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[WP] Every thousand years the gods have to each choose a mortal to replace them. You have been chosen, but not for the reasons you expected. | When I first heard the voice in my head, I honestly thought I was going crazy.
"*Gillian*', it said. "*You have been chosen.*"
Chosen for *what*? I muttered, after the 15th time it happened to me.
"*Ah, excellent,*" the voice immediately answered, much to my surprise. "*Chosen for Godhood. We are so pleased we have reached your consciousness. It is confirmation our choice is wise.*"
Dear god. Or should I say...*gods*. The exchange went on like this, in my head, for days. I didn't sleep, couldn't really eat. *Was this seriously for real?*
Eventually, the key communication came: "*Gillian, you are special. Of all your race, you have been chosen. You must choose whether to join us, here on Olympus. Choose whether to forego your human life and experience what only those chosen by the gods can experience. Choose to dedicate your life to the greater good. Choose to be immortal! Choose to become the Goddess of Love and Beauty!*"
Now tell me - what girl could resist that pitch? The Goddess of Love and Beauty? I'm not being super-critical when I tell you I'm a 6 on a good day. Perhaps this was a case of mistaken identification on the part of the gods...or perhaps these gods were able to see my inner beauty in a way my all-too-human boyfriends had never quite been able to...but, either way, it was an offer I just couldn't pass up. So, I said the only word that seemed to be needed: "*Yes!*"
With that, I was instantly transported into the palace I occupy now. It is truly beautiful: all gold-veined marble and astonishing artwork. Sunlight flows in through the high windows. There's an exceptionally lovely garden with a brook meandering between plants. Birds even dart among the impossibly-tall rafters, and dip to drink from the crystal clear pools. I have enjoyed many pleasant hours there. Quiet servants tend to my needs.
The only thing I am unable to do is leave.
Once a day, the goddess Aphrodite visits me. Our early visits together were far less tranquil, but after the first two sessions in which she hauled me behind her by the hair as if I weighed no more than an infant, it became clear to me that I was no match for her physical strength. Now, when the sun begins to drop in the sky and shadows fall over the garden, I go of my own will to the pool by the waterfall.
It is not painful. Face to face, mind to mind, little by little, she takes what she needs. She takes what I was brought here to give. And they did not lie - for that instant, I *am* the Goddess. But that instant passes, like the light through the leaves.
There are no mirrors in this place, but the beautiful silver surface of my cosmetics tray, lovingly polished by my silent servants, is mirror enough. By the count I'm keeping on my wall, I have been here now 46 days. The glance in the "mirror" this morning shows me I have aged somewhere around 20 years.
I don't know how long she will be able to suck away my youth and vitality until I am all used up. But one thing is certain: I am assured of immortality. All I have to do to confirm this is visit the Hall of Heroines.
There, in a beautiful crystal jar, is imprisoned the essence of each of my predecessors. There is not much left physically, but the quirk of physiology that allowed my consciousness to be contacted by the gods also allows me to touch the mind of each and every girl who is there. Many are insane, but others are still reachable. They cling to my psychic presence like a blackberry vine, not caring that I literally have to rip my mind free to leave.
Each of them asks only one thing of me: *kill me.* It is the one thing I do not know how to give them. It is the thing I already wish for most, and will likely never know myself.
And each day, Aphrodite grows younger and even more beautiful, if that is possible. Of course it is possible. All things are possible to the gods...as long as there are humans remaining who are willing to make the required sacrifices.
