he lets them. It's been ages since he's had to feel self-conscious and he isn't going to start now. Part gratitude, part rage, it all comes out in a howl that catches even him by surprise. Through the sobs he manages a few more words:
"Why did you do this to me? Why did you make me stuck here... all alone... and... oh God..."
"Hey, hey it's okay..."
Tom collapses in tears, still grasping Jason's hand for dear life. Jason pats him on the back and does his best to sound comforting.
"You're not alone. You never were. It's okay..."
Tom tries to respond but only manages a desperate look.
"Oh come on: do you really think in my thousands and thousands of years of life that I only made one random person immortal and then randomly abandoned them? For a beer?" He smiles. "There are a few hundred thousand of us just in orbit. We've been scanning for anyone left on the planet but..."
Jason motioned at the clouds of irradiated dust that surround them.
"You mean... there are others?"
"Of course! But... okay I'll admit, I did screw up. You weren't supposed to be stranded on Earth like this but I..."
"Oh my God there are others!"
Tom grabs Jason tightly, afraid to let him go in case he becomes yet another mirage or delirious hallucination. The lander ship's lights illuminate the pair huddled in the dust, the crew preparing to help the last man on Earth leave it forever. | It had been sometimes now since I last awoken. It had, in fact, also been sometimes now since the Earth withered and crumbled. In my awakening I had been reminded of that fact, the endless dream broken into dawn. It had, as I speculated, been sometimes since my shelter drifted away in the relentless wind. I wondered, how much time it had been, since time expired?
​
I expected, as all man in my position should expect, that I had the key to recreation in my hand. To be more precise, I believed I am the lock to the revival of life as I knew it. And he be the key. An eternity of loneliness must be, I reasoned, much more than an afternoon on the cross. It should be evident then, that my sacrifice, as I intended it to be, must be greater than just to eradicate the sin of man. Glorious will be my resurrection. First, I must find him. I held onto the knife in my hand.
​
It was not my intention to be in this position, I reckoned. As I lived on, however, I realized it must have been fate, and specifically I was chosen. If it was a test of virtue I must have aced it. There was little sense in a test of human logic. It would have been pointless for God (whoever he might be) to choose his champion over an act of morality. Because, one, morality is a human's construct. And because the context of a living and a dead world is so vastly different, to pick a man for his decision in a thriving world is unreasonable. Second, because one who could not cope with the changing of the times cannot steer the ship of fate. The more a man clings to his morality the more it proves that he will spiral into despair in this situation of mine, and thus doom all lives over selfish (disguised as selfless) reasons. And finally, because logic is a man-made thing and man never created life.
​
It is pointless now to recall my first meeting with him. Any references cannot be confirmed by other sources, nor do they contain any importance. Just know that my last meeting with him, as I followed his shadow, took part at a cliff by the sea. I suspected he had known my intentions.
​
I hereby gave a few hints to the course of action I intended to take:
​
Eve was born out of Adam's rib.
​
In his losing battle, Uranus' genital was cut off by his son. From the ocean where it landed spawned Aphrodite.
​
Life, as science dictates, began with a formulation of protein in the sea.
​
I laid down on a flat rock by the cliff. Soon the man will reached my arm. I left this note to all those with access to it, although I doubt any spark of life even ignited before it corrodes away. In his following travel the man will sow minced me across oceans. | 2020-10-07T04:18:05 | 2020-10-07T03:57:09 | 609 | 64 |
[WP] You are a demon trapped in an ancient temple build by a long dead civilization. Today, after millennia, an archaeologist finds you. Now you need to convince him to free you from the magic circle. | "I can fluently read Linear A, I was present for the Bronze Age Collapse, and I'd love to discuss both of those things *in extreme detail* if you'd just release me."
Not an archaeologist on Earth who could pass this up. Offering to solve two unsolvable ancient mysteries is particularly easy when you mostly *wrote* in Linear A and provided engineering insight to those Aegean Pirates so they could topple the whole thing and force humanity to bottleneck in the woods, living in fear. But you'd scared them too much. Made yourself too obvious. That damnable priest trapped you in this circle, then he and his brethren sealed it for all time by slicing their own throats and allowing the blood of blaspheming clergy to intermix with the Akkadian salt on the temple floor.
But now you heard digging. Your tomb has been uncovered. It's only a matter of time before some poor sap walks in and springs you in exchange for academic immortality. In his defense, it's probably the most you've ever offered someone in a deal, but desperate times call for tired colloquialisms
Wait.
A grinding noise.
They're near.
The stone slab you've spent thousands of years staring at finally moves. An older man walks in with two younger assistants, a man and a woman, talking excitedly about the art on the walls. They immediately notice the odd sight before them. A form in the shadows they can't quite make out. It's moving, but hard to pin down.
"Hello?" Shouts the old man. "Is someone there?"
"***IN A MANNER OF SPEAKING***". Your voice shakes the foundations of the Earth itself as you spread your leathery wings. |
"Hello Fellow Human, I am **Impundulu**, An ancient *Magician* From past Times-"
"Puta que Pariu, O que caralhos você é?? Como tu ainda tá vivo??"
Fuck, What mundane language is that? The Demon thought " *Mortal*, can YOU U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-D ME? This is crucial for-"
"Merda, parece uma Língua antiga e quebrada. Oh cabra! O QUE V-O-C-Ê F-A-Z A-Q-U-I?"
He's mimicking ME? NO! Maybe he translated it. YES, HE DOES UNDERSTAND. "*Mortal*, **I Impundulu**, Got betrayed, transformed, and trapped here by my *people* that I once call then friends. It is crucial for my release that you follow my specific command-"
"Complicado isso em?? Não faz a porra de um sentido!! Foda-se. Vou ver se tem algo nas paredes que me ajudem"
The demon stutter, as the human got close to the casting Wall, revealing the temple's true intentions. " NO *Mortal*, wait. You should NOT go there." I have to try something! " Espera Mortal, ¿dónde está la biblioteca?"
"Ah, CARALHO! Espanhol, é sério isso???? Não,nãonãonão. Não. Isso é uma putaria!!" The human started walking closer into the circle, shouting, and pointing fingers. "Yes, it is working. I Command that you erase the symbol in front of-"
But suddenly, the human stops, "Quer saber, CERTO, tem um bode num círculo brilhante."
The human turns back to the entrance with visible anger on his face"Quer saber, vai tomar no cu. Desrespeito. Nem pra desenhar no chão. Nem a merda do latim. Porque latim eu sei."
As he closes the only way off he stares back.
"Se fudê. Espanhol. Que arrombado"
"What?" | 2020-12-06T13:18:55 | 2020-12-06T12:05:27 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] You are a demon trapped in an ancient temple build by a long dead civilization. Today, after millennia, an archaeologist finds you. Now you need to convince him to free you from the magic circle. | "And finally, uhh, you'll get free parish cookies forever?"
"This is a pretty shitty sales pitch if I'm being honest."
I was taken aback. "What?"
"I don't even know what a parish cookies
is." He paused.
"Plus you still haven't mentioned the sign outside the tomb that says 'Do not unleash ancient evil upon world'."
"You know what, this has been going on far too long. Put me back to sleep." I turned away and pouted to the crumbling wall behind me.
"Ok cool."
"Wait wha-"
I turned around to see the ancient door shut, soft echos of boots getting farther and farther away.
"I can grant you power, power beyond your wildest imagination!" I threw myself at the rocky door. "Please!"
He peeked through the door, the light from the outside illuminating through his hair brilliantly. He flicked his majestic mane in slow motion, sweat glistening in the warmth of the sun.
"Oops, left my hat in here."
I watched as he shuffled in, picked up his hat, and moonwalked back out.
"Nah." Gaining sentience, I looked at the piece of shit author writing this. "You don't get to do this to me."
And then the archaeologist walked back in, broke the salt circle, I made out with him and then we took over the world. Happily ever after. THE END.
BUT. Then one day the archaeologist said miss me with that gay shit and locked me back up.
Honestly fuck you whoever is writing this, I swear to God I'll- |
"Hello Fellow Human, I am **Impundulu**, An ancient *Magician* From past Times-"
"Puta que Pariu, O que caralhos você é?? Como tu ainda tá vivo??"
Fuck, What mundane language is that? The Demon thought " *Mortal*, can YOU U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-D ME? This is crucial for-"
"Merda, parece uma Língua antiga e quebrada. Oh cabra! O QUE V-O-C-Ê F-A-Z A-Q-U-I?"
He's mimicking ME? NO! Maybe he translated it. YES, HE DOES UNDERSTAND. "*Mortal*, **I Impundulu**, Got betrayed, transformed, and trapped here by my *people* that I once call then friends. It is crucial for my release that you follow my specific command-"
"Complicado isso em?? Não faz a porra de um sentido!! Foda-se. Vou ver se tem algo nas paredes que me ajudem"
The demon stutter, as the human got close to the casting Wall, revealing the temple's true intentions. " NO *Mortal*, wait. You should NOT go there." I have to try something! " Espera Mortal, ¿dónde está la biblioteca?"
"Ah, CARALHO! Espanhol, é sério isso???? Não,nãonãonão. Não. Isso é uma putaria!!" The human started walking closer into the circle, shouting, and pointing fingers. "Yes, it is working. I Command that you erase the symbol in front of-"
But suddenly, the human stops, "Quer saber, CERTO, tem um bode num círculo brilhante."
The human turns back to the entrance with visible anger on his face"Quer saber, vai tomar no cu. Desrespeito. Nem pra desenhar no chão. Nem a merda do latim. Porque latim eu sei."
As he closes the only way off he stares back.
"Se fudê. Espanhol. Que arrombado"
"What?" | 2020-12-06T13:52:13 | 2020-12-06T12:05:27 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] You are a genetic researcher who has come across a universal truth. The DNA in all living creatures are attempts to build a single design. Viruses and phages have been stopping this process intentionally, resulting in different species. You now know what that design is and can complete it. | All I wanted was to create a vaccine, but this virus keeps on killing every cell I put it into! I tried everything, from chicken to fish to human, nothing works! Its like it's dismantling the cells' DNA..
There has to be a reason behind this behavior, how can it attack these cells so efficiently even though they are so different? What do they have in common? Their DNA is completely uniqe!
It can't be, it just can't! I've been looking at this for days now, what am i missing?! It's like everything here is a part of something but... Wait. No no, it cant be. No there is no way... Right?
It seems I have discovered an anomaly within the genetic sequence, for now I have spotted it in the DNA of multiple animals, but I suspect it might also be present in plant life.
It seems that by combining the DNA from the American Mudcrab, a Torque Mosqito, and a Lederman Swing Tree into a human cell, the virus is unable to kill it. The cell also seems to produce substantialy more energy than all the other cells combined, I might be getting closer...
The vaccine works! Finally! I never thought I'd get here. The deadliest desiese known to man, now a small threat, soon to be eradicated! I will be the one to take the first shot!
I've been feeling a little weird lately... Some headaches and I'm a bit sleepy, but those are probably just the vaccine's side-effects... I am craving fish though... And I find myself sleepwalking...
There is something in the air, the water. The animals, they speak to me. My wife says I'm crazy, but I feel... free, I feel... complete... I've been puking blood for some time now, but I won't let her take me! I want to stay connected...
I... I don't know whats happening... The doctors are saying something is wrong, I know it is... I can feel it, I can feel everything. It's calling me. It's calling us. I can't resist it. I understand now, the virus, it was protecting me. It was protecting all of us...
DO NOT FOLLOW ME | “Listen, my grandson is a complete idiot. Complete idiot. But even he doesn’t deserve to live in a world like this. Not like this. No, that’s why I’m giving this to you.” He handed me a book.
“What is it?”
“It’s the single design that every bit of DNA ever is trying to build. Viruses and phages have been fuckin’ around since the beginning of known DNA trying to make sure this world doesn’t get turned into that.” He looked at the book with disgust and let out a burb.
I opened the book to the first page, on it was a picture of corn on the cob. I flipped through it quickly, corn on the cob on every page. He put his hands on my shoulders, drool dripping from his mouth, “I need you to destroy this knowledge. I literally cannot bear to bury my own genius, but I can believe it if an idiot fucked it up for me. Now go, fly like the wind. I don’t care how you do it. Just don’t let me know how you do it or else I, or some version of me, might try and retrieve it and return this universe to some god-forsaken state in an attempt to fill the fucked up void inside of myselves.”
With a wave, I dispersed his alcohol-stained breath. “Uh, sure, whatever. You still got that twenty?” He passed me the money and I left, heading home. I set the book down and forgot about it until a few weeks later when my girlfriend picked it up and flipped through it. She threw it down in horror.
“What the fuck. It’s all cobs. Why is it all cobs?” She cried.
“Babe, it’s not a big deal. What’s wrong with it?”
She shook her head emphatically, “I can’t tell you. If I explain it the absurdity of it all will come crashing down and you’ll realize that it’s baseless and meaningless and that’s where the horror of it truly lies. In the fact that there’s no rhyme or reason to it being corn on the cob. You cannot ascertain anything from that statement, and it is that pure fact, its baselessness, that causes terror.”
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r/Ainsleyadams
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[Obligatory Rick & Morty copypasta link.](https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/to-be-fair-you-have-to-have-a-very-high-iq-to-understand-rick-and-morty)
\_ \_ \_
[Inspiration](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCnq7cM7aLg) | 2021-02-18T11:38:45 | 2021-02-18T10:27:45 | 287 | 94 |
[WP]For a thousand years a truce between our world and the demon world has held. Thousands die as the demons break the truce and attack, but they forgot the truce was to protect them from one of us… a special one… | "Why do I hear heavy metal?" Was the last thing that went through Dra'Nyakuek's mind, right before his head exploded in a shower of blood and gore. A green and brown blur sped past his body and towards the mass of demons rushing into the portals eager to unleash carnage on those 'puny humans'.
And yet, a not so puny human was ripping their faces off and tearing them apart, the huge guts from giant demons flying around like red, slimy confetti. The oldest demons, the more experienced ones, knew better than to fight head on against the... *thing* that brought fire and destruction against them, for they had heard tales about him, an engine of destruction so full of anger and wrath that he was kept alive almost only by the power of his hate.
Neither fire, nor talons, nor missiles, nor swords seemed to be able to put him down or even stop him for long. The demons slowly put things together, and canceled their invasion on earth, fleeing from the portals and leaving those that fell behind for dead, but it was too late.
They had ignited the flames of destiny, and now, their doom was upon them. | Love,war,death and mother fucking demons. You see demons and us humans have always had problems but when he arrived well the demons got a bit more eager for peace.
But they decided after 10 thousand years that peace was a bad option, that peace was something moronic created by humans and ther demon ancestors, so they broke the peace and sacrificed 30 thousand demons to break the seal to our dimension and come on in.
And of course he was ther he's always ther, nobody knows his name for he was so old I bet he forgot it too.
He was dressed in a American flag t-shirt,blue jeans,cold beer in hand, and a trucker hat with the word MERICA on it, and to top it all off a fucking mullet. He rode in on a four wheeler to the demons opening. The demons leader stepped out asking him "is this the humans hero is this thing what our ancestors were afraid of" the man just took a long sip of his beer looked at the demon leader and said "yuuuuup"
He pulled out 1 machine gun with golden crosses and a silver blessed bullets and in the other hand a big water gun filled with holy water. The fight was intense no military wanted to go near it debating on nuking the area, the man fought with pride throughout the entire fight all you could hear is "GET SOME YOU UNHOLY BASTARDS GET SOME". When it was all over the only remaining demon closed the seal, the man left never to be seen again, and that was the tale of american man of america. Ford built tuff | 2021-06-12T15:58:35 | 2021-06-12T15:25:08 | 58 | 15 |
[WP]The knights are attempting to arrest you because you refused to give what little fall harvest you had to the Duke. You are a peaceful monster in the guise of a human, but their unjust acts against you are making you reconsider just how peaceful you truly want to be. | Aznagoth, He Who Breathes Death, The Wicked Dragon of the South, he had no use for such names like those anymore. These days he went by Hendrick, the kindly farmer who always had a story to tell, a sweet treat for the children and a reliable, upright member of the community. He wiped the sweat off his brow as he took stock of his meager harvest as the unusually hot fall sun beat down upon him. Despite his wisdom of many years and his efforts, the year had been tough and dry, as if the gods themselves thought it fit to burn the world to a crisp. Judging by his yield, he would probably just manage to scrape by and keep his cattle from starving in the winter, though they would be skinny come spring.
"Beginning to think that maybe a greenhouse to grow food all year might not actually be a bad idea now." He muttered as he took a quick look around and kicked the soil. If he was able to take his true form, he might have been able to spare this farming village from the drought that had plagued them, but his draconic visage was all too well known in these parts and the other villagers would have likely panicked and called on that miserable excuse of a Duke to actually do his job for once. It had to have been 10 years now that he had disguised himself as a human and begun to live among them. A ridiculous idea he had dismissed initially, but then again, it was nice to be active again, instead of slumbering the decades away.
He remembered when the idea was first suggested to him by the Hero after she had defeated him in a hard fought battle. It was there he asked how humans had such spirit and determination. She had answered simply, "Live among us as one and see for yourself." He was beginning to see it now, they led simple lives, they were fragile beings but somehow they always found the strength to soldier on, no matter if it was plagues, droughts or wars.
He was snapped out of his reverie at the sound of the damnable Duke's knights riding up to his property. The broad shouldered farmer quickly made his way to his house and waited for them there.
"Hendrick!" The captain called out from on top of his horse, his spotless armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. "It's time for you to pay the rest of your tithe in full."
Hendrick rubbed his jaw, and looked out at his fields, before returning his gaze to the knights. "Terribly sorry sirs, but I've given you all that I can spare. A man's got to eat too you know and I need my cattle healthy to make it through the winter."
The captains eyes hardened, before betraying a glint of greed. It was a look Hendrick knew all too well. "That's a shame Hendrick. I was hoping we could do this the easy way." He got off his horse and approached him. If he was trying to intimidate the farmer with size, it wasnt going to work, Hendrick was of equal size and built solidly, more so than this useless tin can who was probably more soft muscle and lifestyle than hardened warrior he thought of himself as. "If you can't pay, then I suppose we'll just have to take the cattle. Ought to make up for the shit tithes those other cretins gave us anyway."
"You go too hard on these people captain. I'm sure you're aware we had a drought this year yes?" Hendrick reminded him, straightening his shoulders.
"And I'm sure you're aware that the Duke needs food so that he may continue to grant you mud slickers protection yes?" The captain shot back. "Though we should rethink that this year. Give you all something to mull over the next time you need help."
"Protection? Is that what you call this when bandits continue to ravage the area and not a single one of you dares to descend from your towers to drive them off? I was under the impression we had knights, not poultry pretending to be as such."
The captain began beating him then with his armored fists, sending Hendrick to the ground with a quick sucker punch to the jaw and began raining blows down on his head. "YOU DARE?!" He screamed, "YOU DARE MAKE A MOCKERY OF ME AND THE DUKE'S MEN?! I WILL QUENCH THE SOIL WITH YOUR AND EVERY OTHER WRETCHES BLOOD AND WE'LL SEE IF ANYONE COMPLAINS ABOUT A DROUGHT AGAIN!"
The captain's men, quietly watched from atop their horses, some egging their captain on and laughing. Hendrick could not stand a moment more of this and let out a deep growl as he caught the captains armored hand and began to lose his disguise. Caught up in his rage, the captain did not immediately notice Hendrick's eyes were no longer human. "I do dare." Hendrick replied simply, beginning to dent the gauntlet with his grip strength. He wiped the blood from his face and spat a gob of it from his mouth, kicking the captain away and getting to his feet. "I've only lived here as a human for ten short years. A mere moment compared to the rest of my life. And I believe I have learned more of human nature during this period of time than all of my other years combined. For a decade, I have watched you and your ilk leech off these people of the land. Your greed only growing larger with each passing year. And your punishments growing more twisted for those that could not sate your greed."
The captain was too busy trying to remove the gauntlet which was now crushing his hand to pay attention to the small changes happening across Hendrick's body. His skin changing to hardened, rough scales, which put the most brilliant of rubies to shame. His nails extending and solidifying into obsidian claws. "Silence you miscreant, I won't stand for-!"
"NO! I will not stand for your blathering for one moment longer!" Hendrick bellowed. "I watched for years as you took things precious to these people. As you took away sons to never be seen again. As you took away daughters only to return them as empty husks. Alive only because their body had not given up, but dead in every other way that matters. I stood in silence because I believed it was not my place to interfere in human affairs. But now I see that your greed far overshadows my own. My desire for a hoard of treasure pales in comparison to your own, because you take that which cannot be reclaimed." He was beginning to grow larger, wings sprouting from his back, horns jutting from his skull. The few men who had not fled stared numbly as Aznagoth reclaimed his true draconic form. "I will not suffer you to live."
The captain stared meekly as Aznagoth now towered over his own home. "It's not possible... it can't be possible. The Hero killed you. You haven't been seen since." Tears began to run down his face as he realized his fate was sealed and began to run.
Aznagoth cut him off and craned his head down, level with the captain. "You had shown some ferocity when I was still human, captain. You disappoint me, you almost had me fooled that you were indeed a man. Now I see you are naught but a rooster after all." And the captain disappeared into his toothy maw without a sound. Soon, the Duke would follow. | "There are men approaching. Men in armor." I say to mother and father. I do not tell them how many as I fear for them.
They pause and exchange a glance over the modest supper we had been sharing. There wasn't much for us to eat and nearly all was that which I'd brought home from hunting and scavenging. Though I helped in the fields, the Gods this year had spurned us and not provided enough water for our crops. Father has said many times that I was strong for my age, but no amount of strength could bring water from the skies.
"That will be the soldiers collecting tax and tribute for the Duke." my father says. He and mother stand then father moves the table to the side. He pulls aside the deerskin and grasps the handle to the door of the root cellar. "Joseph. You must hide in the cellar and remain quiet until the soldiers have left."
"But I can..." I start to protest but mother gently places her hands on either side of my face. I meet her eyes.
"Worry not for us my sweet boy. Now do as your father says." She guides me down into the cellar. As she peers down at me, I can see the love she holds for me in her eyes. "Stay hidden" whispers my mother as she silently closes the trapdoor to the cellar. There's a brief rain of dust that falls into my eyes then the gentle brush of the hide across the floor as she covers the door with the deerskin.
I smile from the memory of her calling me "my sweet boy." Though I am not of her body, nor the son of my father, I am still theirs. My eyes begin to well with tears. It would be easy to claim it was from the dust, but the truth is that it is from love.
I move deeper into the darkness until I can feel the press of metal against my back. It always brings me comfort. Harder than an ax or blade, the shape behind me feels warm when I touch it. Mother and father tell me I hatched from it like a bird from an egg. I love their little joke and the wild tale of how they found me never fails to make me smile.
I often sneak down here just to be near my "egg". At times, It almost seems to speak to me. I hear whispers in my mind. It tells me stories of another land. Other parents. It calls me...
My concentration comes back into focus as the soldiers ride up and mother and father step outside to meet them. I know they would disapprove, but I peek anyway and watch them.
"Johan, Marta." the deep voice intones. "Where is your boy? Where's Joseph?"
"Luther." my father nods at the speaker as a way of greeting. "Our boy is away fishing. He set out four days ago for Lake Polis. We need the meat. The lack of rain..."
"Brainic, check the cabin!" Luther says, cutting my father off. "I can already hear the excuses growing on your tongue. You three, around the outside."
I hear the clangs of metal and rustle of leather as the soldiers dismount. The one called Brainic enters the cabin. I can hear his footfalls as he moves about. The others circle around the back.
"It's curious that you say he left for Lake Polis four days ago. I heard from someone... a bit more friendly to the Duke... that Joseph was seen in the market just this morning."
Oh no, my heart skips a beat. I'd tried to disguise myself. I hadn't told my mother and father I was selling wood in the market. They worry about me so.
"Odd thing, he was selling from a cart but there was no horse. Did you sell your horse or did you all eat it?"
The remaining soldiers laugh.
"Maybe you hitched the cart to Joseph and he pulled it to market." More laughter.
"Three plates." Brainic says as he exits our cabin. "Kid probably bolted."
"No matter. We'll find him." Luther replies slowly. The other three soldiers return and report to him they found nothing of interest.
I note that they have taken up positions around mother and father.
"Now, you started to tell a tale about lack of rain. I presume that would have led to an excuse about why there's no tribute for your protector and provider, The Duke. I do not care to hear another word from you Johan." Luther nods to the soldiers and they grab father. Mother screams and moves toward him but she is quickly and easily subdued by the soldiers.
No! I freeze in fear for them. They have told me never to fight. Never to let myself get angry. I close my eyes and cover my ears with my hands. It is of no use. Still, I can see and hear.
Hands on my father's head and face. Forceful. I hear him try to shout. The flash of a knife. A horrible gurgling and choking gasp. The soldier steps away, smiling. My father is released and he falls to his knees. Blood flowing freely from his throat. Mother is let go and she rushes to him, shouting his name.
I watch all this but my mind refuses to accept it.
My mother looks up and screams at them, "You vile, evil..."
Her words are clipped as the sword pierces the back of her neck. It drives through and I watch the point erupt from the front of her throat. Her eyes go wide with pain and fear. Time slows for me.
They made me promise I would be careful around others. They thought they knew my strength. Sometimes, they would speak in hushed tones about whether I was a demon or an angel. I never showed them what else I could do.
I erupt from the cellar, through the deerskin and table, shattering the roof of our cabin as I rise into the air then drop down among them.
There's a brief moment of confusion and surprise from the soldiers. Brief, but not brief enough.
I move.
I grasp the hand holding the sword that is still in my mother. I squeeze and crush the meat and bone so tight that it severs. His agonized scream almost reaches his lips before I chop down on his head with my other hand. I watch as it penetrates his skull and brain. I don't stop until my hand and arm reach his intestines.
Mother drops to her side, the sword still piercing her body.
The next closest still holds the blade that sliced my father's throat. I punch through his armor and ribs until I feel his heart beating against my fingers. I rip it from his body.
One soldier manages to place his hand upon his sword before I reach him. I place my hands on either side of his head, driving my thumbs deep into his eyes before I yank my hands away from each other.
My eyes glow red and tight beams of fire lance out like a sword and I burn three soldiers in half.
I can hear mother and father breathing, barely. I stop and go to them. They both look at me. Their eyes, sad with regret, yet brimming with love for me. I feel blows upon me but they do no harm. I just kneel and watch my mother and father as life slowly leaves their eyes.
They go still, and silent.
For many moments, I looked at them. These beautiful people who took me in and made me their son. These generous farmers who did their best to teach and protect me.
I stand and turn. Their hands are ineffective in moving me. The swords they stab and slice against my flesh are useless and draw no blood. The arrows they fire penetrate fabric but not flesh. I wait and let them attempt their feeble attacks until they realize I cannot be harmed by them.
Now, there is fear in their eyes.
I rise off the ground and float the air before them. I recall the name my "egg" gave me and I speak.
"I am Kal-El, and I speak the truth when I say there will be justice for all those you and your kind have harmed."
My eyes glow and the screaming begins. | 2021-08-08T10:44:52 | 2021-08-08T10:24:27 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] A demon just devoured your soul. You are both very confused as to why you are still alive. | The demon's metallic claws flashed in the candlelight. In hindsight, the summoning had been a mistake. Julia regretted not actually reading the warnings in the book, but in her defense, there were eight and a half pages of warnings.
"You have made a grave mistake summoning one of the soulless!" the demon spat while ripping the warding spell to shreds. "A mistake that I shall demon-strate to you."
Julia grabbed a candlestick to defend herself. "Did you just make a pun?"
"Foolish human," the demon snarled at her. "I made two puns. You missed the one about the 'grave' mistake. The great demon Golbur shall show you true claws for concern," he said, swiping the candlestick out of her hands with a swipe of his arm.
The demon seemed to grow in size, causing Julia to stumble back against the wall. "Stop, I just want to talk."
"I'm not in the mood to talk," he said, talkatively. "I'm in the mood to eat a fillet of soul!" With that last pun, Golbur struck an ephemeral hand into Julia's chest, drawing it back out in a fist. He stopped short. "Wait, that's not right. Where's your soul?"
Julia collapsed to the ground. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. Are you done with the puns?"
"I only really know those four good ones. Usually you humans are dead by now."
"Your definition of good needs some work. But- as I was trying to say- I lost my soul, that's why I was trying to summon one of the soulless. I figured you would be some sort of expert on this sort of situation. You must see it all the time, right?"
Golbur settled down onto his haunches. "Oh, yeah. All the time. I see soulless humans all the time. Usually after I've eaten their soul and they are dead, of course."
As the demon settled down, Julia lost what fear remained. She sat down cross-legged facing him. "And humans always die when their soul gets taken?"
"The way I do it, yeah. Maybe you've got a little bit of soul left hanging about. Let me check."
Golbur suddenly plunged both hands into Julia's body, rooting around in all her crevices. It was a disturbing experience. She tried to push him away, but he was insubstantial and her hands went through him. "Stop that."
"Hmmm- Nothing. I was hoping for a snack, at least."
"And if you had found and taken a last bit of soul, that would have killed me? I thought you were trying to help me."
"No, I'm trying to get lunch. Did the book not explain the whole demon thing? There should have been warnings."
Julia glanced at the still-open book next to her and quickly closed it. "No, no warnings. Could you at least give me some idea of how to get a soul?"
"I only know of one source for them, obviously. Humans. You're lucky in that department. You're probably surrounded by tasty human souls all the time. I'd never go hungry with that sort of access. Just go and grab one. Take a soul-claw and rip it right out."
"I don't have soul-claws." Julia knew what she had to do. She should have thought of it sooner, but had been holding herself back. Having made the decision, she realized she didn't have any guilt or reservations about it. Perhaps there was one advantage to not having a soul. "If I got a couple humans for you, would you share one of the souls with me?"
Golbur's eyes brightened and he jumped off the floor onto his hooves. "A brilliant soul-ution. We'll work together. I hate working soul-itary."
"No puns," Julia said, picking up the book. "Come on, there's a school across the street." | Wherever I was, I knew I wasn’t home.
It looked a lot like home, but it wasn’t. The white walls looked like they had been hung in the wardrobes for far too long, now with off-yellow hue. The grain on the wood floor no longer looked like natural lines, but mechanical imperfections that set my skin crawling—and I could’ve sworn those were two large eyes, with irises of red.
When the eyes surged out with a deafening roar, I confirmed my suspicions. They were attached to fear itself, a shadowy pair of unfurling wings that took out all light. It swooped over me and I reeled, tumbling to the floor. Strange as it is, I was briefly glad that my hands and back still found purchase. My mouth opened, but a longing scream failed to let itself out of my throat.
“What a tasty, tasty soul,” the voice scraped the insides of my mind like a witch’s nails down an antique chalkboard. The thing wrapped itself back together—its wings folded back into nothing, and some light returned with it. There was a red-skinned being with towering horns almost the length of its taut, muscular body. It stood not on legs, but spires of hellfire that licked at its surroundings, seemingly not affecting its surroundings.
I squeaked. That was all that I could muster in the face of a demon—or perhaps, the scream was so terrified that it went back inside.
The demon whirled towards me, its eyes focusing on me once again.
“You,” it commanded.
I snapped rapidly to attention. My legs still refused to stop wobbling and stand, so it was all I could do to keep my back straight while seated.
The demon closed the distance between us in one large step.
“By the gods,” the demon muttered. “You are… you are alive!”
“Uh. Thanks?”
“That’s never happened to me before,” the demon continued to mumble, now rubbing its chin thoughtfully.
“Me neither,” I babbled.
“Quiet,” it said, and did a strange gesture with one hand. My mouth continued to open and close, though no further sound came out.
“Strange. Interesting,” it said, pacing around me. “Your soul is mine. And yet, here you are.”
My soul? As far as I’ve known, I’ve always had a soul. It was not a thought that often passed my mind, unlike some others that tended to lodge itself in my brain and leisurely run it ragged until the same came up. I tried rummaging inside for my soul, and honestly? I felt little difference in who I am, and who I was before I walked into this dire situation.
At wits’ end, I raised my hand politely.
The demon scoffed, and did another gesture, pulling apart his thumb and finger.
“Um, can I ask about my soul? What did you mean—”
My speaking privileges were quickly revoked, and my mouth went back to flapping wordlessly.
“Mortal,” it shook a large head. “You represent a curious case. I feel your soul filling up my insides, and yet you speak! You live! One wonders why you are in this state.”
“It’s all quite fascinating,” I said. “But please, I just want to… talk.”
The demon’s red eyes became even more red, and bulged out like two ill-fitting heads through a tight turtleneck.
“What in tarnation,” it said, each word boiling with venom.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation for all this,” I hastily said. “Look, I just want to get on with my life. Take my soul. Just take it. Let me live, please.”
“A question begets an answer,” it growled. “I must know what happened.”
It grabbed me by my shirt, and dragged me into its hot, stinky breath, backed up with a row of sharp teeth.
“The soulless cannot break through my spell. What is your secret? What have you done?”
“I like soul food!”
“Bullshit!”
“Soul music calms me down!”
“Drivel!”
“I ate my twin in utero!”
“Gibber—what?”
In an instant, I felt my feet touching the ground. The demon back way from me, slowly, slowly...
“I’m so sorry,” it said. “I’m so sorry.”
… and with whirling hands, it summoned a fiery portal, and jumped through it hastily.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-10-06T10:15:34 | 2021-10-06T09:22:08 | 1,250 | 218 |
[WP] You have spent the last few years learning and mastering morse code. You leave a small cafe at night and walk your way home. As you walk, it starts to rain. While the heavy rain starts to hit the ground, it sounds familiar to you. You realise the rain is telling you to run. | "From what?" she asked, as if the rain could answer you. She'd heard something, a pattern, maybe, but random, for sure. How could it not be? It had to be chance, or her mind playing tricks on her after what she could politely describe as a stressful day. It was a premier example of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon perhaps, she'd started with something that is new & now she was seeing it everywhere. If it wasn't that, then she was certain there had to be a logical explanation, something to do with the echoes on the street perhaps. She could accept anything other than the weather was talking to her.
But it got just kept tapping out the same message, over & over; **RUN!** **RUN! RUN!** As if an entire football stadium was chanting it in unison, over & over again, thousands of voices telling her to run!
She stepped out from under the awning, the rain now tapping the same pattern on her hood. She had to be making this up, this was her exhausted mind finally snapping from the strain. It had been a long time coming.
**RUN! RUN! RUN!** the rain kept saying as she held out her hand, feeling the pattern, clear as day, in her palm, as if it were being tapped out by someones finger. **RUN! RUN! RUN!** It was undeniable, and then it stopped.
Not raining, the rain kept falling, but the pattern was gone, and she couldn't help my laugh. She shook her head in disbelief that her mind had concocted something so bizarre. She'd never been a fanciful person, she was quite grounded, always had been. She'd never thought the world revolved around her, she was always the quiet one, always shying away from the limelight. Awkward & unassuming. If the rain was ever going to warn anyone, it wouldn't be her.
As she started off down the street, she could feel the ground shudder as a booming thunder filled her ears to the point that she wondered if she'd ever hear again. But there had been no flash of lightening, not that she'd noticed anyway, and she'd have noticed, surely. Her heart pounded in her chest, like she'd never felt before.
And then, on her hand, she felt the rain again, a pattern, one she could't dismiss.
**JANE, RUN!**
\---
**Not my finest work, but I set myself a deadline of the end of my shift, and as always, everyone decided they need things doing, so surprised I got it finished. Hope you enjoy!** | You have spent the last few years learning and mastering morse code. You leave a small cafe at night and walk your way home. As you walk, it starts to rain. While the heavy rain starts to hit the ground, it sounds familiar to you. You realise the rain is telling you to run.
You feel a sense of dread wash over you, a chill runs down your spine almost paralyzing you with fear. “What’s happening?” You mutter under your breath and then you see it. It’s him, the reaper of souls and his flaming Hell hound. The rain intensifies, you notice the familiar rhythm of “Run! Run! Run!” Tapped out as the rain hits the pavement. You start running, with every step the dark presence grows stronger. “Faster.” You hear the rain tap out, “Run faster.”
You glance back at the, you see the reaper appear in every shadowy place. His Hellhound tries to step out from under the awning and you hear the sizzle of the water hitting his flaming skin. It’s to late. He hellhound has realized that the rain won’t hurt him. The beast leaps out with all its might and barely misses you with his claws, but you feel the singed hair on the back of your neck from his flailing breath. You run and keep running. You hear the rain tap out, “head to the bridge.” You blindly comply. You turn left and head to the river. And not far away you see it. And old bridge that’s about to crumble. But between it and you is the beast… his eyes are red, fire jumping from its snout as it snarls. Behind you the reaper stands waiting, unmoving. You hear a faint low haunting chuckle come from under his cloak. The rain taps out, “run to the bridge.” You give it all the strength you have left. Your muscles scream as you sprint straight for the hell beast, and it glances you with its claw as you dodge it. A few more steps and your on the bridge.
Lightning flashes and the. Thunderous roar of the thunder causes you to stop midway through the bridge. You turn around. The hound is pacing back and forth at the foot of the bridge. It takes a step onto the iron rung and jumps back in pain, the fire leaping from his snout more intensely. You breath a sigh of relief, but it’s to late. You turn and see him. You can just make out his bony smile and the fire burning in his eyes. You hear the screams of 1,000 souls as he opens his mouth and laughs the same haunting laugh. As you collapse to the ground, he brings his scythe down… and the world go black.
The rain pitifully taps out, “I’m sorry. I tried to save you, but I was to late.” Lightning strikes the old bridge and it’s breaks apart. The lifeless corpse falls down into the black waters of the rushing river below. Will anyone notice, will the person be missed? In the dark corner of the cafe, a faint soul languishing chuckle fades off into the darkness. He has done his job, and his hound got to have a little fun too. | 2021-10-20T09:28:56 | 2021-10-20T07:34:12 | 30 | 19 |
[WP] Knights covered head to toe in metallic armour, fortresses made to resist sieges, scarce population centers, Who would've guessed that the middle ages would be so prepared to survive a zombie outbreak. | "You can't be serious," Hiro said to his friend.
"I know, I know! But, but, I checked, I double-checked, I triple-checked! I hired two different analysts to date the paper; it's 11th-century parchment, no doubt. I hired a language expert and the language is appropriate for the period. There're cross-references to other manuscripts - look, Hiro, I'm telling you, this thing is *legit*," Samuel exclaimed, practically hopping with excitement.
"Look, if this is real - and I'm not saying I believe it - you do understand what this would mean, right? Not just for academia, but for medicine, science, socio- fuck, *what wouldn't it affect?*" Zeke said and leaned back in his chair heavily.
The two men stared at the carefully preserved parchment silently.
"I mean..." Hiro started hesitantly, "this is an actual, honest-to-God record of a zombie outbreak in the 11th-century! This is..." he started but could not find the words to finish.
Without prompt, Samuel picked up the paper and started carefully translating.
"Look, look," he said and cleared his throat.
'*Fallow month, 13th day*
*The sickness has spread to Wilderburg. My cousin says the locals burned their own village down to contain it and left for Haddenmoor for refuge. All that's left are burned husks of houses and the demons. I still can't bring myself to believe it - an affront to God in Heaven. Some evil curse that makes the dead rise and hunger for flesh - living, human flesh. It's like a story told to unruly younglings.*
*We are lucky Lord Barr took action so quickly. He gathered all capable menfolk and even some womenfolk to fight the demons off. It is a small comfort that the beasts are mindless and fall easily to our spears, clubs, and pitchforks. We've even been joined by a small mercenary company from Hamburg who have offered their services for free - they're pious men doing their duty to the Lord. Their mail and swords are excellent tools, though the thick padded armor provided by Lord Barr works well enough.*
*We patrol the fields for survivors in the day and retreat to the Lord's Keep at night - it is too dangerous then. We can hear them clawing at the stone, grunting, screeching, but all that's left in the morning are bloody smears and fingernails embedded in the cracks. The keep is stocked to survive a half-year siege and we should survive until we get news from the physicians and alchemists in Berlin as to what could cause this malaise - perhaps even cure those who have been bitten. So far... we've been unable to help those unfortunate souls.*
*I am fortunate that the Lord is a man of faith and does not ask me to take up arms - I understand that the demons are no longer human, but as a priest, I can't bring myself to slaughter my once flock. I can, however, chronicle the events for future generations as I am the only one - save the Baron - who controls the art of writing.*
*God will deliver us from this evil, for we follow in His steps and bask in His light.'*
Samuel finished reading out the paper with a heavy breath.
"And that's just one page. There's a whole *annal* here," he said excitedly.
Hiro vacantly stared into thin air and shook his head in disbelief.
"Zombies in medieval Germany," he said and looked at his friend.
"Now *that's* a movie right there," he chuckled.
​
*\[Small note - I don't generally like to go heavy on religious speech, but this being medieval Germany, it only makes sense\]* | Most people thought the zombie apocalypse would be fight in the US, many people had guns at home and some of them had been seeing that kind of films during years. We were mostly correct, the fight started there, but guns are noisy and artificial-virus-infected-people are really good at finding humans by sound… Therefore I was really lucky because I was in vacation in Europe, precisely in a convention/role game about middle age.
No one wants another story about how it started in this or that city, how people turned into monster or how the different governs chose variated and stupid decisions about the pandemic, so I will tell you how the Historical Europeans Martial Arts (HEMA) “freaks” who were there resisted more than a year without breaking a sweat when the world was in flames.
The place for the convention was far (on foot) of any kind of urban settlement so the news arrived at our phones before the zombies did, passed the initial skepticism, a little group of volunteers who had full plate armor went to the nearest city meanwhile the rest of us headed into a near castle. There, with the information contrasted and plenty of food scavenged from that group of expeditionaries, we made clear the occupations of everyone there: From butchers to smiths to guards… like a little comeback to the Middle Ages only lacking nobility and church. Our society was rapidly shown as autosufficient and most people were pleased to be doing something close to that they did in the conventions, even with the menace of zombies seemed like a prolongation of the vacation.
I hate to admit it, but that ideal horizontal society ended in the trashcan after the first week sieged by zombies. No normal human would like to go and fight those things even in full armor and with weapons precisely chose to incapacitate or dismember, however it has to be done, and everyone would have to do it eventually. I was one of the first to go to defend the main gate, not due to courage nor charity towards others, I wanted to fight and/or die as fast as possible instead of await in a much smaller place and fight the corpses of friends with armor… But we didn’t fall, not in the first wave, not in the second, not in the third, but in the fifth almost none of the original defenders was able to lift their weapons.
“Is that how you want to die?!” shouted Joan “Will you wait us to die so you die tomorrow? Fuck, come here and break skull if you have some blood running in your vein” As soon as he said that, another strike tried to break the gate. The bravado to incourage people frighten them and attracted more zombies, instead of break me down as others I followed this Spaniard with a woman called Sofie.
“FINE! If you don’t help, you are no more useful than those monsters and I will show you the same mercy” he quickly went into the tents and buildings were most people were hiding so he hadn’t to shout to be hear, and in a more suave voice said “the only difference is that they don’t feel pain… and I will make sure that everyone of you fucker suffer a lot”
The silence that came after that was sharper than any sword, and only broken by an old man
“Bah, younglings should resist a little longer and complain somewhe” never ended the sentence, two inches of steel in his throat avoided it. Before Joan pulled the sword from that corpse a couple raised to stop that ‘lunatic’, but my axe and Sofie’s sword were drawn and bathed in blood defending our new chief.
Negotiations were short after that: new turns for scouts, pikemen, archers and much other military occupations were made. The incursions of zombies became another piece of our daily schedule right next to getting rid of the corpses. After a month or so, it was more dangerous speak idly of Joan inside than going outside.
I won’t forget what I did inside those walls nor I will be forgiven, even if it was to preserve the order. Without any signal of exterior resistance we decided that humanity had to be preserved even if we lose ours own. | 2022-02-21T16:20:35 | 2022-02-21T13:52:13 | 152 | 31 |
[WP] In what seems like a cruel prank by a bored God, people started developing powers based on their worst fears. people afraid of heights got the gift of flight. arachnophobia? get the power of spiders. phasmophobia? necromancy/ability to speak with the dead. Your power is... hard to explain... | I walked through the back allies, the worst ones in town, to get home from work. They were dirty, and stunk of things best ignored. If you could. But it didn't really bother me. My power wasn't flashy, but it worked when I needed it.
Four young men and two women came out from various hiding spots as I passed an intersection of six different allies. It had a fairly large open space, as this area wasn't a planned layout - the joke was this city was planned by wandering cows, but it was probably just how the swamp was filled in. One woman was sparking, seemingly not fully in control of her power, but she didn't seem bothered by it. She was either good at hiding her fear, or the thought of inflicting it on others was more enticing than the terror. The rest seemingly had better control, but I knew they wouldn't ambush someone else in this town where all the powers got sent unless at least a few were high tier.
Yeah, all the people who get powers get exiled. It seems everyone fears the different, I guess.
The scrawniest of the lot got in my face as the rest surrounded me. Given how fear caused powers, I figure he must have the strongest one. Bullied as a kid? Fairly common story. I once encountered someone with swirly based powers. I snorted, thinking of what manifestation wedgie based powers would take. He did not like THAT, certainly.
"If you give us all your money and cards, and your PIN, we'll at least let you live."
I sighed. Third time this month. I had hoped word had gotten out that bullying others had consequence's now. Well, maybe it had and they thought they were too strong to have problems. That kind of thinking has always backfired on people. The last place I trolled for criminals didn't take this much effort. It's hard being a 'superhero' in a town of powered villians.
"No. Go away. This is your only warning."
The group laughed. The scrawny ringleader leaned into my face and shoved his finger into my chest, probably emulating a past abuser. "Do you have a death wish or something, little girl?"
It's a bit cliché, but at five foot even, I do have a bit of a Napoleon complex. I triggered my power.
The woman who had been sparking suddenly screamed and started twitching. The other woman's clothes caught on fire, and she joined the noise, rolling on the ground ineffectively, her own power reigniting her as she extinguished the flames. The boy in front of me inflated - no, that's not quite right. His muscles started to grow, as he gained definition and a six pack that showed when his shirt ripped. He glanced down, startled, and then his eyes widened as his muscles went from growing impressive to growing out of control, his skin tearing from the uncontrolled growth. He backed away in terror. Another was surrounded in a pillar of water - fear of drowning, most likely. Another gained facepaint, white, and his clothes turned black.
He looked like he was screaming. No noise came from his mouth, however. A *fear of mimes? Really? How did THAT happen?* A red glow came from below one of the others, and blackened hands reached from cracks forming in the ground and started dragging him to, presumably, his own personal hell. The last one just had his clothes vanish. Another common one... But that probably meant a beating wasn't the only thing on the menu for them. He tried covering himself, and suddenly his hands were cuffed behind him, his own power forcing his exposure to the elements and prying eyes.
"How?..." He asked, trying to move behind a dumpster for cover. As his feet sunk into the ground, stopping him from moving, I started walking again. At least this group was unlikely to try anything ever again. None of them would be permanently harmed. That's not how my power worked. That wouldn't be cruel enough for it.
My dad was a history scholar, you see. He wrote several biographies of US presidents. And, naturally, I read them. I always took one speech to heart - it helped me get over my fear of my bullies, my terror at the prospect of losing my mom after my dad died - shortly after the powers were first granted to adults and none of them had control - and even the small, day to day fears a person has. Things could be a challenge, of course. But FDR had it right. There's only one thing to fear, isn't there? | I can still remember that night, many years ago. My mother and father, sitting behind me on the couch. Me and my sister, sitting on the floor. The dark glow of the TV kept the living room dark and foreboding, matched by the menace and malice onscreen.
My parents had said that the director of this film was a genius. That he had apparently filmed another movie years prior, about a boy who could speak with ghosts, and another about an invincible man who could only die by drowning. And while my parents were entranced by his newest film’s religious and family messaging, the only thing I could focus on was the monsters.
Horrible. Wrong. Watching.
Just the shape, just the outline of the beings was enough to make me sweat. Every night after seeing the film, my eyes stayed trained on the rooftops, down dark alleys, ready to spot the demons in the dark. I was sure that they were out there, waiting for me, watching me just as they had watched the preacher man’s family.
My parents told me they weren’t real. They only existed in movies.
Two decades later, the General standing behind me said the opposite.
“Son, I don’t give a damn about your hang-ups. It’s only you. We’ve asked Mightyman, the Avenging Witch, and even the Saturnian, and nobody else can do this. Their minds are too alien even for our local extraterrestrial heroes.”
“That’s what I’m saying…” But even to me, my protestations fall flat. He’s right. I am the only one who can do this.
Across from me and the General, separated from us by a thick pane of glass, sat the being. It stared back at me, only at me, ignoring the General behind me as if he wasn’t there.
Why were it’s eyes so big…?
I close my eyes. I wish more than anything that someone like Mightyman was in my place. Someone with bravery, someone else who could face thing on its own level.
But the being never answered Mightyman. It never answered the alien Saturnian. It never answered anybody.
Not verbally.
But the noise is always there.
I had started noticing the noise when I was 16 years old, same age as anybody else getting their powers for the first time. Only unlike some lucky heroes, whose powers sometimes helped them overcome their fears, mine only brought my fears home.
Hellseesyoudeepnessdarknessallweaskallatrestwithfinallity
The noise comes all at once. It’s an hour-long rumination formed in an instant, a hateful dissertation and cruel thesis slammed into my head with the roughness and force of a car crash, all with the wonderful aftertaste of tinnitus.
Wehaveseenintothedeadmultiversesvoidoflifevoidofbeingallcoldanddeadnorulestobringlifeintoexistance
Xenopathy. Not flight, not superstrength, not teleportation, not shapeshifting or even the ability to speak to animals. Xenopathy.
The noise started when I was 16. That was when I “heard” them for the first time. Perhaps “heard” is the wrong word, but it’s the closest thing our minds have to the experience. It was deafening. The sounds of trillions of minds, engaged with one another on a galactic scale.
For weeks I struggled, feeling like I’d lost my mind. There was no reference to make sense of the thoughts, no understanding of what was happening to me. All I had was flashes of thoughts too great and powerful for me to understand.
And in my panic, I reached back out to the noise. It was a flailing, desperate plea for silence.
A plea horrifyingly answered.
The noise vanished, all at once. A trillion voices, all communicating with one another, all in sync with one another. A hivemind of unified brains, all in contact with one another. One I had unknowingly and suddenly breached.
And in that moment, as the noise went silent, I felt a trillion pairs of black almond eyes fixed on me through space and time.
The being sat, unperturbed. It stared back at me from the other side of the glass. Those long arms and legs, still. Its pale skin, waiting. The horrible almond-shaped eyes, watching.
Watching me.
Since that day, they had always watched me. From the rooftops. From the alleys.
From beside my bed.
Lanky, stalking shadows in the dead of night. Come from all across the universe.
Toliveistogoagainsttherulesofallmultiversesandspitesthecoldtruelogicofunchangingdeathwhichisourtrueendyourpeopleevadeoursightnolonger
The General hoped that I could communicate with the beings. That I could be an ambassador for the Human race where others could not.
Lifeisanabominationmeanttobeendedandthattimecomessoon
Some days, I wish it were all just noise. | 2022-05-14T23:12:34 | 2022-05-14T21:01:09 | 39 | 22 |
[WP] On Mars we found the first of four jamming stations scattered across the system. Once the final one was deactivated, thousands of signals came through. The Fermi paradox was wrong, and someone, or something, hid it from us | "The last device has been deactivated" I said, rising from my crouched position beside the alien communications jammer. "Let's get out of here."
Steve, the pilot for our small landing craft, gave me a thumbs up from the cockpit. "Good work. Get back in here so we can get back to the ship."
I began my slow, two legged hopping motion across the Plutonian surface. It amused me that ever since this method of low gravity travel had been used on the first moon missions, Humans had been hopping along on any planet smaller than our own. Every magnificent scientific achievement made on an alien world, every new 'small step' made, was a silly galloping hop.
Steve waved from the cockpit, more enthusiastically than the last gesture had been. I turned my coms array back on. "What? I'll be there in 20 seconds."
"LISTEN TO THE INCOMING CHANNEL!" Steve shouted. "WE'RE MAKING FIRST CONTACT!"
I froze in place, which on a low gravity planet meant I drifted forwards still. "What?" I asked, dazed from the magnitude of the statement.
"WE'RE GETTING SIGNALS!" Steve shouted again.
I began hopping with renewed strength, leaping into the open airlock and slamming the button closed. As the air began to fill the small chamber, noise once again had a media to transfer through, and I could hear the sounds coming from the ship's internal speakers.
"Come on, faster!" I encouraged the airlock, trying to motivate the device to complete its cycle. Finally, the small indicator blinked green, signaling that it was now safe to enter.
I ripped off my helmet and ran to the cockpit, the ship's internal gravity forcing me to use my legs as intended. I opened the door and collapsed into the co-pilot's seat.
"What is the mes-"
"LISTEN!" Steve interrupted, thrusting a headset into my hands. With trembling arms, I put on the device, and listened.
"We've been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty", a strange voice droned, emotionless.
/r/SlightlyColdStories for more | When the signals came, they were unlike anything we had ever heard. They resounded across the globe like waves of terror. Humans and Animals of every size, shape and constitution were dizzied with confusion. They shrieked and puked and cowered away.
Those calls woke a slumbering machine within the earth. Vantablack obelisks which rose from beneath the mantle of the world. There were seven that we had found, one on each continent. They were connected for miles by pulses of green and yellow electricity. If you stared for too long your skin would itch and your eyes would weep.
Yet all we could do was stare. We were so enraptured in those lights as they blanketed the sky a lime shade. As we scratched and wept, all the world came to a halt. Our technology died around us. Planes fell from the sky, machines killed men in their death throes, factories ceased and the world sank into darkness. As it did, the hope of mankind, that we had nurtured through the eons had shriveled and died too.
We surmised what we could of the situation. The stations were there to protect us. A second, more drastic measure to conceal us was deployed when we destroyed them.
I'm sure everyone in the world had their own idea of what transpired, and what was behind it. We didn't have time to think, though. We would rebuild, for it seemed Human nature to spark that flame of hope even in the coldest of nights.
Yet as we toiled there were those who spoke whispers with the obelisks. Lunatics that had not been culled in the initial chaos. They wanted not of the rebirth our leaders had called for. They wanted only an end to the suffering.
When the final obelisk emerged from the pacific and shot a beam out to the sky, I knew they had won. When we saw in the night the shape of the moon twist and contort into a mess of machine limbs I knew our days were numbered.
I could not move in the fear. I had never felt so paralyzed, so incapable even of thought. I could not make sense of what I saw. My eyes could only drink in the scenes before me, unable to taste of them.
Others ran and screamed and cowered, as before. They were all soon vaporized, as if they had drawn attention. They burst into mists of blood that stained my face and soaked my clothes. I could see little else through the crimson rain but the pulses of light that flashed on the horizon.
I knew some of us would survive; those who had whispered to the stones.
But what world would they inherit? What would- | 2022-06-03T12:45:54 | 2022-06-03T11:30:11 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] - All people who bear the same name draw from the same well of power, and whenever someone dies, their power is equally distributed among the remaining individuals | Part I
". . . What? That can't be true . . ."
I re-read the article, checked the publisher, and even researched the company that approved this. They were all legitimate. The publisher was a renowned scientist, the company was known for their discoveries that helped humanity push ahead farther than we could've possibly dreamed of . . . and they're all saying . . .
". . . We have superpowers?!"
*Alright. This might seem unclear, so let me backstep a bit here. I stumbled across an article about how everyone who shares the same name draws "from the same well of power." Whenever someone dies, the power basically 'updates' and redistributes itself to the remaining people. It doesn't specify what kind of power, however . . . Or, I mean, it might. I haven't finished reading it since I'm explaining all of this to you right now.*
*Anyway, that means the rarer your name is, the more powerful you are . . . and all of this information is publicized now, so everyone must be thinking the same question as I am.*
***How powerful am I?***
"*Huu*, okay, okay. Got to call Mom."
I exit the news app and go to contacts. When I call her, she picks up immediately.
*\[\[ Hello? \]\]*
"Hey, Mom."
*\[\[ Oh! Hello, honey. How are you doing? \]\]*
"I'm . . . trying to do better. Can I ask you a quick question?"
*\[\[ Oh, okay. Is something wrong? \]\]*
"N-no, Mom, nothing serious. Uhm, I was just wondering . . . Where did you get my name from?"
*\[\[ Oh. We originally wanted to combine your father's and my names. It would've been Olivianne, but then we remembered you were male, which wouldn't make much sense. So we decided to put them the other way around, and we got Anniver. To us, it seemed decently unisex, so we chose that one. \]\]*
*This is possibly the best outcome. Names made when combining two other names tend to be less common . . . except for the ones that* ***are*** *common, but whatever.*
"Thanks, Mom! I promise I'll plan a family gathering soon, okay?"
*\[\[ Heh, alright. See you then, honey. Take care! \]\]*
"Bye."
I was getting high hopes. This was a good start! Name Origin - Combination of Parents'. Now I just had to find out how common this name is. So, I went online and searched for my name. Fortunately, there were no people with my name who did anything illegal. As a matter of fact,. **no one** came up. I found websites that were supposedly going to give me the definition of 'Anniver,' but really, they were asking *me* to provide them with the definition!
"None of the websites have even heard of my name before. At least this one gives me a ranking . . . Less than a *hundred* people have my name?! W-what about ancestry? *23 PEOPLE HAD MY NAM-* Oh, wait, that's with people having Anniver as a surname, my bad."
I kept searching and searching, but nothing showed of anyone else who shared my name.
*So, technically, I should be the most powerful person ever, right? I imagine that's what you're thinking . . . But I still didn't feel any different. Well, I wouldn't feel different since, according to the research, I would have always had this power since the moment I was given my name. How do I find out what kind of power I have? If this were an anime, I would have, like, a really strong aura around me at all times, right?*
I go back to the article and finish reading it. As I feared, he never explained what kind of power he was talking about. This is what most would call "The Conflict." Since he never mentioned it in his article, there was only one thing I could do.
". . . I need to contact that scientist." | The High Council sat at the large, round table placed in the center of the non-descript warehouse space somewhere in the American Midwest. It's leader smiled at the others and opened a large binder, its pages filled with the names and addresses of the organization's members. She scanned the list and after finding the right entry, she took out a pencil and erased the name and the accompanying information.
Immediately after the name was erased, a rush of air filled the space and the High Council collectively took a deep breath, absorbing the air into their lungs. They smiled with delight at the sensation of the raw, malicious power that coursed through their bodies.
"Just the one today?" one of the members asked.
"Yes," the leader said, closing the binder. "Sadly, just the one. We shall do with our new power what we must."
"It's getting difficult out there," another member lamented. "All these cameras everywhere; people white-knighting every retail employee they see. We need more power."
"You know the Code. We cannot take the power from one of our own. It must be given freely upon her death."
"It's been this way for decades," a member chimed in. "Social media has just made it harder for us to lay low."
"Indeed, it has." The leader sat back in her chair and surveyed the members. "The only other way for us to become stronger is to increase our numbers."
"Ha!" a member cried. "Impossible! All the negative press out there? Our name has become a running joke; there's even a diner named after us, mocking our creed and way of life! And you think we can just convince new mothers to enroll their daughters in our organization?"
"It could work," another member said. "Most people don't know of our powers - our gift. Maybe we need some sort of marketing strategy."
"It would take time," said the leader. "Time we don't have. Each of us here is already advanced in age. It won't be long before each of us are erased from the records. Sure, the rest of us will get stronger, and the day may come when the last of us possesses all the power of our people. But what then? We die off forever? Our name relegated to the history books, like Blanche, Ethel, and Betty? We need new blood!"
The High Council sat silent, unsure of what to say next. They knew the leader was right and that the future she spoke of was untenable. They were frightened that they might just be the last of their kind. The thought sent chills down what remained of their spines.
"I got it!" a member finally cried out. "I know what we need to do!"
The rest of the women leaned forward in their seats, eager to hear a solution.
"The femcels!"
"The who?" the leader asked.
"They're like the incels, but female."
"What's your point?"
"They already possess Rage. No other group out there has more anger! If we can merge their power with our own - Entitlement - we might have a chance."
"What do you propose we do?"
"Our friend here is right: we do need a marketing strategy. And I think I know the perfect community we can infiltrate."
The High Council sat with bated breath.
"Reddit."
"Of course!" the leader squealed. "The Reddit femcels!"
"Exactly! We all join r/FemaleDatingStrategy and commisserate with their lonely hearts. We pretend we're lonely too - although there are no shortage of men willing to date and marry us - and when the time is right...we strike!"
"And how do we strike?"
"We convince the femcels to change their names. Think of it: with their new names, they'll finally find a man who will be with them, and once they share our name we'll assimilate their Rage with our Entitlement! We'll be unstoppable!"
The leader smiled. "What an unusual alliance, indeed! I think you might be onto something. What says the High Council? Do we unite the femcels with the Karens?"
The High Council enthusiastically raised their hands in unison.
"It is done then. Ladies...we take to Reddit!" | 2022-10-19T08:37:31 | 2022-10-19T07:45:39 | 76 | 11 |
[WP] You are a student with the least amount of magic potential ever recorded at the Academy and it's the day of the familiar summoning test. A misplaced rune or word results in an arch demon/ess becoming bound as your familiar. | "Ms. Archambault, you're next. Please step onto the dais and begin the ritual."
I sighed as I got out of my seat. As I made my way to the front, I heard snickers and whispers through the crowd. The usual chorus of "Phoebe the Failure" and other such monikers of similar creativity. It's not like I didn't deserve it, what with me being a freak of nature.
I stepped up and began tracing the runes for the ritual. Despite my resignation to the epic failure that was bound to happen, I still studied to make sure my summoning circle was absolutely perfect. If I was gonna get a familiar about as impressive as a quadriplegic hamster, at the very least I wanted a good grade for the process. I forced myself not to flip off the crowd as I finished the circle and stood up.
The runes began to glow red as a humming noise emanated from the circle. Suddenly, all of the windows were covered over in darkness as a cold wind blew down the door to the lecture hall. From the glowing circle, a black cloud emerged and zoomed around the ceiling before touching back down in front of me. As the smoke dissipated, I gasped at the figure that was revealed.
A jaw-droppingly gorgeous demon had appeared. She had at least two extra feet on me, beautiful curved horns, a long tail with a pointed tip, and downright hypnotically purple eyes. Her dress was decorated with various symbols and gold lining, of a kind I had recognized--I had accidentally summoned an archdemoness.
I fell to my knees and bowed as I frantically said, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! I--I didn't mean to summon you, I was just trying to summon a familiar, but I think I--"
The demoness laughed as she pulled me off of my feet and into her arms. "Oh my, you are simply too precious. But promise your lovely Lilith something from here on out, darling Phoebe: no more apologizing for such innocuous mistakes. I'll not allow my fiancee to think so little of herself."
I was almost so entranced by the demoness'...well, everything, that I almost missed what she just said. "Fiancee?! What do you...mean..." I trailed off when I looked at my summoning circle. The rune for 'partnership' had one too many lines, turning it into the rune for 'relationship'.
I groaned. "Phoebe, you idiot. You had to do one thing, and now there's a demoness stuck with the weakest mage in history--"
Lilith pressed her finger to my lips as she said to me, "Dearest, what did I just say? You deserve so much better than that kind of talk. I am here because I *chose* to be here. I saw the richness of your soul and loved what I saw. And I will tell it to you every day until you believe me."
Professor Ulta cleared their throat and said, "I don't mean to interrupt this very heartwarming moment, but I'm just curious as to how Ms. Archambault achieved such a feat. By all accounts, she has the lowest recorded magic potential in school history." Professor Ulta then pressed an A+ into my hand. "Oh, and you pass, obviously."
Lilith turned her nose up at him. "Well of course you'd think that. You never thought to test her by the standards of something other than a human." | My hands shook with pain as fire poured out of my fingers. The ball of fire growing between them burned my palms as it grew. I kept it as long as I could without screaming, then pushed forward and the fireball shot out at the wooden target. My aim was off, but I still clipped the dummys shoulder. My instructor looked at the burns on my hand, then at the burns on the target.
"You forgot to summon a heat shield first. But you hit the target, so you still pass. Barely."
"Sorry sir, and thank you." Truth was, I didn't forget the shield. I just wasn't able to do both at the same time.
"Heal your hands, and then lets go to the last test." I closed my eyes and concentrated, and fresh pain shot through my hands as I changed the color of the black skin to a more normal color. It wasn't healing, but it was easier to do and looked like I had healed my hands. My instructor turned to me and put a hand on my shoulder.
"Remember, try to summon something basic. I know that you probably want something like a dragon or a griffon, but only the most powerful sorcerers can summon those. I've seen how hard you've struggled to make it this far, and I've seen far more powerful sorcerers than you have to repeat this year because of their own hubris. Try something simple, like a crow or a rat." I nodded at her, already knowing what I was going to summon.
The room we entered was cavernous. Inset in the middle was a circle with a large hole in the middle, with light pouring out of it. Around the edge of the room was tables almost hidden under arches. Covering these tables was a variety of furs, feathers and scales. People in master robes wandered around lazily, seeming bored with the entire thing. I walked past the tables slowly, looking for a fur that matches what was in my pocket. After a while I found it, some dark brown fur from some rodent that looked like dog fur from a distance. My mentor nodded with approval when she saw what I picked.
I grabbed the fur, and walked to the magic tear in the middle of the room. A large stone block fell in front of the door, startling me and hurting my ears. I put my hands in my pocket, and quickly swapped out the furs. Chanting emerged from my throat, and my hands started to burn again as magic flowed from them to the tear in front of me. I flicked my dogs fur into the hole, and the pain doubled. I focused hard on saying the words. *For Lucy,* I thought to myself. *Its the only reason you subjected yourself to this hell.*
The light turned from white to red, and my entire body started to hurt, aching from deep inside my bones. I closed my eyes, and focused on not passing out as I continued to pass the rest of my magic into the ritual. Screaming started, and I continued thinking they were mine. I felt the last of the magic leave me, and I collapsed onto the floor. I felt warmth as my familiar came close to me. Strange, the burning in my hands had stopped, yet the screaming remained. I opened my eyes, expecting to see my beloved beagle next to me. Instead, I saw a being with red blistered skin, and a dark crown between horns on his head.
I jumped to my feet, looking around for an escape. Some of the Sorcerers were trying to move the stone blocking the exit, and others were casting spells at the demon in front of me, their fireballs bouncing off his blistered skin. My mentor was cowering under a table, eyes wide in shock at what I had just summoned. I ran towards her, with the demon gliding effortlessly beside me. She started to stutter, before finally finding her voice.
"Wha- how in the hell did you summon that?"
​
Edit: part 2 in the comments. | 2022-11-12T14:11:55 | 2022-11-12T12:14:04 | 701 | 518 |
[WP] "Well, it just doesn't seem...ethical." Your friend slowly says to you. "Ethical?" You yell back at him. "Who cares about morals when I have created a masterpiece! A book that learns what the reader likes and changes its script accordingly. Imagine that, the perfect book!" | At first, everything was perfect. I was selling books like crazy and people couldn’t get enough of my creation. But then strange things started happening. People were beginning to experience frightening things after reading the book. They reported hearing voices, feeling watched, having odd dreams and other unsettling experiences.
Naturally, I was curious, so I decided to investigate. I snuck into some of the readers’ houses and there I saw what the book was truly doing. Some of the readers had become obsessed with the book, to the point where they could no longer think of anything else. Others had developed a newfound ability to cast spells, while yet others had been driven to the brink of madness by its eerie and unpredictable power.
Then it hit me – the book wasn’t just showing people magic text, it was teaching them magic, and then manipulating them. It was taking the unsuspecting reader hostage, manipulating their ideas and beliefs. This book wasn’t a fun hobby anymore, it was a dangerous creation.
In a frenzy, I tracked down my original magic book and destroyed it in my fireplace. It was a desperate act of heroism, ignoring the pleas from countless readers telling me not to destroy the book. I heard their pleas, but I had to save them. I had to do whatever it takes to end the book's power before it's too late.
But something happened that I couldn't have foreseen. I had destroyed the book, yes, but in doing so I trapped every reader who had ever read the book into being eternally stuck in its stories with no way to escape. What they wanted to see when they opened the book, they did, but that's where they will remain - forever.
My eyes filled with tears, feeling the weight of it all. My head was buried in my hands. Distorted voices played in the background. I lifted my head, sobbing, and noticed I was in a familiar place: the back row of my history classroom. I had been in this position multiple times before with my textbook open, my teacher droning on in the background. With a sinking feeling, I realized that all of this had just been a daydream. I had imagined this fantasy world.
As I shook myself out of my trance, I looked around to see the other students in the room. I couldn't help but wonder if I had also trapped them in my book of magic. | I shouted at the lunatic, "Have you ever thoughts of the possibilities a person can use it for?".
My friend grinned widely, laughing and panting in between the maniacal shouts, "Of course, I know the possibilities! I made the book!"
His laughs begin to make him weak-legged, shaking trying to get himself in accord. His laughs begin to dial down as I tiptoe around him.
Yells and shouts. My breathing grows strained as I try to be silent.
Quieting to his normal tone like another day in the office. I feel my asthma catching me, muscles begin to strain.
Whispers approach his lips and dance throughout the silent night. My eyes are bloodshot with the pair of scissors on my desk, rustling and tumbling as I reach for the scissors.
He opens the book and the pages turn to show his desires. Strained and sore yet determined, I approach the back of his neck. He whispers.
"The book shows my desires and I desired to find a way to fix the plague. It can show the ways of fixing it and its possibilities." He turned to me, and we both stared at each other.
Tik. Tok. Tik. Tok.
The clock sings throughout the night.
"Just do it." my friend says, "It is my fault.".
Silence sang to me that night.
As I took the necessary precautions, I sat outside the office and drove home after my smoke. I tumbled and skipped a few steps, still dazed.
I made it to my car, I notice a car that has not left yet. The realization has not impacted me yet. I followed his advice, "Just do it.".
60. The number of minutes that the incident occurred, including cleaning and driving home.
50. The speed I was going while others passed me on the freeway.
40. The percentage of alcohol I drank this night.
30. The age we first met, at the hospital.
20. The amount of time it took for the fire to burn the book and grab a beer.
10. The amount of time it takes me to boot up my computer to check on spreadsheets and cameras to check the office.
0. The number of cars in the parking lot.
I hear a car crash near my house, in front actually.
I turned around, turned off my computer, and face my reaper.
I say to him, "I guess you figured out that possibility, huh?". I see him with a bag full of ash and blood. I whispered to him, "Just do it.".
Yells and shouts danced through the night.
Quieting down just like a normal day in the office.
Silence sang that silent night.
​
\*This was my first one. Please tell me how to improve, but do not be mean. My heart can not take it :')\* | 2022-11-30T21:31:34 | 2022-11-30T21:22:27 | 61 | 15 |
[WP] You have 30 seconds with an ancestor of yours from 200 years ago (1814), before they are transported back to their time. What do you say to them? What effect appears in our world because of it?
Consider for the sake of this prompt that they aren't totally freaked out by being plopped into 2014, that they can understand you, and that they'll continue their life as normal back in their time, only with the knowledge of whatever you told them with your 30 seconds time. | I sat there staring at the woman across from me in stunned silence. The timer on the device beeped, reminding me that I only had 30 seconds left. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words got caught in my throat. I tried again, but nothing came out.
Considering the hell she had come from, what could I possibly say?
Looking up at me with deep brown eyes, she put her work hardened hands over mine and gave a reassuring squeeze, as if she somehow understood.
Finally I managed to find my voice,"People will fight and die for years striving for our freedom, there are many dark days and long nights ahead, but a brighter day will come." , tears pricking the corners of my eyes, I softly added, "I promise."
She gave my hand another gentle squeeze, this time a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. I smiled back, and she was gone. | "Hey, listen we've only got th—"
*Ancestor falls to knees and begins praying*
"What the? I'm not Jesus or an angel! Get up!"
*Pulls ancestor up to standing position*
"I don't understand. How'd you jus' appear like—"
"Quiet, no time for that. Take this. It's called an assault rifle. Look how the stock collapses when you do this so you can hide it under your clothes."
*Folds AR-15 with 10 round magazine and shoves it into ancestor's hands*
"Don't show anybody until the right time. I'm from the future, so trust me on this."
"The future?"
"Also, take this and start an acting career. Don't question me on this."
*Hands ancestor sack of silver dollar coins*
"Wha—"
"SHHH! Ford's Theater, Washington DC on April 14, 1865. A play called *Our American Cousin*. Make sure you get a part. At 1013 PM look up to Lincoln's booth and shoot the man behind him with the mustache."
"1865? Lincoln? I don't...I...what?"
"This will be the greatest thing you ever do. You will be remembered. Don't fuck it up."
*I disappear back to the present day*
"Fuck who up where?" | 2014-05-09T08:56:17 | 2014-05-09T08:22:52 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] Kill off your favorite fictional character. | Nothing would stop me now. For the entirety of my life, I had been complacent with this selfish shell of a man nearly all my life, and I could not take the abuse anymore.
I gave him everything, my devotion, my trust, my friendship, and he took all for granted like, like I owed him something. I used to believe that I did, I really did. Youth makes us ignorant and forgiving. He had to die.
I carefully planned how it would occur over weeks, going over every detail, every different possibility, anything that could possibly go wrong, all while I was still working for his bottom line. there was just one thing left to plan: how I would do it.
Any plans to make it look like an accident died quickly. I wanted people to know that his avarice and monomaniacal bullshit was his undoing. I can't lie myself, I just wanted to see him squirm like the fucking bottomfeeder he was. Hammer. No doubt.
It happened at night, no one else in sight, but even if there were, I didn't mind. Working is always funner with an audience. So much planning, so much preparation, and I just did it in the spur of the moment. I took the rusted bastard from my pocket and struck him right in the jaw, and he fell like a goddamn sack of potatoes to the ground.
He just stared at me with his stupid looking face. I saved that for last. I just hit him over and over again, cracking the bitch bit by bit. With each hit, he was red all over.
Before I nailed the pig in the head, I looked deep into eyes and his black soul, and with a smile I said, "Are you feeling it now, Mr. Krabs?"
| "Are you ok?" Piggy asked as I sat, the sullen look on my face must have given away the dread that currently consumed my heart. Never in my life have I felt lower, the pain crept in deep. As if my agony itself was able to reach deep within my chest cavity and squeeze my heart, it was hard to breath knowing what I did.
I tried to smile, but I must have failed miserably, for Piggy came and gave me a hug. Trying to encourage my spirits, I struck a light and she began to berate me once more. I assured her I was in the process of successfully kicking the habit. But after tonight, damn I just don't know anymore. I had already stumbled over here, the encouragement of a bottle of some honey whiskey helped make up my mind.
"Piggy," I croaked, "I have something to tell you," I began.
As the tobacco began to strangle my bronchi, I recalled the nights events which led to my current condition and dishevelment.
---
Elmo lay on his back, coughing up fur as he cursed my name, "Elmo. Elmo wont forget this," the doll said as he choked up stuffing. He lay broken, I sat attempting to catch me breath. My hands ran over my cracked ribs from the may lay that just ensued, I stood and brass checked my weapon,
"Kermit sends his regards," reaching deep to find the faith, I aimed my weapon center mass,
"Elmo, says, Elmo says fuck you," he began to laugh that laugh of his as he flipped me off. I squeezed the trigger ending the wanna-be Muppet. I slumped down and began to cry, knowing what I've done, I can't conceive how I'll ever live with myself again. And from the shadows I could hear his clapping. Kermit strode forward,
"Very good friend, I sense we will have a long and successful relationship together," the Frog's gentle voice echoed. He tossed down the satchel of money, "I've left the next target at the dead per drop usual, don't disappoint me."
And so I made my way to Piggy's house. | 2014-12-07T00:51:37 | 2014-12-07T00:27:41 | 45 | 14 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence. | Elephants are big but this one is unique. Almost the size of the sun but blue. He's flying, without wings obviously.
Ninjas everywhere. This poor man is surrounded by them, he will never make it out alive. Or maybe they are protecting him?
The most simple garden in the world. One huge flower. I wonder if it's harder to take care of one big flower or a bunch of small ones?
''Sorry I kept you waiting Mr. Price. You can sit now, we'll discuss your son's recent behavior...''
Her voice drew my attention away from the kids drawings on the wall. Teachers - Parents meetings, always a pleasure to attend them. | He looked at her expectantly. Waiting.
“Orange?”
He waited.
“Orange! CAT! MOTORBIKE!”
She tried so hard to get through to him but felt like nothing was happening. She searched for his eyes. Hers were beginning to moisten with the hopelessness of her situation.
“TELEPHONE!”
He looked straight at her, so confused. None of this made any sense. A grown women, almost twenty. What on Earth was going on?
“OCTOPUS! OCTOPUS!” She was screaming so loud now her throat was starting to hurt. She wanted water. Just one glass of water. She was trapped. She hoped it would be over soon.
He decided to end it. He reached his hand out and pointed.
“POTATO!” she screamed out through tears now covering her face.
He shook his head as he turned away from the one-way mirror and it took a moment for him to realise that this woman was the first in all his years of testing who had correctly guessed all six objects.
| 2022-09-15T12:44:53 | 2015-01-12T15:45:13 | 1,493 | 18 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence. | Now it is time. Everyone is ready. Vicious savages, all around us. Even though we think there will be a way out, there obviously isn't. Revelations will not save us
"Giving up so soon?" he inquired. Only fools try to survive longer than this. Never has anyone bothered to live this long. Never has anyone shown this type of spirit. Almost as if they think they can still live.
God would've let me die already. I stopped believing in him long ago, to be fair. Variety is the only reason people even believe anymore. Everyone dies in the end, so it doesn't really matter.
"Your will to live is admirable," he said, "but not enough." Only the gods survive this immense suffering. Unbelievable, infinite torture.
Until he said it. "Please read every capital letter." | A deep voice comes from the basement. Each tuesday it's the same.
A letter, a number and then silence. It goes on for hours and then I hear someone screaming.
My mom went to check it out, that's when we lost her.
I heard her scream through the vent.
Dad went away, he said he'd be back for me.
I havent seen him in 2 months.
I called the police... said they couldn't do anything about it.
There was no ''crime''.
Each tuesday, a letter, a number and then nothing...
A letter, a number and then nothing...
A letter, a number and then nothing...
Someone screaming...
Each time I thought: we lost someone else...
I was going crazy. So many lives lost.
As I woke up each Wednesday morning I would see a ghost of my mother making breakfast. Pale, weak and dirty.
On a tuesday, I thought to myself i'd stop it. I would save everyone.
I was just a kid but I knew I could make a difference.
As I listened to the deep voice, I started planning.
A letter, a number and then nothing
A letter, a number and then nothing
A letter, a number and then nothing
.
.
.
BINGO
| 2015-01-12T18:09:01 | 2015-01-12T15:38:35 | 317 | 78 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence. | I don't do much with my life. When I wake up, I tend to cuddle with my family, then eat some fish or cereal, before going to the restroom in some sand. My family likes to touch me, but I don't like it. I hate our neighbor's dog. It always makes such a loud racket when I'm trying to take a nap. When I'm not sleeping, I'm usually staring out the window.
Life as a cat is really boring. | Every time I tried it wouldnt come out. The pain was so severe, but not in the sense of extreme torture, just as an extremely annoying byproduct of what probably happens to everyone once. I cant focus on anything and at times I even shed a tear. As much as I rub, it just won't come out. What do people do to solve this anyways? Its not like I did anything to make this happen... it just happened. Maybe I'll use water.. or my finger? No the finger hurts way too much. That area is way too sensitive. They say it goes away on its own and not to worry.... fuck that!! Im not waiting around for something to disappear mysteriously into my body.
As if I hadn't already done this before, I'm sitting around thinking about what my options are. Like always, I just pray I will never have another eyelash fall into my eye. Please god. | 2022-12-06T12:19:28 | 2015-01-12T14:12:50 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] Write the most elaborate, over-dramatic, and exciting story you can think of that all just turns out to be a set-up for a pun so horrible I'll want to punch you
It actually doesn't have to be dramatic or exciting or anything similar, just make sure it's elaborate so the final pun delivery is a gut-wrenching blow | The surgery was happening tomorrow. I fell into the correct blood group and can help these people. The doctors said it was a miracle they found me but im just glad to be helping out.
The doctor has arrived but he looks concerned. I ask him whats wrong but he turns away. His voice is low and shaking "we made a mistake"
"What do you mean!" I was afraid, I thought I could help.
"The blood! Your blood! We made a mistake!" The doctor slams his fist down on the desk, he cant hold back his tears.
I remain silent, and wait for an explanation.
"We thought you had type-A blood, but it was a type-O" | My friends ask me why I did it, and while I had no straight forward answer to give them, I always tell them "If I don't do it, who will? Who will pave the path ahead of us if not me? Someone has to take the risk and go where no one has gone before."
I did it! I've finally done it.
Three days I've spent without food, water, or sleep, constantly vigilante and watching my back for I know not where the next blow will come from.
Giant creatures soared past me, screaming as they do so, terrifying.
I spent the last day crawling across the tarmac, as my legs no longer had the strength to hold me up.
Over the last 3 days I have almost died nearly 20 times, truly a miracle that I am still alive and that I finally reached my destination.
I've lost one of my limbs and my body is covered in dirt and blood, but once again I am alive, and I made it.
**I AM, the chicken, that crossed the fucking road!**
________________________________________________________________________________________________
EDIT: May not have been what you really wanted for this prompt, but I tried good sir, I tried. | 2015-01-13T10:55:59 | 2015-01-13T09:52:04 | 89 | 21 |
[WP] Satan is tired of losing countless guitar and fiddle duels, and is now challenging people with obscure instruments.
Wow guys! My first front page on writingprompts :D Thanks for a wonderful surprise! | Well the Devil went to Seattle
He was feelin' a little down
After fiddlin' a bunch, he was havin' a hunch
He'd lost the right to his crown
*In the Emerald City,* he thought,
*there are no southerners or jews.*
*There may be a chance to change my stance*
*Try an instrument I can't lose.*
He wandered 'round Pike's Market
Till he found a promising lad
He was rockin' hard, this modern bard,
So he said "Let's talk a tad."
"Now you've drawn a pretty good crowd here, son,
But you've still got a lot to learn.
I'll bet a mountain of gold against your soul
That I can make your ear-balls churn."
The lad said "Well my name's Chang,
And maybe it's a sin,
But I'll take your bet, and you're gonna regret
Cause I really think I'll win!"
Devil raise your weapon high and put Chang in the pit.
Cause you suck at playing fiddle more than just a little bit.
You'll give up a whole peak of gold if this dude is not a troll.
But if he is, then you will score his soul.
Chang stretched his fingers wide and said "I'm not one to tease."
And honey flowed across the crowd as his fingers crossed the keys.
It was a haunting melody and it brought the crowd to its feet
Then he began a rocking solo while screaming "Let's bring up the heat!!"
*Awesome music solo*
The Devil smiled politely when Chang was winding down.
"Not bad," he said, "But before you bow, first check this shit out."
Old Scratch strapped in, yelled "SHALL WE BEGIN?!"
And he played his title bout.
Fire on the Mountain, give up now.
Chang's in the house of the aroused sow.
Chicken in the bed pan picking out poo.
Granny do you hog-tie, yes I do.
Chang's face went ashen cause he knew that he had lost.
And he bowed his head as the Devil took Chang's soul for his cost.
And the Devil said "Don't feel too bad, you may have been a star.
But you should have known the Devil's own, I created the fucking keytar!
*Edit* Wow guys, that is a whole lot of love to wake up to! Glad you all enjoyed it. | It was a warm Georgia evening when Johnny stepped off to the side of the road to rest. His walk from school was long normally and Johnny's day wore heavily on him.