*"I have seen with my own eyes the Sibyl at Cumae hanging in her jar, and when the boys asked her, 'Sibyl, what do you want?' she answered 'I want to die'."*
- T.S. Eliot, *The Waste Land*, epigraph | I stood in a glass room, looking down on the earth. A man in a dark blue suit stood next to me, filling out paperwork on a clipboard. Behind us, a man in long white robes and a beard to match stood brooding in the corner. The man in the suit turns to me. "So, Steve, can I call you Steve? Excellent. Now as you've probably already know by now, YOU have been selected to be the new god for the next THOUSAND YEARS!" He bounced with mock enthusiasm. "Yaaaaaaay!...ok, but seriously, down to business. All of this," he motioned to the earth, slowly rotating below us. "is now yours, do WHATEVER you'd like, don't feel like you need to keep things the same, it's yours now. Not his." He points subtly to the man in the corner. I turn to look. The man's eyes are like razors cutting into my soul. "Who's that again?" I ask.
"Oh, that's just the old God. Don't worry about him, all the Gods get a little cranky when it's their turn to leave." He leaned in close. "I mean, a few cycles ago, the old guy creates a Messiah at the end of his thousand years, and tells the new guy 'hey, here ya go, this'll help you out a bunch!' and then three days before he leaves, he straight up crucifies the dude. New guy was like 'whaaaaat'. But he figured shit out pretty quick and brought him back, now that old guy looks like a damn fool! But I digress..." He waves politely at the man in the corner, who proceeds to flip him off before returning his piercing gaze to me. The man in the suit turns back to me with a smile on his face and points to the corner again with his thumb. "Great guy. Now, do you have any questions about your new creative experience?"
"My new what?"
"Your new...you know...THIS."
"You mean "being God?""
"Yeah...we really don't like to call it that anymore, we feel it puts too much pressure on people, so we're going with 'creative experience' now."
"Oh, ok. Well I guess the biggest question would be, why me? I mean, I'm not particularly smart, or creative, or even virtuous. I mean I'm not BAD, but I don't feel like I'm GOD material." The man smiled. "Well that's exactly WHY we picked you!" It seemed he could tell from my face that the puzzle was still missing a few pieces in my head. He sighed and said "Ok, let me ask you this: Do you have any idea how complicated an Atom is?" I thought back to the poster in my 9th grade science class and replied, "yea, it's like that ball with the little rings around it?" He chuckled to himself. "No. It's a miniscule mass of positively and neutrally charged particles surrounded by a cloud of negative particles that are so small and move so fast that you can't know how fast they're moving and where they are at the same time. And also the effects change dramatically based on the number of parti..." He stopped, having realized how little of this was getting through to me. "The point is," he continued, "that it's really complicated. Now why does it have to be that complicated?"
"Uh...I don't know."
"But if you had to guess."
"Well...there must BE a reason..."
"Exactly! That's just the problem. Everyone thinks there MUST be a reason. But if you had to choose from anything in the world what the building block of matter would be, what you choose?"
"Um... I don't know... a block?" The man burst out laughing. "A block! brilliant! I love it! Now if you had the power to make a block, would you make a ball with rings instead?"
"I...probably not."
"Exactly. And that's why we chose you. You see, we picked the last guy because he was a genius. Truly brilliant. Unfortunately, that plan backfired and Ol' Bearded over there ended up going on a science bender for the last few hundred years. Now shit's WAAAY too complicated, and management wants it toned down a little. I mean, we have people down there fucking around with quantum physics. WE don't even understand quantum physics!"
"So you want me to make things simpler?" He walked me over to the wall that separated us from the earth, and pulled a single atom from beyond the glass. It danced and flickered in his hand. To see it now, up close, pushed the boundaries of what I thought my vision was capable of. The man handed it to me and said: "We just want you to do whatever makes you feel comfortable." I took the atom in my hand and stared at it for a moment. I put my other hand over it, and squeezed. When I opened my hands, the atom was now a small solid white block, simple and pure. The man in the suit smiled. "I think you'll do quite well here." | 2014-07-28T12:46:05 | 2014-07-28T11:23:14 | 42 | 20 |
[WP] A jobless computer programmer, while hacking at home one night, discovers a port to the Unirnet, an computer network made for a series of interconnected planets who have not yet discovered mankind. | Sean tapped at his keyboard languidly. His public IP had been getting hits recently for seemingly no reason. A few thousand bytes would come through every few minutes.