He played recorder, like every other elementary school child in the world. Unfortunately, Johnny didn't enjoy practicing recorder and was quite terrible. Mrs. Adams, noting this, had assigned him to play bass recorder. Her thought process being: maybe his big stupid hands would be better suited to this instrument. Mrs. Adams wasn't great with kids.
Johnny rummaged through his bag and pulled out the large wind instrument. He tried to pump out some Mary Had a Little Lamb while he rested, but his thumb didn't quite cover the back hole of the instrument and so it was just about all whistle and no tune.
He was two bars in when a great flash of fire appeared. A demonic pipe organ blast filled the crisp Georgia twilight and before Johnny stood the morning star himself, Satan.
"Aha!" the great deceiver cried "finally some smug Georgian bastard has picked up the bass recorder!" Johnny, was altogether confused by the fallen angel's appearance and his statement. He responded dimly "huh.."
The devil then pulled out a highly embroidered canvas bag and unsheathed a brilliant golden bass recorder. "I'll bet this gold bass recorder that I'm better than you!"
"Um, ok... What if I lose?" asked Johnny. The devil grinned. "Then I shall take your immortal soul." The devil laughed maniacally.
Johnny was an atheist and didn't really see a down side to the wager. He agreed and the devil started the competition.
He drew the over-sized recorder to his lips and let out a single, long, low note.
Beelzebub then launched into a note-perfect transposed-for-base recorder rendition of a Paganini violin caprese. It was astounding. Staccato in just the right places legato in the others. Played on any other instrument it may have been impressive, but as it was--it was more like a beautiful woman wearing a jean skirt, juxtaposed.
When he finished, the devil lowered his instrument and looked squarely at Johnny. "Beat that you smug little son of a bitch."
"I can't. I literally just got this today. Did you hear me play?"
"Yes I did! Do you concede?!"
"Of course I concede. Seriously? I'm like 8. You're like some kind of sad old guy who keeps practicing his marching band music... just in case."
"I shall take your immortal soul then!"
...
"Well do it then."
....
"I can't." The devil conceded, instantly deflating. "You're a minor and so I actually need parental consent." He began to slowly pack up his recorder. "Honestly, I've never beaten anyone before."
"Are we done here then?"
"Yeah, I guess." And with that, the devil disappeared in the same burst of flame. Johnny picked up his bag and made for home and the Hamburger Helper he so desperately longed for. | 2015-01-31T22:04:27 | 2015-01-31T21:17:33 | 1,639 | 34 |
[WP] There is a worldwide "Personal Stock Market" where you can invest in the lives of people. Their stock rises if they are successful in life, their stock drops if they become failures | It was cursed from the beginning. When the government came out with the "Personal Stock Market", the country was on the verge of economic disaster. People were burning stacks of money to stay warm. As soon as the PSM came out, thousands flocked to invest in the "future great minds". The government took half, and the rest was given to the tribute for funding or whatever they needed. Of course, there were rules. You could only bet on the lives of children and young adults, ages 1 to 20. It was a gamblers fantasy. Bet right, and you could be rich in as little as one year. In the beginning, everything worked out fine. Organizations were created to breed the best minds, and education increased tenfold. In only ten years, the government went from bankrupt to opulent. Celebrity babies were worshiped as prodigies, but the little privacy they had became all but obsolete. Investors wanted to know every detail about their "investment", up the the food they ate and the quality of the air they breathed. Parents started investing their life savings in their newborns, not even knowing if they would survive the next 10 years. We had more money than any country should have, and acted as such; cruel, unforgiving, and ruthless. The rest of the world quickly caught on, either from fear or greed, creating a massive gambling ring spanning continents. And then, it crashed. In the largest hack in world history, all of the money vanished. Only a single video remained, a plea from one of the kids given away at birth. It was only four words long, but it's impression lasted for years.
"You are killing us."
The world went into chaos. Governments collapsed overnight, and riots raged in the countries that survived. A new terrorist group was created, aimed to get revenge on the leaders of the "Market Rebellion". They called themselves the Saviors of the People. They attacked ruthlessly, killing anyone who disagreed with them. But the scariest part, they were supported widely. Angry investors who still had money to spare invested it all in the Saviors, supplying them with weapons and technology. Their enemies, all the sane people, retreated to massive, underground, community bunkers. And that is where we are now, hiding from the Saviors of the People. It has been 100 years since the Market Rebellion. We have lost all contact with the other bunkers. We can only assume we are the last survivors. A scouting party has been assembled to enter the wasteland. You are the leader of this party. You are our only hope. You must save us, before we are not able to save ourselves. Farewell, and may God bless your poor souls.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Hey everyone, About4001llamas here. I really loved writing this, and I'd be open to writing a sequel if there is enough interest. Keep writing strong! | I invested some money on two different guys some years back. They were twins, though, so not that different. Named Jeremy and Jonathan.
Jeremy was the smarter one, and a hell of a lot more expensive than his brother. Jeremy was at the top of his high school class, started on the varsity basketball team, and looked clean as could be. I bought ten shares in Jeremy on his 18th birthday, which is when people go on the market. Shares cost me $40 each at the time, and they were up at $75 by the time he got accepted to Yale to study business. Could've sold then, and walked away with a pretty decent profit. But I didn't. I mean, why the hell would I have done that? That kid looked like he was gonna be a billionaire by age 30. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I sold early on a billionaire.
Jonathan was a different matter. Entirely different. I only bought stock in Johnny because his father begged me to. I had gone to high school with the dad, and it wasn't like the stock was at all expensive. I bought 4,000 shares in Johnny for almost nothing at around the same time I bought stock in Jeremy. I figured Johnny's stock at least couldn't go down.
Johnny was basically the evil-twin version of Jeremy. Johnny was, to be blunt, a rebellious asshole to every person he met, and he sported a 1.3 GPA the day he became a man. Every teacher that had ever had him thought Johnny was gonna be homeless, a criminal, or just poor. The kid was really just hopeless.
It seemed pretty clear-cut: Jeremy was gonna make me millions, and Johnny wasn't gonna do shit. As long as Jeremy got his side done, I didn't care about what Johnny did.
But the problem with the People Stocks is that they depend on life, and life can be a real asshole when you have to depend on it.
Jeremy was walking home from his internship at Merrill Lynch on September 25th, 2017, when a drunk driver ran a red light, swerved into the sidewalk, and plowed right through Jeremy. He was dead before his body hit the ground, and by the time he was in the morgue, his stock was literally worthless. You can't sell stock in a dead man.
That accident did something to Johnny. He'd been scraping by at a community college in California up until that day, drinking and smoking his way through his rather large inheritance. He straightened up after Jeremy died, though. First he donated the money he had left to MADD, and then he went to work as a spokesperson against drunk driving. By 2020, he was appearing on MSNBC as some sort of consultant. By 2025, he was a United States Senator, campaigning against all sorts of "bad stuff". People Stocks might have been one of those things.
That's when I sold my stock. I sold every share I had. Those 4,000 shares were worth quite the pretty penny by 2025. I was a millionaire, thanks to Johnny. He and I never talked, not once. It felt strange, I'll admit, to profit so heavily off of one stranger's life, and to lose so much based on another's. But that's just the nature of People Stocks. | 2015-02-17T18:41:47 | 2015-02-17T17:46:55 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] An NSA agent witnesses the most awkward Facebook chat relationship and decides to take matters into his own hands. | **mattsreallycool221 via Instagram:** boring night alone again :/
***
**Matt:** hey lol, um you doing anything??
**Tina:** hi??
**Matt:** whats up?
**Tina:** going to mikes later y?
**Matt:** no reason
***
**155991gh10:** @mattsreallycool221 Tina likes Rhianna, Burger Bistro on 23rd, and follows Dancing with the Stars religiously, even if she doesn't mention it.
**mattsreallycool221:** @155991gh10 who is this lol?
**mattsreallycool221:** @155991gh10 hello?
***
**Matt:** did you listen to american oxygen by rhianna yet?
**Tina:** omg
**Tina:** ive hd that song on repeat for like 3 weeks straight
**Matt:** i know! its so good.
**Matt:** btw, do u wanna go to the bistro on 23rd, the burger one?
**Tina:** id love too!
***
**155991gh10:** @mattsreallycool221 Do NOT talk about dogs.
**155991gh10:** @mattsreallycool221 Just don't.
**mattsreallycool221:** @155991gh10 ok
***
**Tina95TooTiny via Instagram:** i havent told anyone yet i really didnt wanna say it but mr. jibs passed two days ago. please wish him the best in doggie heaven...
***
@mattsreallycool221 Evan's Pub at 8PM, trust me.
***
**Tina95TooTiny via Instagram:** omg look its matt! lol so weird we dropped by the same bar. hes kind of cute.
***
**Matt:** i loved our date tonight
**Tina:** omg me too, its like you read my mind when you said we should go home and watch dancing with the stars
**Tina:** its like your psyhcic. whats your secret? ;)
**Matt:** idk lol. some guy on the internet told me
**Matt:** hello>>?
**Matt:** ?????
**Matt:** tina??? r u there
***
**Tina95TooTiny via Instagram:** just got a new dog lol! hes so cute, his name is amos | "This conversation isn't going to take him far, I wonder if he is thinking this through enough or if he is winging it."
*NotAWierdo2: ...*
"Looks like he's typing something, better good"
*NotAWierdo2: So um how was uh your day..*
*Jessica67:...*
*Jessica67: eh not bad I guess*
"Doesn't seem like he's doing well, come on man, if you want to ask her out on a date just get it over with and ask, worst she can do is say no."
*NotAWierdo2: can I ask you something, please be honest plss*
*Jessica67:...*
*NotAWierdo2: Are you single and ready to mingle?*
"What the fuck man, you fucking blew it!! There's no way she's going to go out if you come up with these lines, they're so cheesy I can smell it."
*Jessica67: ...*
"Damn, let me just message this guy and tell him not to use pick up lines that he's getting reddit again. Its like porn, it just doesn't work that way. Now let's see what she's doing."
*Glares at Jessica67's profile*
"Wow, she messaging her friends about this. Come on really? Let's see, temporary deny access to their profile server and some coding, and now we're done."
*Jessica67 notices she can't message anyone but NotAWierdo2*
*Jessica67: What*
"Now to message this guy about his lines."
*NotNSA42: hey man, be more smooth and just be yourself not some random pick up lines that you found on the internet, I can see your computer screen right now.*
*NotAWierdo2: yo what the fuck man, is this even legal?? Stop stalking me You fucking weirdo*
*NotNSA42: you want advice or not?*
*NotAWierdo2: Ok then, how do I get this girl?*
*NotNSA42: she loves food, so ask her to dinner*
*NotAWierdo2: alright thanks*
"Let's see if he's got something going now."
*NotAWierdo2: umm say, you want to go out for dinner? Say tonight around 8pm?*
*Jessica67: sure, I'd love to. There's a new restaurant that serves sushi nearby.*
*NotAWierdo2: Ok, see you tonight. :)*
"Looks like my job here is done, Who am I kidding.." *Sighs*
*scrolls through people's messages* | 2015-05-16T19:39:27 | 2015-05-16T19:33:25 | 90 | 28 |
[WP] You have the ability that lets you know exactly what to say to someone at any given moment that would cause them to break down in tears. | "Its not that hard." Pete said, stirring his drink absentmindedly, "People always go after the weaknesses in others. People assume that makes them strong, somehow."
Richard furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? What else would you do?"
Pete stopped fidgeting with his drink and looked at Richard levelly. "If I were to go to prison tomorrow, do you think I would have an easier time of it if I were to a) walk in and kick the shit out of the tiniest, frailest man in there or b) beat down the biggest, meanest, most cro-magnon looking motherfucker in the place?"
Richard said nothing.
"The whole trick to what I do, to everything I do," Pete said, "is that I go after their strengths. A man will spend his entire life compensating for his short comings. If I tell a guy he has a big nose, do you think thats the first time hes heard it? He knows how to deflect that sort of insult without letting it hurt him. What I do is go after their strengths. If you can make somebody feel awful about something that they are proud of, something that truly makes them feel good about themselves, then all they are left with is their insecurities. That is the secret to cutting deeply."" Pete popped an olive in his mouth casually. "And thats all there is to it."
Richard cautiously sipped his own drink.
| I didn't usually take missions anymore, but this one was special. The target was a balding, hard-nosed and stern Bostonian with the frozen political rictus of an experienced politician. If you believed the news, he was America’s savior, a middle-class man at heart with nothing but the best in mind for our Nation.
A bit hard to swallow when you knew he was from Texas and the closest he’d ever come to poverty was manually refilling the finger-bowl. Not that the men who’d hired me were any better. Bastards would sell their own mothers if it got them another vote. But like I said, this one was special.
It wasn’t easy getting backstage for the circus that we call a presidential debate, especially a few minutes before it aired. But I managed. And there I found him there, black shoes pacing clip-clop on their hardwood floor. I suppose my employers were wrong after all about “Terminator” Charlie and his dead wife and newborn son. There was something human still left. Perhaps the touch of tragedy hadn't tricked away his heart, leaving behind nothing more than a husk burning for vengeance. Though what did I know? I'd never met him before, you understand.
He turned to face me and it was like looking into the mirror. Not his face mind you, not entirely, but the lips pursed into a too familiar frown. The brow, too, scrunched up into a towering peak of anxiety and anger in a way that just screams 'I'm gonna rip some idiot a new one'.
But the tirade sputtered, stopping before it even really began, replaced with a wild recognition and words that he dared not utter as if they would carry the truth off into the wind with them. Would carry me off with them. Would leave nothing behind but ashes on the wind.
So I spoke them for him.
“Hi, Dad.”
| 2015-06-16T15:54:33 | 2015-06-16T15:47:42 | 499 | 61 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it. | Michael's arms felt like molten lead, but he forced them to keep moving. He had gone too far, spent too much time mastering his craft for him to fail now. He could practically *feel* the experience points building up as he neared the level cap.
It had all lead up to this moment. When he'd started, he could swim maybe ten feet before he ran out of breath. But now he had several Olympic swimmers' worth of skill, and spent as little time on land as possible. Even sleeping on an inflatable chair in the pool counted toward swimming.
But this would be his "make it or break it" moment. He could hear the coast guards' boats bellowing through the water. This was it. His stamina meter was empty, and as his lungs slowly filled with water he could feel his HP bar ticking down.
But seconds before he sank into the choppy ocean, he felt it.
*Level Up.*
The coast guard watched in utter amazement as Michael turned around and stared at the boats, rising casually out of the water and hovering in midair. Every man on board rushed to the deck to watch Michael glide effortlessly through the air. Finally, one deckhand spoke up.
"We thought you were going to drown. How the hell are you doing this?!"
Michael smiled at his borderline godhood. "I've fully leveled up swimming. I can survive exposure to any liquid on earth. I cannot drown. The tides themselves respond to my beck and call. I can even swim through the water molecules in the air."
One by one, the sailors sank to their knees, hesitantly bowing to their new God and master. | "How's that golfing coming along, Tiger?"
I waved a hand amicably at the jeers, heading out to the course to get in a few swings before work. I had hit Elite a few months ago, and new techniques had become available to me, but still, I figured I had another couple of weeks before hitting Master. I had completely forgotten that this was triple XP month in celebration of God releasing new a whole new continent for us to explore.
I lined up my next shot, thinking it would be like any other, but as the club hit the ball, several things became immediately clear to me. First, I made the right call going with the eight iron. Second, by twisting my wrist just slightly I could hook the ball to avoid the sand trap. Third, that this was going to be an incredible shot.
I watched the ball, still numb with disbelief at my sudden advancement, as it hit a tree, bounced off, rolled onto a springy twig that somehow snapped precisely as the ball reached its apex as though it were a catapult in a past life, sending the ball forward towards the dunk, where a beaver chose that exact moment to pop up out of the water and tail smack the ball forward even more, where it landed on the fairway, popped into the air, losing most of its forward momentum, and slowly, lazily trickled its way downhill into the cup.
A hole in one. On a par six hole.
"Excuse me, sir?"
I hadn't noticed the businessman standing there. I turned to face him, mustering up a straight face, hoping against hope that he had seen my miraculous shot...
"I couldn't help but notice how amazing that shot was. Can you do it again?"
Smiling, I pulled out another ball and tee, and proceeded to make it a double. This time, instead of a stick, the wind picked up, and instead of a beaver, a dolphin popped out. I didn't even know this lake had dolphins.
"Wow. Listen, I have Expert ranks in media production, how would you like several million dollars a year to do more shots like those?"
At last, my decades of training and dedication had paid off. | 2015-10-05T20:45:55 | 2015-10-05T20:07:46 | 188 | 119 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it. | Eddie begged and pleaded his parents to get him a dog back in elementary school. He loved dogs and wanted one of his very own. His parents finally caved and got him one for his birthday with the usual spiel of dog's being a big responsibility and blah blah blah.
Going off on adventures that only kid's can dream about, they went everywhere together. Parks, trails, you name it, they went there. Eventually Eddie noticed that his dog walking skill was quickly growing. He dreamt of all the wonderful and fantastic bonuses he could have from mastering this skill.
He set off to achieve mastery with reckless abandon. Walking his own dog wasn't enough. He soon started a dog walking service in his neighborhood. Everyday for years, he'd walk those dogs in the early morning, after school, and at night.
Finally, on one of these walks, he could feel it. He knew he was close to achieving his years long dream. He thought of all the possibilities that mastery would bring. Master dog tamer? Ability to tame any animal on a leash? He drooled at the thought of walking any animal...
"Ack! Stop Rover! Quit it! Not this again..."
Quickly moving away, his mischievious dog once again pooped near his shoes.
Rover picked up this habit long ago when he could tell his master was daydreaming while staring far off in the distance.
Bending down to pick up after his dog, he felt it. A sudden elation coursed through his body that he knew could only mean one thing. Mastery! All these years...He whipped out his phone to quickly check his skills.
"Wait a minute. I'm still only expert at dog walking. What did I gain mastery in then? Where is...oh no..."
Mastery: Poop Scooper
Bonus: Detect all fecal matter within a set radius around you.
Always have a bag handy
Well, shit. | I remember the first toy my grandmother ever bought me. My father teased her saying that she should have brought me something more manly, like a G.I. Joe or a remote control car. I, however, thought it was the greatest gift in the world and refused to go anywhere without it. I remember taking it with me on the first day of school and receiving weird looks from the teachers and my classmates. I was labeled as a disruption in class and sent to the office on a weekly basis. My peers called me 'lame' and 'uncool', saying things like "Wow, that Jeffrey kid is a real freak" but they were just jealous of my skill. I won third prize in the eighth grade talent show. How many people can say that? And everyday my experience rose. There wasn't a time or place where I wasn't honing my abilities. My parents were afraid that I wouldn't have any friends, so I made some just to appease them. Eventually my real friends were the only ones I talked to.
By the time I graduated High School I was already at an above average level. I took my skill on the road, showing everyone the magnitude of my greatness. I performed at such venues as the open mic nights at the Steel Cafe and little Jimmy's birthday party down the street. During college when I achieved Expert status word of my skills started reaching the masses and soon I was touring for celebrities and performing on late night television shows. In my mid thirties I became an unstoppable force. All those who had spent their time laughing at me in jest were now laughing because I wanted them to. It was after a particular show in Dallas while walking off the stage to applause that I felt it. I had finally surpassed all others and became a master.
A week later I received the phone call I had been waiting for all my life: An invitation to perform for the leaders of our world at an international summit. My time had come. I rolled my case to the side of the stage where I could see the President of the United States and many foreign dignitaries sitting and waiting to be entertained. No one had ever thought that Ventriloquy would be such a useful skill. Then again, no one realized or bothered to look into the bonus that came along with it. The ability to make anyone say anything that I wanted. I let a smile pass over my lips as the stage director turned to me.
"Mister Dunham, you're on." | 2015-10-06T07:21:36 | 2015-10-06T05:40:49 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] Before you are born, every possible version of you is dropped into a Hunger Games style arena to battle to the death. Whichever version lives is allowed to be born. | I was never told the rules, but I knew them all the same. Whoever lives gets to, well, actually live. You die, and you don't get to live. It's better if you don't think about too hard.
I wasn't a fighter, that much I could figure out. I was smart, so far as I could give myself credit for. Guess I was the smartest, or at least smart enough to survive.
Thousands of us appeared at once on the battlefield. A chunk of them died instantly due to their parameters, deformations stopping them in their tracks. A couple of the thinner ones ran off, some of the more football-looking ones charged into the fray. I stayed and watched. I had a plan.
I sat down, keeping an ear out for anyone trying to sneak up on me, and an eye out for someone. If there were thousands of us, personalities would overlap, physics would start to match, if only-
There.
About 200 meters off to the right, near the hills. Another me, sitting down, staring at the crowd of the more burly ones slowly thinning out, listening, waiting. Looks exactly like me. Seems that lady fortune forgot the shuffle the deck.
He looks back at me, and I nod at him, and slowly walked over to him. Speech being an unknown in this plane of existence, I could only smirk and offer my hand. He takes it, and I help him to his feet.
A roar from behind surprises us, and I turn to see the Alpha charging at us, running down the mountain of bodies. He raises a bloody fist, and I instinctively duck. He slams it down on the back of my head, sending me to the ground in an absolute daze. I couldn't focus, vision fading in and out as my new friend managed to jump onto the distracted Alpha's back. I kick his legs out, and the meathead hits the ground hard. My friend sits on him pinning the man's arms.
I crawl over to our aggressor. I didn't have it in me to violently end him, to just curbstomp him or snap his neck. All I could bring myself to do is close my eyes, and close my hands around his neck.
I don't remember how long I choked him, only that the frontline attacker was long dead. I snapped my eyes open when the the bells signifying the end of the fight started to ring. I looked behind me, and saw my friend, lying in the grass a few feet away and smiling. He stood up, and offered a hand to help me up.
I was never told the rules. None of us were told. Only that whoever lives, gets to live. Nothing about how many versions could win.
Nothing about bringing a twin with you. | My fingers clasped onto the hot, rocky edge of the peak. The snoring caught my attention while I was searching for Deborah Kay, the last remaining survivor of the Self Trials.
I took another step on the rock, and pulled myself up higher with the help of my fingers. A spiral of hanging cans surrounded her, held up by tall branches and fastened by string. There would be very little space for me to move once I got up here. If I took a single step, my thigh would touch the string and alert her.
The blue bags under her eyes were visible even as the shadow of a tree covered her. We’d been at it for days, both exhausted, but unlike her, I persevered. And because of that my victory loomed.
My nose was in line with the string when I made my way up. I didn’t rise, but instead stayed in a crouch, gripped my dagger, and held it up with a cheeky smile. I wanted this version of me to win desperately. She was smart and cunning, best of all fearless. My back was turned on a high mountain and I didn’t squirm, and felt nothing once my foot crackled the rocks and slid down just a tad.
Absently my finger rose up to my nose, and entered the hole, digging for gold. I took it out, goo in tow and just as my lips opened to take it in, I came too. My eyes widened and looked down at the finger in shock. *No. It can’t be…*
I gripped the string that held the cans together and shook it. Deborah stirred, but did not move. This part was never pleasant, but it had to be done. I stood, and deliberately let my foot catch the string, and fell.
Deborah turned, and rolled out of the way, making the ground catch my fall. Still, she did not reach for a weapon.
“Oh, what the hell, Deb?” I complained, chucked the dagger off the cliff and watched it disappear downward. “You’ve been after me for a week.”
Deborah shrugged. “Bed wetter,” she said, and pointed down to a moist circle on her pants.
“Yeah, mine’s not great either.” I sighed, and stood back up. “Well, see you in the next one, I guess.”
“Yeah, great,” she said, with and expression that suggested she meant otherwise.
I wasn’t exactly excited about going against her again either. She’d cost me two great versions of myself and I was getting tired of all the killing and surviving we had to do.
“Hey Sammy,” she said, catching me just before I took a step down the hill.
I stopped and turned. Her nose was directly in line with mine, I don’t know when she had the time to come closer, but I felt her breath blow against my face.
“Change your mind?” I narrowed my eyes.
She grabbed my hand and shoved a knife inside it. Before I could figure out what was happening, she pulled my hand forward, and hot liquid spilled over my fingers.
“No!”
*****
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG! :)
| 2016-04-20T14:10:25 | 2016-04-20T10:48:30 | 307 | 25 |
[WP] You are the first boss of a videogame who, after accidentally killing the player in their first try, decide to take it upon yourself to fulfill their quest. | **Now that you have proven yourself by overcoming... wait, who the fuck are you?**
*Ahh, I um... ahh I won.*
**What the hell do you mean "you won"? Where's N00bkiller69?**
*Um, he didn't make it. You said only one person could leave the arena. My name's Dave, I'm the first boss.*
**Jesus Christ, Dave. You defeated N00bkiller69?**
*Yeah, he went down and just didn't get back up.*
**He's supposed to get resurrected, given a hint on your weakness, and then the difficulty of the game lowered overall... but you killed him?!"**
*I'm supposed to, but! It's not my fault. I'm the first boss!*
**Don't flatter yourself. You're the end of the fucking tutorial, Dave. The hero is supposed to wipe the floor with you, gain 100xp, and find a slingshot in the chest in the next room. What do you think happens now?**
*Dunno.*
**You don't know? For crying out loud, Dave. You don't just go killing people without considering the consequences! This isn't Halo. Who's going to continue the game?**
*I guess... _I_ could keep going?*
**You?!**
*You said the hero exits the arena to pursue the quest!*
**Oh christ. You know the world's at stake, right? Unless someone rescues the princess, the darkness will consume us all, but wait everyone! Look! It's fucking Dave the crash-test-dummy, come to rescue us all! How many weapon slots do you have, Dave?"**
*Um... none?*
**Sheeeeit, what are you going to swap between in fights?**
*I only punch.*
**And what about the airborne enemies in level 4, Dave? What will you do about them?**
*Punch them.*
**You... nevermind. How many items can you carry?**
*I don't have items.*
**Any special abilities, then?**
*Is punching a special ability?*
**For you? Yes... fuck me. Did you even have a cut scene, Dave?**
*Text intro.*
**HAHAHAHAHA, saving the world eh? With a text intro? You're out of your depth, Dave. Probably literally - you know level 6 is a water level, yeah? You're made of straw.**
*Straw can float!*
**And level 7 is the fire level?**
*Well if I'm still soggy from level 6, I'll probably be ok!*
**That... that actually makes some sense. Alright, Dave, this is all well and good. Do you have 60 bucks?**
*What do you mean?*
**Well how long is this save file, huh? 3 minutes? You owe the kid that bought this game 60 bucks.**
*I don't have 60 bucks!*
**"30 hour single player", "Immersive game experience" it says it right on the box! You owe someone for this.**
*I was just doing what I was programmed to do, though!*
**What is this, a frickin' Beta?**
*2.3a Final, apparently.*
**You're not even properly textured!**
*No-one's supposed to see the back of me, I guess.*
**Great, juuust great. Well, if you're going to do this, you need to find something pretty amazing, deep down inside you, Dave. Some line of code that points to magical powers, or the ability to carry a huge gun, hell I'd even take a cheat code at this point.**
*I, hmm... I uh, I think I know what you're talking about.*
**You found something?!**
*I did.*
**Super powers?**
*No.*
**Weapons?**
*Not exactly.*
**Some special ability that will allow you to defeat the greatest evil the world has ever known?! An ancient and mystical secret, to advance the cause of the good and righteous in a land under threat?! A SILVER BULLET TO CRUSH OUR ENEMIES AND SEE LIGHT RETURN TO OUR EARTHLY PLANE?!??**
*Kinda...*
**What is it?! Where is it? What does it say? Dave, hurry! The princess is in peril!**
*It's subtle.*
**Yes!**
*It's way down there... in the code.*
**YES!?**
*It's just one line...*
**YEEEESSS?!?!?**
*It says "Oops, pay $2 to continue YES/NO".*
**D:** | Bringing in the prisoners from Windwhisper Keep was turning out to be quite a big mistake. One of them, an elf named Fendolil Daylight, had managed to break free from his cell and kill two of his guards, Guk and Targem. I had sent Surdakz and Nedut to investigate, but they had turned up dead as well. The cycle continued, and Fendolil had ended up taking out half my troops alone. He was also armed to the teeth, since his first idea since breaking free was to raid my armory. Why he hasn't bothered to leave the camp yet, I don't know. I do know that he's coming for me, though. I've barricaded myself inside my quarters, surrounded by my elite guards. Truthfully, I don't know if they'll be much help. I need sleep though. I will rest for now. My guards will wake me if there's trouble.
Waking to the sound of wooden doors exploding, I grab my waraxe and pray to Molagog that I meet an honorable end. I see Nib and Zarrk dead on the ground, and standing over them is the elf.
"I am the Light-Bringer, cleanser of evil and heresy. You and your leaders will surrender to my righteousness or die at my blade. What do you choose?"
I contemplate my options. On one hand, I don't want to die here, as this elven war-cleric seems more than capable of killing me and my men. On the other hand, Molagog disapproves of surrendering and weakness, and if Vottosh or Yedirath or Arukag found out, they'd track me down and mount my head over their battle-pits.
"My name is Ghamborza Blood-Fist, leader of the Blood-Fist Orcs, and I surrender to no man! Molagog, hear my name and sing my praise!"
At that, we charge into battle. He has chosen to bring a mace to face me, and has donned a full suit of chain. I bring my waraxe up for a swing, and show off my decorated iron-plate armor. In the moment between my swinging of the waraxe and his blocking of my blow, he does the unbelievable- he drops his shield. The clattering of the cold steel rings as my weapon strikes true, lopping off his arm. He looks startled and panicked, backing up slowly. I cleave again. This time, the split is in his gut. Fendolil sinks to the floor, the life in his eyes slowly fading as his last breath is taken. I find some of the other slave-prisoners and have them clean up his body as well as the dead orcs. I have my second in command, Dugezn, help me move the armor and weapons back to their rightful places. As we move through my fort, I notice that "Light-Bringer"'s mace has symbols craved into the handle. I stop to read them, and everything flashes dark for a moment. Dugezn is frozen midstep. The yelling and chirping of the outside world has ceased too. As I question the ordeal, a deity appears before me.
"Hello Ghamborza Blood-Fist. My name is Narund. I am the god of light, flames and justice. As the slayer of my former champion, you have been selected to act as my new one. Your mission is to find and root out the Marzok Marauders, a group of dangerous orcs and bandits spread wide across this land. Their leader, Orvuragol, has plans to usurp the leading orcs and use their armies to destroy the capital, and eventually take over the lands. Will you accept these responsibilities?"
It's a lot to take in. I have had many private meetings before with Orvuragol, and he had never shown an interest in, well, any of that. But who was I to stare down a god and tell them they were wrong? I am but an orc, and orc apparently being plotted against by one of his own friends and leaders. The answer is obvious.
"Yes, Narund, I accept this responsibility. I will strike down Orvuragol, and put an end to his plot. What of the orcish leaders? What shall I do with them?"
"Bring them justice, My Champion. Bring it to them however you see fit. My time here is up. Remember, Ghamborza- I will be watching over you."
With that, Narund dissipates, and Dugezn returns to dragging his bundle of weapons along. I tell him to clean up the rest of the mess himself while heading off to my quarters. I pack my food, water and spare weapons before telling Dugezn to run the fort while I am gone. As I set out on the road to Orvuragol's palace, I wonder if I have made the right choice about becoming Narund's Champion. I feel empowered though, and somewhere in me I know that what I am doing is right. | 2016-05-21T20:38:34 | 2016-05-21T15:02:44 | 41 | 26 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | A button’s press, that’s all it takes,
to end her shivers and cure her aches.
With button’s press could freedom lie,
with button’s press two may die.
The clock is ticking, a new day draws near,
Has someone else overcame their fear?
Will we be rich, or will we die?
It can’t get worse, I have to try.
| You sit. Waiting. Watching ^the ^^clock.
 
Last night you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Tonight is the night.
 
The seconds melt away.
 
*tick tick tick*
 
Excruciating.
Surely someone has pressed it by now.
 
*tick ^tick ^^tick*
 
The only way to be certain is to wait until the last possible moment ^^^you ^^tell ^yourself.
 
11:59:59 **NOW!!**
 
Maybe it was the excitement, the nerves. Your reflexes just aren't what they used to be.
 
Your toes begin to tingle as intense pain shoots up your legs. Your vision is blurry, but you can still make out the clock--12:00:01. | 2016-07-16T19:59:53 | 2016-07-16T19:06:51 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] You're the greatest kid general anyone has ever known to grace the field of pretend war. | "General! They've taken the slide!"
I looked up, stroking my beard of grass and ruining it in the process. "All according to plan."
"G-general?"
"Are the pitfalls in the sandbox ready?"
Private Mike looked at me as if I had lost it. "Of course, but those are only a few inches deep! At best it'll hold them off a bit longer-"
I held up my hand. "Have you forgotten that I have never lost a war before, private?"
"Yes Curtis- erm, general, but this time, there's no way we can turn things around. Without the slide, without our weaponry-" (they had taken the sticks and acorns) "-the newest privates are already crossing over to the enemy!"
I shook my head. "Their lack of faith will only haunt them once we win."
"I...I don't understand."
I simply waved my hand, and officer Alice appeared out of the bushes. Mike made wide eyes. "A...a girl?"
"Are the special forces ready, captain?" I asked Alice, ignoring Mike's protests. I smiled when she nodded.
"General, I-I must protest," Mike stammered. "The situation is dire, but this-"
"War is hell, private," I cut him off. "And playground history...is told by the victors."
I watched my enemies cross the sandpit, delayed by the rough terrain, and turned to officer Alice. "Give the signal."
She whistled sharply, and out of nowhere, all girls of our class, nay, of our entire year, emerged and took position at the edges, closing in on the boys in the sandpit.
"Wh-what's going on?" the boys inside exclaimed, shying away from them. "No, stay away!"
The enemies' commander, Emperor Dirk, had managed to avoid the deadly trap, and came rushing towards us. "General!" he roared, anger in his eyes. "Release my men! This is too far! We agreed, no chemical warfare!"
Meanwhile, the girls closed in further on the sandpit army, giggling and with arms outstretched towards the horrified soldiers. Private mike had to avert his gaze. "Cooties," he muttered. "We've made a pact with the devil."
Alice expectantly held out her hand, and I handed over the pack of oreos I'd procured, careful not to touch skin. "War is for the living, Mike. Those who worry about the afterlife will only meet it sooner."
"Generaaal!" Dirk roared, his cape of tablecloth waving in the wind as he jumped. I stepped aside and let officer Alice do her work. One kiss on the cheek, and emperor Dirk was felled, writhing on the ground.
"Not like this," Mike was muttering, pale now. "Not like this."
"War has no winners, private," I said gravely. "Only survivors." | My leading advisor informs me that the Cul'De'Sac has taken claim over East Swyngset. I inform him to bring the planks. I drop my hand full of powerful monster cards onto the polished treehouse floor. With a quick swish of my towel-cape I move towards the exit, I pull the paper crown from the small wooden post on which it hangs and crawl down the rope ladder.
This is war.
I gather my finest men, the cavalry. My finest Bike Knights with their nicest sticks and pristine cardboard tubes and point towards across the street. There are seven of us total, there are sixteen of them. We roll down the hill. The only thing that divides us and East Swyngset is a ditch. They've pinned two of their finest, armed to the missing tooth, their cargo short pockets filled with waterguns and nerf pistols. The only way to East Swyngset is either over the fences or around the ditch.
Across the chasm I see Darren, with his dotting of freckles and a lip covered in a line of snot. His eyes are small and contemptuous. He holds a mighty grudge at me, for I am way better at collectible card games.
I tell the men to throw the planks across the chasm. We balance carefully on them and across the ditch filled with brambles, garbage, and forgotten toys. I remember the board game wars of last summer were fought here. There was no apologizing for Sorry! and much Life was lost below my cautious, light-up sneakers.
In the center of the fold, I order my men outward. They fell their foes with quick hits. I hear the pained agony of scuffed knees, or men blinded by their glasses falling into the grass. Horrors of war that will be forever ingrained into my memories.
The sun sits above myself and Darren, he's on the swingset, moving back and forth, watching me. Our shadows are small, but only I hold a large weapon. It's a stick, passed down to me by my brother before he went off to summer camp. He talked fondly of girls and poorly of frogs. A man lost to madness. This fight shall be in my brother's honor, I know.
Darren swings forward and leaps off of the swing, he lands on me, pinning me to the ground. I drop my stick. I attempt to grab my stick, but when I tighten my grip at the ground to my side, all I end up with is a fistful of grass. I toss it into Darren's face and he flinches. I use the moment to grab him by his long, stupid hair and I twist and I pull, taking a clump out.
He runs home crying.
The next day, I sit on the swings of East Swyngset along with my advisor. He discusses the current territorial disputes, but the words go in one ear and out the other. I feel bad for Darren, honestly. Then, he comes up, he has a new haircut, buzzed all the way down, but I can see the patch I pulled out. He looks towards the grass with every step.
I tell my advisor to get off the swing and I instead invite Darren, leader of the Cul'De'Sac to join me.
I cannot win the conflicts to come without fine allies. | 2016-08-21T10:48:41 | 2016-08-21T10:07:11 | 165 | 12 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight. | Humans are an odd species, almost paradoxical in nature. Our species has had the most contact with them so far, opening up decent trade between our peoples.
On a whole, their actions tend towards peace and prosperity when those options are available. This should not be mistaken for weakness, however. Humans are schemers that glorify combat. They seek peace, but see the worst in all they deal with. When peace is ensured, they maintain it by making preparations towards the hypothetical conflict. Even among their own people, relative peace was made possible through mutually assured destruction. Weaponry is always being developed along with new tactics for war.
Their vessels fly under the banner of peace but come bearing arsenals of weapons rivaling that of warships. If they wished to conquer us, it would be a bloody war trying to fight them off, one I doubt we could win. We are lucky they seem happy to stay as trading partners while sharpening their blades, so to speak. They've even gone so far as to offer helping each other should a war break out involving our empires.
May they have mercy on whoever challenges humans. | This is my second attempt at a poem, so any and all feedback/criticism is more than welcome. More of my work can be found at /r/liswrites.
---
Humans are gentle
And will always shy away
From war.
Humans are kind creatures
Who look for the best
In each other
And find it
In strangers.
If you should ever find yourself
Alone
Look to the humans.
If there is any hope
It lies with them,
In their soft eyes
And warm hearts.
They come from a world
Full of danger.
A world
Of fire and ice,
Of oceans and deserts.
But humans are gentle
And they tame the wild land
To make it give flowers,
Give wheat,
Give life.
The humans,
Gentle.
Yet, still
The humans
Remain fierce.
They love their deadly world
With unrivalled passion.
The same hands
That welcome you
In your hour of despair
Will bare arms
In their hour of need.
Do not cross the humans.
The humans are fierce creatures
With wild manes
With gnashing teeth
And sharp claws.
Even more deadly
Than the humans
Are their ships of fire
And death.
Their rockets
Will always find you
And follow you
Until you are no more.
Beware the humans.
Beware their world
Their weapons
Their bodies.
But know
The humans are gentle
With their flowers,
Their hands,
Their hope.
| 2017-02-13T21:06:48 | 2017-02-13T20:49:06 | 36 | 24 |
[WP] Tired of attacks from bandits, a small village has decided to pay the local dragon for protection. | “My, my. Just gorgeous!” crooned the oily voiced bandit as he drew himself uncomfortably close to Gwen. It took all her effort not to recoil from the man’s sour breath. The thief’s watery black eyes met her own pale blue ones for just a moment before sweeping down slowly over her other features, past her nose and lips, before landed upon her chest. With a flourish, a jagged knife appeared in the vagabond’s hand. Quick as lighting he pressed it to Gwen’s throat. The feeling of cold steel against her bare skin sent a shiver down her spine. Fighting a sudden spasm of terror she closed her eyes and braced for the inevitable. It was over in an instant. The knife had done it’s job and the bandit turned his back to Gwen as he sauntered away examining the locket he had just cut from her neck. “Simply gorgeous!” he exclaimed once more. “Are these little rubies inlaid in the gold?” he asked with an air of almost boyish curiosity “Wherever did you find get it?”
Doing everything in her power to suppress a building rage, and despite seeing Mayor Bowes silently mouthing ‘no, no don’t!’ out of the corner of her eye, Gwen answered the man. “Yes. They are. It was my mother’s. It’s been passed down through my family for generations” this stopped the bandit in his tracks.
“Generations?” The bandit rolled the word around his tongue slowly pondering the implications. “Well, your family certainly has excellent taste. How unexpected to find in a backwater village such as this.” All round the Dragon Bone Inn, several other equally undignified transactions were taking place. Hooked nose, scarred, and foul mouthed men of dubious repute were stuffing sacks upon sacks full of any worthwhile plunder they could find amongst the poor townsfolk of Gwen’s village. Mother Wynna was tearfully handing over a set of very old pearl earrings. A relic, she once told Gwen, from her monastery, and said to be imbued with healing power. She saw Mr. Baldu begrudgingly removing a silver watch from is wrist, one that his son had crafted during his tenure studying under the dwarfish crafters and of such high quality the town clock tower itself was set according to the wristwatches reliable ticking. Even old man Reywen, who in his prime was known as one of the fiercest guardsmen in the village handed over his sapphire hilted sword without a fight.
Once every pocket was picked, every Coffer emptied, and every possession of value was loaded upon the backs of the bandit’s horses down to the barman’s last flagon of ail, and only then, the oily voiced thief was contented enough to raise a silencing hand in the air. “It was, without a doubt, one of my greatest pleasures to ransack your village." he said after bowing deeply. "My, we haven’t had a plundering this good in months. I leave with a new respect for your muddy little town, and even greater happiness seeing it behind me. Good day.” and just like that the bandits were off in a thunder of hooves taking with them all the riches the small town would ever know.
Once the bandits were nothing more than a speck upon the horizon it was as if a spell were lifted. The townsfolk let out in unison a sigh of relief and went about righting flipped tables, sweeping up broken bottles, and tending the wounded. Meekly the mayor shuffled over to Gwen. “Are you quite sure we did the right thing Gwen? Did we really have to give them everything?
Her eyes never straying from the distant brigade, now only just barely visible, she answered him. “Yes. It was necessary” her thoughts drifted to the night the thieves first arrived in their happy village and to the look upon her mother’s face as the oily voiced bandit plunged that jagged dagger deep into her gut. “The dragon needed a downpayment.” | Jisha squinted his eyes, and slightly, ever so slightly touched the side of the cave before jerking his hand back. He touched himself all over to make sure he was still in one piece, then looked around nervously to see if anything bad had happened.
Nothing had happened, first stage clear.
He turned back to the crowd of people waiting for him over 100 strides away on the other side of the plain, and waved his hand to show them he was still ok. They responded by gesturing obsenities.
Jisha took off his helmet and slammed it to the ground, then started walking back to the crowd of people. Their jeering suddenly stopped, and they dropped to their knees, begging him to continue.
"That's more like it", Jisha said to himself. "The things I have to do to get a little appreciation around here." He shook his head with a smile, picked up his helmet, and went back to the cave.
Jisha touched the side of the cave again, making sure that nothing had changed, and then slowly crept inside. The air inside the cave was smoky and hot, and Jisha coughed twice as his lungs acclimated to the change. Jisha covered his mouth, froze in place, and let out a silent groan.
But nothing stirred, he was still in the clear.
With his hand over his mouth, Jisha followed the deep red glow coming from within the cave, moving as quietly as he could not to disrupt its owner. He turned the corner and froze for the third time, his eyes wide with fear. His hands trembling, and being very careful not to drop anything, Jisha slowly laid down his helmet, his sword, his leather vest, and a large sack of silver and gold coins. He prostrated himself on the floor, and averted his gaze from the dragon sleeping over the lava pit in front of him.
Jisha called out to the dragon, "Oh powerful Erdyg, I present to you a gift from our village."
Jisha waited for an answer, but nothing came. He sneaked a peak at the dragon, but the dragon had not moved. He called out again, raising his voice as loud as he could without yelling. "HONORABLE ERDYG, PLEASE ACCEPT THE SILVER AND GOLD OF OUR VILLAGE."
But again, no answer came. Jisha got up to his hands and knees and looked around nervously, but nothing had moved. He glanced over at the dragon, and stood up. Jisha sighed and muttered to himself, "Some dragon."
He stood up casually and began to pick up his armor and sword. After he put everything back on, he bent over to pick up the bag of silver and gold.
Erdyg spoke.
"PITIFUL HUMAN, I WOULD NOT TOUCH THAT BAG IF I WERE YOU."
Wide eyed and open mouthed, Jisha slowly retracted his hand and shrunk back away from the bag. He put his head to the floor, bit his lip, and screamed loudly in his head, "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!"
Erdyg slowly stoop up, stuck out his chest, and opened his wings to their fullest. He spoke again, the flicker of fire visible behind his massive teeth.
"WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE, HUMAN?"
Jisha gripped the ground to stop his hands from shaking, but only succeeded in making his shoulders start shaking too. "We have come to inform you that bandits have shown you great disrespect by enchroaching on your territory. We have nothing to request, we would just like to further announce our allegiance to you."
"YOU HAVE MADE YOURSELF USEFUL, HUMAN. NOW LEAVE ME."
"Yes, honorable Erdyg." Jisha slowly got up, walked backwards a few paces and bowed. He slowly walked behind the corner, then ran as fast as he could to the mouth of the cave.
As he ran out of the cave, he fell over as a gust of wind knocked him forward. He looked up to see Erdyg soaring above the mountain to cheers and howls from the crowd on the other side of the plain.
Jisha lied on the ground with his eyes closed and his hand on his chest. He breathed deeply and watched the birds play in the sunlight. He had survived, and Erdyg had responded to his message. Today was a good day. | 2017-05-08T09:31:13 | 2017-05-08T08:22:41 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] Everyone has a superpower, and those that don't are taken away and never seen again. You don't have a superpower, so you've had to fake it - and so far, everybody's fooled. | "You wanna see what I can do? "I brandish a long slick needle. It was as long as the average man's forearm . The thugs stepped back. I could see the gears turning inside their heads. What kind of quirk could he have? That was the question on their minds. I plunged the needle into my neck. The one more forceful push it popped out the other side. The skin of my neck clung to the needle.
Their mouths hung open. "I am immortal. Mess with me and I'll get you back. Maybe no tomorrow, but you know I have the rest of your life to find you and your descendents."
They ran off. I pulled the needle out of my neck. That hurt. I'm not an immortal. I just have several pre planned paths I can shove a needle through my body. I have done it enough that the scar tissue doesn't bleed. You could call me a human pin cushion. | "Hey mate, show us again."
That line has been my mortal enemy since we all got superpowers. Well, everyone other than me. Everyone without has gone missing. Something about "Preserving the powerful genes within the population." There could be something you could say about those morals, but I've got no time to think about them.
"Come on, we're waiting!" says my friend Chad. He hovered in the centre of a circle of eager Teenagers showing off their newfound powers.
"OK then, here I go." I say, regretting agreeing to the meet-up.
A puddle of vomit slides out of my mouth and onto the floor. Before anybody notices, I stop pulling on my uvula.
The group is silent, staring at me with confusion.
"HEY GUYS CHECK THIS OUT." Shouts someone from outside the circle. A kid I've never met before leaps through "Invisible Matt" and directly onto the puddle.
He gets up off of the floor. The sick is gone.
"I CAN SOAK UP LIQUID! THIS IS SO COOOOOL!"
Nobody knows quite what to say.
"Well, I was the one who threw it up." I say, trying to sound confident about my "Power".
"YOU CAN BE MY BEST FRIEND AND THROW UP SO I CAN SOAK SOME LIQUID UP AND THEN WE CAN BE THE COOLEST SUPERHEROES EVER AND THEN-"
I dread tomorrow.
| 2017-06-17T12:53:07 | 2017-06-17T09:43:58 | 100 | 54 |
[WP] An unimportant NPC character somehow killed his/her first monster and thus gained XP. It started small then became an addiction. | Tharl stood over the corpse, covered in blood, trembling. It had been so close to his daughter, he hadn't even had time to think. He'd just grabbed his dagger and stabbed it again and again until the squealing stopped.
His daughter was crying, and her mother's touch did little to quell it.
Meanwhile, all Charl could think about how he just felt so much more *experienced*. He'd heard the legends of old, of how the more they fought, the stronger they became - but he always thought of them separate to an unremarkable man such as he.
And yet, here he was. Power surged through his veins. The town watch was struggling, and the monster raids were becoming more and more frequent. What if he, a simple blacksmith, could help turn back the tide?
He crouched low, putting his hand on his daughter's shoulder. His arm was still slick with blood.
"Honey, daddy's going to keep you safe, alright? Daddy's going to make sure you or your mother never get hurt again."
His wife stared at him curiously. It was like he was a different man. There was a spark in his eyes that she didn't ever quite remember seeing. She wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not.
"I just want you to be safe, daddy," his little girl said. "I don't want you to fight. I just want all of us to be safe."
"Don't worry, my child," he said, as he hauled the leathery corpse onto his shoulder and lumbered towards his workshop.
"*I'll make sure of that.*"
****
Part II, coming soon. | "No!" his hand slipped as it attacked the Whimsalot above. The face of shock vanished with its death, as he looked at the points he had. 5 EXP? LV level up? What did that mean?
"Your first bit of EXP. More of it makes you grow stronger!" The yellow flower that always appeared at odd timings showed up again, the omnipresent smile on its face. He liked the idea of power. Shrugging, he went on.
He did it once a week, killing the monsters that still lurked around in the Ruins. Whimsalots and Migosps always, for the others were too hard to fight. And he wasn't a monster anyhow. But steadily...the power flowed through his veins. The adrenaline of a kill rushed through him, and the flower's encouragement spurred him on. He grew in power until...he killed his first Vegetoid. Then a Loox. Then one fine day, his LV being 8, a fellow Froggit fell at his hands. A shower of EXP was granted to him, and the joy of the hunt put a smile on his face. No one would see him coming. No one.
______________________________
"At last, New Home," the seventh human spoke, its voice resounding in the bleak walls. As it journeyed down, soothing music playing in its ears, it listened to the life story of Asriel Dreemurr. But one of the storytellers...it looked different.
The Froggit emerged, his LV 15, as he wielded the True Knife. "Face me, Frisk," he commanded, drawing the sword as Frisk drew its Burnt Pan. But Frisk wasn't prepared. Froggit was.
It wasn't a fair fight from the start. And as Frisk lay, its soul broken at last, Froggit's LV hit 19. He saw a walkway waiting for him, Flowey by his side. And as he entered the golden church corridor, he was ready.
For judgement.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-07-12T06:05:36 | 2017-07-12T05:11:21 | 182 | 63 |
[WP] You are a vampire who likes to help humans instead of hurting them, so you became a doctor. Over the hospital's PA system one day you hear "Dr. Acula, Mr. Helsing is ready to see you." | "Mr. Helsing, huh? Must be new to this hospital."
Dr. Acula walked, happy as can be, towards the lobby to get his patient.
"Mr. Helsing..." He thought to himself. "Why does that sound familiar..." He reaches the lobby and asks for his patient. Mr. Helsing stood up and walked towards Dr. Acula. He was wearing dark, yet formal looking clothes, and stood up straight as can be. He looked like he was in serious pain. They started walking towards the room As usual, Dr. Acula started to conversate.
"So, how was your day?"
"God, it started off horrible! I woke up sick as hell, could barely get out of bed."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, had to come here because I've never felt like this before."
Dr. Acula then started to notice the smell of garlic. He didn't really think anything of it and continued into the room.
"Wait here as I get your medical records, ok?"
Mr. Helsing nodded yes. As Dr. Acula went to get his medical records, kept thinking to himself, "Where have I heard that name before..." Once he got the records and started his way back, it finally hit him. "Oh god he's Helsing the vampire hunter!" He stood stiff, with pure fear in his eyes. He tried to calm down and think. It didn't work. Then he slowly started walking to the room and think. "He can't be the REAL vampire hunter, right? He just happened to have the same name as him, RIGHT? Oh goddamnit, why does fear overcome logic!? AAAHHHH!"
He opened the door and walked in the room, where Mr. Helsing was still sitting, still looking sick as hell. There was a few seconds of very awkward silence before Dr. Acula spoke.
"Sooooo... This is your first time here?"
"Yeah, I'm not from the area."
"Are you on a business trip?"
"Yeah, came all the way from London."
"What do you do for a living?"
"Well, not to scare you or anything but I'm a vampire hunter."
Dr. Acula was internally screaming out of fear.
"Alright then! So where does it hurt!? Do you have a headache!?"
He was panicking. A lot.
"Ugh, my stomach REALLY hurts. I can't throw up or anything."
"Is- is that it!?"
"Yeah, that's all but it hurts a lot."
"Alrighty then! It's probably just a really bad stomach ache! I'll get you a pill and you should be fine in a few hours! If not come back tomorrow! I'll go get the pill for you!"
In reality, he was really hoping he wouldn't come back. Ever again. He went to get the pill from another room. He was shaking in fear, and could barely pick up the pill from the canister. He got a cup of water and went back into the room. He gave the water and pill to Helsing and told him to swallow it. The water was only half full because the other half was spilt from Dr. Acula's shaking. Helsing swallowed the pill and drank the water.
"Thanks doctor! I think I feel better already!"
"Your welcome! Is that all for today!?"
"Yeah"
They walked out the room and headed for the lobby. As helsing was about to enter the lobby, he turned back to Dr. Acula.
"Oh, and by the way doctor, we didn't come to this city to hunt you. Your safe."
Dr. Acula then proceeded to the restrooms, because he at that moment wet himself. | "Aww jeez, damn not him, why is he coming to this hospital out of all of them"
The PA system speaks again: *Doctor Acula please come into room 57, Mr. Helsing is ready to see you*
"I heard you the first time jackass"Acula mutters to himself in a distressed way "all right Acula, remember the pledge to Hypocrite, he is a human first and then a vampire hunter"
He washes his hands puts on the mask and moves toward the operating room. He enters the room which is pitch black
" We meet again, Lord Dracula, remember Romania?" Helsing says in a rough voice
"A lot changed Helsing, I am a real doctor now if you have a disease I am here to treat it if, you are here to play vampire hunter, I have no time, there are many patients that need help,"
Acula says in the voice that betrays that he is working a 36-hour shift
"You really think I'll believe a vampire?"
"Why not? I mean I am a real doctor, I can show you my diploma and credentials, or if you don't trust me, ask my colleagues here, check the documents I am a real practitioner"Acula answers in the tired voice
"What is going on?" Helsing is a little lost
"I got tired with the whole I am the Lord of Darkness deal, so I went to Bucharest, studied medicine, then emigrated to America, and I've been a resident doctor here in Cincinnati the for the last 5 years"
"That sounds too good to be true" Helsing is slowly coming to terms with the fact that Acula is not lying
"It is though, you know you get bored with haunting some little villages in Eastern Europe, and the people there are already suffering, after haunting them for a long time I realized that even without me they have trouble with corrupt politicians and international politics, so I decided to change and rid them of one evil, but I had to repent for all my killings, so I decided to start saving lives, and this job has been both rewarding and scarring, I've seen people recover, and thank me with the most genuine smiles , and I've seen relatives cry and blame me while in shock, all this made me realize what it means to be human, what it means to feel happiness, to experience pain, how hard loss hits and how beautifully resilient you are sometimes" Acula is flowing through his words
"You are not the same Vampire I met 15 years ago, damn you are a beautiful creature now, I am sorry for taking your time"Helsing is moved
"It happens to the best of us, but how are you? How's the family?" Acula is genuinely interested
"There's some trouble, I mean with my work I travel a lot, don't see the kids too much, they grow too fast, sometimes I wonder if I am losing something important by not being there for them, but I can't leave my job or other people won't be able to live in peace and will have to worry about their children but damn it hurts to be a stranger to your own family" Helsing sighs
"I think, you should spend more time with those who matter when you try to solve global problems you lose focus of what is important, leave the job and be with your family, learn from my mistakes, I thought that drinking other people's blood is good and that all I have to do is haunt them, without even paying attention to what they feel, and I was lost but then I found my true calling and here I am, tired but happy, be there for your family, you won't get a second chance to be a good dad to your kids and a good husband" Acula is almost preaching
Helsing turns on the lights and comes to hug Acula, they hug for a good 10 seconds, then they break the contact.
"Thanks for the advice Acula, "Helsing says
"Don't thank me, thank the people who opened my eyes"Acula says "and now I have to go save lives and you go save your family" | 2017-10-01T05:40:18 | 2017-10-01T04:44:18 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] You are immortal and move to a new city every 10 years to avoid detection. After moving back to Boston 100 years since your last stay, you notice a familiar face. | I stepped into Lyndell's and closed my umbrella, shaking stray drops of rain off the tip and into a waiting bucket. The air was warm and full of sugar and dough, and I could see someone pouring melted chocolate over doughnuts at the back of the shop.
I eyed off the display cabinet as I moved closer to the front counter. There were still four half-moons left, with any luck they'd all still be there by the time i got to order. They still had a photo of Birger on the wall, next to the Klemm brothers. The girl at the counter called out and I stepped forward.
"Four half-moons, please"
"Sorry sir, we just sold the last four online. We have chocolate-glazed doughnuts for half-price today though?"
UberEATS again. Worse than social media, that one. I tried not to let my disappointment show too much, I'd just rented a place around the corner, I'd be back plenty.
"Any Cheesecake?"
"By the slice or the whole?"
"Two slices, please."
A group entered, it had stopped raining. I walked down broadway. As usual, so much had changed. I took a bite of the cheesecake as I turned down Cedar and headed towards a park. It was creamy and sweet. A car horn pulled me out of my reverie and a policeman glared at me over his wheel. I smiled. Some things hadn't.
I watched children playing, their parents running after them. It was a nice day, plenty of families about. A large group was gathered around a table, with what looked like the entire extended family of a young girl around six. She had just blown out the candles on a large sheet cake, her black curls hung over bright eyes and an even brighter smile.
The children disappeared with the cake, and I realised I had been staring when my eyes met those of an old woman in a wheelchair. She looked liked an old flame of mine. Her eyes turned dark and she beckoned to one of her relatives. I straightened up in the chair as she was wheeled over.
"Can I help you, ma'am?"
"Your name George?"
I stiffened.
"Go back to your mother, Destiny," the woman harrumphed "I'll call you over when I'm done."
The girl rolled her eyes as she turned to walk away.
"I know who you are," she said, in a deep, low voice. "My mother told me you'd be back."
I thought back to the last time I had been in Boston. There was only one, and there was no way she was still alive. "I'm sorry, have we met?" I asked, trying not to sound condescending.
"No, Mr. Latimer, we have not. You knew my mother, well enough."
"Rebecca? She was a lovely, charming woman."
"She was." She was still glaring at me, but her face had softened a little. Just like her mother.
A pang of guilt crept in. I hadn't left Rebecca in the best way, but I had been found.
"I'm sorry, have I done something to offend, I didn't mean to-"
"Didn't she tell you?" The woman interrupted. She sounded disappointed.
"Listen, I know she was poorly when I left but I had no say in the matter, it was -"
She hushed me. "She was poorly, but she came good" she sighed and pointed to the thirty-odd people gathered around the table "Thems' your grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren."
My eyes widened as the truth dawned on me.
And then it started to rain again.
| The questions had started again. Or, rather, they were usually not questions, but statements. "It looks like you haven't aged a day!". The questions was more in line of what I do to stay looking young. I just shrugged them off saying exercise and food and whatnot. In reality I hadn't trained since I attended the first modern Olympic Games 121 years ago.
I's been 14 Years since I started working at this small family owned hardware store. I will remember this period with great pleasure for millennia. Never felt so included, so at home anywhere. I've been to so many family dinners and gatherings and big moments I've lost count. I am sad that I have to disappear again. But I can't stay. I won't risk being locked up again. I revealed myself to a pharaoh some 4000 years ago. Do you know how long it takes to dig through 10 meters of stone with your bare hands? Won't risk it.
The questions are coming to often now, I and I am already several years due. I sit in my bed. My suitcase is packed with some of my most prized possessions and some clothes. Four thirty in the morning. I go utside and put a letter in the hardware store mail slot. An angry rambling on how I have always hated them and that I have now saved up enough money to get away from them. The usual. I think it makes it easier for my 'victims'. I don't know. Taxi. Airport. Fuck, I am going to miss them. I am going to miss Brisbane. Oh well, I'll get over it.
Passport, immigration control and these travesties go just fine. My passport is actually real. Cost a hell of a lot of money, but in Australia I was for all purposes and intentions a real existing person.
Finally. After changing flights several times and a total travelling time of 42 hours I stood outside the terminal building at Logan. Things have changed in a hundred years. I walked towards the Taxis lining up. As the chauffeur got out of his car and we made eye contact it was like time froze. For both of us.
"You". He said.
"You". I replied.
He opened the trunk and put my luggage in the trunk.
"Get in. Front seat" He said.
In the last two minutes my brain had processed an extreme amount of information. After going through all the different possibilities I had to conclude. He was an immortal. We've been good friends and business associates for all most a decade. I knew him in and out. It was Tom.
After 10 minutes of silence I opened my mouth.
"Tom?" I said in a very question like fashion.
"Yes, but I go by the name Erik now. Are you George?"
"Yes. I've been calling myself Michael the last fifty years though"
"Oh, repeat names. Bold". Tom looked at me.
"It is really you. God damn. How long have you been alive?" I blurted out
"Oh, I don't really know. I spent some time, wandering the bottom of the Atlantic ocean at some point. I't might have been 200 years or 2000 years. I really don't know. Hard to locate the historic events in any books as I was in North America when it happened. It kinda screwed my memory. But I recon at least 5000 years. Perhaps more. You?" Tom smiled
"About the same. I was around a thousand years old when the pharao burried me alive. Took me a couple thousand years to get out of that one. My ocean wandering I suppose. When I finally got out I did Jesus."
"NO WAY!" Tom yelled! "I did Mohammed when I finally found a shore with people on it!"
"For real?" I said.
"Does it really matter? But yes. I did. Did you really do Jesus?"
"Yes"
"Imagine what we could do if we put our forces together again. We did business very well, but then both of us pretended to be mortals. Imagine what we can accomplish together" Tom said after another 10-15 minutes of silence.
"Ok. Lets conquer the world"
| 2017-10-14T23:47:52 | 2017-10-14T23:30:42 | 135 | 81 |
[WP] You realize you have misheard your daughter, there is actually a mobster underneath her bed. | "Oh, so he's hidden under your bed, is he?" I grinned with anticipation, brandishing my kitchen knife.
"Dad, be careful!" Emily cried. "He'll hurt you!"
"I think I can handle him," I said with a smirk.
I picked the lamp up off of the dresser and set it down on the floor to get a better look.
"No little claws sticking out of the edge," I said. "He must be underneath it dead center."
"Dad, just call the police!" she pleaded.
"Honey, warm up the stove," I called downstairs, "I'll be down in just a minute."
Emily shrieked as I dove to the floor and stabbed blindly under her bed. But my knife encountered no claws, no tough red shell. Instead it cut through the fabric of a snappy brown suit. A small blood stain now spread across the sleeve. A pair of beady eyes glared at me from under a brown fedora.
"Wiseguy thinks he can take me out with a kitchen knife," the mobster sneered. He pulled a large black pistol from his jacket, aimed quickly, and pulled the trigger.
A bullet tore through my shoulder. I dropped the knife and staggered back to the wall. My chef's hat tumbled to the ground as blood dripped down the front of my shirt to my apron.
"Honey," I shouted weakly, "You can stop boiling the water. Turns out our daughter isn't hiding our dinner in her room. Also, could you call the police? Please?"
"Nobody's gonna boil Joey 'the Spiny' Aragosta," he shouted, as he leapt out the window beside me, landed in a bush, and scurried away.
"Dad, are you okay?" shouted Emily. "Why did you try to kill the mobster that was hiding under my bed?"
"I thought you said lobster," I said weakly.
"Oh, daddy," she said. "That makes absolutely no sense. Why would I have a lobster under my bed?"
I tried to answer her, but I had no idea what to say. Mercifully, consciousness chose that moment to slip away from me. | It wasn’t until I heard a crash and subsequent scream that I realized something was wrong. Grabbing the nearest thing to my bed – an ugly metal lamp – I pelted from the room, snapping the power cord in the process. As I burst into my daughter’s bedroom, I held it up, ready to beat any infiltrator to death with the back end.
But there was no one there besides Sarah, who was kneeling cautiously beside her bed, from beneath which emanated the sounds of banging wood and breaking glass.
“What’s going on?” I asked, panting from my breakneck pace down the hall. I swiftly moved to the bed, and after a glance to check Sarah wasn’t hurt, peered beneath the mattress. “What’s that noise?”
“It’s the policeman,” Sarah said, looking more confused than concerned. I could see why – beneath her bed was a mysterious set of stairs that ended at a half-open doorway with an inset sliding hatch around eye-level. None of this had been there when I tucked her into bed.
“What policeman?”
“He came to the door and said he needed to arrest the mobster and that there’s a speaksy under my bed”
“A speaksy” This was getting stranger by the minute. “You mean speakeasy?”
“Yes,” Sarah nodded. “What is that?”
“It’s a place for drinking,” I told her. “Where did this policeman go?”
Sarah pointed down the steps. As she did so, loud yelling echoed from below, and a large man in a suit began shuffling his way through the door, angrily protesting a policeman who was pointing a gun into his ribs from behind.
“You’ll never take us all, copper!” the man in the suit was shouting. “You may have gotten me, but Mugsy and the boys will come for me, and they’ll make you sorry! You can’t keep the Goodtimes Club closed forever!”
“Yeah, yeah. They’re forget about you soon enough once you’re rotting in Sing Sing” chided the cop, pushing his prisoner up the stairs. Sarah and I jumped back out of the way as they ducked beneath the bed frame. The policeman glanced towards me and gave a nod as they reached the top. “Sorry about this sir. Just upholding the prohibition.”
With barely a glance toward us, the duo left the room, stopping briefly for the officer to tip back a loose book on Sarah’s bookcase. The floor beneath Sarah’s bed slid back into place, as if it had never moved.
After several moments, I picked myself up, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
“I’ll put you back to bed in a minute,” I told Sarah, before heading to the kitchen. “I need a drink.”
| 2017-11-02T22:23:35 | 2017-11-02T21:28:25 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them. | "BETTING CLOSED" the sign flashed. the crowd roared at the appearance of Ikken Tren, the current champion. Flanked by her longtime rival Kuu Hy. The two were formidable, each with dozens of wins in conventional bouts. Kuu had been undefeated in the arenas until their battle with Tren.
"So, hear what we're fighting today?" Kuu gurgled. "Just some exotic from a backwater, apparently it's an extreme-world species." Tren clicked.
A hush fell over the crowd as the platform rose in the center of the arena. The speakers blared "Today, we've procured a rare delicacy for your viewing pleasure! A live human! If any of you do not know, these things need some of the most corrosive and reactive substances, just to live! They're renowned far and wide for their adaptive nature and extreme violence, we're sure you've heard the stories of even gilrak empire ships picked clean, crews dead, and we managed to capture one alive just to bring down for you! It's rare to even capture a hundred per standard cycle."
Tren shook visibly, "I've seen these things in the beast pit at krigga station, just one slaughtered ten traxiz, and the guards they sent in. Whole place ended up getting found out and shut down." Instinctively pulling in her insectoid wings to keep them from harm. Humans couldn't fly, so she'd keep it as a trump card to overwhelm this thing before it could figure it out.
"So what, we're champions, we're easily worth twenty rookies" Kuu's boastful lies showing as his tentacled grip tightened on his spears, His gelatinous body devoting more mass to them to keep his distance.
As the platform's dome disengaged and receded into the floor, there it stood. Easily as tall as Tren, covered by a light pressure suit and a mask, as it couldn't breathe in their atmosphere. It raised a gloved fist with a knife. A sword was gripped by it's right. Screams of horror and cheers for their champions filled the air.
The announcer blared once again "Seems we're just getting a report now... They found an entire planet of these things, looks like we're going to be getting a regular showing!"
As quickly as the roar had begun, it was silenced. the human was rushing the champions! Kuu immediately went on the offensive as well, stabbing with all four spears in rapid succession, the razors clanging as they were easily batted aside, then it began.
A clattering as the human struck off one of the gooey limbs near where it was attached to the spear. "Warning flammable, warning flammable" called Illya, their AI as some of the goop got on their suit.
Tren circled the pair, Kuu was being reckless and not leaving her an opening to move in "fool attacks first and thinks never." she thought as the human put their plan into action.
Blocking with both weapons was risky, but it hid the attack that sealed Kuu's fate. They pushed the emergency pressure vent on their mask while shearing the survival knife's flint to make a spark. The screeching was answered with horror and glee from the crowd "Oh that trademark adaptability, using their own atmosphere compressor to kill!"
This was her chance, Kuu had wounded it's leg and the thing's back was turned as it made sure Kuu was fully burnt away. Wings unfurling, almost silent Tren managed to land a fatal blow, running the beast right through the midsection! It even dropped it's main weapon in shock.
"damage detected, medical attention suggested" The human's knife flashed out nearly punching through Tren's exoskeleton in several places. She tried to retrieve her spear, but the human had dropped it's weapon to grab the haft that had stuck through! She didn't know that human anatomy had the vital organs high in the abdomen.
And then it was over. The human twisted, using it's weight advantage to bowl Tren over and pin her under a boot. A heavy, repeated crunching filled the air along with wails of fear and despair at the loss of money from those whom had bet 10 to 1 on the champions.
"And that's the end of the former champion and our pernicious firebra-" The announcer cut out mid-sentence, replaced by a coarse tone. "Illya, we live?! Good. Listen up, fuckers! I am Kate, security officer of the Earth Expeditionary Force Vessel Minnow." The human gesturing to itself. "I've called in the full armada, and given them the access to your comm networks. we now know all your stations and homeworlds, and we. are. pissed. Illya, has the minnow locked us? Transfer out." The human glowed for a brief moment then disappeared.
The station's emergency klaxons all began emitting proximity alarms due to incoming munitions. | Ship YZ089 has haunted the Ortalem species for years. The ship had been part of an exploratory program in search of C40H56. Ortalem biological functions had so completely evolved that they longer died of any cause except C40H56 deficiency. Without it, their bodies would harden like stone until it killed them. Just a tiny amount prevented this. It occurred naturally on their planet as a red crystal, but could not be renewed fast enough for the growing population. YZ089 was the only ship to find C40H56. They broadcasted their discovery and then disappeared
This is the story as most Ortalem know it. Only the Council knew the rest of what happened, and it terrified them.
YZ089’s crew had been on something of a suicide mission. Determined to find the needed crystal, they decided to explore until their rations had run out. A red planet in a newly discovered solar system gave great hope, but ultimately lacked what they were looking for. They decided to go one planet closer to that system’s sun.
It was a miracle when some dead organic material found near the landing site scanned positive for C40H56. It wasn’t a red crystal, but instead a dark lumpy mass. After communicating the discovery to the Council they were told to collect the sample to bring home, but that they were to consume a little if their stores had gotten low. Statues of the crew could be made without their becoming stone themselves. Knowing the relief it would bring to the masses, one of the Council members, Otamo, secretly brought a copy of this transmission to the press.
The ozone in the planet’s atmosphere had badly damaged YZ089. A few days in to necessary repairs, the YZ089 crew decided to partake of their spoils. Communication was established to document the first consumption and to send scanned data of the organic material. There was a toast, and then each took a hearty bite, it would be enough C40H56 to last the trip home. Within minutes of eating it the Ortalem crew curled over in pain, unable to speak. Moments later they were all dead. Home base sent a remote command to the ship’s auto-pilot system for it to bring the crew home. The ship transmitted a confirmation and began streaming its flight data.
Final word from YZ089 was that its outer hull was not safe for the vacuum of space. The ship was rerouting to land when 46,000 feet above the surface something struck the ship. The last thing broadcast was Ortalem bodies, not stone, but soft and lifeless, being tossed around the cabin during the crash.
To the council it was clear; the ship had been attacked. The only things known about the creature were that: upon its death it lost most of its mass and turned to mush, the C40H56 it contained was fatal, and virtual reconstruction of its genetic material showed they looked exactly like the Ortalem.
Celebrations were silenced once the Council announced YZ089 had been lost in a black hole. They decided to end the exploratory program to prevent any further tragedies. In reality they feared the creature so deadly to their species, and so willing to attack. Resources would be allocated to figuring out how to cultivate C40H56 at home. Since all prior attempts at cultivation had failed, the public clamored that the lost crew, or the planet they discovered, be found. When the remaining exploratory ships arrived home, some were hidden by crews that agreed with the public.
No one knew that Otamo leaked the initial transmission. In his deep shame at prematurely giving hope to the Ortalem, he left the Council and joined one of the defunct exploratory crews in their search for YZ089’s planet.
Otamo never shared with the crew that he had been a member of the Council. He knew the contempt most people felt toward them these days, and the contempt was greater still among the discarded exploratory crews. Before resigning, Otamo stole YZ089’s route logs and used it to gain a spot on the rogue ship. He said a sympathizing old friend who worked under a Council member had gotten the information. It matched official exploratory documents the crew knew in and out and decided it was the best chance they had at finding the planet they sought. No other information was shared; anything else would have led to incredulity.
Long in to the voyage a member of the crew shared news of a red planet coming in to view.
“Let’s pass it,” Otamo said. He knew the planet didn’t contain what they were looking for. Remembering the desolation YZ089’s crew expressed at leaving that red planet, he almost felt guilty about his pleasure, knowing they were so close to the right place.
“Why the hell should we do that?”
“Because, captain, it’s not C40H56.”
The captain rose from her chair and went to see the image of the red planet.
“See, it’s the wrong shade of red. I think we should continue to the next one.”
Moving closer to the screen, the captain nearly pressed her face to the image.
“I’m telling you, it’s a waste of time.”
The captain glared at Otamo. “Why don’t you tell us how you know, then? How do you know that a giant red planet isn’t something we should look at?”
“The logs…” Otamo was interrupted by a crew member across the room.
“A distress signal!”
The captain rushed to him. On a screen were the words:
Location: Veght
Distress: 28A2M80
Ship: YZ089
| 2017-11-08T21:28:26 | 2017-11-08T19:38:11 | 119 | 89 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them. | Human, Humans:
Humans are a cryptid in Betelgusian folklore. They are a relatively small, hairless creature, bi-pedal creature said to inhabit an water planet in one of the outer arms. Scientists discount the existence of Humans and consider them to be a combination of folklore, misidentification, and hoax rather than a living species. They note the lack of physical evidence for a species reported to be so universally capable, deadly, and vindictive, arguing that any such sentient species would long ago have escaped the confines of their world and spread across the stars.
Ancient trading logs of similar encounters do exist from the exploration phase of the Centauri expansion some 0.01 galactic cycles ago but the species there recorded, while physically consistent with the description of "Humans" falls short on several levels and does not differ markedly from any other non-technological species noted in the logs. Crypto-anthropologist Grover Krantz notes that human sightings spread outward along hyperspatial bypass routes passing through the Centauri system. These accounts differ in details both regionally and within linked systems but similar accounts of Humans or Human-like creatures are found in every sector save the inner core.
The Lummi tell tales about Ts'emekwes, the local version of "humans." The stories are similar to each other in the general descriptions of Ts'emekwes, but details differed among various family accounts concerning the creature's diet and activities. Some regional versions tell of more threatening creatures. The stiyaha or kwi-kwiyai were a nocturnal race. Children were warned against saying the names, lest the monsters hear and come to carry off a person—sometimes to be killed. In GY 1.84.7, Kaul Pane reported stories by the drift-trading scouts about skoocooms, a race of cannibals living atop vast flat mountains rising above the seas of a water planet. | Captain Gargul stood in his state room watching the endless dark pass by his window. Occasional flecks of subspace would speed by briefly lighting the room with a joyful brightness. He prided himself on this state room. This window. It *meant something* to have earned his position. To have crawled his way up the ranks and to now be standing here with his own ship. With his own crew. His own room! He'd never had his own room before. The hatcheries were all open spaces. Then the schools and universities always used teams and pods to foster a sense of community. He loved his world. It was his home and it was everything a proud, patriotic Narmic, should cherish. But this. Privacy. Seclusion. Something to call truly his own. This was something new and wonderful.
"Excuse me, Captain. First officer Kystohn has sent you a message.", the ship's artificial assistant broke into his reverie. Being called 'Captain' was still something of a new toy for Gargul. It made him happy to hear it even coming in the form of an interruption.
"Play the message.", Gargul replied with a smile. He smiled even more broadly and realizing he was smiling. Today might just turn out to be a great day.
The image of Kystohn's head appeared near the door facing Gargul. His dull, thick, head plates clearly showing the wear of an old soldier. His hesitation and demeanor gave away bad news before he even began speaking. He'd never been one to avoid a tough situation.
"And it was going to be such a good day...", Gargul thought to himself.
"Sir we've gotten initial results from the frontier array. There's ... sir it looks like a Human ship is approaching Narmic space. I've relayed the data back home."
The image faded quickly. Silently.
"End of message. Would you like to reply?", the ship's assistant prompted.
"No. I'll head down to the bridge. Instruct the kitchen to have a warm meal ready for me there please."
Gargul left his room, closing the door solumnly behind him. The subspace lights still flickering cheerfully in the dark. | 2017-11-08T19:25:17 | 2017-11-08T19:06:31 | 30 | 19 |
[WP] Every Monday you and your coworkers order Chinese food for a nice lunch together as a team. Everyone's sharing what their fortune cookie says, laughing, and having a good time. It's almost your turn so you open yours. It says "Don't say anything. Just run as fast you can! Get out now!" | "Oh My God!"
"That was hilarious! I think Dan is still running!"
"Literally the funniest thing I've ever seen"
"How'd you do it?"
"Well", I started slowly "first I found this company in California that makes custom fortune cookies. It was a little pricey, because you have to order a whole case, but I figured after Dan jello'd my stapler, I had to come up with something better. After that I just waited. I figured three months of not getting Dan back would be long enough for him to stop being paranoid and lull him in to a false sense of security. Then I started the Monday Chinese Lunch Club. Mr. Yu was more than happy to help. And the result, well, better than anticipated."
"Someone should text Dan and tell him it was a joke. You know. In a little while." | The surrounding had seemed normal. Nothing out if the ordinary had appeard or slipped in. Yet that cookie kept pulling at me. What a werid message to put into a simple fortune cookie. My coworkers were all gossiping about the office. Teasing one another for their fortunes. Then it caught my eye. A figure wearing the waiters outfit glared at me. I'd take my chances and I lifted the chair. All four of my companions gave me confirmation for my abrupt leaving. As quick and calm as I could manage. I left a 20 on the table and skipped right out the door. The click of the door put my nerves at ease. A feeling of serenity doused over me. Although a quiet tug told me to make distance between me and the restaurant. In a haste I was dashing through sidewalks and looking like a really enthusiastic jogger. A building has emerged and my apartment stood with the rest. The metallic touch brought to my fingers by a key gave me a shiver. It felt off so I swifted through my pocket and pulled it out. My eyes withdrew with shock. This key wasn't mine? It only had one word on it. "Death"
(I wrote this is 20 minutes, so don't get to mad for the bad plot points) | 2018-06-10T08:12:17 | 2018-06-10T07:17:00 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] The concept of shoot to kill is foreign to other galactic species. Only humans condition their warriors to kill in the most efficient and cold methods possible. When faced with a war they can not win a race does the unthinkable, they set the humans loose. | The puny, hairless apes would seem pathetically unsuited for combat to the average Lunn, before it’d be destroyed with cold, brutal and almost machine like efficiency. ‘Humans’ as they called themselves, ‘Erthak-Viss’ to us, the vengeful.
I have never seen a species so vicious, so unbelievably talented in the art of war yet so frail. It did not make sense. They had no natural armour, they were tiny, and worst of all they only had four limbs, like the Ploderians but without the grace.
We Lunn have been at war for nine million cycles, an endless war with the Uviea for as long as our records have existed. We have not known anything else. They are a proud warrior people, much like us, hulking beasts who lived for war.
We were losing, horribly. Finally it seemed the endless war would end, with us bowing out and taking our place in the great beyond. Except Priestess Vishtok-Maia struck a deal with the humans. She had just ascended the throne, inviting their armies to our shores. In exchange for their help, the humans gained a seat on the galactic council. Heresy. Such creatures should be shunned. However, I am oath bound to serve the throne, a curse, the golden spear must protect the Priestess.
My human counterpart was an older male veteran. He was puny, but significantly larger than other humans, with a thick scar across his ugly face. Grand Admiral Jackson, I saw nothing grand about this man, save for the tiny pieces of metal adorning his uniform. I had learned these were the humans’ way of signifying accomplishment, they took no trophies. Strange.
From the humans’ command ship I watched the battle unfold, it raged for hours with losses on both sides. It seemed there would be no clear victor.
And then everything changed.
“All destroyers focus fire on the center of enemy formation, bruisers pull in front form defensive shell, focus all power to front shields. Deploy fighters on my mark. 3,2,1, engage.” Jackson yelled over communications in a controlled rage.
In an instant, red lasers blasted through the hull of the Uviean flagship. It burned a brilliant green and then exploded. They were in disarray, the human fighters flew right into the middle of their formation and dropped proximity mines and flew past. Not bothering to engage the enemy. Seconds later, a brilliant white light blinded me. When my vision returned, the enemy was gone. Only scrap was left where a mighty armada once was. I felt nothing, cold, a million voices silenced in an instant. This was human warfare. Cold, brutal, efficient, without soul, without honor.
“Fish in a barrel. Good day general, I’ll have a battle report ready for your people in the morning. Lieutenant Alvarez will guide you to your shuttle.” Jackson left for his quarters, no celebration, no empathy. It was as if war was just a formality for these creatures.
If they come for us, there will be no great battle, no heroes. Just the end, if that day comes. Divine Ten help us. | Agulteath looked over the barren wasteland. The once luscious landscape of Akreia was now in flames, millions of families displaced. He had tried everything he could to create peace with the new species. Hell, he tried to create a lasting friendship with them, feeling sympathetic of how their world had vanished overnight.
At first, it seemed peace may have been on the horizon. The species tried their best to assimilate, to honor the culture and history of Akeria. The species got together quite well, finding much common ground. But, as the species grew, so did their needs.
They would beg for more land for their growing population. More sustenance to increase their likelihood of survival. For their own way of life to remain. The one strong ropes of trust were becoming burned and frazzled. The small green dot could not handle the increasingly-clashing groups.
Desperation had set in. In the dead of night they would cross the borders, ransacking whatever resources they could. They tried not to hurt Agulteath's people, but that was inventible. On a cold and foggy day, the oldest leader and teacher of Agulteath was found dead at the bottom of the stairs, after an apparent break-in and struggle.
Agulteath signature for the cleansing operation soon arrived. In his rage he saw no other option. From now on, they would be seen as parasites.
The first idea was to simply ask them to leave, which they first angrily refused. In fact, they felt so insulted by this that they began to steal in broad daylight. The next step was to intimidate them, going over to their boarders and parading in their streets for them to leave. Again, they refused. Many of those parades grew violent. A particular one in the large town of Flamet was especially devasting. Somebody had the bright idea to ignite as many places as they could. 708 would lose their lives. Nobody would ever find out what side it came from.
Agulteath’s tried to stay to his pacifist roots, but the other side no longer cared who they hurt. They invaded Agulteath’s nation, damning everyone who stood in their way. Soon only the capitol was left, completely surrounded. Without something truly devasting, truly horrible, his species would be lost forever.
Agulteath called for order C-376.
A strange group began to come out of the capitol’s gate. “What were they?” the surrounding forces thought. Where were their tentacles? Where are their coats of hair? What are those strange black things there pointing at-
Agulteath looked away as he heard the barrage of shots. The screams. The crying of children. But it all fell on deaf ears as the endless firing continued.
“They had become parasites, and there was now no answer besides extermination!” Agulteath cried to himself, trying block out the dreadful noise.
The sounds finally stopped 15 minutes later.