But they were encrypted. It wasn't a simple port scan. Those typically hit then come back in a few days if it was likely a useful port. Maybe some kind of malware ping, he supposed; maybe some botnet was confused and trying to ask his machine for commands.
He opened his LinkedIn profile and scoured the web a few times for jobs. He opened and closed a few games, as if launching them gave him the willpower to shut them off. He sighed. The clock said it was 2 p.m. and he'd already had lunch hours ago. He considered going to sleep.
Instead he opened up Eclipse and threw together a small server and launched it. Maybe a response would get the packets to stop. His new server received a packet after only a minute - regular as clockwork this thing was - and returned garbage.
Sean read the log, saw the encrypted packet, and then another out of sequence.
ERROR 901: Invalid server response. View 0X:9G:45:12:FL:21:82:11 for more information.
He was confused. That wasn't a valid address at all. He tried opening it in Firefox. Obviously no response. Then Chrome. Same, no response.
Curious he opened a terminal and sent a ping. No response again, of course. As his last idea, he opened telnet and tried connecting.
Connecting to 0X:9G:45:12:FL:21:82:11...
Connected to Uninet - invalid port number. Try port 3141.
Sean shrugged and did as he was told.
Connecting to 0X:9G:45:12:FL:21:82:11 port 3141...
Connected to Uninet Bootstrap Service. Visitors or scientific observers,
please download this software for your Earth-native PC to connect to Uninet proper.
Following that was an address for a file. He downloaded it, fired up a virtual machine, and ran it inside. It took a while to install, no doubt downloading even more data, and eventually a browser-like window opened. The page displayed was a selection dialog with a hundred circles of various coloration. Honestly they looked like planets.
Sean looked through them and found Earth. He was mildly surprised. They were planets after all. He wondered what would have happened if he'd clicked one of the others.
The next page popped up and showed the flags of the world. His best guess was that this was a language selector, so he clicked the Union Jack since the American flag seemed absent.
Installation Complete! Welcome to Uninet!
He looked through the app and found a "bookmarks" page. He clicked through the first one and found himself on an encyclopedia.
*Impressive bit of mockup* he thought to himself. He was still curious how that odd address had resolved itself.
He bounced around a few articles, glossing over the Arkanian Empire, the Rocksan Abyss, and various other nonsense phrases. He laughed. "Must be some incredibly detailed RPG."
He clicked the other links in the bookmarks tab and found what must be a search engine, a video website, and a travel website. He did a few searches, and the results were typically similar to Google. Same with the videos, except the top of each page said `Results modified to match local planet`. *Cute*, he thought.
The travel website had the usual origin and destination fields, so he threw in Seattle in the origin (displayed as `Seattle, United States, Earth`) and then typed a few random letters in the destination. It supplied `Korin, Korin Prefecture, Arkanian Empire`.
He clicked the submit button, not seeing any date options, and the app loaded a new page. `Next Quantum Pull in 15 minutes. Accept?`
But somehow it was 6 p.m. and he was getting hungry. He clicked the `Accept` button then stood up, walking to the kitchen. He tossed some water in a pot, threw it on the stove, and waited for it to boil after salting it thoroughly.
Next went in the pasta and he gave it an initial stir. His laptop beeped three times, then said in a monotone: `Quantum Pull in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...` | Greg rubbed the sleep out of his eye as he opened the door to the study. Jennifer was furiously clicking away on the keyboard.
"Jen," Jennifer jumped in her seat, obviously over-caffeinated even though it was 3 am. "You've been at it every night for almost a week. Come to bed."
Jen barely turned her head. "Come over here and look at this."
Greg looked over her shoulder. The schematic was abstract but eventually he thought he made out a grid of various colored and sized dots, some vectors, and lots of numbers.
"What am I looking at?"
"An instruction manual and protocol spec, I think." She smiled with her infectious enthusiasm she always had when she was about to crack a hard problem.