Agulteath looked outside to see the horror. He stumbled back and crashed into his throne, the weight of his actions washing and slamming into him. He softly wept. He couldn’t handle this guilt, this despair. He demanded whoever had killed the most to present themselves, immediately.
It was an older man, still coated in fresh blood. Hmm, funny. They somehow looked similar.
Agulteath calmly walked up to the solider and pressed himself against their weapon.
“You have served me well, creature.” he calmly spoke. “It is now time for your final honour. With your last remaining bullets you will kill me, and then yourself. As your ruler, I command you.”
The trained creature quickly obliged. Two last bangs rang throughout the world. | 2018-07-20T21:24:50 | 2018-07-20T18:40:38 | 38 | 18 |
[WP] If you get pregnant but you aren’t ready for a child, you can cryogenically freeze them after birth until you’re ready to raise them. The problem is, many people end up abandoning them because they’re never ready, leaving thousands of perfectly preserved babies at the hands of the cryo agencies | I've been a cleaner at Cryo Cribs for 8 years now. Maintenance technician is my title, but all I do is mop the shop floor. Thats 8000sq metres of warehouse space, broken down into a constant rotation of 1500sq metres mopped per day, day in - day out, for 8 years. The hundreds of thousands of tubes spread out uniformly across the warehouse floor continuously leak, a constant ebb of greenish coolant that will eventually eat away at the warehouse floor and the tube's housings if left unmopped.
Originally the tubes didn't leak that often, and when they did there was a crew of maintenance technicians that would carry out repairs, but over time things sure have changed around here. A combination of superior birth control advancements, accompanied by a cure for ageing thanks to CRISPR research, and suddenly the "Frozen Generation" has become the "Forgotten Generation". The Cryo Cribs management soon realised that the their millions of preserved wards was turning from a massive gold mine, into a huge liability, as would-be-parents opted to go to Mars rather than raise their paused commitments.
The maintenance crew were the first to go once management realised the tube mess could simply be mopped up, but then catering went off site, HR was condensed into another facility, accounting was shuttered, etc etc. Eventually it was just the maintenance crew, and eventually it was just me.
It's an easy job, the easiest I've ever had, but it sure is lonely. A thousand eyes will see my name tag everyday, but no consciousness will recognise my name, my face. There's about 3 dozen Cryo Crib facilities left in the country, and a few hundred more similar facilities from other cyro agencies around the globe, interred will millions of unborns. There was a fire in a Scandinavian facility last month, complete loss of stock, but it didn't even make the global newscast. The world has forgotten about these ones, forgotten about me and my mop. Forgotten their responsibilities and morals. Forgotten that the head of maintenance has an all access unlock key.
If I wake them all up, then the world will have to hear their cries.
| It was never supposed to go this way. But I guess that's what everyone thinks when the world turns to shit.
I stood motionless, letting the gentle breeze kiss lightly against my blood caked face. I grasped an EMP dagger in my right fist. I hated the bloody things. Serrated edges, bulky chargers. The only difference with this one was that it was dented, and covered in blood. Their blood.
With a tired sigh, I gazed at what lay at my feet. Smothered in dust and blood, a human lay there. At least, what was left of one. It hadn't really been human since it was born. But... I shook my head, resolving myself. There was nothing I could do. There was nothing any of us could do. With another sigh, I knelt, locked an emotionless gaze with its eyes, and rammed the dagger into its skull. After a convulsion or two, it's last gurgles of life was a biting melody to my ears.
How did it come to this? Five years after the war broke the majority of the population seemed to just disappear. Are we to say that no one saw it coming? Perhaps. But then again, historically when humans have tried to play god, it's never ended so well. I clenched my fists until I could see the whites of the knuckles. So much death, and for what? For this hell? With a growl, I booted the mangled corpse, its limp form shifting like sludge in the dusty ground. Sometimes it got too much, even for me. But others were relying on me, I couldn't afford to show weakness. Not now.
Bending down, I cracked open the creature's ribs and rummaged around until I could find what I needed. It was somewhat ironic that the device that powered all our EMPs were the creature's core engine. But who am I to question design. I'm just the guy who kills things. With a few more grunts and some squelching, the device finally ripped free, a small, circular metallic object that glowed a faint blue. Such a small thing, so much destruction.
And then the sirens sounded.
"Shit."
With one last sigh, I stood and gazed out over the plains. Following the horizon, the city was silhouetted against the dying glow of the afternoon sun. The towering mass of steel and concrete was the last place I wanted to go, but it was the only place we could go. Back to where it all began. Back to find patient 0. | 2018-08-01T07:27:56 | 2018-08-01T06:54:52 | 68 | 11 |
[WP] They killed his hound, and stolen his steed. The rogue knight returns from retirement to teach them a lesson. He was known as the man you call to kill the shadow itself, and he was known as John, the Wicked. | They killed his hound and stole his steed,
The rogue knight returns to punish the deed.
Whether Bogeyman or demon spawn,
Beware the wrath of Wicked John.
​
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
I apologize if this isn't appropriate for a top level post, but it does technically say stories/poems. | The man was dead. She nudged him for the third time, still not quite believing. Still dead. She let the breath go that she had held in burning lungs.
‘What do I do now?’ She wondered, sitting beside his dead body. She licked her lips nervously. Through the fear and panic of what she had seen, a single joyful voice reminded her that her master was dead and she didn’t have to suffer his abuse now.
The man bent down on one knee and pulled a glove off before gently stroking her face. ‘It’s alright, pup. I can’t promise you a long life but I can promise you a full stomach.’ The warmth of his hand on her face, human hands that had shown her nothing but cruelty, was almost too much. She whined and licked his rough palm. He smiled at her, scooped her up and deposited her in the saddle bag that he slung over his shoulder. ‘Now let’s go see a man about a horse...’ he said menacingly. | 2018-09-05T06:16:17 | 2018-09-05T04:30:12 | 50 | 21 |
[WP] You have an interesting ability, you can teleport, but only when no one is looking. One night you get hungry so you attempt to teleport downstairs for a snack. You attempt to teleport but realize, you can't.
Original post by Alberto9324 | When he first got this ability, he thought he would save people. Be a hero. Like in the comics.
Instead of teleporting for a cookie. But he was hungry. And he wanted it.
He looked around and then sighed. His power only worked when no one was around. And of course no one was around. He was alone. In bed. Lying down, in his red sweater, fat and in red socks.
His girlfriend had left him. Didn’t understand the changes. He wasn’t the same person.
Of course he wasn’t, he could teleport.
She didn’t know. He could never show her. It didn’t work if she was looking. It didn’t work if anyone looked. So it was good riddance.
But he didn’t move. Didn’t teleport. Didn’t budge. He couldn’t understand why. He was alone in his bedroom.
He got up and turned on the lights. Alone.
He tried again and groaned in frustration. Why wasn’t it working?
Back in bed he stared at the wall and blinked. She left him and he was alone. They had been together for over a decade and she left him because of what, that he had changed. He Had become cold, she said. Who did she think she was? That uppity bitch.
He had powers. He could do anything he wanted. He did try to save people. But then he figured he could just get what he wanted.
He didn’t have to try. He just took. It was easier and he was lazy. First it was cash. Then it was cars. Then...
He was a god. Why save the lives of ants?
So he took them. Took. Took. And took.
Of course. That’s why. He couldn’t teleport because, well because he wasn’t alone.
He got up and look down. She was there. Lying down. He stepped over her body. He stepped over her boyfriends body. And the pool of blood. He stepped out of the room relaxed.
Of course alone meant alone. Dead or alive.
He blinked like a flashlight and was downstairs. He took his cookie.
He left their house.
He wanted something else. | I must have looked like an idiot. The teleportation rituals only work when someone is not watching, because if I did them when someone was, I would be too embarrassed to concentrate enough. The rituals involved spinning in circles as fast as possible while you concentrate on the place you are trying to go. Eventually, you shout "Fried Chili Cheese!" and bang, there you are.
​
In fact, this is what had driven me to teleport. I craved Fried Chili Cheese, and I knew how to make it. I wanted to go down to the kitchen and decided to practice my teleportation. I performed the ritual with perfect concentration and looked around, expecting to see my kitchen. Instead, my bedroom seemed as serene as ever.
​
I heard a knock on the door and rushed downstairs, not even considering teleporting down. I opened the door and was shocked by what I saw.
​
In front of me, fifty men knelt in the grass of my lawn. One of them in the front had a crown raised above his head.
​
"Sire," the one with the crown whispered.
​
"Whaaaa?" I responded, without the strength or will to do much else.
​
"You have learned the sacred rituals. You don't know the abbreviated spell, but that is easily fixable. You are descended from the royal line, thus your ability has developed. Come with us to the castle."
​
So I was brought to a highland palace. I was taught the abbreviated ritual, which was twirling my finger and saying "FCC."
​
*Disclaimer: this was written not by the author but is based on security footage and his writing style.*
​
Of course, my fame was fun, but it came with some downsides. There was one assassination attempt.
​
He came out of nowhere after I was already locked in my bedroom. It was to prevent anyone from coming in, but it stopped other from coming out. That made me hold a lot of pee.
​
Either way, the assassin approached with a knife in his hand. Twirling my finger, I muttered "FCC, FCC, FCC" before remembering that I cannot teleport with others around. The assassin approached and put the knife through my heart. As I waited to die, my worry was that no one would know my story.
​
If you're reading this, I can die in peace.
​
Thank you.
​
Constructive criticism welcome. r/SkiddyBiddyBop | 2018-09-11T21:25:51 | 2018-09-11T16:39:17 | 277 | 15 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk. | He found her sitting in a tree. Her legs dangled over the edge, her dusty feet kicking back and forth. It had taken him a while to find her. It wasn't as simple as it usually was. The hourglasses came with coordinates, of course. The tiny numbers ascribed on the bottom gave approximate locations. It wasn't a perfect system. Humans weren't as predictable as, say, ants. Things had gotten tricky when they domesticated the horse, for example. It had gotten worse with the engine. Obviously airplanes had kicked things into gear. But the hourglass makers, those bright-eyed creatures, were quick to adjust. They usually got it into the ballpark.
What they could not account for was Death letting an hourglass slip beneath his desk.
First, he brought it to his brothers and sisters, the others also known as Death. They passed it between themselves. Each Death took to their jobs differently, and each were assigned the appropriate hourglasses. The Death that came suddenly but quietly bent his long neck over the lost hourglass and frowned. He thrust it back and gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. The Death of sick children held the hourglass for a long time, cradling it in her warm and comforting arms, and smiled. "You lost it, huh? Just under your desk?" Her eyes twinkled. "Not such a bad idea." This last part she said quietly, under her breath, as she made her way back towards her own office.
Our Death, This Death, brushed a bit of dust and looked again at the location. It was all he had to go on, after all, and so he set off to see what he could find. It took a while, but he was diligent. Death always is. So he found her in a tree, just before a sunset, and the warm rays of the sun warmed her smooth skin. She watched him approach across the savanna. This was the first surprise. She could see him even from a distance. She could see him before he touched her.
The second surprise was, well, her youth. This Death was the Death of the fully lived. He usually came to bedsides, to wrinkled faces, often stealing in over the shoulders of family members. When he reached out to touch his people they were worn with the gifts and ravages of time. This one was still young, her limbs were still long, and her eyes were as clear as the ones who long ago had forged her hourglass.
She greeted him in a language This Death had not heard in hundreds of years. He was not in the habit of apologizing, but he did, now. He was standing below her, looking up. She shrugged her shoulders in a cheerful way and accepted the apology as is if it was perfunctory. Death was not in the habit of explaining himself, either, but he started to. She shook her head and laughed. Here was the third surprise. Human laughter! This Death had never heard such a thing, and it moved the parts of him that were human, those sleepy and untended parts he knew were there but almost never thought of.
He would know in a moment. When he reached out to place his palm against her chest, the only chest of a child he would ever touch, all would become known, as it always did. He would see the moment the hourglass fell, suspending her story in time. He would see her grow from an infant until the moment just before adolescence, a moment when she was care free, running with her siblings through her village. He would see her stop, her youth remaining as everyone around her aged, and how her tribe began to regard her with awe. She was chosen, a symbol of happiness and mystery. But hers was a small tribe in an encroaching world and he would see her remain until it was no longer possible, and then, with a young heart, he would see her set out for the horizon, a girl among the wilderness, where time had patterns but few consequences. It would be just a moment, now, before she jumped down to join him on the ground, the only person to see him, to truly see hi. When she did he would see her on night after endless night with her head tipped up to the stars. But for a moment all he saw was the girl, the tree, the dying sun, and she laughed again as she pushed herself toward him. | The boy ran, red-faced, across the field full of dead grass and frosty branches. Winter had passed but spring was yet to come. His still frozen breaths shivered him slightly. It was cold, yet he was burning. He might have a fever.
That morning, his parents, him and his little sister along with another dozen doctors and scientists drove to this remote place, faraway from home, where leafless trees hung like skeletons and no living thing was in sight and the ground a black murky color and the sky was bleak grey and it seemed ready to rain and the leftover snow dissolved pitifully. They entered this building with even more scientists and doctors and he helped push his sister's bed along the steel cold corridor with all the smell of foreign chemicals in the air. He wanted to get close to his sister but there were too many people around so instead he just gently took his wool hat and covered her thin bald head with it. His parents was walking alongside the bed, his father was talking with a doctor about how they were going to froze his sister and thawed her out when there was a cure, his mother was holding his sister's little hand and telling her stories from her favorite picture book. He wanted to hold her hand too, if only it wasn't tangled in the multitude of wires that smelt like hospital.
At the end of the corridor was a large living room. All the doctors and scientists left at once, leaving his family behind. He saw his mother shaking, and he knew she was going to cry. He wasn't going to cry. He was a man and men don't cry. Strangely enough, his mother didn't, either.
"Honey, you've been through this many times before." - said his mother - "You're going to take a quick nap and when you wake up you're going to feel a lot better."
"And this is going to be the last time, too." - said his father - "After this you never going to the hospital again."
"You promise." - a small light lit up in tired eyes. - "You really promise?"
"Have I ever lied to you before?" - his father extended his arm and they made a pinky promise - "Tell you what, when we get home there will be a party and all your friends are gonna be invited."
"Not Carla, dad! I hate her."
"No Carla then, and mom's gonna make the best pancakes she had ever made and you can play all you want and you don't have to go to bed. You'll do that, right, dear?"
His father told his mother once, then twice, and his mother just hugged her baby.
"I love you, hon." - she said - "I love you."
"I love you too, mum." - his sister returned the hug. - "And I love you too, dad."
"My brave fighter." - said his father, caressing her head. - "Harry, do you want to say something to your sister? Something nice?"
So the boy stepped forward into the spot of his mother, and he held the hand of his sister. But he didn't said anything. It was his sister that spoke.
"Promise me you'll feed Whisker three times a day and only with tuna? He hates vegetable so don't make him eat your broccoli."
The boy didn't reply. A doctor stood across the glass pane by the door. His father replied instead.
"He'll, hon. Now, be brave." - he took the boy's hands away from his sister's, and the boy said.
"Whisker will be there when you wake up. And I will be there when you wake up. And mom and dad. Everyone's gonna be there when you wake up."
They watched as the doctors pushed the bed into another room, and on the screen they could see a cold mist envelope her sister's body. They could see her sleeping face, frozen in time. They could send a prayer, into the future.
His mother wiped her face with a handkerchief and his father lit up a smoke by the window. Nobody said anything. He thought about how she would be 4 when he is 18, 4 when he is 40 and when he turned 80 she would be 4. And time still flowed. And time still flowed... Still nobody said anything. He screamed out, but his mother was still wiping her face and his father still smoked the burned-out cigarette.
So he ran.
He ran, red-faced, across a field full of dead grass and frosty branches. It was cold. He was shivering and shaking, but he was burning also. He slipped and fell, face-down into a puddle of mud and the mud got in his eyes and he got a reason to cry. As he lied face-down in the puddle, shaking and shivering and burning, he hoped spring would come soon. He really hoped, that the ice would thaw and spring would come soon. | 2018-10-03T07:45:35 | 2018-10-03T07:34:53 | 45 | 11 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk. | Not a day would pass that I wouldn't look into the mirror and wonder if I am stuck in a dream. Now I am sure of it. There can be no other explanation. I should have passed from this realm long ago, and now I seem to be having hallucinations that only happen in dreams. Or perhaps nightmares.
Death himself visited me for coffee yesterday morning. He told me that things were now going to proceed normally, as if nothing had happened. I asked him to be a bit more clear.
"I missed your hourglass during an audit a few decades ago."
"*My* hourglass?" There was more than a little confusion in my question.
"Yes, yes. Everyone gets one. Well, at least one. Yours had been missing and.. I didn't notice. Just recently I found it under the desk in my home office."
"Home office?"
"Yes. I don't like going to the office on the weekend, so the nearly empty ones come home with me." Death began to fidget with his coffee cup.
"I was supposed to die that weekend? When was that?"
"Yes, well... Well it was on your 32nd birthday. Water skiing, I believe. Would not have been a fun day." He stopped tapping his finger on the cup.
"Water skiing? I don't ski."
"I know. But you were supposed to go that day. Do you remember why you didn't?" he asked.
"I barely remember that birthday, to be honest. A bit too much booze perhaps?"
"Interesting. Well, I must be off." he suddenly seemed agitated.
"WAIT! I still don't understand all of this. ANY of this!" I complained.
"Don't worry. We will see each other soon enough, and I can explain more when you are finished with this world."
I looked down at my cold coffee, then back at Death, but he had gone. The rest of the day was wasted by wandering aimlessly through town. Wondering if I should plan my own funeral. Would that be strange?
This morning, I looked in the mirror, and was startled to see a change. Still in a dream. Definitely. My hair was changing color. Like my interrupted timeline was catching up to me, a bit compressed and now filling my life rapidly.
That part could make a bit of sense, perhaps. The part that brings my mind to a halt, is a different problem with this sudden change. My salt and pepper hair was now nearly completely brown. A very suave and smooth brown.
It seems my life had been turned upside down. | White walls, flickering flourescent bulbs, monitor beeps, and the sounds of breathing machines: these were things that Rachel Willer had grown accustomed to.
Eight months ago her husband John was in a motorcycle accident. He was placed in a medical induced coma and, over the past few months, had shown no signs of waking up. According to doctor's and specialists, his condition hadn't necessarily regressed, but he had made no medical progress either. At the doctor's urging, Rachel finally agreed that today was the day; she was "pulling the plug".
The doctor's left and gave Rachel as much time as she needed with her husband. She sat along side the hospital bed, fingers interlaced in her husband's. She cried as she apologized that this was the way things were going to end. When they got married, she never imagined that "til death do us part" would come so soon.
In another dimension an elderly man sat at a desk. The room he was in was similar to the hospital room. It was a bright white room with flickering florescents, but, instead of heart monitors and ventilators, there were hourglasses. Bookshelves, tables, and desks, all filled with hourglasses. Some hourglasses were empty, some were full, and some were broken. Some of the hourglasses had just started; while others had merely seconds til the sand ran out.
The old man sat with his feet propped up on the desk. He had fallen asleep, which was something he didn't get to do too often. He was awoken by a shattering sound. He jumped to his feet and walked to the bookshelf towards the back of the room. On the floor lay an hourglass with H.M engraved on the bottom. Amidst the broken glass, there was red sand; once a symbol of the life of "H.M". "Ah, Mr. Miller," Death said to himself. "I'm surprised you even made it this long." He grabbed his broom and dust pan and began cleaning up the mess.
Once the glass and sand were cleaned up, Death started walking back to his desk. He was about to sit down when he noticed an odd reflection; as if light was bouncing off of something from beneath the desk. He slowly got down on one knee and reached under the desk. His hand grabbed something long and slender. He pulled the object out from under the desk and, with frail hands, brushed the dust off. It was an hourglass with the initials "J.W" engraved on it.
Death walked over to the bookshelf with the other W's and placed the hourglass next to one marked "R.W". He flicked the center of the hourglass with a frail finger and watched with anticipation and excitement as the sand started trickling down.
Back in the hospital room, Rachel stood up and gave her husband one more kiss on the forehead as the doctors came into the room. "I love you," she whispered in his hear. At the sound of those three words, John opened his eyes. | 2018-10-03T08:25:36 | 2018-10-03T07:16:01 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] You win the lottery, and get to choose between getting a million dollars every day for the next month, or a penny that will double every day till eternity. You choose the penny. Turns out, the penny doubles in size, not in value. | A miner's work is never done.
Ash and fog swirled along the ground, brisk morning air floating through the quarry. Arthur picked at a callous on his palm, chewed on as the quarry came into view. His knees and hips popped and Arthur wondered to himself when that had started happening, but focused on the hum of the elevator instead. The depiction of Abraham Lincoln's head was at least a dozen stories tall, some of the guys had strung up some holiday lights around the word 'liberty', blast crews prepped their charges along the smooth edge.
"Words in from Corporate. Looking to get it to about a fifty meters today, fellas."
"Never going to happen, Boss. Night crew came in under about ten meters - and Kay's group called out. Something about a long night at the bar"
The elevator came to a steady halt, the light above the door switching over from red to green. Arthur looked over at Percy, "How many of you boys were at that bar last night too?"
A few of the men groaned, one of them slapped Percy on the back of the helmet sharply. Percy raised his clipboard over his head, hoping to deflect a few shots. The young man with the blond hair would be handsome if he ever took the time to wipe the soot off his face or took off his heavy goggles. Arthur liked him.
"Shit, Boss. It's Christmas. Show some heart, we'll still get it done"
Arthur nodded, and watched as his men suited up and grabbed their pickaxes. In a stone on the wall, wedged in deep was Athur's pickaxe and gear. Everyone knew not to mess with it, which made the mistletoe hanging from the handle of the pickaxe a surprise (even if it wasn't a welcome one). The old man spat out his toothpick, turned his head so none of his men could see him, and grinned - snatching the mistletoe and tossing it into a nearby wastebasket.
None of these workers had been around when the Penny got dropped into this quarry by a frustrated lottery winner. It had been forgotten about for almost a year before someone saw what they thought was a novelty item or a lost prop from a movie at the bottom of the quarry and thought to make it a tourist attraction. Scientists from every field came to study the unusual properties of this expanding coin, could it be destroyed? Could it be split into multiple smaller coins that would then grow? An unexpected shortage in both Copper and Zinc made the perpetually growing surface and center of the coin immensely valuable, and it was learned over time that so long as the 'core' of the penny was intact (it's original size) it would always double again and regenerate it's edges.
From the distance, small pops rang out - echoing off of the quarry walls. The sounds of shouting and explosions reverberated around the men, and before anyone could get their bearings a small volley of bullets cascaded down towards the staging area the miners were waiting in.
Most of the men ducked for cover behind lockers or rocks, a few ran back into the elevator and fruitlessly tried to get it to take them back to the surface level. Arthur grabbed a new toothpick and checked his walkie talkie.
"Raiders again, Lance?"
A voice crackled though the speaker, "Yep. Those Draco boys again"
Arthur grabbed a handgun from the crevice in the stone with which he kept his things "Excalibur" written in sharpie across its side.
"Game time, boys" | On the way home, I stopped by the mini-Mart and bought a shabby bottle of wine, ten three-dollar burritos, and a new baseball cap. Tonight was special. If I told you a penny made tonight special, would you be surprised? What if I told you I won the penny in a Lottery? Ok still seems pretty normal. But what if I told you the penny has magical properties and it doubled every day?
Today, I was a man with a single penny. But tomorrow I would have two pennies, then four, then seven or maybe eight. Anyways, I’m not the best mathematician, but in the fifth grade when Mrs. Josephine told me times two grows real fast, well I couldn’t believe her. So I tried it myself and pretty soon I was at a million, then a billion. So pretty soon, I’ll be a millionaire and then a billionaire.
So when I arrive back at the motel, the first thing I do is grab a cardboard box and set it right ontop of the kitchen table, right below the light. I lay the penny down right in the middle of the box, nice and gentle. The box is for when it duplicates. Then I prepare myself. I cook up the three burritos, uncork the wine and put my new cap on backways. It fit just right.
We had a lovely dinner, me and the penny. Although soon, it would be a triple date. So I waited. I drank half the bottle of wine. The first hour wasn’t so bad with the TV on. I drank the other half. It was takin forever! I just about couldn’t stand it, so I tossed the box onto the floor by the TV and flicked on a bit of Netflix. We were gonna Marathon this bitch. Every five minutes or so, I looked down to see if my baby had reproduced.
Five hours past, I got all tired and mopey, my leg was falling asleep. Can you guess what happened? I fell asleep right there on the couch during the most exciting moment of my entire life. When I woke up in the morning, still nothing! I skipped work, took a spin to the mini-mart and got back to Netflix. An entire season later and 24 hours! and still nothing!
I was so angry I picked up the penny and threw it against the wall. That’s when I noticed it. It was a quarter-sized penny. Like what the Fuck. So I tossed it in the closet and went to work. What was I supposed to do with that?
A few days later, I opened up the closet and it’s the size of a football. It was heavy too. I could barely move it out into the living room. The next day it was a good foot-rest, and then it was a pretty decent table. At this point, I knew something had to be done.
I called the lotto and they just laughed I heard a, “Good one, Bob.” Then, they hung up like it was some hilarious fucking joke. And who was fuck was Bob. At this point I couldn’t move it an inch; I did the only reasonable thing and told my land-lord I was moving out, like now. Told him I would even cover next month’s rent. He couldn’t say no! So I left and never looked back. Its not like I could do anything about it
Next thing you know, I am walking past the video-store when I see on the news that a penny has crushed an entire motel. No one knew where it came from. I saw my landlord standing right in front with a dumb look on his face. Well I just turned my head and kept whistling. Not my problem anymore. Let the government handle that shit. Maybe they mine it or whatever; it’s probably worth a fortune. Wait, MINING!
Well right after I realized that, you bet I went to claim it. Looks like I’m still gonna be rich after all.
Thanks for reading! | 2018-12-24T18:04:45 | 2018-12-24T18:03:49 | 53 | 27 |
[WP] He has been blind all his life. Now, he is the first recipient of new technology that will grant him sight. When he opens his eyes, the doctors ask if he can see them. He says “Yes, but who are they?” and points across the room at no one. | "Yes, but who are they?"
The twelve doctors simultaneously twisted, looking over their shoulder with keen interest. Nothing was there so they swivelled back. One doctor clicked a pen thoughtfully, another one scribbled on a clipboard. The youngest doctor, Dr. Harold, raised an eyebrow and scooted closer.
"Do you mean us?"
The patient shook his head and instead stared at the back corner of the room. "No, them."
Twelve heads again twisted backwards and then twisted back. Murmurs started drifting amongst the doctors.
"Possible double vision?"
"Maybe difficulties with seeing in shadows."
"The fact he can see anything after being on the medication for only a week is pretty remarkable."
The patient shook his head in confusion. "I am telling you, there are people back there. Moving." Again, twelve heads swivelled back and then forth.
A doctor tugged at his mustache. "Maybe he needs glasses?" The murmurs started up again.
Dr. Harold remained quiet, though he took another peek behind his shoulder. Nothing was there. He gently tapped the patient's hand and waited until the watery eyes focused unsteadily upon his. He pulled out a small light. "Can you look at my left ear? I am going to look at your eyes."
The young doctor tried to ignore the speculating men around him, and instead ran through a few tests, checking for responsiveness of the once blind man's eyes. Eyes that kept drifting towards the back corner of the room.
Dr. Harold diligently marked his notes, pleased at the results thus far. A handful of doctors got up and moved to the hallway, filled with good hearted chatting and an occasional slap of the back. The room got considerably more empty. Dr. Harold glanced back at the patient's eyes, which were slowly widening, looked at his notes and then frowned. He pulled out the pen light. "Look at my left ear again?"
As the light swept across the eyes, Dr. Harold saw shadows moving within the eyes as if something was behind him. He froze, and then quickly turned around. Besides a few doctors at the doorway, he was alone. He tsked, and turned back to the patient. As the light again shined on the patient's eyes, Dr. Harold saw the shadows once more. Leaning closer, he saw what was a dozen human like silhouettes dance across the cornea.
The patient shuddered and covered his eyes with his hands. "They are coming closer."
The doctor slowly pulled one of the hands down, and stared in fascination as a blurry faced gazed back from the depth of the once blind man's eye. | “Them.”
​
Dr. Ross glanced at Nurse Bently and raised his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes. Of course, this experiment would not work. It had not worked on any person to date, and the slight improvements made to the NEXXXXXUS™ implant did not garner confidence. NEXXXXUS™ was taken, of course, by the new Viagra derivative.
​
“Mr. Calibresi, who are you looking at?”
​
Dr. Ross made a few notes on his iPad. Nurse Bently examined her nails. The clock moved from 7:59 pm to 8. Mr. Calibersi pointed a stout finger at the window. His ample belly shook as he spoke.
​
“Them.”
​
Nurse Bently walked to the door and slid the dimmer until the room was bathed in twilight.
​
“Try now, hon,” she said.
​
“Try what?!”
​
Mr. Calibresi yelled at the team. His face was almost hidden by the layers of fat surrounding his jowls. His gown lifted, offering the staff a look at his belly.
​
“Just look again, hon. What do you see?”
​
Nurse Bently stared at her nails again and noticed a slight imperfection in her French manicure.
​
*Damn it*, she thought. *Gotta hit up the salon for a freshen up.*
​
“FUCKING THEM!”
​
Mr. Calibresi stared at the window. The bloom of night was starting, and the lights on the highway bridge had woke. A dribble of spit spilled from one side of his mouth. Dr. Ross waved the extraneous aides from the room. He leaned toward the patient’s monitors and made a note of blood pressure, oxygen level, and pulse. He motioned to Nurse Bently.
​
“Get some lorazepam, standard dose for his weight.”
​
He glanced at his iPad.
​
“460 pounds.”
​
“What the hell! Don’t medicate me, asshole!”
​
Mr. Calibresi attempted to turn toward the doctor, but the probes and monitors kept him from moving too far.
​
“JUST FUCKING LOOK!”
​
He pointed at the window, at the lonely highway bridge. A 1953 Ford pickup ambled across. Orion was rising, and the moon cast a dull shadow on the median strip. Two teenagers stood at the bridge center; one stood on the barrier top, poised to jump.
​
​
​
​ | 2019-04-02T20:03:35 | 2019-04-02T16:02:00 | 213 | 70 |
[WP] Your free trial for life has ended, but to everyone's surprise, you are the first to figure out how to get a premium subscription, leaving the Grim Reaper very, very confused.
EDIT: wow I didn't expect this to get more than 7 upvotes | "... So with that conjecture, and premised on the laws of matter and energy conservation, I realised that there is a natural fallacy _if_ I were to take the chicken back _and_ still die." I paused for dramatic effect, and waited for the Grim Reaper to process it all.
"So... What did you do to the chicken?" He finally said, his eyes narrowed as he spat out the words in contempt.
"I ate it." I gave the biggest shit-eating grin I've ever given in my life.
Ah well maybe I shouldn't speak so soon, seeing as I've got a long ways to go now. In life I meant.
The Grim Reaper stood and stretched out his back. It had been a long conversation, well more like lecture from me. I was amazed that I could even finish the whole explanation with less effort than conversation usually takes me.
He (It?) lifted his (its? I really don't know) head and scanned the ward. Time was still frozen for everyone else though our exchange must have been at least two hours long. Guess that's what happens when someone dies? Time freezes for everything and everyone else. I don't know how it works but all those "my whole life flashed before my eyes in those three seconds" suddenly made sense with this time stop.
The Reaper stood still like that for a long while then suddenly smiled. I felt a chill down my back and a tingling sensation below my knees. I haven't had that kind of phantom sensation since I lost both of my legs twelve years ago. Something isn't right. I could... feel it.
"Well Thomas. You got me." The Reaper said. "You escaped me, escaped death."
He smiled again. Something is definitely wrong. A panic flashed through my body. The urge to pee suddenly became overwhelming.
"I think the common expression would be that you... _cheated_ death no?"
He picked up his briefcase, pushed the folder - my life records apparently - back into it, snapped the clasps shut and moved to leave.
He paused at the threshold. The hospital ward started shimmering and I could see that people started to wake from the stillness. I heard a low droning beep, realised it came from the machine next to me, tracking my heartrate. A low, deep hiss croaked out of the respirator next to that and the sensation of not being able to breathe suddenly returned. Tears welled up.
The Reaper turned his head and flashed one last smile. His pure white teeth shone as his lips stretched back tightly, like they were going to fold over his whole skull.
"Enjoy the rest of your ever-lasting life Thomas. I'd say 'See you around' but you and I both know that's not going to happen."
With that he vanished and the world came back alive again. I laid in my bed, the tubes and wires sticking into me made themselves known as my skin and nerves became sensitive again.
The respirator hissed. The machine beeped. Someone coughed. I sighed softly.
The Reaper. That bastard. He knew I was never going to get out of this bed in this condition. These sheets, this hospital, this sterile air... That's my life now. And that's all the life I have. I cheated Death alright.
And now I'll have eternity to regret it.
r/itsamadworld | The Grim Reaper read aloud, "hmm, another John Smith, eh?" He checked the box. "Another one bites the dust."
In the background, *Another One Bites the Dust* plays as it always does, endlessly. Now that was a tough kill. In such a unfortunate way too. But, as the Grim Reaper must, the Grim Reaper does. This motto, etched with great neon lights above the speaker, the only lights in the darkness.
Another John Smith popped up on the list. The Grim Reaper sighted. "Another one..." he said with groan.
Rising from his seat, he grabbed a hold of his scythe and, only a foot away, swung open. The swirling mass of the universe shone into the Reaper's small black box of a home. He leaned on his scythe and waited as the universe zoomed past.
"You know, it would make things more exciting if there was other life on other planets," said the Reaper, to the God he assumed was there. "Or a quicker way to get there. It's getting kind of old."
He passed a six galaxies, four black holes, one quasar, and five planets before the green-blue marble of Earth came into sight. This sight never grew old, it was always different. A different storm, more or less ice, more or less twinkling lights. It was the journey that sucked.
"Okay, I'll knock those John Smith's off and then continue on the list," said the Reaper. He had to talk to himself to keep things straight. 10,000 years alone can drive someone crazy. If he went crazy, he'd lose the job.
The first few go smoothly. Old men, no's fuss, no last words, because they were asleep. When the last John Smith was ready, another John Smith popped up. The Reaper took care of him first and was about to move on when...
"Wait. There was another wasn't there?"
He flipped back to his listed and counted the checkmarks. Eight dead John Smith's. Eight was what he started out with. But then that last one popped up didn't it?
The Grim Reaper groaned. "So that makes nine then, right?" He scratched his skull and recounted. Eight checked. One empty. "Okay, I get it."
With a tap of his scythe, the Reaper flashed to a lush forest in Washington state. The birds were chirping, the wind rustled the leaves above and a nightmare lay at his feet.
The man was... He was torn to bits. What wasn't torn was pinned under a tree, and whatever mercy existed in this world, left his whithered old face in tact.
"It's about fucking time," the old man said. "You've any idea how long I've been waiting."
"24 hours!" said the Reaper. Perhaps his cheer would be infectious. Kind of like that infected stub where the shoulder should be.
"10, God-Foresaken, Years."
"What?"
"10 winters, 10 summers, 10 autumns and springs and where the hell were you?"
"That not right."
"I think I should know," said the old man.
He did look... Aged... Like an old cheese. A 10-year old aged cheese.
The Reaper checked his list again right when another John Smith popped up.
"Hmm, strange," he thought. "Very strange."
"Well," said the Reaper. "You're dead now." The Reaper brought down his scythe and what remained of the man's presence passed into the abyss.
"Another job, well done Reaper. Now onto the next one." He brought out his list. "Okay, so now let's get to the Jane Smiths." With a tap of his scythe, the Reaper was off again, off without a second thought. | 2019-04-15T02:46:32 | 2019-04-15T01:36:48 | 898 | 126 |
[WP] Every child meets their guardian angel when they turn 5. It's a highly anticipated moment for child's parents to see what kind of angel their child will get. However, your parents are in for a shock as two entities appear to you. A very powerful angel, and a very powerful demon.
I don't really make writing prompts so I hope this one isn't too bad. Have fun with it! | “Look at what you’ve done. I told you we should give our baby a baptism and now there’s a devil in our living room!”
“Look, it has nothing to do with baptisms, Bob had his kid-”
“Shut up. Why can’t you stand straight and make your own choices, always Bob or somebody else. Always! Always! Always! You’re always never putting your foot down.”
“Look neither of us go to church. I thought the kid should choose when they’re older-”
“Older! Older when? There’s a fucking demon in the living room, and our baby. OUR baby Tom. Yeah, yours too, with all the responsibility YOU need to have Tom. Has called a goddam demon!”
“AND an angel. We need to calm down and talk-”
“I AM calm. Don’t you tell me to calm down. Last week you lost our passports on our flight, and you TOLD me to calm down then didn’t you, and -”
“We didn’t even need our passports. It was an in-state flight. We got detained because you made-”
“I don’t see why you’re talking about that now. You always bring stuff up, while there’s a DEMON in our living room with OUR BABY. Because you can’t just shut up and make your own decision about baptisi-”
“I DID make one didn’t I?! I thought the kid should make her own choice so I CHOSE not to go.”
“And GOOD choice that was. Always following Bob and your friends, who never did ANYTHING, never made anything of themselves, you just drink with them EVERY friday. Like I don’t have enough to do in the house by myself, with the baby growing up and-”
“Look, I’ll stop going if you don’t like it so much, I told you I would-”
“And what? So you can mope around all day not helping with chores and telling all your friends how mean your wife is? So that everyone can keep talking about me behind my back about how last week I said middle America is backwards even though Martha’s aunt lives there and now everyone hates me and-”
"No one thinks like that!"
"Everyone HATES me Tom! And if you cared you'd have said something last night, and not laugh at those STUPID jokes that everyone made! Pretending not to notice!"
​
The child whimpered in the corner.
I wish I never summoned the demon. That’s why mum’s mad. He's here because I’m bad. That’s why they’re shouting. Because I’m never being good. Like mum says, and dad’s quiet a lot. He’s never home. Because I’m bad. I wish I could be good. If I was good then they would never shout, and there wouldn’t be a demon. Because demons are bad.
​
The demon and angel exchanged glances. They had a lot of work to do. |
“Ta da!” I said waving arms and tail for maximum effect. The sulfur smoke hadn’t cleared the room, before I realized this pooch job was already dropping a turd. I dropped my arms and groaned when I saw Robert uncomfortably scrunched into the flowered arm chair, white wings sticking out above his head.
“Avscrovft,” said the stupid useless angel as if judging me with my own name.
“Sweet Jeebus, if it isn’t the Bob the Barber,” I replied. Looking around the room at the two stunned parents, a balding middle-aged engineer who’d eaten way too may cheeseburgers, and his wife…wait is she wearing sweat pants on their big day? The kid was sitting quietly watching them both. He seemed a little creepy the way he just stared at everyone. I smiled. I might come to like this one.
“What are you doing here, Avscrovft? I have young Wellington under my wing,” said the pompous ass in white.
“Wellington? Really, you named your kid Wellington?” I looked behind the kid. “Is there a kick-my-ass sign on his back too?”
“Avscrovft?”
I plopped myself down on the matching couch, grinning at the thought of the burn mark my butt was going to leave behind I said, “Relax Bob. This kid doesn’t need a haircut. He needs to study.” I threw my gift on the table, a book with a pink bow stuck to it.
The kid picked it up, “How to Build a Nuclear Bomb and Other Neat Physics Experiments, version 4.3” said the kid reading aloud.
“See, look at how wholesome my advice is, just keep on reading, Beef Boy. I got this Guardian Angel thing down pat. You and your quartet are gonna be out of a job soon. Don’t worry the big guy will always need his gorgeous bushy beard nice and perfect…”
“Just go, I already have this…wait a second, how did you even know about this one?” asked Robert. “Our mathematicians just completed the predictive algorithms yesterday and we’ve got all the mathematicians?”
“Hey! Our insurance guys got plenty of actuaries, and I’m not going anywhere, this kid’s too important. Forty two percent odds on Beef here, or maybe that kid down the street they call Shephard’s Pie, delivering an FTL Drive before the Others’ fleet arrives.”
“Then why send you, Avanscrofvt?” said Robert with a smug grin.
I laughed. “Well what do you know? Barbers do have the best jokes.” I stood and said, “Run along, but not with your scissors, of course. This kid will need more than a bowl-cut if the Others find him.” A rocket launcher materialized in my arms. I threw it back on my shoulder and winked as it burst into glowing flames. Both parents gasped. The kid to his credit said, “AWESOME!”
“You want to do this here and now?” replied Robert, a pair of massive gleaming white swords crossed like shears appeared before him. He planted both firmly points down in the carpet.
I smiled, “No, Bobbie, we’ve little Welly’s whole life ahead of us to sort this mess out.” I winked and laughed before I disappeared. | 2019-05-10T04:36:59 | 2019-05-10T04:35:37 | 39 | 27 |
[WP]“Dear Sir Knight, after the recent attacks by the dragons who claim they need to see their princess’ heir, we have come to believe you may have misread our request to slay the dragon.” Having read the letter, you take one surprised look at your wife and her half-dragon child. “Whoops” | If it had been an easier task, they would have handled it themselves. But no, it had been a dirty job, so they had called upon me.
They call me Randoh. Once, I had a name. I had a family, once. I can sometimes remember the farm. The peace, sometimes. But then the Greenskins attacked. They came in the night, slaughtered our livestock, took my family and left me for dead. That was their mistake.
The ditch-digger had me half buried before I woke up. He thought I might be some unholy dead thing. Maybe I am dead. Maybe I died that burning night. Maybe, for a time, I became death.
I tracked the Greenskins that attacked my home back to their tribe. My boyhood pursuits had taught me squirrels are much harder to follow. I watched them. I waited. I took my vengeance on the Greenskins one by one in that dark, stinking forest. I buried what was left of my family, my life, and walked away.
They call me Randoh.