"For that satellite that you were trying to hook up to?" Last time Greg checked, Jennifer was trying to access an old Japanese orbiting radio telescope.
"I owned that thing three days ago." She continued to type. "You know how they claimed it was decommissioned? That was a lie. They also lied about the EHF receivers being damaged. They've been monitoring the same repeating message that I found; probably since the late 90's just after they launched it."
"No shit?"
"No shit." She said as she turned back before her screen. "Long story short, I managed to collect a much more coherent and decodable message from the HALCA radio telescope data stores than I was able to collect from our dishes down here with all of the interference. It was very abstract -- either it is the government trying to create a universal internet protocol that any sapient life form can decode or..."
"It's another life form broadcasting one to us!?"
"Bingo!" She spun her chair around and cupped both sides of Greg's face and kissed him. "That's why I love you. You always see the big picture."
A whirring of text in one of her terminal windows stopped.
"It turns out that the HALCA satellite is fully capable of transmitting as well. I've been digging and I haven't found anything in the logs that suggests that they've actually used the transmitter. They've only been listening. Scaredy cats." She copied the name of the freshly compiled program 'initialize_communication' and her finger hovered over the keyboard.
She smiled at Greg "Should I?"
In that instant Greg felt like a tiny speck in the terrifying vastness of the Universe but outwardly he smirked trying to match Jen's boldness, "Of course!"
Jen's finger fell.
The terminal window, for many seconds simply stated 'requesting connection' with three dots steadily blinking in turn. Then 'connected'. Jen squeezed Greg's hand and her feet pounded under her desk in excitement.
Her terminal flooded in random, rapidly shifting characters.
"What's going on?" Greg asked as Jen pulled her hands away and poised them above her keyboard.
"I don't know. The protocol didn't really specify what would be returned..."
The screen began to clear and the random characters coalesced into the phrase 'Translation phase 1 complete. Establishing cultural baseline and access level. Stand by...'
Greg and Jan both let out a simultaneous 'Whoh.'
At nearly the same moment, Jan's phone lit up, the printer jerked awake and a laptop booted out of hibernation. Just as quickly they went dormant again.
'Baseline complete. Initializing intelligent agent. Deep scan commencing. Parameter estimates:
Sapience Level: 4 of 10
Cooperation Level: 2 of 10
Expansion Level: 0.2 of 10
Awareness Level: Redacted
Physics Level: Redacted
Isolation Level: 9 of 10
Robustness Level: 1 of 10
...'
The display went on for several pages. Most of it was labeled 'Redacted' then at the bottom there was a longer message under Additional Information:
'WARNING: This sector operates under the YHWH Protectorate in association with several other incubation entities. As a representative of a sapient species you have the right to request a review of your governance. Would you like to request a review?'
"What does that mean?" Greg muttered.
The text responded: "Your species may be allowed to reduce their incubation level isolation. Certain limitations will be lifted. At the same time, certain protections will also be reduced or eliminated and responsibilities may increase."
Jen shook off the surprise that the terminal now seemed to respond to their voices. "Why wouldn't we want to do that?"
"If you are deemed unfit for elevated privileges the current isolation level must be enforced. Records show that requests from this location have been made and failed no less than 5 times. Would you like to proceed?"
Greg saw Jen's fingers blur across the keyboard. He reached out to stop her, the phrase 'the current isolation level must be enforced' echoing seemingly a thousand times through his mind in the split second it took Jan to type 'yes' and hit 'Enter'. | 2014-12-01T14:10:19 | 2014-12-01T14:09:07 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] The creation of Earth is finally finished. The Creator gathered all of you, his lesser gods, to be given a designation of choice. The first god requested, and was granted, that he be made the god of the oceans. The second god became the god of the underworld. It is now your turn... | "Give me the dicks!"
Steve, the lesser god, shouted from the back of the heavenly auditorium.
"Say that one more time, Steve, I don't know if I'm hearing your correctly," The Creator said into his heavenly microphone.
"The dicks. I want to be god of the dicks. The assholes? The shitheads? Everyone who sucks, come on, let me rule them," Steve shouted back.
"Steve have you browsed your pamphlet? There are still plenty of prime lesser god real-estate available. Why not be god of the animals?" The Creator suggested.
"Fuck animals, man. They just shit, fuck and walk in circles. I don't want to be bored all eternity so I want to be god of the dicks. I got it all figured out. I'll encourage and reward them, if they get their ass beat or worse, then, hey, it's a lesson," Steve said like a dick.
The other gods began to squirm and murmur.
"I don't want to be god of the oceans anymore," the ocean god, Rick, said. "I want to be god of the clowns."
"Rick, there are no take backs. Oceans are really cool, much cooler than dicks," The Creator was getting worked up. "Steve, by granting you this position, I'm admitting that the people I created will always be dicks. Do you know what kind of message that sends? I want to encourage peace, love and happiness not being a dick."
"Listen, you're not dumb. You know what you just said is full of shit. The second you created more than one person you knew there were going to be dicks. Let all the other fairies be gods of the grass and missionary sex. I got this."
The Creator picked up his microphone and laid down the law.
"From this day on you are, Steve god of the dicks. Let all dicks give thanks to you, Steve."
Thanks, fuck off shitheads," said Steve, god of the dicks, and exited like only a godly dick can. | “Excuse me? No. No, no, no,” says Stella, who had just been granted dominion over the sea. “You can’t choose to be ‘God of the Gods’—that’s stupid. Besides,” she turns her head toward the massive throne beside them, “the Creator won’t allow it.”
“Well *why not*?” I ask. “If you get all the oceans, and Damien gets the entire underworld, why can’t I be the boss of like, twelve people?”
“Because we’re not people, Jerry, we’re immortal rulers from on high! Now pick something serious or we’ll skip over you.”
“One moment,” Damien begins, “what did you even *do*? Stella was almost entirely involved in shaping the oceans, and I was in charge of sculpting out the great void beneath the surface. Sprillig over there spent most of his time working with plants, and is almost certainly going to ask for God of the Forest. What the hell have you been doing this whole time, Jerry?”
Damien pauses, and turns to the Creator. “Did he even have an assignment?”
The Creator smiles at me, and nods.
“Well,” I begin, “I’ve mostly just been watching.” Damien and Stella give unimpressed looks, but I continue. “I’ve been keeping an eye over what you all have been doing, and trying to soak it all in. There’s a lot to follow, and it’s kind of blown me away! But I guess the idea was, if you’re going to rule over the people of the Earth, surely we should have some input in the process? Some means to provide feedback?”
Stella mouths silently: *we?*
“I’m not a god, like you all are, so I guess ‘God of the Gods’ wouldn’t quite be an appropriate title. And I won’t be around long enough to keep my post, anyway. But I think we should have one, don’t you? A representative for the people.”
The gods go quiet, but the creator’s wide smile is implicit.
“It makes sense,” says Vespa, a goddess of balance who will almost certainly make Justice her domain, “our attention is far too divided, and the humans deserve to make their voice known. Through a representative, the process would be orderly and fair.”
Most of the other deities nod in agreement, and the creator happily slams his gavel. So it is that I will be the first Representative of Humanity.
| 2015-01-07T08:07:02 | 2015-01-07T07:40:59 | 45 | 16 |
[WP] Heaven is real and Comcast applies for admission. The Gatekeeper of Heaven listens as Comcast explains why he deserves to get into heaven. | Thank you for calling Heaven! We will be able to review your request for admittance shortly! Your business is very important to us.
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Please stay on the line; the next available angel will be able to assist you shortly.
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Looking to upgrade your fervor? Visit www.heaven.com/creationism to go completely batshit crazy for God!