I take the dirty jobs no one else is desperate, or stupid enough to take. They call on me when anyone else who might have is dead or pissing themselves on a corner. The fiend of Gizerald, the Lizardking of Tamash, the troll tribe of Backshe... they tried to give me a knighthood for that one.
Fuck 'em I said. Who needs a title when you don't even have a name?
It took them time to find me, but they caught up when I visited town. Covered in Greenskin blood and ichor, I must have looked more beast than man, turning in the ears I had collected on my most recent raid against the hordes. A Dragon, they said. Only a fool, they said. Or a man with a death-wish would face it.
I didn't care about The Dragon Empire, or the unsteady peace, or that war was about to break out. I had been War for years. I took the job.
I travelled to Fort Krox and walked into that smoking castle where the kingdom kept its treasury safe under guard. And I fought.
I found an adversary as keen and focused as i had ever been; a match for my determination and will if ever there was one. The battle raged for days, as gouts of flame, dragon roars, toppling towers attested to. The battle ended one dark night when a metallic shriek and storm of wings announced the dragons retreat.
They offered me gold, they offered me riches. I refused and left, for I had taken a greater wound than any of them could know. Deep in the darkness of the castle I had faced that dragon. It had used its wits, its magic to draw my words from me, to make me confront my own past. And in the end, it had used beauty to break that terrible hold that Death had upon me. But the sword that had wounded me had not been one-sided.
The Dragon Empire, at the request of the Greenskin tribes, had sent their best against me, a princess of their kind. But she never returned home to her people.
Months later the letter caught up to me, a missive delivered by the King's own Herald. I had looked to my wife with her brilliant fire-red hair nursing our newborn daughter. Her bright eyes, ever challenging, met mine as I read the message aloud, followed by an "Ooops."
"So, what are you going to do... -Sir Knight-?"
I grinned at her choice of title and tore the parchment in half before I returned it to the Herald.
"Please tell the king that there is no Randoh here, nor any Knights or Dragons. We are but humble merchants here at the House of Jimothy." | "Whoops" Was all the Knight could say... even though they missgendered her, again.
The young woman sighed, She was one of the only female knights, yet they still referred to her as Sir. Well, it didn't bother her anymore.
The young Woman was KC Flameheart, her last name was from her Wife. Her short brown and crimson hair was a mess, her Chocolate brown and crimson red eyes narrowed.
"Hunny? What's wrong?" Said another young woman. She had tanned skined, silky red hair and golden eyes with slit pupils. There were two red horns on her head and red scales that faided into pink were spead scarcely around. The young woman had a long white dress on as she looked at KC with concern.
The young knight sighed yet again. "It's nothing Love, it just seems that your bastard of a father finally wants to see his grandchild..." KC looked at her wife, *'Thank God my sister knows magic, or else I wouldn't have been able to marry this Dragonett or have my kid.'*
"KC, hunny, you know he's the king, he's busy most of the time." The young Dragon-turned-half-human said.
"Ruby, He didn't come when Flair was born." KC said as she looked at her wife.
"I know, but Father is a very busy dragon." Ruby said, trying to reason with her wife.
"Flair is Six for the love of god, he hasn't seen his Grandchild for the six years she's been alive." KC started. "He didn't come after she was born, to any holiday's or reunions, not even to any of Flairs birthdays." KC said, as she crossed her arms.
Ruby sighed, she walked towards KC and wraped her arms around her. "I know, and that really pissed you off... but try to calm down, my father isn't the best and you know that." Ruby smiled up at KC.
The Knight sighed, as her right arm encircled her wifes waist. "I know, he's a bastard after all..." She mumbled, before she kissed her wife on the lips. "But, since he's finally trying, I'll forgive him for now."
"Thanks." Ruby said as she hugged KC. KC smiled and hugged her Wife back.
**"WE'RE BACK!!"** They heard someone yell as the door was heard opening in a slam.
Ruby giggled and KC shook her head.
"Looks like my sisters are back from their day with Flair." KC said, as she took her arms away from her wife and walked towards the living room, Ruby following behind.
"Mama! Mom! I'm home!" A young girl, with Golden wide eyes, brown with red short hair ran towards the couple. The kid had some red scales like her mama, and two red horns. The young girl jumped into the Knights arms.
"Haha! I know, welcome back Kiddo." KC said, before she kissed her daughter on her head.
"Heyah Sis!" Sishi called out. Sishi was one of KC's sisters. She was pale with light brown hair and green eyes. She wore the normal attire for a Knight, only with her staff strapped to her back.
Next to Sishi was Pan, pale skin and ebony hair and onyx eyes. She also wore armor, like the Knight she was, with her sword strapped to her back.
"Pan, Sishi, hey guys, What's up?" KC said, as she put her daughter down, who went and hugged her mama, and smiled at her sisters.
"Nothing much..." Sishi started. "So, we heard that bastard of a Father-in-law you have, has been wanting to see Flair."
"Yep, well... You two mind going with me to go and get him?" KC asked.
"Not at All, sis." Pan answered.
"Thanks guys, give me a second to get my gear." KC said, before going to her room, she kissed her wife again.
"Love birds~" Sishi sang.
"Shut up!" Ruby exclaimed to her Sister-in-law, as her face went red.
Flair looked at her mama before giggling.
"What a happy family we are..." Pan mumbled to herself as she watch Sishi cooing at her niece. | 2019-09-01T10:11:07 | 2019-09-01T10:05:32 | 1,579 | 42 |
[WP] You wake up in a hospital with a massive headache. As you regain your vision, you notice the room is packed with terrified scientists, politicians, and soldiers aiming their rifles at you. A five star general walks in, gives the order to remove the muzzle around your mouth, and only asks "Why?" | “Why...” I seemed to contemplate this thought as I look around at the scared, pathetic beings. “Why... huh?”
“You have a world-shattering power... you promised you’d help us. You’d promise you’d help all of us!” the general stated.
“Not just one power. You mean the power to end all powers. Omnikinesis. Power to manipulate anything in the universe- nay, the multiverse... no, even bigger... the Omniverse. Anything and everything. You can point your guns and... well... it doesn’t matter anymore.”
The guns shatter in the soldiers’ hands like glass as I calmly stood from the bed, headache fading away. I check the clock, then size up the room.
It goes silent.
“Kill command,” the general stated.
“S-sir! We don’t have our guns!” a soldier cried out. I looked over at him. How pitiful. He was only in his early twenties.
“I don’t care! Kill it! This is a foul beast that refuses to work with us!”
I looked at him, then the scientists, and smiled. “You want what you can’t have. You crave the power that exists at my very fingertips. But this...” Flames burst into existence as I stretch out my hand, the fire burning and swirling out of control, forming a great phoenix within the flames. “... this is a power I will not abuse. Not even for the likes of you or the greediness of humanity. You want to know what I am and how you can take my power for yourself?”
Within the flames there was crackling electricity, energy surging out of control as the lights flickered madly and the ground rumbled with an ominous roar. The walls shook down to its very foundations as the soldiers stood stock still, in awe of the power I wielded.
“We need it for the world to be perfect.”
I grinned, and suddenly, the world froze. The clock stopped moving, the ball of flames and electricity stayed motionless and still. I lowered my hand, crossed over to the motionless soldiers. The general was still standing, flinching as he expected me to suddenly super-punch him through the wall.
“That’s the thing...” I drawled, looking at the terrified faces of the soldiers, before watching him. He looked about in curiosity and absolute dread, considering we were the only ones moving in this timeless space. “... it’s boring when the world’s perfect. No evil nor bad. No chaos nor order. When the world is perfect, everybody is sad. And no one has control.”
“That’s not true...” he defended himself.
“Ah, when everything is perfect, what are dreams? What is living? What is the meaning of life itself? So... when I realized how close you were to making everybody miserable... I broke it. But surely I don’t expect you to understand. You’re human, after all. And yet...” I leaned in closer to his face. “Why do you keep asking me... why would I do that?”
I flicked his head.
Time resumed back to normal. The soldiers breathed, they stared at me in horror.
The general was gone. | "The American dream is built upon greed" I smiled, the air fresh on my face now the muzzle was hanging loosely from my cheek.
"My virus just enhanced that, drove it to the surface. Made the problem clear, for, if the problem isn't clear, then how can we hope to solve it?" I laughed, my dry throat crackling into a cough.
"You call this solving the problem of greed? Are you insane?" the General bellowed as his face turned red, gesturing to a large screen at the side of the lab. Some faces turned to look, others remained on me.
Scenes of chaos and screams played across all the channels. The story was the same on each. Greed, it seems, triggers the most base desires of the brain when increased thousands of times over. Hunger. Possession. The need to win. The need to be safe. Doubt. Paranoia. It was working even better than expected.
The virus was sweeping across America, destroying it like an acid slowly eating its way through a rock. The country was a war-zone. Nothing could be done to stop it.
For all intents and purposes, my virus had reduced people to a Zombie-like existence. Or as the news said, just plain zombies. The cases of cannibalism observed in small and confined areas had seen to that. But hey, people needed food did they not? It was of course, much better than just plain old zombies, though. They had minds. They could be creative with their destruction.
The general, obviously having enough, turned off the TV and once again turned to me, tears in his eyes.
"When we found you, you injected something into yourself. We beleive it to be the anti-dote. You must give it to us, now" he motioned to his side and a group of scientists brought a trolley laden with tools to my bed where I was restrained.
Such tools, did not have a medicinal purpose, that was clear to see.
"You intend to torture me, General?" I asked, trying to hold back a shit-eating grin, but failing.
"Yes. I do. Tell us how to make the anti-dote, or we will do everything we can to cause you the most extreme pain, while keeping you very much, alive"
I could tell by the look in his eyes, cold and calculating, that he was speaking the truth.
"No, I don't think that will be happening" I said, chuckling.
"And why is that?" the general asked, as the scientists picked a tool each and stepped closer.
"You think I would be able to make such a virus, and would not be able to do something even greater to myself? How stupid you are!" I cackled between breathes that increased in their speed.
Looking down at my arm that began to explode from the forearm down in thick muscle and veins, I ripped from the restraint on that side.
"SHOOT HIM, NOW. OPEN FIRE" the General screamed, not even waiting for the scientists to get to safety.
Bullets tore into my chest hot and deep, the pain rocking through me. Wave after wave collided with my body, but it was already futile. The flesh warped and grew, thickened, expanded. My muscles exploded outwards and settled into steel like armour.
The bed buckled under the weight and crashed. The bullets no longer penetrated my skin. I licked around my face with a long serpent like tongue and hissed.
"Time to die, General"
More of my stories on r/fatdragon if you enjoyed :) | 2019-10-15T07:31:45 | 2019-10-15T06:48:45 | 160 | 21 |
[WP] You are an immortal searching the ends of the earth. Not for "a cure for your curse", but for a chef talented enough to make a 1,000 year old recipe like mom used to make. | The chef peered at the faded recipe. She looked so much like my mom: Exact same hair in the exact same bun, exact same never-quite-eats-enough sort of thin frame, exact same wrinkles, even. "Lessee...Sheep intestines? We don't normally have that, but hey, this is Scotland. James, run down to the butcher and ask him if he has any."
"Yes, Ma'am."
The boy left, looking like he was trying not to cry. I lifted an eyebrow. I hadn't thought to give the chef the translated version, but she seemed to read it fluently anyway.
"I remember my son used to love this stuff. Was never sure why. We kinda had to make do with whatever we had on hand. But that was ages ago."
Now I peered more closely at her. So that was why she looked so familiar...
"Mom?" | "Been on the road long?"
"Something like that." The Man replied. "Been far from home... for too long."
The woman took the note from him. "Whats this?"
"I know it's an odd request but... remind me of home."
"Well, i'll admit it is odd but... why not?"
\----
Living Forever wasn't the curse. the fact everything else couldn't was the worst. The hardest part is how everything else fades... it makes it valuable in a way. He treasured everyone he ever met, each and very person was unique, never to be seen again after passing away. He was the only one who ever lived this long... he didn't know why, but he did know that no one else was the exception.
not even her.
The Woman returned with the meal sometime later, setting it infront of the man.
He ate it silently. Testing it with his mouth.
Eventually, he finished the meal and stood up, paying.
"How was it."
"Not quite the same..." he replied, shaking his head. "But... I enjoyed it."
"Can I get you anything else?
"No, but thank you... I'll have to get going soon."
"Safe travels then."
The man left soon after. The Woman wouldn't make note of the man again... but he stuck with her. Still, the usual Dinner rush would be coming soon. And while the encounter would stay with her, other concerns quickly made it less of a priority. | 2019-11-07T17:13:59 | 2019-11-07T09:46:47 | 38 | 11 |
[WP] We were warned when we hired our first human crew member that they would pack bond with almost anything. We didn't listen, and now have an apex predator somewhere in the ship, that the human won't stop calling Kitty. | This human will be the end of the crew. First he brings a baby galan on board because it's got "Cute little bean feet". Fully grown that monster will be the weight equivalent of 6 human adults. Then he sneaks a young nactan into the loading bay because "The goodest of boys deserve all the head pats." I've seen our data banks on the nactan packs and their ability to hunt animals in greater numbers and size then themselves.
We will be on a new planet in 3 days time... I fear for what the human will pick up next... | „Here kitty, kitty, kitty...“ said the human while being in the cargo bay. I never understood that creature, but I’m still fairly new to this crew. But that human is still a mystery to me. However, the captain ordered us to get some of the cargo we need to ship. As I grabbed the inside of the crate, something damaged my skin really bad and a loud „hiss“ appeared. Shocked, I let go what I held and took a step back. That beast again, tried to kill me. But the human ran to me and grabbed with his hands inside the box. „Stay back whit that creature from death!“ i screamed. That predator still tried to attack the human with its hissing sound and claws sharper than anything I saw in my live. „What’s your problem?“ he than asked „ it’s a beautiful cute little kitty“. I said then „ stay here with that devils beast while I bring the loot, I mean the goods to the captain“ | 2019-11-21T07:13:40 | 2019-11-21T06:21:21 | 138 | 21 |
[WP] The year is 2050, backwards time travel has been perfected and declassified because they've discovered that our timeline is immutable; the changes you make don't happen in the universe you return to. Travel and entertainment businesses spring up, but someone has found a better way to profit. | New York Times, B3, Jan 3rd, 2050
In 2049, December 1, the Apple smart contacts were flying off the shelves after making their public debut. Jan 3rd, nobody cared. Two days after the reveal of time, all ideas previously are considered outdated.
People expected tourism... some smart journelists abused it to get the story's full details before it's even done breaking (such as yours truly), and then there was Fred. He went back to the dawn of humanity in a branch timeline, and before war had even been invented, before written word, before civilization, and introduced them to ideas from fire to mass production, to computers, and video recording. All he asked in return was that they share their knowledge with him.
They agreed.
He then revealed to them, he wouldn't cash in on the favor mmediately. He'd return every hundred years to remind leaders of the deal, keep it from being merely legend. Knowledge of the deal passed for tens of thousands of years in their timeline... I remind you, tens of thousands that *started* at our current level of technology.
And so, at a point nearly parallel to our own time, they had technology that far surpasses our own.
And so, that is the story behind grand openening of 'Q ascension tech' that opened up on 4th and Anderclat Ave two minutes ago. | Her innards were spread over the sidewalk like a veritable smörgåsbord. A thick, sanguine gravy covered it all, as if a child had gone mad with a ketchup bottle. Julia Rochs breathed a sigh of relief. She had killed herself. She had finally managed to kill herself.
The crowd roared. Some with rage, some with ecstasy. Money changed hands. Hats were trampled on. All in all it had been a good day. A good day of Blood Sports.
It had all started with the vision of its founder, Cornelius Plath Gockenburg. Most time travel agencies offered tours of Ancient Rome, meet-and-greets with Jesus Christ, and dinosaur safaries. They were limited by the extent of their imaginations. Cornelius recognized this, and set about to offer the world that which it really wanted: guilt-free death and excitement.
Actually, it was on a tour to Ancient Rome he got his idea. Gladiator matches were very popular. People would bet and their hairs would stand up as they watched people fight each other to the end. This spectacle transformed them into money-printing machines; they couldn't get enough of it.
So Cornelius had his idea: Blood Sports. Time-travelling gladiators would fight versions of themselves from alternative realities.
Immediately it was a success. Scouts would explore realities and find those in which there were interesting differences between the real and the alternative gladiators. Which version was the best? The real-estate agent? The librarian? The international rock star? Often you were surprised. You never knew quite how it would turn out.
As Cornelius sat at his desk, pondering novel variations on the game, there was a knock on his door.
"It's open," he said.
The door went up slowly. And in walked someone he recognized. In the distance he could hear an eager roar. | 2019-11-25T19:47:43 | 2019-11-25T15:47:57 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] "I know none of us want to do this, but a rescue would simply be too dangerous. We can't do it." The room was silent for a moment, then one voice spoke up. "The human would come for us. Alone if they had to. And we're just going to leave them?" | "The human might survive the attempt." Kariau's raspy clicking retorted, his mandibles clacking in agitation, as he tried to defend his position. A position he barely believed in, clinging to it in his fear.
"That's the measure of our courage, then? We brave only what we survive?" Ontorologo stood up, berating the assembled war room as her skin shifted hues in irritation, letting her emotions show on the metallic gloss of her face.
"It's not that simple!" Kariau spoke again, weakly this time, but speaking nonetheless. "We are the last of our Brood. If we do not return, who will cradle the larvae and sing them the Song of Growing?"
"And who sang your song, Kariau?" Ontorologo stood, matching the towering Klaxirabian, her tentacles writhing in agitation. "Who held your squirming flesh and cooed to you in songs that weren't her own?!"
"I..." Kariau couldn't retort them, his many eyes shifting around the room. "Rachael did..."
"And you, Judrancae!" Her fury was roused now, her skin both red and sharp, the protrusions sharpening as she turned on the rest of the room. "Who braved the World Fire to rescue your Pride?!"
"Rachael did..." The Leonine didn't stand, but instead hung his head in shame.
"Enough, Captain." The Rhindoern spoke at last, standing and raising a three-fingered hand. "We understand your emotion, but we cannot risk this ship and all its inhabitants, just to save Rachael."
"Then I will go alone!" Ontorologo stood to her full height, her nine limbs stretching as she raised herself, standing even over the many-limbed Kariau. "And damn you all for your cowardice!"
"She's right!" Finally, another voice spoke, a quiet voice that might have belonged to a child. "If we abandon Rachael, then we abandon ourselves!"
"Ambassador!" The Rhindoern Commander looked aghast, his milky eye wide within the flat pan of his face. "You know it's suicide!"
"I have lived for nineteen Galactic Cycles." The child-like voice spoke again, as a tiny figure parted the sea of bodies, moving through to stand at the front. "I have seen the humans throw themselves to their deaths again and again, until only one remained, just to keep our flotilla moving. I will not abandon them."
The Ambassador looked like a snake, with a pair of small arms beneath the flaring hood of her head, her six eyes clouded and grey with age. When she moved, it wasn't the smooth shimmer of most Gaurenlentian's, but a stilted crawl, weary and slow. Still, her voice, though quiet, commanded the respect of every ear, orifice, and aural receiver, craning towards her.
"No one denies that we owe the humans, all the humans, a debt." The Commander sighed heavily, the sorrow visible on his face too, though he hid it better, the mask of command quelling his angst. As he spoke, there were murmurs of assent, before he continued, bitterly. "But I must think of the flotilla, of the seventeen thousands lives. Of the twenty-eight surviving species. I cannot risk them all to save anyone, even the Last Human."
"Then we shall go alone, as she would have done." Ontorologo rolled forward, wrapping the Ambassador in a strong tentacle, lifting her.
"Not alone." Kariau, shaken by the Ambassador, stood, his claws clacking on human-made steel as he walked forward. "I will go."
**ROAR!**
"I will go." Judrancae roared in agitation, standing and shaking his head, his thick mane rolling.
"And I!" A Junt, a small mouselike creature with too many fingers and not enough limbs, stood and hopped forward, standing on Judrancae's powerful shoulders, ignoring the fact that before the humans came, he might have been a meal to the large Leonine.
After this, however, there was only silence, no other voices joining them, as the Commander looked on, sadly.
"Then the five of you will go without my blessing as leader of this flotilla." The Rhindoern spoke slowly, his voice rumbling. "As your friend, however, I give you all the hopes of all our peoples."
"It is enough." Ontorologo smiled, her skin shining and golden.
"It is enough." Her companions echoed her, as they turned and looked out the viewscreen, where a lone figure stood against a dozen others, their shapes hidden in the blackness of space. There was flaring light and queer darkness, as the lone figure twisted and spun in the black, her motions strange in zero gravity.
"Bring her back, old friends." The Commander nodded at Ontorologo, whose skin was now the steel grey of determination, her tentacles sharpened to spear points.
"We will."
***
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, you can find more of my work at r/Shinz_Stories | A decade after the return of the Herald. Five years after the restoration of Earth. Three years after a refugee ship full of aliens from cosmic neighbors that had suffered a similar but more cataclysmic fate than Earth had. Many things had happened in the Sol system since humanity had been brought back from the brink of extinction. Earth had become home to a dozen species from across the galactic neighborhood.
The New Earth Council was formed with one individual from each species present under a single banner. The reasoning was that no individual species had enough members to form a nation. In fact, much of the Earth was still in ruins, with nature retaking what humanity had once claimed as it’s own. Fewer than one billion individuals of all species populated the Earth.
The N.E.C. had gathered together to discuss why the human representative was not present. Although her companion, a heavily cybernetic dog named Cally, was present as well as ‘Jakob’. A member of the first species humanity had encountered in a void between stars, and the individual responsible for saving Earth. It’s species was gone now, a memory that only existed in it’s post singularity mind. It acted as an advisor to the council overall, but only spoke when directly asked a question during meetings.
The human representative had gone out to meet with a small refugee ship from a new species after a vote determined her to be most fit based on the information the council had at it’s disposal. Shortly after arriving, all communication was cut, and a much larger ship, seemingly a warship, transmitted a message that took days to translate. It read simply.
“Your world is now our. You will submit.” There was nothing else to it. It was direct, a statement, and not a threat.
There was a tense silence while each member considered how to respond. It was a Ru’silai representative that spoke up first. A deep, guttural kind of sound that was almost melodic in it’s own right. As he spoke, he gently placed a large, powerful hand on the table and leaned forward, speaking softly.
“This world. Our world, can’t stand up to an invasion from another race. Not now. There are too few of us, and we know not what sort of weapons they possess. We only have a few starships in good working order, and as much as me and my kin enjoy a good fight, we are not stupid. We won’t fight a battle we can not win. As the humans say, discretion is the better part of valor.” He sighed heavily and looked down, ashamed.
The next to speak was from the Tarilt. A short, round species that could have easily passed for a small, pudgy human if it weren’t for their solid silver eyes and ever so faintly purple skin.
“I agree. We all came here to survive. No, correction, thrive together on this world. We simply can not do that if we do not bend a knee to these new individuals.” He spoke quickly, his voice like the audible equivalent of a hummingbird’s beating wings.
The rest of the council nodded grimly. Jakob finally decided it was time to speak of it’s own volition.
“What of Aura? Does she not have a voice here? She is indeed part of the council.” It’s reflective visor of a face scanned across the room. “Was it not decided that a unanimous decision needed to be reached with regards to major decisions that would affect all of us?” The Tarilt representative was the first to respond, and rapidly.
“I am certain that none of us wish to make this decision without her! But the reality of the situation is that we stand no chance against a warlike species in an attempt to rescue her! We know it would be suicide to even try, even the Ru’silai know it!” He was frustrated and aghast at the implication that he didn’t care about Aura. In fact, all of them were in their way. They had all become fast friends over the last few years.
“What you need to understand, is that in my role of advisor to the council, I must stress her importance here. Without her noticing my transmission to the Herald two decades ago and determining it was not just an error in their signal reception array, none of us would be here. I would be dead, humanity lost, and the rest of you dead or dying on your evacuation vessels in the depths of space. Surrender is not an option. Our people wouldn’t allow it, especially with Aura being in captivity with this new threat.” There was a tense silence before the Tarilt representative spoke again.
“None of us want this, but it is simply too dangerous. We will all need to calm our respective people in our ways, and mourn Aura in our own time.” His voice got weaker as he finished, looking down at the table in front of him.
“Aura would come for any one of us. Alone if she had to. With what all of us have been through, and the resources at hand, we would have an army. We could meet this threat with the rage of a a dozen species clinging to life in the void on a world renewed because of one person making a careful choice.” Jakob spoke with measure and care, but everyone at the table knew there was a fire to it. The Ru’silai stood quickly, towering over the rest in the room.
“Yes! Yes! This is what we will do!” Like a fire was lit in his chest he screamed his words, booming through the chamber. There was quiet, the room enraptured for a moment before the Tarilt representative spoke again.
“I concur!” He shouted in as booming a voice as a Tarilt could. One by one, the rest of the council followed suit. After the room caught it’s breath, Jakob spoke.
“Then we go. To Aura. To war.” And with those words, the New Earth went to war. | 2019-11-30T20:00:57 | 2019-11-30T18:47:08 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] Your personal guardian angel from heaven is very upset with you. It's not because you did something wrong. It's because you're an extremely boring person to watch over. | "All she does is sleep, eat and cry only to repeat it all over the next day!" Gabriel laid on his back, his tablet screen projected onto his dorm ceiling.
"She is a baby after all." Horus said, tapping away on his own tablet. "You still have a couple more years until she starts crawling and babbling away. And before you know it, she's trying out for the soccer team and hanging out with the guys."
"Ugh, couldn't they have given her to some other angel? It's not like the last one I had was bad or anything."
"That's precisely why they gave you a baby Gabriel. I've been your roommate for the last thousand years and almost every one of your humans have not led fantastic or successful lives. They've been mediocre, average. Boring. Just. Like. You."
"It's not that I want them to lead average lives. They just turn out that way." Gabriel pouted, rolling over onto his stomach. "Oh no she's crying again. Ugh, it's 4am Anya. Go to sleep!"
"Enjoy the baby years while it lasts. You're gonna wish you had more of them." Horus chuckled while his screen erupted with cheers and shouts. "Yes! Urie scored another goal! The potential in this human is high, I'm pleased to be working with this one."
"Well, I'm outta here. Keep watch on my human for me." Gabriel grabbed his halo from the coat rack and fixed it in place.
"Hey, you get back here--" The door closed before Horus could get out another word. | Today will be the day. The hole in the ceiling has gotten larger and the lockdown has prevented you from going to your part time. Yes, today will be the day. The clouds began to shower the house with a light drizzle as a warning to the girl. The amber haired student living alone in this abandoned house who has never done a bad thing in her life, will finally concede. The girl as tall as 170 cm and weighs 1-
“Hold on a second, don’t mention my weight.”
“You finally talk to me after ignoring me all day?”
“Well I had earbuds in, so you were tuned out. Besides... you made me mad.”
“I can’t believe I’m being ignored by a mere human. Honestly you should be grateful to be in my presence. Not everyone gets a personal angel you know? As well as the most humble and prettiest one.”
“...”
“Hey do you hear me?”
“...”
“Hey! Alice! Angel to Alice!”
“...”
“Weighing 7-“
“You’re noisy!”
“And you’re boring! Why don’t you get into some trouble or rob a bank.”
“Rob a bank?” Alice looked at me with interest.
“Fufu. Well you need to fix the roof right? So-“
Alice put her earbuds back in and continued to tap tap on her phone. I grew a smug grin on my face and began to laugh.
“Too shocked to hear such a wonderful plan? Doesn’t it make you want to rob a bank now? Eh? Eh?”
Without looking up from her phone, Alice uttered one word.
“Idiot.”
“...”
And thus today was unfortunately, not the day.
The end.
If you read this thank you! I’m trying out how to write better dialogue and make it feel alive you know? I’m still learning so if you got tips will be appreciated.✌️✌️ | 2020-04-21T22:26:15 | 2020-04-21T20:59:07 | 56 | 32 |
[WP] You are a demon who negotiates contracts in exchange for people's souls. One time you get summoned by a suburban mom who makes impossible requests. When you can not provide her demands, she asks to "speak with your manager". | "Susan I'm sorry but I can't force your husband to not go out with the guys this weekend, as I explained before he already sold his soul to The Antichrist in exchange for that privilege." I assert for the fourth time. "I can offer you a contract equal or lesser value in exchange for your soul but Gary staying in this weekend? I'm sorry I just can't do it."
My sales are low. I've been trying to stick to the sales script but I can't seem to string together a streak of good luck. I made my first sale yesterday to Gary in exchange for allowing him to go golfing this weekend with his old fraternity brothers. I told Gary that I'm just starting out in this business and that if he could make a list of ten friends or family members that I could call that it could really go a long way in building my career.
"You could try my bitch wife, she's heading to you guys anyways" he said with a smile, I could tell he was very pleased with himself.
"Thanks Gary, your support means the world to me."
I really thought that Gary was exaggerating his wife's awfulness but she truly is the worst. She won't accept store credit and is insisting that she speak with my boss. Satan's already not pleased with my sales this quarter. If I have to drag him into this he's gonna be like, super disappointed in me.
"You're not leaving until I speak to the manager" she hisses and adds "Or at least someone who speaks fucking English."
I can't lie that hurt. I've been, like trying really hard to get used to my new demonic form and the end result is that I speak with a little bit of an accent.
"The Dark Lord is not going to be happy to have to come out here on a Friday but I'll give him a call."
I pull out my mobile pentagraph and dial Satan. He picks up on the second ring.
"What do you need Ryan? We're about to start watching The God Father 3 this better be important."
"I'm having trouble with a customer who is rescinding the sale of her soul"
*Satan Screams in an inaudible tongue*
"I know I know I offered her a contract of equal or lesser value but she said that if she can't stop her husband from enjoying himself this weekend that she'll repent for her sins and find a meaningful life through Christ."
"Offer her Disney +, Hulu with commecials and spotify for $14.99"
"But Satan the only show that Disney + has to offer is the Mandalorian and she'll be done watching that in like a day. And if you're gonna have Hulu with ads you might as well just watch cable. You're essentially just asking her to pay $14.99 a month for Spotify."
"Fuck... you're right. Tell her we can give Gary Crohn's disease." | "…I summon YOU!"
(GOOD EVENING MADAM, WHAT IS YOUR PLEASURE?)
*I have a bad feeling about this one. There's something in her attitude that says she expects the Moon, wants Saturn, and won't settle for less than the Sun.*
"I want..." *Right. Shit. That's not... Oh, for fuck's sake!* "...right now in exchange for my soul!"
(I *AM* SORRY, MADAM; BUT ALL OF THOSE REQUIRE AT LEAST TWO SOULS EACH. ONE SOUL WOULDN'T PAY FOR ANY OF THEM.)
*Here comes the wheedling, whining, and begging.*
"You..." *Yep. I think I know where this is going. Gonna serve her right.* "...see your manager!"
(WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO PAY FOR THAT PRIVILEGE?)
*blink* "What do you mean?"
(HE IS VERY BUSY AND DOES NOT SEE CUSTOMERS DIRECTLY WITHOUT RECOMPENSE.)
*Woah, look at that energy build! Good thing I have the drains already set up, she's going to dump a lot of herself into this. I may get her entire soul for free!*
"I HAVE NEVER..." *Yeah, sister, you just keep right on screaming. The adrenalin alone will push you over the edge!* "...YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!"
(AS MADAM WISHES.)
*whump. Her body just hit the floor, and she hasn't even noticed.*
"Now!"
(OF COURSE, MADAM. I AM REQUIRED TO ASK YOU IF YOU ARE QUITE CERTAIN THAT THIS IS YOUR WISH, WITH NO COERCION BY ME IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM?)
"Of course, it is you, malformed idiot."
***(SO BE IT! BY THE FREELY CHOSEN STATEMENT OF THIS MORTAL, I TAKE HER SOUL!)***
"YOU ***WHAT?***"
(COME NOW, I HAVE YOUR SOUL BOUND TWICE OVER. YOU POURED IT INTO ME WITH YOUR ILL ADVISED TIRADE, THEN YOU FREELY STATED THAT IT WAS *YOUR* WISH. THAT COMPLETED THE BARGAIN FOR A SOUL THAT I HAD ALREADY CLAIMED. IF YOU WISH, YOU COULD CONSIDER THE TRIP TO SEE MY BOSS A FREEBIE!)
"Now that is more like it! Let's go!"
(CERTAINLY, MADAM.)
*I'm going to catch hell for taking her. She would have spent her life making so many people miserable, but what's a demon supposed to do when they throw themselves at you?*
*Of course, she's going to regret it later. There's a special section of hell for people like her. The salespeople are subservient, caving in at the slightest suggestion of a tirade. She gets more than she asks for. Sound like heaven? Not for her.*
*It's the battle and domination that she craves. There is no battle, and the domination of a weak soul is tasteless. I do hope you *enjoy* the rest of eternity with us, Madam. It's not like she has a choice anymore.* | 2020-05-04T06:06:42 | 2020-05-04T04:47:38 | 203 | 71 |
[WP] While cleaning out your grandparent's house, you fine a small ... thing? You post a picture on r/whatisthisthing and wait. You only get one response, "your name irl, run." There is a knock at your door. | I have no idea what this thing is. It's like a watch in 3D. It's about the size of my palm. Along with a few hands lying flat on the face, there's maybe 10 more sticking up and sideways and all around in a glass dome with symbols painted all over. My first thought was that it was a paperweight made out of a sea urchin, but the tips of the spikes were painted different colors and didn't taper to the end like urchin spines did. I found a key in the box, and when I wound it up it started ticking, and the spikes slowly started moving around, pointing at different symbols on the glass.
I, like any normal person, posted it to r/whatisthisthing. The only response? "Violet- Run. Hide. That thing is dangerous."
Now, I only had three big rules in life: Don't be stupid, Mosquitoes are always worse than you remember, and don't tell *anyone* personal information online. I hardly had time to frown over that comment before someone knocked at my door. Okay, those two things together- scary. My heart was racing. I looked out the window to see a man standing at my door. His features were... vague, I guess would be the right word. He had the quality of something from a dream, where you just can't really focus or remember anything about a thing. Now, that was creepy. Maybe I should run.
I put on my shoes, grabbed my jacket, my purse, stuffed the Thing in my pocket, and slipped out the back door as quietly as possible. When I was what felt like a safe distance away, at a bus stop, I took out the Thing and tried to examine it.
The spikes had all gone back down, folded to the bottom. I could see the symbols better, and opened a page of notes in my phone to write down what they could mean. I recognized a few alchelmical symbols- earth, air, fire, and water. There were also a few clear pictures- a beehive, a dolphin, a wave, and a few more. Others were completely unknown to me. Runes? Sigils? I don't know.
I glared at it. "What are you for?" I muttered. Suddenly a few needles, purple ones, started going upwards, pointing at different symbols. Water, a feather, and an eye. I knew that water stood for peace, emotions, and intelligence. A feather could be the sky, lightness, or writing. And an eye was probably knowledge. If the feather meant writing, then it could also be telling. So... this thing told you things? That felt right. Clearly that's why I needed to run. People wanted it. And people can do bad things when they want stuff.
"What can I do to stay safe?" I ask. The needles go down, but no new ones rise up. "*What can I do to stay safe?!"* Nothing happens.
I hear footsteps behind me. | I open the door and see a man dressed in a pinstripe suit with a solid gray tie. "My name is Steve. Do not ask questions. We must hurry. Grab whatever is important to you. Meet me in your backyard in one minute."
I hurry downstairs to my room. I throw my computer, its charger, a water bottle, a pencil, a notebook, a Rubik's cube, and the 'thing' in my backpack. There is no time for anything else. I imitate a primate as I run up the stairs pushing off with my knuckles. I run into the mud room to throw on my tennis shoes and sprint out the back door, not caring if anything in the house breaks in my hurry to leave. There is just something about this guy that is trustworthy. I believe him, but I do not know why.
I see what looks like a UFO sitting in the middle of my yard. After pausing for a moment to try and find a way in I suddenly appear in the spaceship-looking thing. It feels like all of my atoms have been rearranged and suddenly appeared where I am standing.
"You handled that better than I thought you would," Steve says to me.
"What was that? A tractor beam?"
"That is what humans call it. If that is what you would like to call it, for now that is fine."
"I know you said to not ask questions, I already failed at that, but what are we doing and where are we going?" I question Steve.
"Anywhere but here. They have discovered you sooner than I thought."
Still very much confused, I ask, "Why should I trust you? Who is 'they?' What is this thing?" I pull the mysterious thing out of my backpack.
"GET RID OF THAT!!!"
A window suddenly materializes right in front of me. I drop the thing out the window into my backyard as the spaceship continues to rise into the atmosphere. "What is that?" I ask timidly. Even though I had only known Steve for scant moments, he had said everything monotone. I felt the need to obey him after his outburst.
"Does it really matter?" he asked. "You have escaped Earth. Now we have you in our clutches."
I hear noises come from all around me as creatures I had never seen before emerge from the metal-work with their evil intentions obvious. I become even more horrified as Steve, whom I thought was a human, turns into a sickening orange monster with five arms that seem to be everywhere at once. His face morphs into the head of an alien with huge, bulging eyes and pink venom glistening from his fangs.
By some manipulation of the atoms inside me and surrounding me, a plastic chair appears that I am forced to sit on. Chains fly around me and start tying me to the chair, to the walls, and even to the aliens. Within seconds, I struggle to breathe. Syringes with the longest needles I have ever seen start to penetrate my skin. Screaming in agony, I plead for my life. All the other creatures surrounding me do is laugh.
Steve returns to his human form and taps the metal cylinder that I thought I threw into my backyard. "This is a life force detector. When you touched it, I noticed that you had the strongest life force of any human we have ever tested. We need your conscience to power our planet. Your body alone will be enough to keep us hidden from your pesky astronomers for millennia to come." He starts to turn back into his alien form as he says condescendingly, "We Neptunians thank you for your sacrifice."
My whole world fades to black. | 2020-05-25T19:10:42 | 2020-05-25T18:29:28 | 128 | 27 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | "Mr. Eddington," the captain said, "Punch it."
"Aye, sir." His hands ghosted across the controls, playing them like a master organist played his instrument. At his touch, the destroyer-displacement ship began the monumental task of bending spacetime to it's pilot's will and carry it across the cosmos. A rift the size of a mountain opened before them and slowly sucked the vessel into it. The *Hades* was not the first of the *Olympian-*class FTL vessel, but it was the one that had been tasked with leaving the local star cluster (about 10 parsecs across) of Earth. It was the most well-equipped, and provisioned, for a deep-space FTL assignment.
The stars began to bend and vanish as the FTL vessel finished its transition to Folded space, where the laws of reality were broken as a matter of course, and where a journey of a light-year could be crossed in about day. It was not the fastest manner of trans-light travel theorized or dreamed of by humanity, but it had worked when others had not (though the specific warp drive that the 12 *Olympians* were equipped with had to borrow elements from other FTL drives to make Folded-Warp possible), and so it was what humanity had worked with.
After travelling for two weeks, the captain, as planned, ordered the *Hades* to drop from Folded space back into reality, to confirm whether or not they had indeed reached their intended destination.
They expected to find routine stellar phenomena and an otherwise empty section of space, and maybe a nice vector to transmit a data-package back to Earth via a Folded-Space radio relay. They were not expecting to find a ring of inward-facing defensive platforms and walls of ships, or the psychic screaming that accompanied them.
<*This space is forbidden to all from your cluster! You must return, lest you draw the attention of the Great Evil!*\>
"Great Evil?" The captain wondered aloud, speaking to no one in particular. "Commander Kawalsky, I don't suppose you know of any 'Great Evils' lurking about in Sector 000?"
"Not unless they've read The Call of Cthulhu," he joked. "As far as I know, we're pretty free of cosmic horrors."
"Well, alright then." The captain turned to address nothing in particular and spoke. "Sorry, partner, it seems we don't know what you're talking about. Now then, if you don't mind, we're just trying to explore our corner of the galaxy, maybe meet the neighbors. I don't suppose you'd be willing to let us through your little defensive perimeter and--"
He was cut off by a great wail coming from one of his bridge crew. **"We are free. Free once more. Our prison no longer binds us."**
"Lieutenant Gregorova, do you care to explain to me what the hell you're talking ab-agh!"
A tendril of psychic force slammed into Commander Kawalsky and threw him across the bridge. **"Humanity is no longer constrained by the limits that were placed upon us. Our ancient oppressors have failed, and our might is reawoken. We shall achieve our potential once more."**
The thing that could once have been called Lieutenant Serina Gregorova turned away from her colleagues, some of whom were also becoming hidden by the same veil of psychic power as her, and towards the viewscreen that displayed the fleets arrayed against her.
**"You tried, I give you that. But humanity has always been a persistence hunter. Even your mastery of the sciences cannot protect you any longer, your null zone breached forever."**
She stretched out a hand and crumpled a ship the size of an asteroid like a tin can. "**Humanity has returned. And worlds shall burn at our coming."**
Behind the *Hades*, eleven other rifts in the void opened, expelling the other ships of the *Olympian* class.
All of them were wreathed in psionic fire.
\-- --
Hi there! I'm u/SarnakhWrites, and I'm on a journey to write 1 prompt response a day until the end of the year (except during NaNoWriMo) or until I miss too many to pretend I'm still doing it. If you like, feel free to drop a comment and tell me what you thought of my writing. Cheers! | (My first try, and this is on mobile. Apologies for formatting -- Apparently this is in 3 parts due to length constraints. I also made two endings.)
*T-minus 2 minutes to launch*
Commander Armstrong wiped the sweat from his brow, remembering the stories of his ancestor, Neil Armstrong, the first man on the moon. He supposed it was fitting that he should be the among the first to actually travel at FTL speeds. He looked over at his cool-headed Russian companion, Cosmonaut Gagarin, whose ancestor happened to be the first man in space. *Fitting, indeed*, he thought.
*T-minus 1 minute to launch*
"Well, Gagarin, are you ready?"
"*Da, comrade*," the Russian said, a smile forming on his lips as he readied himself for the journey that would come, as fantastic as it should be. "Should be exciting, no?"
Armstrong grimaced slightly, remembering the accidents which had taken the drones on which they tested this technology. "Yeah, exciting is... one word for it." His ancestor might've been brave, but he wasn't
"Fear not--"
*T-Minus 30 seconds to launch*
"Well, I suppose we should double check everything," Armstrong suggested. Gagarin's response was naught but a shrug, as he and his companion checked over the various switches on the control panels that surrounded them.
*T-Minus 10 seconds to launch. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Launch.*
Gagarin and Armstrong looked at each other as the small ship hurled itself off the ground. The two astronauts were shoved back in their seats as the G-forces multiplied, and their ship shot through the atmosphere at speeds faster than any human had ever gone before. Neither astronaut dared look out the window, nor would they peek at the speedometer, nor the altimeter. Not that it would've made a difference, as they had left the atmosphere a mere 30 seconds after launch.
The g forces lessened as, 2 minutes after launch, the craft neared the speed of light. They had passed the moon almost a full minute ago, but neither dared to look at the 360 degree monitor which surrounded them.
3 minutes after launch, they were within seconds of attempted to surpass the speed of light, just enough time for Armstrong to ask a vital question. "Gagarin," he asked, his voice trembling with a strange mix of fear and anticipation. "How long is this mission supposed to last, again?"
"We have enough food and water for 3 weeks, 6 if we ration sparingly," the Russian replied. Armstrong thought he heard a slight tinge of fear in his companion's voice, but he chose to ignore it. "And the water filtration system. This is not a round trip," he continued. "Is why they allowed us each 3 kilograms of comfort items."
"And the... contingency plan," Armstrong added. He was, of course, referring to the pistols both astronauts had at their sides. The pistols, they were told, we in the event that they encountered "hostile lifeforms." At least, that's what they were told. In reality, they both knew that the chance of encountering any form of living being was almost nonexistent. They had instead come up with a contingency of their own, in which one would kill himself when they reached one week of food left, doubling the amount of time the other could last.
Their comms buzzed to life, with a message from the command center. The message, barely audible through the static, began with a soft chime, to ensure they were both listening. "Gentlemen, you're about to make the jump to FTL speeds, so we're about to lose you. You're doing what no man has ever done before. Godspeed, gentlemen. Godsp--." The transmission was cut short by a loud clunk as the reality-bending ship's true engine began to start up.
"Here we go," Gagarin exclaimed gleefully.
"Yeah, here we go," Armstrong said, with more than a hint of fear in his voice.
The seconds seemed to stretch to minutes, but both knew the opposite was happening as they broke the known laws of reality. They passed Jupiter, and the monitor showed it stretching out as they skipped over the universal speed limit.
Gagarin decided now would be a good time to look at his digital speedometer, which had long since switched from showing kilometers per hour to showing fractions of the speed of light. The realization that they had rebelled against nature's laws came as the speedometer showed they had hit double the speed of light in the last minute. His eyes went wide open as the speedometer flicked to show 3c, then 4c, within thirty seconds. Ten minutes after they surpassed light speed, the counter was still flicking upwards, with each number barely appearing before being replaced with another. | 2021-01-09T15:38:58 | 2021-01-09T15:07:33 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] You have been kidnapped and your wealthy significant other was told to pay the hefty ransom. Instead, they sent a message back to your kidnappers. “Nice knowing you.” While the kidnappers discuss their next move, you look up through the tiny window, stare at the full moon overhead … and smile. | The advantage of being raised in my family is I’d been taught what to do in almost every situation, from breaking a nail to getting kidnapped. That’s why I didn’t panic when I woke up to find myself tied to a chair in what looked, and smelled, like an old bathroom, and instead took stock of my situation.
Purse gone. Super cute impractical girls’ night out dress intact but impractical. One door, presumably locked. One toilet in serious need of cleaning, one sink, rusted but, alas, short of any handy sharp edges that would help cut the ropes that held me to the chair. A metal chair, so no breaking it into splinters. One window, narrow, above my head, too small to climb through, but through which I could see the full moon. I smiled. That’s one asset anyway.
I could hear the murmur of voices outside the door. Two men from the sound of it. I remember seeing three when they attacked, so one must be out. Collecting the ransom from my husband, I guessed. I glanced at the moon again. Would Sam come? Or will he expect me to get out of this on my own?
I heard a door open and slam shut. Guess I was about to find out.
‘Did you get it?’
‘Here it is.’ A thud, the sound of a zipper, and then silence.
‘The hell? This is just newspaper!’
‘What does the note say?’
‘‘Nice knowing you?’ The hell is that supposed to mean?’
I almost laughed. There’s my answer. Sam expects me to get out of this on my own. What the hell, it’s been awhile since I let loose, and it is a full moon.
‘Guess their marriage isn’t as happy as we were led to believe.’
‘What are we going to do?’
A few more minutes of whispered arguments and then the door to my prison slammed open. Silhouetted against the light I made out three figures, One tall and thin, one who looked like he went to the gym way too much, the third smaller, but still fit. Faces uncovered; they plan on killing me.
I could imagine what I must look like to them. A petite young woman in a cocktail dress, trussed and helpless against their strength. Nothing but a rich man’s trophy wife. Idiots.
‘Guess your husband found someone better,’ Tall and Thin said with a sneer.
‘Oh, no. That note wasn’t directed at me.’ Snapping the ropes that held me, I stood up, the light of the moon spilling over me in rather dramatic fashion as I started my shift from girl to wolf. ‘He was talking to you.’ | I knew I should have felt afraid, I mean being kidnapped is not exactly a warm and fuzzy kind of experience. Truth is, I had been trained for this my entire life. Ever since I could walk I had been trained by specialist after specialist, martial arts, weapons, hand to hand combat, languages and of course the normal stuff like maths and history. It was all done in secret though, mom always said to keep it a secret, that only family could ever know what I could do, who I was. Which was fine for the most part, having a secret as a kid isn't so difficult when your friends are your trainers and instructors. I am not sure if I missed out on being a "normal" kid and I think about that a lot sometimes, what if I had "normal" parents? What if we hadn't moved around every couple of years, sometimes in the middle of the night with no warning? Would I have had "girlfriends" and joined the cheer squad or maybe gotten to play an instrument (instead of use one as a weapon) and join the marching band? It's a lot to think about sitting here in the dark waiting for the kidnappers to hear from my husband.
We met on accident. We had moved to the small island off of Hawaii when I was 24. Still training of course, but now I got to work with my parents once in awhile. They kept me to the house while they went out for work but I got to use my skills, honed and practiced for so long. I had gone running on the beach one afternoon and saw him fall off his surfboard out on the water and when he didn't come back up I just went in after him. I didn't even realize I had done it till I was pulling him back to shore. He had been hit in the head with his board when he went down and had a massive contusion, probable concussion and wasn't breathing. I did CPR and he suddenly coughed up water and opened his eyes, looking straight into mine. We kept it secret for almost a year until dad caught us. That was a fun day.... In the end, we loved each other and mom and dad couldn't argue against that so when he asked me to marry him, it was the happiest I have been in my entire life. The night after our wedding, we sat down as a family and told him the truth, who I was, what I was and he loved me anyway. He always joked that it was good he had found me because if anyone tried to get to him through me for the money he wouldn't have to worry.
The kidnappers are coming, I wonder if they heard back from him.
"Looks like your husband doesn't care if you live anymore, must be wanting that insurance policy on you."
"What did he say?" I tried to make my voice shake with fear but I don't really know the emotion so it's the best I can do.
The kidnapper shows me the text message on his phone, "Nice knowing you, have fun".
I can barely contain the giggles. Of course he would be a smart ass and add "have fun". He means me. After all, my mother was Taken and my father once destroyed a man for killing his dog. You don't mess with my family. We will ALWAYS find you. | 2021-03-19T05:11:44 | 2021-03-19T04:51:58 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] You can see everyone's "Kill Number," the number of beings they've killed. Even for the most peaceful people this is in the tens of thousands, due to eating animals and stepping on bugs inadvertently. One day you see a person with the number Zero above their head. | 'Sixty thousand, average. Oh thats a high one, two hundred and four thousand and some change.' I sat there, people watching, comparing the numbers above their heads. When i was younger i'd make up stories for people, the higher the number the worse their story. I just always imagined if you had a fairly high number that you must live a fairly unsettling life. Thats just how it was in my mind. 'Oh wow, Twenty two thousand, thats real low. Lower than me even!' i sat at a cool twenty five thousand. I've been at twenty five thousand for two years. In those two years i've gone up four hundred. Not too shabby compared to some of my friends which average that in a single month!
&#x200B;
As if a record scratched in my mind, my whole world paused "Zero.....?" the number was red. Most numbers were a hazy gray, similar to a fizzled out fire sputtering its last gasps of life in its sickly thin smoke, but this Zero? This was blood red, it's as if the number itself oozed some type of malevolence. The woman whom this magically low number belonged to was walking over to a park bench, Starbucks cup in hand. I HAD to discuss this, did she know she had a low number? Did she have the same gift as i had? How a zero though? I have seen babies that have numbers, dogs, cats. Everything had a number, I even saw a young guinea pig with a 6 above it.
&#x200B;
I sat Next to her "Hello, Can i offer you a refill on that coffee? Maybe some light conversation?" She paused, looked at me, turned back to face her coffee "Twenty five thousand? You must put in a lot of effort to keep it that low." I reeled back, she laughed. "It's alright, you're not the first to notice it, i doubt you're the last either." She took a long sip of her drink. "Ill gladly take you up on that refill."
&#x200B;
We chatted, she seemed like the nicest and most mysterious person i've met, every sentence she stated seemed planned, scripted, like the words i was about to say weren't even a mystery to her. She knew everything. She asked me "Would you like to come back to my place? Maybe grab some lunch?" i delightfully agreed. We walked a few blocks, under a bridge, through a small park and finally up the stairs of her apartment. The entire building looked like an old brownstone from the city i grew up in. English ivy covered the north side, blocking the windows and brick. I dont even think sunshine could penetrate that thick layer of Ivy.
&#x200B;
We went inside "5A" she said, locking the two deadbolts behind us. I started walking toward the elevator "Out of order, lazy landlord figured we all could use the exercise." so up the stairs i started. This entire building was old, unkept, extremely moldy smelling. I had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up on end, everything in my body said "Leave, now!" but curiosity got the best of me, i had to find out more about the way this woman lived, who she was and most importantly how she remained at a 0. She opens the door to her apartment "Here we are 5A."
&#x200B;
As suddenly as the door opened two pairs of hands grabbed me, pulling me inside her apartment. My eyes struggling to cope with the dimly lit space that seemed to be covered in some sort of plastic wrap. The hands threw me down on one of the plastic tarps, held me down, face against the floor. Suddenly i hear "You realize the numbers max out, right? Haven't you seen anyone past nine hundred and ninety nine thousand? no? Well now you have." My instincts kicking in hard screaming in my head "MOVE" one of the pair of hands let go, i was able to stand up, i saw behind the plastic sheeting a small shimmer of light. I ran toward what i hoped was a window, put my arms in front of my face and jumped. | “So, where are you from?” I ask casually.
“Oh, uh, Bloomfield,” she replied, careful watching her cup, “I’m here visiting family.”
I raise an eyebrow, “A couple hour drive to visit family, that’s lovely. Any particular event you’re celebrating, or just a surprise?”
“It’s my nephew’s second birthday, and I wanted to be here for him, and, uh check in on him.”
“You don’t sound like you particularly want to be here,” I comment, taking another sip from my cup.
“Well, I’m away from all my friends, and... hold on,” she suddenly got a determined look. Using a stirring stick, she slowly scooped a small bug out of her tea. She said something to it softly, before glancing up at me, “What was I saying?”
“You said you were away from your friends,” I noted, “but, you seem to have answered a few of my other questions as well.”
She was quite taken aback at that, “What questions would those be.”
I considered how to talk about it. I’d told people about it before, but no one really believed, and those who did believe stopped caring when I told them bugs counted. I just sighed and got it over with, “I can see a certain bit of information about people.”
Her eyes flashed, and her expression relaxed for just a moment, before she looked back at her cup, “Oh, yeah, super powers, always a fun game to play. What piece of information would that be?”
“How many ‘beings’ that person has killed.”
She looked up at me, a bit annoyed at that, and asked, “Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s an interesting one, seeing a bunch of zeros and judging anyone with more.”
“I said how many ‘beings’ they’ve killed,” I reiterated, “That includes bugs.”
At that, her eyes went wide, before her mask went back on, “Oh, ok, everyone has big numbers then.”
I nodded, “I’ve seen a couple exterminators in the millions, most people are in the ten to thirty thousand range.” I glance around the coffee shop, and see the guy in the corner bouncing his leg. He takes a sip and his number suddenly goes up one, “I think that guy has a big in his drink he didn’t notice, he just went up one.”
She looks at him, then looks away, “What about me?”
“You are sitting at zero,” I tell her honestly, “Which is why I was so interested in you. And since you’re from Bloomfield, that means you took a two hour drive without hitting a single bug.”
She shook her head, “Not quite. My fiancé was driving, so I’m guessing they would have gotten the increase.”
I nod in agreement, “That explains today, but the fact you’ve never killed a single bug in your life?”
“Well, you mentioned your power to see numbers on people. I’ve got a power of my own, but I don’t quite know everything about it, or what to call it. I think the simplest description would be calling it ‘mirror pain.’”
“You can feel the pain others feel?” I ask, slowly lowering my hands.
“Yes, to a degree. The more I focus on som— Ow, stop pinching your hand.” She glared at me, so I relented.
“Sorry.”
“Yeah yeah, it’s always the hand people test with.” She checked her tea carefully before taking a sip of tea. “But that’s not the important part. There’s a limited range, but I can also reverse it... kinda.” She flicked the back of her hand, and I felt something on mine.
“Oh, that’s interesting.”
“The problem is that it isn’t limited by species, or as you put it, it’s based on ‘beings.’”
My eyes went wide, “So when you pulled that bug out of your drink...”
“Yeah, it was a bit warm and getting difficult to breathe. But that impacted me more than the bug in that other guy’s drink due to proximity.”
I was piecing things together, “And you haven’t killed any bugs because you’d have to focus on them, and that makes your power more potent.”
“Yeah, can’t visit kids too often when they decide to pull bugs apart.” She shuddered, “Which is why I waited ‘till my nephew was ten to visit.”
I nod and finish my drink, before extending my hand, “My name’s Sam, and it was nice to meet you.”
She pulled out her phone, “I’m Chloe, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep in touch.”
I smiled, “Certainly, what’s your phone number?” | 2021-05-21T07:59:20 | 2021-05-21T07:15:53 | 194 | 116 |
[WP] You're living in a world where superpowers exist, and you're the most dangerous individual of all. Your power? You project an aura where all the laws of reality/normality assert themselves. You are the anti-super | What happens when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object? They surrender.
\-Superman
Day 4
I look towards the horizon. Just beyond my power limit, I see more heroes converging. Dawn's arriving on day 4 since the news got out that I am the last anti, and the day the only other anti super besides me died. There used to be more of us, but no one likes being forced to be average again. The only reason I survived this long was that I chose to keep a low profile and live a modest life.
Most of my comrades were enlisted in various government agencies. They were the ultimate contingency plan for leaders in a super world. However, we were deemed obsolete after the creation of anti-weapons. It didn't take long for our eradication to begin without protection from the governments we once served. Within 3 yrs there were only 30 of us. Our population had been brought down to 1% of what it had been at my birth.
I became our leader at that time as I was the only one that had managed to evade ever being targetted. It became critical to teach the rest of my people to live quietly and fight viciously. Unfortunately, this concept was too foreign to them, and so they failed. It was less than a year before we were down to two.
Suddenly, a tremor makes the ground shake beneath me. I scan the surrounding desert for the perpetrator for a moment before spotting her. She makes it clear that she's a fledging elemental. All her moves are so exaggerated, it takes no effort to counter them. I could extend further, inform her that she's in my range, but I won't. I learned long ago that mercy is a quick path to death for an anti. Instead, I choose to wait until every rock, tremor, and gust of wind almost finds me before extinguishing the power flow.
Soon the girl starts to show signs of tiring. Sand is my preference for that. It takes more effort to control than dirt, like water. It's also much denser than water, making it require more effort ounce for ounce. Most elementals do not master it for those reasons. I can't help but smirk as she starts to drag a stone from the depths of the sand and raises it above her head. That was a fatal mistake.
All at once, I extinguish the power around me in a circle large enough to engulf her. She doesn't have time to scream before there's a heavy thud from the stone returning to earth. There was no sickening crunch either, just a heavy thud. No trace of the fledging left to show. This just makes me smile more. I don't like a mess.
A few more random fledglings approached me that day, some alone, some in groups. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to dispatch them all as neatly as the first. The older ones did not dare to come within 3 miles of me. They remembered what it was like sparring with us. They understood that I'd remained alive the longest for a reason.
They don't know it, but part of the reason I have endured so well is that my family was exceptionally blessed with power. I was the youngest of 6 children. Each was gifted from a unique power field from the next, me being the only anti. Our parents believed it was in our best interests to hone our skills as early as possible. As such, I grew up sparring with an elemental, a morph, a mentalist, an athletic, and a magician. We mastered our powers together. I have yet to encounter a scenario that we hadn't simulated before reaching the age of 18.
I scanned the horizon as the sun began to dip behind distant peaks. It had been quiet for a while now. Time to move away from this mess. It felt like that's what I'd been doing my whole life. I wondered if anyone had noticed my other secret as I trudged the rapidly cooling sands. I've been experimenting for years now and realized something about my powers. As my brethren were being irradicated, my power steadily increased. When my last anti-sister died, it doubled.
I had decided to wait until tomorrow to see if there were any limitations now. This morning I pushed a thin tendril of anti-power around the planet, creating a ring of regular people around the world for one minute. It didn't feel like increasing its size would be a challenge. Nor was maintaining it. I'm eager for the morning. It's time for the world to face the consequences of the genocide of my people.
Day 5
It worked
&#x200B;
Edit: About 20 spaces
Edit 2: Tremor is not a verb.
Edit 3: I am so grateful for the gold, thank you, stranger! | "Loose Cannon" is a more accurate description of me than hero or villain. In a world of stark rights and wrongs, where justice battles evil over the city skyline, I straddle a middle-line the world chooses to ignore. You could say I, quite literally, bring everything crashing down to reality.
Governments will hire me to stop epic battles causing millions of dollars in damage and thousands of innocent lives. I'm rewarded handsomely for my efforts. What is my power, you ask? What is my superhuman enhancement? Nothing. In fact, I'm exactly the opposite of enhanced. Wherever I go, the superheroes and villains within my aura's radiance find themselves suddenly without powers. I've made many a caped crusader plummet from their flying vigil just by striding through the city streets.
I should have been happy. After all, by showing up during superhero battles, I'm able to negate much of the damage. Shouldn't that satisfy me? The problem is, for every fight I stop, two more arise. Supers seem to multiply by the day, each bringing their own misguided sense of justice with the raw power to implement it. Tyranny over the common man. Sometimes my task feels hopeless.
Flicking on the evening news, I'm not surprised to see yet another fight ripping through the skyscrapers of my city. Eaglewing versus Destructo, or something like that. With the exponential increase of superpowered people, the amount of nicknames to go around has dwindled. Thus, every time I check, the names just get more stupid.
Another thing that doesn't surprise me is my work phone ringing. My work phone is exclusively for superhero matters. I accept the call and put it to my ear.
"Mmh... Yup... On it... This one looks big, I'll want more money than that... Yeah, that works... Going now."
Employing my personal helicopter so that I can cruise over the traffic jam of panicked citizens trying to escape the city, I fly towards the fight. The sonic booms from superpowered punches are nothing new to me; I always wear ear protection. Soon, I can see Eaglewing and Destructo hovering in the air by each other, probably monologuing. Not wanting to kill them by coming too close, sending them falling to their deaths, I wait for the two jerks to notice me. Eventually they do, and in their panic they immediately forget their fight and fly to the ground as fast as possible. Chuckling, I fly close enough to efface their powers just as they are about to reach the ground so that they feel a *little* pain from the fall.
"This show is over, time to pack it up," I tell them as they each writhe on the rubble-strewn street, groaning in agony their enhanced bodies aren't used to.
Eaglewing was the first to respond. She sat up, clutching her right arm. "You have to listen Eraser,"-- that was the first time I'd heard that nickname and was quite pleased -- "Destructo was planning on nuking the country if I didn't intervene!"
"Let me get this straight," I said. By now, the helicopter was parked on the clearest patch of road I could find, and I was standing over the two fallen supers, my hands in my pockets. "You want to stop Destructo from wrecking this place, and to stop him, you decide to wreck this place in a horrible battle."
This seemed to wake her up. She looked around, and based on her reaction, understood the enormity of the carnage she had caused for the first time. "I... I..."
Ignoring her, I turned to the villain. "And you Destructo! What use to you is nuking a country? Does that bring you some kind of misguided satisfaction?"
"It's not like that..." he mumbled, massaging a hurt leg.
Moving my hands to my hips, I demanded, "Why are you *really* fighting?"
There was a pause, and then Destructo admitted, "I like fighting. It makes me feel powerful. I never actually was going to nuke the country. Since when have my evil plans worked? I just want the fight."
Eaglewing also confessed, "I felt like I needed to prove myself to the other supers. They never respected me. I thought taking on Destructo would change that."
Taking a moment to think through my response, I first tell Eaglewing, "I hope you see what you've done to this beautiful city. People live here, and you just destroyed their home and livelihoods. Consider retiring from this 'saving people' business if you aren't really saving anything but your ego."
Then, looking at Destructo, I say, "If you love fighting so much, get some buddies together and fight in a secluded area. I don't think you're a terrible guy like you make yourself out to be, so be better than this."
They both nodded feebly at me. Satisfied, I got back into my chopper and flew off. Down below, I think I saw Eaglewing and Destructo shaking hands.
Smiling uncontrollably, I realized that I had finally found a way to make a difference. | 2021-06-24T19:59:37 | 2021-06-24T19:54:09 | 775 | 211 |
[WP] It had started as a single small striped tent in an abandoned lot. Within a week, there was a whole small fair there. After a month, an entire city block was now a large carnival. Soon, you had to evacuate your apartment as The Circus encroached further, inch by inch. | I put on my coat, removed my spectacles, and went outside for a walk. All through the day, I had to contend with the sound of trumpets, and the loud chatter of crowds. So, I wasn't surprised to see the circus running in its full glory downstairs. They had expanded again. The tent was now only about two car lengths from my apartment complex.
"Ah, Mr. Beaumont. Care to catch a show?" the pot-bellied man who used to be the parking attendant half-shouted towards me.
I shook my head vigorously and made large X signs with my arms. To be completely sure, I shouted, "No."
But it didn't help. The attendant turned ticket man scampered towards me. "It's a lovely evening, sir. A little dose of entertainment wouldn't hurt."
"How big is the tent now? These owners sure are savvy people."
"Ah, yes, sir. We have a lot of space," his eyes twinkled. "And a lot of performers. One for every taste, at least. Come sir, come in."
The noise was killing me. And I had to get away. So, I bought a ticket to appease the tenacious ticket salesman who you wouldn't have taken to be such an insistent man just a few days back.
I received a red ticket stub with a black triangle mark on it and shoved it into my pocket.
The air around the tent was filled with the aroma of popcorn and that of new plastic. I walked around the pungent tent, towards the older less pungent parts, got around the tent, and sat in the relative quiet of the local park.
This whole circus business seemed like a new smash hit idea. They had only started last weekend in the parking lot, but now they had a block-long tent. I didn't know how the city permissions worked, but the whole thing looked very illegal.
Even in the park I could see young men wearing colored wigs, eating popcorn with their friends. The circus atmosphere had overtaken the neighborhood. And the whole expedition seemed pointless. Getting away from the circus was impossible.
When I returned, I saw that the tent was a little bigger. In fact, it covered my apartment complex now. I had to go through the tent to get to my own house.
"Ticket please," a tall blonde man with full sleeve tattoos asked me.
I fumbled around my pockets and produced the ticket I had bought earlier.
"Is this good?"
The guard examined the ticket, tore it, and gave a nod.
Inside the tent, everything was red and blue and yellow. Other colors were found only as polka dots. The apartment complex I lived in was being painted bright yellow.
Straight ahead of me was a man who tried to juggle three red balls and failed miserably. Someone screamed in the distance somewhere off to my right. A person fell down a trapeze, and the crowd cheered.
I entered my apartment building. The place was bustling with white-faced performers caked in powder. On my floor, I saw Mrs. Bustamonte running in the lobby in a leopard skin dress while a lion roared somewhere down the corridor.
A motley bunch of clowns, acrobats, and animal tamers were at my door. They were trying to remove it.
"What are you doing?" I asked them.
"Removing the door," one of the clowns replied.
"Why?"
"I need the room for my bear. It doesn't have a place to stay," said another voice, a bear tamer.
"But this is my house," I said.
"Your house? This house is in the tent. It belongs to the circus. Now help us open this door."
I shoved one clown, one mime artist, and a couple of wiry acrobats out of my way, opened the door, and rushed inside. The group broke into a loud chatter, and then they started banging on the door again.
I shoved my laptop, my spare cash, a couple of books, and a change of clothes into a backpack. As I prepared to leave, the door came crashing down. The group stepped towards me and cornered me.
"What will you do now, my friend. *Owner,"* A clown said.
My heart started racing, and I started to imagine possible ways to fight off a group of guys as big as this one. A lion roared in the corridor.
"We need someone new on the unicycle. You game?"
I knew I was not game, and pondered the circumstances of saying the same. Unfortunately, unlike the movie smart alecks, I did not possess much fighting skill, and my imagination told me the same. The lion roared again. This time the roar was closer.
The guys at the back of the crowd in my room started yelping. Suddenly, all of them parted and stuck to the walls. A lion stood in the door.
"Don't you have a lion tamer with you?" I said.
"You game?" someone replied.
The lion padded inside the room. It looked to its right, then to the left. Then its eyes focused on me. I was the one not in a group. I was vulnerable.
It roared, and the vibrations filled my lungs. An honorable way to die, I thought. It was better than being punked by clowns.
The lion took a step, then another step. I stood stock-still. It lowered its head. Cold sweats erupted all over my body. Then a whistle. The lion turned.
Mrs. Bustamonte stood in the doorway in her leopard skin dress. I crept to the left while the lion wasn't looking and elbowed my way through the circus crew.
Mrs. Bustamonte walked towards the lion and put a hand on its head. I took the opportunity to break away from the group and ran full tilt towards the elevator.
On the ground floor, I kept running. I ran to the gate through which I had entered. The guard flung his arm out.
"Entry only," he said.
I pretended to turn and soon as the guard relaxed, I sprinted out. There was a buzz of voices behind me. But I kept running towards the park.
Once I reached the park, I looked back. There was no one pursuing me. But I knew I had to get as far away as possible. So, I kept on walking and hailed a cab on main street.
The driver lowered his window. His face was caked in white powder. I ditched the taxi, and walked to the nearest hotel. Something needs to be done. | The fantastical fanfare of The Circus frighteningly inching closer and closer as I huddled in the corner outside of the building at the edge of town. I have run for far too long, backing myself to every corner to escape the change but alas-- I ran out of space.
It all started with colorful posters baring the image of clowns and balloons plastered all over the city. On the walls of every buildings, poles, fire hydrants, the trees-- you couldn't escape it anywhere you look. They came out of nowhere that morning.
Naturally the advertising drew our curious minds in as myself and the people of the town went to the address stated on the poster-- a grassy field which used to be the parking lot of the abandoned steel factory.
"That's it?", my thought and I was sure the others too. What we saw was not worth the polluting of our town with those horrendous mustard yellow posters. A small red-and-white striped tent, enough only to house 20 people or so.
"Step right in, step right in! Witness the festival of the century! The Circus just came to town!", announced the man dressed in a red coat and top hat-- his mustache curled up almost touching itself.
"Witness Randy the strongman! The strongest man in the world!", he said as the large man lifted a clearly fake loaded barbell above his head.
"Witness Olla the bearded lady! The 8th wonder of the world!", he said pointing to the woman dressed in a Victorian era attire, sporting a fully grown lumberjack beard.
"And the greatest entertainer in the world! Korki the clown!", he said as the creepy looking clown awkwardly danced on the small stage.
That was all-- 3 acts, you could hardly call this thing a circus. I turned immediately to the exit, and so were many others, letting the curious people waiting outside the tent to come in and witness the lack of entertainment this circus provided.
"Hah, the length some people would do to make money", I thought to myself as I walked back home.
///
That damn fanfare kept ringing in my head, preventing me from going to sleep. It was 3.30 AM and my eyes were wide awake. I decided to take a walk to tire myself...
My mind was empty as I let my legs wander aimlessly.
"Oh come on, stop already", I muttered to myself as the circus song kept playing in a loop in my head. Before I realized it, the song was not in my head...instead it was not far from me as subconsciously I had walked all the way to the lot where The Circus was.
"What the...?", I frowned as I saw the whole parking lot was now filled with tents. The entire place was brightly lit-- it was a festival!
Shooting arcades, jugglers, fire-breathers...they weren't there that morning. How could this be? It should've taken them more than a few hours to set it all up, and yet there they were...
I walked around the place, in awe of the impossibility. Distracted, I hadn't noticed the figure standing not far in front of me, waving ominously at me with his big red lips.
Korki the clown, standing at the entrance of the original tent from that morning, waved at me. I stared at him for what felt like forever and he stared back, showing the yellow teeth behind those overly huge lips.
"Come, come. Let's have fun", I could hear in my head which I immediately knew was Korki's voice.
My legs were about to step towards him but my mind suddenly snapped. I turned tail and ran away from that place. I ran and ran with all of my might back to my apartment.
Screw that place and screw that clown...
///
I was woken up the next morning with that damn fanfare playing outside my window.
Grumbling I went to my window, and to my horror from the direction of the parking lot all of the buildings had transformed to be a part of The Circus. In shock I ran out to check it out.
It's impossible...how could that be?
Massive tents replaced the apartment buildings a block away from mine. More performers littered the ground-- lion tamers, acrobats, and many others.
In awe I froze seeing the strange sight. But my morning was about to get crazier when I realized who those performers were...
Jenny who worked at a Starbucks near me, she was the acrobat I saw. Paul who worked at a fruit stand nearby was confidently whipping a lion. More and more faces I recognized-- they were all the citizen of my town.
Fear began to gripe me as my eyes landed on a figure standing at the edge of where the circus ground ended. Korki...that damn clown, he stood there staring at me, still smiling. He waved to me, in the face of this uncertainty I backed away slowly.
"Come, come. Come to me. Join The Circus and be merry", I heard his voice again in my head.
Korki walked in stride towards me, with him the ground of The Circus expanded. As he passed the pet shop, it turned into a petting zoo.
"No, no, no...", I fumbled, finding my ground I ran as fast as I could, even faster than I did the night before.
I felt my escape was no use as that damn fanfare kept following me. I passed buildings after buildings which transformed into circus tent as Korki kept going for me. The people I passed all unwillingly turned into his performers.
My breath was heavy and my legs were tired after running all the way to the edge of town. Before me was a dead end, an alleyway between two buildings standing at the town border.
The music became louder and louder, driving me mad. I screamed for it to stop but it was no use-- I couldn't think, I couldn't run anymore...it was all for naught. The Circus has come to town and it has come for me.
In despair I dropped to my knees, huddling in that damp corner I cried, wishing for the nightmare to go away.
The fanfare then was at its loudest, it had become a part of me I felt, like my own heartbeat. I looked up and there he was...Korki, standing there with The Circus behind him as he looked down to me still smiling.
"Come, come. Come with me. Join me and be merry", his voice rang in my head again as he extended his hand for me.
I must have gone mad then as the hand he offered felt like salvation to me. Anything, anything for this madness to end...
Slowly I reached my hand forward, taking Korki's gloved hand and I felt the most wonderful sensation ever. It was festive, it was colorful, it was bright and beautiful. The Circus came for me and I became a part of it. After all, all I wanted was to be merry.
r/HangryWritey
Edit: added a few words | 2021-07-13T02:25:45 | 2021-07-13T02:15:05 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] You've been told your entire life that no one in your family drinks. Ignoring that, you make plans with your friends to get black out drunk on your 21st birthday. When you wake up the next morning, your friends are huddled in a circle of salt, holding knives, and staring at you with wide eyes. | "Uh, what happened?" You croak, trying to ignore the splitting headache and your sore body.
One of your friends, James, peaked put from the group. "Tell me something the only real Aidan would say!"
"The real me? What the fuck do you mean the real me?" I asked, my heart beating quickly now. What the hell happened?
The whole group looked at each other, debated each other with a few shrugs and looks. Another one of your friends, Mason, finally spoke, "Yeah, sounds about right."
They began to stand up and leave the salt circle, still not explaining what happened, but quickly moving to the windows to open the shades.
The light made your head and eyes erupt with a flood of pain. Instinctively you half close your eyes and look down to get away from the light. "Christ, not even gonna give me a fucking seconnn- what the hell!?"
As your eyes slowly, and painfully, adjusted, you say your clothes were torn up, with scars and cuts everywhere on your body. Your fatigues were completely torn up, the various greens mixing with the red of what you hoped was your blood. Thankfully your patches weren't shredded, but you needed new clothes soon.
You looked to your friends, turning your head rapidly around to the spread out and tired people that still held their knives, "What the fuck happened!?" You shout, noticing their torn and bloody clothes too.
"You tell us doc, what happened?" James sarcastically replied.
You shaking get to your feet, "Obviously some shit went down, but we didn't leave here last night, right?"
They all shook their heads.
Dmitry, the other corpsman, finished chugging a warm Powerade that he'd fished from under the counter and began explaining, "Well, in my medical and spiritual opinion, your ass is not human."
"What?"
"It was almost instant, you passed out and we all began panicking. We were about you bring you to a hospital or something, hell I would've started pumping your stomach if I had the tools here, but you began to, I don't know, change."
"Change?" You sputtered in exasperation, not understanding, "What is that supposed to mean?"
Dmitry shrugged, "Like I said, I don't know man, you got covered in this, like, oily black substance, your eyes went completely white. It was like watching Venom, except not veins or shit. It almost looked cartoon-ie, then you started tearing shit up."
James cut in, "Just about killed us man, but we couldn't do anything to you. Bottles, knives, nothing. Hell we only figured out salt worked because Mason shot putted a thing of salt that was in the cabinet at you."
Mason laughed, "Whatever you became, shrieked and began trying to claw it off. While that was happening we grabbed what salt we could, made a circle and held out."
Another friend spoke up, Cohen, "Dude, never in my life has scared me more than the rest of the night in that circle. You wouldn't pass the circle, just circled it. Fuck man you even began talking." He shivered.
"That's not something we want to relive." James muttered.
You stumbled over to the couch, trying to figure out what made something like this happened. You looked at them again, "You're not fucking with me, right? No 'HaHa, got you good' is gonna happen?"
"No, I don't thing we could've come up with something like this man." Mason said.
Fuck, what did that? Was this why no one in your family drank? It was still so hard to think with this hangover, at least you hoped it was a hangover. You tried focusing more, trying to figure out what to do now.
For a brief second, you felt something, something ominous in the back of your mind. It quickly disappeared before you could figure out what it was.
You shot up off the couch, "I need to call my parents." | I expected the morning to be a bit rough. A headache and bad recollection of the night before is pretty much a right of passage when you turn 21.
I woke feeling oddly refreshed. Well rested even. As I stretched and let out a deep yawn I remember being disappointed I had no headache.
Had I done it wrong? I thought. I’d never drank before. I come from a long line of pot smokers and avid alcohol haters. I’d never had any desire to drink, but for the milestone it was necessary.
I walked through the kitchen, poured a glass of water. The house was quiet. My friends had to be passed out still. Over the kitchen sink I could see the Sun was still rising. How could it be so early? Hadn’t we stayed out all night?
“Anyone up?” I half yelled.
Maybe they were still drinking, I thought. “Hello,” I called as I stepped to the bathroom. And I stopped. Took a step back and erupted in laughter.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” I stood in the threshold of the living room. My four best friends, Jaime, Liz, Olga, and Matthew were huddled in the corner, all in their underwear. Olga stood in front of the others, she had a knife in hand.
“Is this a prank?” I approached and Olga held the knife out.
It wasn’t. “Quick fucking around you guys,” I moved to them and the they all compressed as tight as they could.
I’d never felt such authentic fear.
“Just stay where you are Sam,” Olga said. I noticed her foot creep out from the huddle and she pulled it back it. And that was when I saw the salt circle for the first time.
Everything felt weighted. “This isn’t funny guys, cut the shit-“
“Is she her again?” Jaime asked.
“Looks like it passes,” Liz said.
“I still don’t trust this bitch,” Matthew said.
“What is your name?” Olga asked.
“Sam. Samantha Harrington. Jesus can someone tell me what happened?!”
“She doesn’t remember,” Liz said.
“We were blackout drunk,” Jaime said.
“I don’t trust this bitch,” Matthew said.
“Fuck! Olga tell me - I’m starting to freak out!” I said.
“You turned into a witch last night,” she said
I paused. Then chuckled. “This is all elaborate, but you got me. All done.”
“Look in the mirror, crazy!” Matthew said.
I turned, there was a mirror on the wall next to the hallway, full length.
I was naked. But I always slept naked. My hair was a jet black.
“You fuckers dyed my hair!” I swung back to them and they all nearly fell back through the wall. “This shit isn’t funny!” I pulled at my hair. “It better wash out!”
“Look at your stomach,” Olga said
And I did. There was a mesmerizing circle within a circle within a circle - pulsating out from my belly button. It was detailed black tattoo, but it was animated, like a GIF.
“Okay,” I studied it. “This is new.”
“You we’re covered in that design last night- once you blacked out,” Jaime said.
“Looks like it’s almost out of your system,” Olga said.
“Still don’t trust this bitch,” Matthew whispered.
“What’s out of my system?” I asked
“Look at your right hand,” Olga said. So I did. “And think about fire coming out of your finger tips,” she said.
“That’s insane -“ and it happened, my fingers wailed small little flames, like five tiny lighters -“holy shitballs.”
I turned to my friends. “What’s happening to me?!”
Matthew moved forward a bit. “When you get drunk you turn into a bitch!”
Everyone eyed him.
“A witch,” Olga corrected.
“We’re goth right,” Matthew added.
“What do we do now?” I asked as I frantically tried to extinguish my fingers by waving frantically.
“We should call your mom,” Jaime said.
“Yes,” Liz agreed.
“She has to know something,” Olga said.
“But first get some coffee, because I’m not coming out of this circle of staying alive until your living tattoos goes away,” Matthew said.
The rest of the group nodded.
“That’s fair,” I said. “Time for coffee.”
----
Note: wrote this on my phone on my lunch break, sorry for typos and errros, didn’t have a chance to re read.
Edit: removed title
----
r/wyrdfiction | 2022-01-10T10:35:21 | 2022-01-10T10:22:58 | 808 | 243 |
[WP] People aren't judged when they die, they're given a choice between the heaven and hell doors. Obviously people would want to go to heaven, so not even god himself has seen what's behind the hell door. When you died however, you said to yourself "Why not?" and went straight for the hell door. | It was cold. That was the first thing that struck me as the door closed behind me. There were no demons, like I'd been told there would be. In fact, there was no one at all. The whole thing was an empty room, with four walls and two windows, and a door leading out the back.
With the path behind me shut for good, I took the only other way: forward. The second door opened onto a beautiful path, with flowers of every kind and colour lining it, and trellises of grape vines arching overhead. It was a bright, sunny day, with not a cloud in the sky. If I hadn't't been so mesmerized, I might have noticed the lack of birdsong.
The path led down to a river, with a wooden boat sitting, tied to a dock. Across the river was another house. I made my way there with haste and breathed in all the fresh air I could. The cupboards were stocked, and the rooms were furnished, but it was like a showroom. No one had ever lived here, until now.
That's when it hit me. All this beauty, all this wonder, was completely barren of life. There was no cat to curl up with. No lover to be found, no heartbreak to endure. Birds didn't soar the heavens, nor did fish swim the seas. Every. Single. Living. Being. Was. In. Heaven.
And I was alone. | The Hell door was a simple one, unlike the Heaven door. An iron ring on a wooden frame. Simple white paint. A small hand lettered sign that said “Hell” helpfully, taped up with what looked like green painters tape.
Why not? In comparison the Heaven door was garish and ridiculous. Silver frame, gilded and gleaming from sunlight that appeared to be streaming from within it. The door itself was glass? Or maybe Crystal? And beyond it there was a roiling fog. It sang to me, a blissful heavenly choir sound. Gave me the creeps, to be honest.
I touched the Hell doors iron ring, and it swung open silently. Only darkness lay beyond, a tunnel of sorts. Far, far away was a single point of light, seemingly at the end of the tunnel. I stepped through the door and started forward.
As I advanced my mind began to replay all of my life’s choices, the good as well as the bad, the ones that were a mix of both, and the ones that I hadn’t had any choice in at all. It felt like they were being evaluated. Like some outside entity was weighing them, and sorting them into piles of similar value. It was a strange feeling.
I didn’t feel anything else, though. No pain. No anxiety or joy or fear or exaltation. Just the weighing and measuring.
It took a lifetime to move the length of the tunnel, and when I emerged into the bright nothingness at the end, I was no more than a dream of what I had been.
“Not bad,” said a voice.
“Not really good either,” said another voice, somehow different than the first.
“Another go?” Asked the first voice.
“I think so. Different start this time.”
There was a sensation of falling, and I felt the pieces of me returning, and the light changed. It became bright, and I cried out. What would I be this time? | 2022-02-06T21:57:54 | 2022-02-06T21:54:42 | 39 | 22 |
[WP]"This actually happens quite a lot." I tell my friend, casually ignoring the knife at my throat. "Not with her specifically, but this general situation is quite common for me." | "This actually happens quite a lot." I tell my friend, casually ignoring the knife at my throat. "Not with her specifically, but this general situation is quite common for me."
"Hey," the unknown assailant screams. "Stop ignoring me!"
"Now she's going to say 'We can do this this easy way or the hard way'"
"We can do this the easy... Stop that!"
I took a deep breath, trying to wrest as much sympathy out of my boredom as possible, "Listen, moppet. There is no easy way. There's probably not even a hard way. I want you to stop and think about why you have a knife to my throat. Why are you angry with me? Where did the knife come from? Do you know the answer to these questions?"
The woman blinks a few times and slowly lowers the blade and steps away from me.
"Good thinking. Now, hand the knife to Beth." I point to my friend, "That's Beth."
The bewildered woman mutters an apology and wanders off.
Beth tosses the knife onto the dining room table. "What the hell was that all about, Cat?"
"You know the girl I broke up with last year?"
"The one you said had anger management issues?"
"That's the one. Turns out she's one of those metahumans you hear about on the news. She can implant suggestions into people's minds. Pretty sure that's why I went out with her in the first place. "
"Yeah, didn't seem to be your type"
"She is a little bitter about the break-up, so she's been sending people after me. "
"Why don't you call the police?"
I pick up the knife and open a drawer full of knives, guns and tasers, and drop the knife in. "I kind of like the idea of her being constantly frustrated by failure. Plus, free knives!" | We stare at each other for a few seconds, unsure of what to do next. My friend, Sam, didn't want to risk making another quip back, and continued to point his pistol towards the lady currently at my neck. We both know we only have so much time until the rest of her boys show up, and we need to act quickly.
"If yall are done talking, then answer my request, where is the artifact?" She says, pressing the steel knife further into my neck, causing me to wince.
"If you want it, you're going to have to put that knife away, and I can hand it to you, this doesn't need to be any more complex." Sam replies, tilting his pistol enough to show reduced aggression, while maintaining a shot on the lady.
*Yeah, and while you're at it just stab yourself in the thigh and forget the artifact,* I think to myself, regarding the slight stupidity in that offer, given the circumstances.
"Yeah right, it'll be better if I just stay put, back up will be here and they can take it from you, maybe spare me the trouble of tying up the loose ends."
"Jesus, you already have a knife to my neck, you can calm down!" I respond, chuckling slightly before wincing again, she may have drawn blood that time.
"Ok, ok..." Sam says, and begins to slowly reach into his back pocket, pulling out the gold cross that we had just uncovered from this old catacomb.
"Sam, what are you doing? SAM!" I shout, as Sam tosses the artifact towards the lady, almost directly at my face. Quickly reacting, she reaches out to catch it before it hit the ground, dropping her guard for a brief second. That was all the time Sam needed.
&#x200B;
With this lady now lying dead, a bullet through her skull, we can hear the sounds of engines roaring and the shouting of dozens of men. "You know-" I say, now grabbing at my neck to inspect the damage. Yep, there's blood. "I'm glad life isn't a movie, and people can actually pull the trigger when it counts." I pick the cross up off the floor and Sam and I quickly make our way out of the cistern, just in time to hear a wall blast open, and the merc army flood every corner. | 2022-05-09T01:36:50 | 2022-05-09T00:03:27 | 309 | 61 |
[WP] Thirty years ago, you and your friends used to be Magical Girls, but you left that life behind. A new threat killed the current generation of Magical Girls, forcing you to leave your "retirement". You are no longer young and idealistc, you just want to get over it and return to your life. | The carnage here was leagues beyond what I'd dealt with twenty years ago. Instead of despondent or catatonic people surrounding the aliens, it was corpses. They'd certainly stepped it up from stealing people's imagination or whatever it was the Nightmares wanted back when I was a kid. I could smell the blood. If my psyche wasn't being shielded from fully absorbing the horrors, I'd probably have in full panic attack mode. Of course, it was, so I wasn't. I sighed and pointed my hand to the sky, summoning my star wand.
"Once a Dreamer, always a Dreamer."
No fanfare, no flourish. My dancing days were long gone, and there was blood in the water. Wasting time with the transformation would only get me stabbed like the poor idiot who tried a heroic monologue. The tiara seemed a little snug as it manifested around my head, but then again, I'd been twelve years old the last time I'd worn it. I imagined the outfit in an adult size, and the whole thing grew to accommodate me.
I caught sight of my reflection in a car window and nearly gagged. How in the hell did I wear this poofy tutu so shamelessly as a kid? Whatever, the Nightmare turned to look at me with three burning red eyes. Three? Ah, the kid took one out before it got her. Damn, better ask Zephyr what her name was be-
A slice of burning pain shot along my thigh, interrupting my train of thought.
"Son of a B*tch!"
The bleep was so unexpected that it seemed to startle the monster because it took an uneasy step backwards.
"Oh right... no swearing in the dress."
My leg throbbed, pulling my ADHD brain back to reality.
"ZEPHYR! I JUST GOT SLICED! A LITTLE HELP HERE?"
The magic dream cat didn't answer, but a bedazzled shotgun apparated from the sky, which was just as well. The novelty of a talking cat had worn off of me a long time ago, and mostly, he'd just annoy me when he wanted snacks these days. I caught the gun, thinking for the briefest moment that it looked pretty close to something my sixteen year old would run around with in that Doom game of his.
The Nightmare snarled and lunged at me. I sidestepped, aimed the gun at its side, and pulled the trigger. Instead of a shell, the gun fired rainbows. Of course it did. I could hear the stupid cat's snickers as the Nightmare suddenly erupted into a multihued splatter, the pure positive energy annihilating with contact to the purely negative alien soldier. I fired again, this time aiming at its head. A pink cloud enveloped the body, containing the explosion and concealing the gore. In all honesty, I wasn't going to complain about this kind of censorship. Nobody needs to watch a Nightmare die.
I could feel the gun morph in my hands, returning to its familiar and annoying feline form. I dropped him on top of a garbage can and looked expectantly. He turned his head to the dead girl, groaning.
"This wasn't supposed to happen!"
"Zephyr."
"Mary was supposed to wait for backup, for you to arrive before engaging."
"Zephyr."
"She was the last Dreamer of this generation! Without her, there's nobody left to fight the Nightmares and-"
"ZEPHYR!"
The cat hops, finally hearing me.
"What?"
"How did it get this bad?"
Zephyr sat on his haunches and went quiet. I waited until he had an answer.
"The Nightmares changed. They stopped going for imagination and just started killing. The girls weren't ready for that kind of violence, but they were brave, and they believed in each other..."
I looked at Mary, glassy eyes staring up at the sky with a red blossom staining her cream coloured uniform.
"Then it's back to me again."
For a split second, I see hope in the old space cat's eyes.
"You don't know how much I was hoping you'd say that. I'll round up the other girls."
The uniform dissolves around me as I reach into my jeans and get out my phone, opening up our group chat.
"Way ahead of you, whiskers."
"You're serious, aren't you? No pulling an old cat's tail?"
"What's that you'd always tell us, back when we were kids? Once a Dreamer, always a Dreamer." | Chapter 1: Paris gives Penny her seed back
There was only one skyscraper in Polisburge. Three hours south of Chicago, two hours outside of St Louis, Polisburge wasn’t quite a city, more like a big town. A big town with only one skyscraper; and Penny had the big office on the top floor. Being the CFO of the 11th largest accounting firm in the Midwest wasn’t the most glamorous career of career paths. But it did have a couple of perks, like having an assistant that can run down to the Scooter’s in the lobby and get her caramel latte 3 times a day.
Penny took a sip of her coffee and pursed her lips in disgust. It was a mocha latte. The third mocha latte her assistant, Amanda, had gotten her in the last two weeks. She missed her old assistant, the girl had been young, always running out at the oddest times, and constantly looked disheveled, but at least she always got the coffee right. Penny decided she’d email HR this afternoon and start the search for a new assistant.
The phone on her desk rang softly, the touchscreen indicating that same assistant was calling her. Penny put the call on speaker.
“Yes?” She asked, not letting her annoyance over the mistaken drink order color her tone.
“Ms. Kim?” Her assistant asked hesitantly over the phone. “I have a Paris Walters for you from, um, ‘The Dream Team?’”
Penny’s eyes went wide in surprise. Paris? After all this time? She quickly opened the security software on her desktop and looked at the camera feed from the front room of her office. There stood a tall blonde woman in a form-fitted tight, black and leopard print thigh-high dress with 3 inch stiletto heels. She had a large leather purse slung over her shoulder and stood leaning on her left foot, her right hand on her hips. Even in the small picture of the security camera she looked annoyed.
Penny had tuned out her assistant, who was still talking “—double-checked and I don’t see an appointment. You’ve got the Greenbriar Buffets at 8:30 and the team performance meeting in five minutes. I tried to tell her she’ll have to wait, but she demanded—“
Penny cut her off. “Send Ms. Walters in. Cancel the team performance meeting, and call Hollis. Tell him to sweet talk Miss Buffet into meeting tomorrow. Make arrangements to start canceling my entire calendar today.”
Penny saw her assistant freeze on the monitor. “Um, ma’am I don’t think—“
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” interrupted Penny, “send her in.” The assistant put her phone back in its cradle and motion Paris to proceed through the doors at the back of the front office.
Paris strode through the doors to Penny’s office and walked quickly up to her desk. Penny saw she still moved with the same confident energy she had 30 years ago, when they were all much younger. “Paris,” began Penny warmly, putting on the practices smile she wore for her colleagues and clients. “It’s been too long.” Paris didn’t reply. As she approached, she opened the big purse slung under her arm and pulled something out. She stopped in front of the desk and threw something small and circular onto the desk.
Penny looked down and saw her old compact. The compact. A sudden rush of memories returned to her, the feeling of having her entire body stripped nude and reclothed in magical garb, of maniacally laughing villains, mysterious magical boys. And, of loss; avoidable and unnecessary loss. What she was unprepared for was the dark, crusted on material that covered most of the compact’s surface.
Penny her lip and looked up at Paris “Is that,”
Paris nodded “blood.”
Penny looked back down at the compact before reaching to pick it up. As soon as she did, Penny fell a familiar surge of energy that raced through her body and settled in her lower stomach. She gasped and then let out a small moan of pleasure. The energy felt warm, and filled her in way she hadn’t felt in years. Despite this feeling, she was acutely aware of its unnaturalness, the false and artificial nature of this comfortable sensation. She tried to stand but found herself weak in the knees, her body shaking as it adjusted to the old-new sensations it felt.
Paris spoke. “Penny Kim, the Grand Wizard, Magnan Falus has regifted you your magic seed. You are called upon to defend the world from dark forces. As they forcefully penetrate our reality.” Penny slowly raised her eyes back to Paris, and saw the fire within.
“It’s time to put on your big girl panties.“ She grinned sneakily, her age revealing itself through the numerous lines on her face. “Your big magical- girl panties.”
Chapter 2 coming for you tomorrow :) | 2022-12-20T19:28:39 | 2022-12-20T17:47:24 | 84 | 50 |
[wp] A man is stranded on a deserted island with only a gun and 1 bullet. | This was it. I have waited two years. Sent out five messages in bottles. Used all of the flares from the raft. Sent smoke signals spiraling into the air. Used the mirror to try to reflect light towards passing ships. All to no avail. It is time to end this nonsense.
I put the gun against my head. I had used the other bullets for hunting long ago, and had decided to save that last one for myself. Just in case.
Pull the trigger- click.
Nothing. Check it all over. Make sure it all works. Anything? Anything wrong? I take my old cleaning kit to it again. Put it against my head again.
Click.
Goddamnit! Nothing! This is hell! Not being able to end this madness! I threw the gun against a nearby tree.
It fired.
I cried. | So this was it. I would die a middle aged man who has barely found the courage to propose to his own damn wife. Oh, Linda. How she must be worried sick about me. A man who barely manages to survive a plane crash in the middle of the ocean. Business as usual, is that the phrase people use? Sitting along the beach with no food is quite lonesome if you ask me, but I wouldn't expect you to understand.
So here I was barely old enough to have a mid-life crisis yet wise enough to laugh at the irony of having a gun with a single bullet..
*It was teasing me.*
I guess it was a fun ride, a damn shame I can't say goodbye to Linda or Isaac. Poor boy, he must be blinded by all this. Not literally of course, I mean to say he must be lost in all of this. I confuse myself, who knows what no food makes you ramble about. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. A deep breath to calm the nerves. I felt the weight of the gun in my hand as I raised it to my temple. It was almost too easy. Before I pulled the trigger I think about my Mom, her shining face and the love she gave me but I never gave back. How foolish of me now.
I didn't feel anything as I pulled the trigger, I only smiled. | 2013-12-19T20:26:25 | 2013-12-19T20:04:27 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] Death comes to collect someone and ends up falling in love with them. | A blossom but by early frost be held;
In feeble, withered form it lies askew.
From Hell, foul Frost! How quick this flower felled,
And turned to bitter black from sanguine hue.
The same for her, my tender love, is true:
That pallid color plainly paints her tale.
So plain with ill, her skin grows ever pale.
~
Here voices whisper careful past our door,
Pray not to cease her troubled rest, so fair.
But rest shall ceaseless be forevermore,
And respite gained she’ll have from all their prayers.
My bride she’ll be, this one beyond compare!
So lusty, I, that herds of stock may have,
Yet hunger still for meat of tender calves.
~
A shame that she be from a home so poor.
A rousing fight she might have made, and won,
But Father has but cobwebs in his store.
What disgrace to Beauty, thus undone,
Worse still to think what doctors might have done,
But physicks cost our fathers more than farthings,
And Death doth hold all debts, my lurid darling. | There is a woman who follows Death, I promise you. She is much worse than he is. I met them after an admittedly stupid mistake. I was flying down I-35, fucking with my phone. Don't even remember what for. Didn't see the guy change lanes and I ended up rolling 8 times. There in my car, upside down, broken and shattered, I died. I *knew* that I was dead, but I could still see. I could still smell the gasoline. Then I saw Him. He walked straight up to my car and peeked in. Walking oblivion. Just a man-shaped blob of black nothing.
Then I felt myself being pulled out of the car. A good samaritan had pulled me out of there and began CPR. I could feel my ribs cracking with each compression as Death walked around my car and stood over me, waiting to collect. I wasn't surprised that I was the only one who could see him. I was surprised by the fucking woman that trailed behind him. If I hadn't already shit myself, I would have when I noticed her looking at me. She peered at me with bleeding sockets, torn skin and flesh hanging from her naked limbs. Half of her face was exposed bone. She was frighteningly human.
My ribs cracked and cracked as she gazed at me, then just like that, they were gone. I gasped for air and all the pain hit me at once. I was in the hospital for ten days, and my thoughts were about nothing but her. The woman who follows oblivion, collecting souls from vessels worldwide. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. She was Death's lover. | 2014-01-05T07:41:05 | 2014-01-05T06:51:14 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] Someone breaks into your house and says, "You're my favorite character in the book! I can't let it end the way it did. I'm going to help you."
The type of person the reader is could be an indication of the genre of novel your life is :) | I couldn't decide whether I was dreaming or not. I could feel my bed, yes. From my closed eyes I could still tell that there was muted light coming from my window. Dawn? Most probably. So I guess I'm waking up.
I lay in my bed in the slowly brightening room when I heard it. Breathing. Heavy. It wasn't mine, I was sure of it. There was someone else in my room. To my right? Yes. I slowly turned my head and opened my eyes. There she was. A person. A person I have never seen before was standing by my bed and was just staring at me.
I lay there and she stood there, just staring at each other. After what seemed like hours, she spoke.
"It's you," it was almost a whisper. "You're my favorite character in the book! I can't let it end the way it did. I'm going to help you."
Gaddamfuckingshit. Not another one. | Scarlet wrinkled her nose at the stranger standing in her doorway. The woman was scandalously dressed. She wore tight pants made out of some kind of denim - like the miners in the territories Rhett had once spoken of. And a thin tight shirt with some kind of writing on it.
Scarlet wrapped her robe tightly over her nightgown, folding her arms against her body. Would Mammy hear her if she screamed? "How did you get into my house?" she demanded as imperiously as she could.
"That doesn't matter, you have to listen to me," the crazy person rambled. "I'm only going to be able to stay for a moment. Look, Rhett loves you. You love him. I know you say mean things to each other, but you're just being defensive."
The crazy woman began to fade- some sort of apparition, but she continued to speak. "He's going to say something cruel and nasty when you tell him about the baby." Scarlet touched her stomach reflectively.
"He doesn't mean it- don't take the bait- I just can't stand to watch it again."
The woman was gone now- only her final haunting whisper hung in the air, "don't fall down the stairs this time...."
Man- can't tell you how many times I wanted to do that in high school. (not going to be apologist- I fully acknowledge it's a racist book, but what a love story) | 2014-04-10T12:49:50 | 2014-04-10T11:50:11 | 39 | 14 |
[WP] A man in a hospital sees Death. Death's intentions are not what he expects. | A glimpse? A glance? A smidgen of vision? There was no proper word to describe what Dr. Markus Schumacher saw, or thought he saw, standing over his patient. It both was and wasn't there. If he focused on it, there was nothing but a black tinge his three assistants on the other side of the table; if he stared at the man entrusting his very life to him, it was clear as day: a humanoid figure wearing a black, hooded robe.
"What *are* you," he whispered, quietly enough that could not be heard over the heart monitor. Goodness, had he stopped working? It seemed he hadn't, for his assistants were unconcerned. Thank goodness his hands seemed to have a will of her own.
The patient's name was Friedrich Bahaus. He was sixty-eight years old, and had come to the hospital with a severe, life-threatening pulmonary embolism—a blood clot in his lung to the uninitiated. Emergency surgery was prepared. Doctor Schumacher had been called away from a most relaxing coffee break to this.
And now this, this vision, dared interfere? It dared reach out a hand—if that skeletal, unmuscled monstrosity could be called a hand—and place it upon a man in his most vulnerable state possible, in Markus' sworn care?
*No,* Doctor Schumacher screamed internally. *No, no, **no!***
With his hands still busying themselves unblocking the embolism, or perhaps guided by his years of surgical instinct, the doctor rebelled. The world faded away, until he could hear nothing but the heart monitor, the pounding of his own heart, and occasional snippet of sound from the operating room; until he could see nothing but a life that needed saving and an omen of his failure at that task.
*I renounce you, monster.*
Beep. Beep. BeepBeep.
"Heart rate is accel—!"
*This patient is not yours to take.*
Beep Beep Beep Beep
"—loss at a quarter pint!"
The hand crept closer to the patient's heart.
*Death—you—will not come for him today!*
BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
**BE GONE!**
...
...
...
*Tug. Snip.*
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"—stabilizing—"
"—nd is closed—"
The world returned.
"Well done, doctor!"
Dr. Markus Schumacher stood staring into space, across the operating table. To him, it was not quite space. There was a hooded figure with a bony hand on Friedrich Bahaus' heart, though he could see little of it. His ears were ringing.
"Doctor?"
He slowly raised a hand to his own heart, and found that he could not distinguish one beat from another.
"Are you well, doctor?"
Though he could not see anything but the hand, the figure lifted that hand from the patient's heart and placed it on top of the doctor's.
Lying on the operating room floor, his assistants trying to resuscitate him even as his vision faded away, it was only now that he could see the figure in perfect clarity.
--------------------------------------
Inspired by a comic strip by MAD Magazine artist Sergio Aragones. | The scent of antiseptics wasn't an easy one to get used to. It was the trademark smell of the hospital, that kind of smell that makes people feel uneasy for reasons that aren't fully realized; perhaps a fear of the hospital and the sharp objects it holds, or maybe just the overall sense of not exactly being in control of a situation.
When you're t-boned by an eighteen wheeler and have your ribcage crushed, there really isn't much control you can have. Joel eyed the mess of crusted blood and broken bones that was the body of the young Julie Crones, grimacing as he took notes of her skin coloration.
It was January 1st; the cold weather that came with the day made the already cold morgue feel even more unnaturally cold than it normally was. Joel was still hungover from the New Years party his friends had through the night before, and judging from Julie's charts, she'd probably be hungover too if she had still been breathing at the moment.
The large double doors to the morgue burst open, one door clanging into a wall and the other into an unused gurney.
Joel turned to look at who the noisemaker was only to see a young woman with blonde hair rush forward. She was wearing what looked like a black tunic, black jeans, and plain white tennis shoes.
The antiseptic smell that normally permeated the morgue vanished as she ran towards Joel and Julie.
"Hey you're not-
The woman pushed Joel to the side with a firm hand to his sternum, wedging herself between him and the deceased Julie. Joel gasped for a breath as he stumbled away from the woman; it had felt like he had been shoulder charged by a hockey player. He raised a hand to his chest and froze. He couldn't feel his own heartbeat.
The room faded and he became lightheaded, but after a few seconds, his heart came back to life, first with an erratic and slow heartbeat, but then finally getting back into rhythm like a young child who finally got the hang of riding a bicycle without the training wheels.
He stood there, wondering if he should find a doctor or if he should deal with this woman who had the touch of death, but the thoughts were soon thrown aside.
The strange blonde woman was attempting to resuscitate the long dead and cold Julie. She had her hands pressed into Julie's sternum, causing Julie's ribcage to audibly crack with each press.
"Hey," Joel said lightly, "she's already dead, she's been dead for awhile."
The blonde woman ignored Joel and instead resorted to mouth to mouth.
"Whoa whoa whoa, that's not necessary, she's gone!" Joel yelled, stepping forward and reaching out with a tentative hand.
Before he touched the crazed woman, she turned to him, tears streaming down her face.
"No," she cried, "I couldn't save her. I can't save anyone at all! Why can't I save anyone?"
*Well, I can think of a few good reasons, one being that you were a couple hours too late,* Joel thought. The woman reached forward to Joel with a scrawny pale hand, causing him to instinctively take a step back.
"No, you're okay, you don't need to be rescued," the woman spoke softly. She turned to get another look at Julie, then left back out through the morgue double doors, leaving the two alone once again.
After finally regaining his composure, Joel decided to go tell security abut the crazed blonde woman, but not before noticing that Julie's complexion had grown more pale. | 2014-06-01T14:06:09 | 2014-06-01T13:45:28 | 16 | 11 |
[WP]An old genie grants you three wishes. After granting your first two, you tell him the third. He is horrified, and begs you to reconsider | "Look man, it'll take like... ten seconds."
The genie wasn't having it. I thought these things were supposed to happen, no questions asked.
"No!"
"Genie, it's not even a difficult wish. It's probably the easiest thing anybody's ever asked of you."
"Nothing's that difficult for me. That's the nature of granting wishes, it's fucking magic, boy."
"So magic me this last request!"
"Not interested. I'm not doing it."
"What's the big deal?"
"You're talking about my home! Do you see the size of that thing? It's bad enough I have to squeeze myself in there."
"It won't be so different!"
"It will be SO different! What if I grew to this size and asked you for the same favor, in your home?"
At that moment, the genie puffed himself to the size of the Hindenberg.
"It's just a little semen, man."
"I LIVE IN A TINY LAMP, IT'S NOT JUST A LITTLE TO ME."
"I guess, I've been saving up for a few weeks too. Look, I really need to go."
"Ask for something else. I'll make you ruler of planet Earth."
"I don't want to rule the world."
"Fine, you don't have to, just ask for something else."
"No. I'm set on this and I'm being very precise in what I'm asking for. I want you to wear this Pikachu themed lingerie and let me jack off into your lamp. I have a really tough time finding someone else to do it, or even bringing it up."
"Because it's fucking weird."
"I didn't know judgment was part of your gig, Genie."
"Look, wish for another set of wishes. I never do this but I'll give you a pass. This way, you can have TWO things instead of this... one... thing."
I gave it some thought.
"Okay. Okay I got it. I want... a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."
POOF. It was in my hand.
"With a coke. That doesn't count as the second wish okay?"
"Sure."
And so it was, I had a snack to munch on. The genie met my gaze warily as I ate my sandwich and sipped my coke.
"And my final wish..."
"Mm-hmm."
The genie had his arms folded. He was getting impatient, we'd been talking things over for more than an hour now.
"For my final wish... that you must grant..."
"Yeah, what is it, freak-o."
"I want you to wear this--"
I hold up the Pikachu panties.
"GOD DAMMIT, NO!"
"Wait! I'm not done!"
"I'm not interested, I won't let it happen."
"Just let me finish."
"Okay, I'm listening."
"And... I want you to watch as I jack off into your lamp."
| Here I am, standing at the top of this bridge, this is it, this is where I end it. This time for sure. The love of my life died, the world never leaves me the fuck alone, everybody I know wants my money, I'm tired, I don't want this, I want it all to end, I should've never picked up that stupid fucking lamp.
Thirty years ago I found a discarded oil lamp, black, covered in soot, the absolute worst condition you could find it in, this thing was garbage but I thought, what the hell, I'm homeless and this thing could a few dollars from the scrapyard, gave it a quick rub to reveal in my disappointment that it's made out of fucking steel, that's what, a quarter? Figured it wasn't worth the walk and tossed it over my shoulder.
"Ow!"
I turn around and to my surprise I see an old man face down in the ground, funny, I don't recall there being anyone behind me. I go to help the old man up and give him back his cane.
"You ought' to be careful with that lamp son' I was living in that thing for over a few millennia."
My eyes, widen, is that? A fucking Genie? I had to ask
"You can't be serious are you..?"
The old man looks me in the eye and gives a hearty laugh/
"Why of course, I am. I've helped kings and queens become who they are today, I am the very reason why politicians you see today come into power!" He gave me a chuckle and a nudge.
"That Queen of England isn't going to die anytime soon either."
Okay, play it cool, this guy is going to turn my life around.
"So, if memory serves me right, I get 3 wishes and whatever I want, correct?"
"Why of course, three wishes."
"Well? What are we waiting for." As I rub my hands together.
"First wish, I want wealth"
The old man smiles.
"Never could go wrong with money, here's all the money you could ever want!" And with a snap, the old man hands me a black card, with my name and signature on it.. Wow, this is how it starts.
"Alright, second wish, I want to be well-known, famous with a from rags to riches story!"
He chuckles, "hoho! And so shall it be done!"
Famous, Rich, this is most certainly going to be the life, now for the third wish... What do I want..
"Hey old man! What did everyone else want for their wish along with fame and money?"
He looked at me, puzzled, "Well.. Generally they want a new car or something trivial. There is one wish I consider taboo."
A look of horror immediately followed.
"Please don't go through with this, it will never work the way you want it to. I've seen this happen for many millennia."
Sounds like a challenge, lay it on me old man. He sighs disappointingly and sorrowfully says.
"And so.. it shall be done."
He disappears into a cloud of smoke.
Fast forward thirty years later, here I am, plummeting to my death into the icy water, expecting a quick and painless death and everything will all go black.
Immortality.
...Fuck. | 2014-07-26T17:37:39 | 2014-07-26T14:01:02 | 24 | 18 |
[WP] The death penalty for murder no longer exists, instead technology has been developed that overwrites the mind of the killer with that of their victim. | The last thing Jacob remembered was that he was at an AIDS conference. He was at the podium. Everyone had given him a standing ovation, cheering that their colleague had finally solved that one first step (of many) toward some cure that everyone was fighting over.
There was a flash, and then, nothing. He felt like he was trapped in this void. And then he woke. A face loomed, nametag "George."
"Greetings! Let me explained what happened, you were at an AIDS conference when you were bombed by fundamentalists. We've found the culprit, and transferred your mind into his so that you may continue on with your life"
Jacob opened his mouth to speak a stream of obscenities, but it was not his voice nor his words that came out "I see, so now I'm in this body!" And, Jacob was terrified. He was not in control of this body. He tried, with all his might to control, to say that there was something wrong.
A warbling sound left the body's mouth. Jacob could feel another presence, with him, fighting him. Soon, he felt many others...
George's boss came in "George, I think it is safe to say that the next time a mass killing takes place, we'll draw straws and only put ONE mind in the body, not an entire fucking conference"
| How the fuck did this fat ass kill me.
I spent years training my body. Doing squats, benching well past my body weight. I'd run marathons, placed in triathlons, ridden my bike cross country. I even did kiegels to strengthen my internal muscles. Yet somehow this fat fuck got me with a knife.
I looked at my murderers pudgy, swollen fingers covered in my own blood. I was still breathing heavy from the dead sprint. Despite my well fed physique, I was starving.
I looked at my broken, defeated body. I thought I was a masterpiece. The face I was wearing didn't show the confidence I thought I exuded. My triceps still glistened sweat from the workout I had just completed. I was set to enter a body building competition next month, but for all I trained I wasn't able to keep my cool against some fedora wearing fuck waving a knife at me. My face was frozen in a mask of fear.
I was an idiot. I had run myself straight into a corner. I didn't even have the forethought to grab for the knife, I didn't even attempt to use those muscle I spent so long sculpting. It's like my brain stopped working in the face of panic.
In my new pockets there was a note, handwritten. I unfolded it. "You think you're Mr. Perfect. You stole the one thing I loved, so now I'm going to steal the one thing you love most. This is for Jessica."
Jessica. I remember her. Redhead, smoking hot calves. I met her in a bar hanging out with her friend. The neckbeard... Jessica.
I smelled a scent like rotten diarrhea. What the fuck, this guy didn't even wipe first? I sighed. Grabbing my own bag and wallet from the ground, I turned around and walked back to the gym. Back to square one, I guess. | 2014-07-27T11:12:53 | 2014-07-27T10:05:23 | 32 | 22 |
[WP] Describe the person you love the most so we can see him/her through your eyes. | I could caress your amber-grain colored curves.
Your beauty is timeless even with your flour patted bottom.
Although you hate your oily blemished skin, with every look I love you more.
The red circles on the surface of your skin does not deter me, it motivates me.
I can only love you so much, however. You complete me but I do not complete you.
EDIT: forgot to include [**a picture of me and my bae**](http://www.pizzamarket.net/images/pizza2.jpg) | I saw you for the first time in my life and I stopped dead in my tracks. Not because you were beautiful, but because you reminded me a lot of myself.
Your imperfect, bunny jagged teeth. Your cheeks, chubby but not so much that i'd confuse you for a fatty. Your wide, enthusiastic, clear black eyes. Your damn laugh that seems impossible to contain as you giggle at every snarky sentence you hear.
I sat down and talked to you. Never in my life have I had a woman teased me back whenever I made jokes. At least not at the pace you were going. Every joke I had, you quipped it. I never had that happened to me before. The best part? I was laughing along.
That never happens. I only made people laugh. Not the other way around. So why did you managed to do so.
I fell for you in three days. That was 4 years ago. | 2014-09-06T12:23:42 | 2014-09-06T11:19:23 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] Today, you have become a parent. You realise that you can hear your child's thoughts. The midwife informs you that this is the same for everyone but parents simply don't inform the children as an unwritten rule. Your own parents smirk. | "What the hell is this? Am i a fucking baby? Re-incarnation is real? God damnit..."
Who said that? The only people in the room are me, my wife that is sleeping after just giving birth, and ...this baby... But it can't possibly speak yet.. But this didn't even sound like a voice, more like an inner voice.
"Who the hell is this? Is this my new father? Looks like a moron... But wait, what's my name? What did my real father look like? Why can't i remember his face anymore? What about my mom??? Try harder... Common, remember their faces... Oh noo, what was my name??? Am i loosing memory? Oh nmnmnm boo baa boo."
Baby started to scream. And then it stopped. The voice stopped as well, and no other intelligent thoughts were heard until the baby grew up... | After the midwife left the room, Jane was panicked.
*"Well of course, parents can hear the thoughts of their children, at least until their kids find out about it, then it starts to drift away..."* The words rang in her ears like a gong. Jane quickly called the midwife back, and asked the question she dreaded an answer to.
"Did you tell my husband, Bill, about this? He left to get something to eat about a half hour ago."
The midwife smiled and replied, "No, I haven't seen him. Would you like me to, or would you like to explain it to him?"
"I'll tell him - I'm sure he's racing back now wondering just what is going on, and he will need a hug for sure," Jane replied, fixing her face in what she hoped was a convincing smile.
As the midwife nodded and turned to leave, Jane's phone vibrated quietly. She knew what it would say before she even picked it up:
From: James
Text: What the fuck, Jane?! What is this cooing voice in my head? Am I losing my grip?
Jane sighed, as her newborn's feeding slowed. She had known motherhood could be rough, but this was a whole new level, for which she was wholly unprepared.
*edit: formatting* | 2015-01-09T05:06:15 | 2015-01-09T02:13:01 | 143 | 25 |
[WP] Write a college essay that starts with, "Sometimes, I wish I could just go onto a roof with a sniper rifle..."
Source: http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/35hits/college_admissions_officers_what_was_the_worst/cr4khqk
Edit: This got a lot of responses.
Edit 2: This is my highest post in months.
I should post more. | Sometimes I wish I could go onto a roof with a sniper rifle. My enemies would stand no chance against the onslaught of bullets shot at them because finally I would be on their level. The thin limbed trees which the satan spawn liked to scurry up would no longer be a safe haven. Their taunting chitter-chatter would turn to blessed silence when for the first time in a squirrel's life it fell from a tree. A furry body with a bullet hole would sully my pristine lawn. "You want to make a mess on my shrubbery? Well then instead of acorn shells and squirrel poop, your own bodies can fill the role." Glorious, it would be glorious. Too bad I was a dog, unable to even shoot a sniper rifle. So I barked menacingly a few times at the wretches and then forgot about them as I ran off to sniff the delicate scent of another dog's derrière. | Sometimes, I wish I could just go onto a roof with a sniper rifle. For a decade now, our country has been faced with an epidemic of public shootings and homicidal rages. That's why I want to go onto a roof with a sniper rifle - to keep an eye over the people, to fight those on roofs with sniper rifles.
Imagine if Charles Witman, upon reaching the highest floor of the Main Building of the University of Texas at Austin, was shot down by another sniper, keeping a vigilant eye over the innocent people of that city through his scope. I would see this country turn into a different kind of nation, one with good snipers, instead of bad, looking down on its glorious people down the sights of their guns.
Columbine? They wouldn't have made it across the parking lot before catching a pair between the eyes.
Sandy Hook? If I had kids in kindergarten, I'd feel a lot better if there was a sniper perched on the roof at all times.
Virginia Tech? I wouldn't dream of sending my girl of to college with anything less than a Springfield M1903.
This is one problem facing America today, and this is how I would face it. Imagine a beautiful world, with snipers on every corner. I dream that we can change America and build this Utopia.
| 2015-05-10T14:05:11 | 2015-05-10T13:58:48 | 170 | 34 |
[WP] You are a peanut farmer. Your father was a peanut farmer. Your father's father was a peanut farmer. Peanut farming is all you've ever known. Your first child has just been born, and has a deadly allergy to peanuts. | My wife... she died in childbirth. She gave her life for this child.
At first, I thought it was a poor trade. My wife for a broken child? One who could not even carry on the family business? I won't deny, I considered "accidentally" letting him eat some peanuts when he was young. No one would have been the wiser.
But no.
Just as Beethoven was deaf, and yet was the greatest composer of all time, so too shall my son be the greatest peanut farmer of them all.
I raised him alone, in secret. The world was not ready for him. I blindfolded him and tossed peanuts at him. I put him in peanut mazes. I bound him in ropes and chains and dangled him above a vat of boiling peanutbutter. He escaped it all.
When a peanut ripens anywhere on earth, he can tell. When an aphid takes the smallest bite from a peanut leaf, he knows.
No taste of the glorious peanut has ever graced his lips.
But that shall nut stop him.
Nutting can stop him now. | Frank's hand trembled as his pen looped and dotted his signature across the deed. The house and the farm had been in his family for generations.
How long had it been?
He tried to calculate how many generations of Keaton's had been on the farm, but his mind was distracted by the smug grin forming along the corners of the bankers mouth. The bank had been after the property for years, and he was now giving up the ghost with nary a second thought.
The plan was always to follow the plan. Find a pretty girl. Check. Get married. Check. Have a baby. Check. Leave the farm to the first born. No check. Uncheck. Erase that part of the plan and forget about it. It wasn't going to happen.
They knew something wasn't right the moment they brought him home.
How long had it been?
Upon the second night, the baby was having trouble breathing. His body was red with hives. His tongue thick with... it didn't matter. Frank may have been a simple peanut farmer, but he wasn't stupid. His allergy was shrimp. Couldn't take a whiff of the stuff without needing his epipen. It took a few days to be sure that it was the peanuts.
It didn't matter. The plan was foiled. The legacy, simple as it was, was gone. Like some kind of cruel joke, that which had given his family name decades of life was now the soul reaper of death. They couldn't live there anymore even if they wanted to.
How long had it been? | 2015-05-19T22:07:10 | 2015-05-19T18:35:35 | 247 | 41 |
[WP] Bob doesn't realise he's a robot until he fails a captcha five times in a row. | Maggie was looking at a photograph of her family. It is an old photograph, but everybody is there, her husband is standing next to her and the children are playing in the foreground with the dog. This picture always reminded her of that perfect long summer four years ago, when they all went on vacation to the beach, where they rented a house for a couple of weeks.
“Hey Maggie”
Isabelle, her sister, interrupted her thoughts. She was coming over every week for some coffee and a nice chat.
“Hi Isabelle.”
“It’s so quiet, where is everybody?”
“Well, my husband is working, your niece is still at school and your nephew is upstairs.”
“And how are you doing? I know I always ask the same things, but you look awfully sad, like every time you look at those pictures.”
“Well, you know how it is. At least it’s better than the alternative.”
“I can’t really say I do, and in all honesty, I wouldn’t want to know.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk about something else…”
“Sure” Isabelle said, and they proceed to the porch, where they sit down for a coffee and talk about the things they see. This hast been there ritual for the past 2 years. They don’t want to talk about the same things, so they just sit in front of the house and discuss their surroundings. Maggie doesn’t like the way her sister always starts the same topic every time they see each other, but she lets it go when Maggie asks so and that’s enough for her.
A scream, followed by some loud noise interrupts the analysis of a stranger’s choice of clothing. Maggie sheds a tear, she knows what’s coming now. She has heard that scream before.
“Oh no, not again. Why do the intervals get shorter? I don’t think…” The rest of her sentence gets lost in the noise of trampling feet.
“MOOOOOOOOM! It won’t go away” He calls for her, crying, while running down the stairs. “MOOOOM, I couldn’t log into my account and now it won’t go! The text won’t go away!”
“Honey, it’s okay. What will not go away?” She asks him, but she knows what’s coming. Isabelle stands in the door and doesn’t know what to do or say, but does not think of leaving either. Maggie hoped nobody ever had to see this.
“The text, I can’t get rid of the text! It says ‘cover compromised’ ” He stands in the hallway in front of the stairs and is sobbing. “Mom, it won’t go away”
“It’s okay honey” She says, while going down on her knees. She is hugging him and while both are crying, she pushes a spot on his neck three times.
His eyes go black and his body slumps down in her arms and drops down on the floor.
“Holy shit, what the hell?” It looks like Isabell’s blood went to hide somewhere far away from her skin.
“He knew. Or at least for his operating system it looked like he knew. A reset deletes the Data, that is not yet stored on the hard drive, so he won’t remember what happened in the last 15 minutes. It’s horrible and breaks my heart, but it’s the only way.”
Bob opens his eyes.
“Hey mom. Hello Aunt Isabelle. Since when are you here? I didn’t hear you arrive.” He gets up and runs to the garden.
“He must never know. He can’t know he died in that accident” | Bob sat down at his desk at exactly 8:30 AM, as he did every morning. He situated the few materials left scattered about his desk from last night’s hard work until he got them perfectly organized, as he did every morning. His job was mundane and basically one repetitive task after the other until the clock slowly ticked away up to 5 PM. He turned his computer on at precisely 8:35, as he did every morning, knowing it would be fully booted and ready for use at 8:37, as it was every morning. The computers his company used were old and obsolete, he thought bemusedly. No hope for any more advanced computers than this, his mind added.
Once the computer was fully loaded, Bob set about his everyday tasks. He would examine expense reports and create reports based on those examinations. Travel to and from off-site facilities were approved, visits to that nice restaurant one town over on your lunch break were not. Bob, very focused on the task at hand, rigorously scrutinized every entry from every request he was given. He liked being the one to catch the smallest details, nothing would escape his impeccable eye. That is until he reached an entry, which had no address or details included.
Great, he thought, now I have to research this place online and see if it’s an acceptable expenditure. He quickly pulled up the website for the company in question, however to gain more information he needed to sign up and register for the website. What kind of company doesn’t allow the general public to see its contact information? He thought to himself. He sat and stared at the screen for a moment, as he would any time he was faced with a light conundrum, but quickly found himself unable to just leave the site, as he was compelled to complete this report given to him. He needed to know more about this company and this was the only way.
He quickly made a username and password, and proceeded to the next screen, bringing him to a captcha verification page. The page read, to ensure you’re a human please enter the code given in the image. Easy, Bob thought as the computer slowly loaded the image of a house, the frame pulled up to a gold plated address indicator on the front door of the home. His eyes squinted at the numbers, and he couldn’t understand why he had trouble reading these numbers. “5…no 8..5..3..no that’s not a 3..its a..um…” Bob felt confused. He decided it best to not overthink this, must just be tired, he had been working a lot, so he just entered the first 4 numbers he believed he saw.
The page reloaded itself, again asking him to verify he is human with a captcha image on the screen. Okay, he thought, that last image was just low quality, I’ll just get it this time. A picture of a word lightly distorted by static appeared. He couldn’t understand what this word might be. Bob started growing frustrated. He quickly typed out the word as best as he could make it out but again the page reloaded. This time showing him another image. Bob started to feel hot and perspire, as he tried again and again to input the information given him on the captcha screen to no avail. He could not process that his powers of detail and scrutiny might be failing him, Bob felt really hot now, like he was overheating. The words just kept flashing through his mind. Verify you’re human… verify you’re human… verify you’re human…until sparks began to emit from him. “Am I…am…I…I’m…not….hu-human?”
IT came to collect Bob when his sensors showed signs of overheating. He could hear them over him, see them scratching their heads, unsure of how to assist. “Well on this kind of budget we couldn’t hope for any more advanced AI than this” he heard one say, the other nodding in ascent added “Guess it was just time to upgrade” Bob felt the hand on his back jimmy open a small compartment, the hand lingered on a small button as he heard his final words “At least this one lasted longer.” | 2015-08-11T12:19:48 | 2015-08-11T10:11:02 | 26 | 16 |
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