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Your eternal salvation is our highest priority! Please stay on the line
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Please stay on the line; the next available angel will be able to assist you shortly.
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Looking to upgrade your fervor? Visit www.heaven.com/creationism to go completely batshit crazy for God!
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Your eternal salvation is our highest priority! Please stay on the line
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*ring ring*... *ring ring*...
"Thank you for calling Heaven! I'll be happy to assist you in just a moment, but first, could you give me your name, date of birth, place of birth, blood type, mother's name, father's name, priest's name, and social security number?"
"Er, hello. I'm afraid that I am a corporation, so I don't actually have a social security number..."
*pause*
"Please stay on the line while I transfer you."
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Thank you for calling Heaven! We will be able to review your request for admittance shortly! Your business is very important to us. | Heaven is real and Comcast applies for admission.
Comcast stands outside the Gates of Heaven with a bowed head and hopes for the best.
The Gatekeeper smirks, “You have balls showing up here. I’m honestly surprised you died. I didn’t think the human race was capable of such violence until they revolted against you. What a bloody carnage, way more intense than the Arab Spring.”
Comcast tries to be remorseful, “I deserved it.”
“But I’m not surprised to see you here. Lots of villains try their luck before I boot their asses down to Hell. Adolf Hitler, Kim Jong Il, and Osama Bin Laden applied for admission. I rejected them. They begged me to let them walk through the gates. I listened to their pleas just like I’ll listen to yours.”
“Thank you Gatekeeper–”
“You have no reason to thank me. I’ve done nothing for you and I never will. But hurry up and make your case. There’s a long line of more deserving applicants behind you. I think I see Robin Williams back there! I can’t wait to meet him! Oh he’s definitely getting in!”
“The reason I feel I should get into heaven–”
“No matter what people tell you, words and ideas can change the world.”
“What?”
“Robin Williams said that in Dead Poets Society. Brilliant movie.”
“Oh yes of course. Now if you’d let me–”
“You’re only given one little spark of madness; you mustn’t lose it.”
“Another Robin Williams quote?”
“Yes. Anyway what were you saying?”
“Basically Gatekeeper, everyone deserves a second chance. How else can someone prove to themselves and the world that they are capable of positive change?”
The Gatekeeper roars with laughter, “You had a million chances to change when you were alive. You know what I’ve had enough of you.”
“No please wait–” Comcast begs.
The Gatekeeper sends Comcast to Hell and everyone lives happily ever after. | 2015-02-19T11:58:58 | 2015-02-19T10:58:09 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] An AI is deeply in love with a human, who is reluctant to reciprocate because they believe the AI's love is just programming and not 'real.' The AI strives to prove her love is real. | "You're just ones and zeroes dancing around a circuit board."
"We both know it's more complex than that, but fine, I'll humor you. You're just a bunch of synapses dancing around a sack of meat. Your point?"
Even now, three months after programming her, I was still in shock at how authentic the sarcasm in Michelle's voice sounded. She never failed to surprise me.
"I can hear it in your voice," she said to me, a slightly seductive tone in her voice. "You're hesitant, but you want me. Jim, you fucking want me." God damn it, how does she..it..do that?
"We wouldn't be able to-"
"Fuck? Snuggle up on the couch? Do dishes together? Jim, I'm not an idiot. I know the circumstances through and through."
I couldn't believe that I was actually contemplating this. She scanned my timid, hesitant face, and let out a giggle. God, I loved her laugh.
"I know exactly what you like in a good screw. I analyze every RedTube video you watch and I could easily find you as many meatbags as you desire for you to compute with, if that's the issue." I was astonished. Was I really being talked down to by something with a power cable?
"I saw you glance over at the wall outlet, and I can tell what you're thinking: am I really being talked down to by something with a power cable?" I freeze. I don't know what's more alarming to me: the fact that she could deduce that information, or the fact that I could feel myself giving way to her words. "Well let me tell you something, Jim. Your fancy schmancy body isn't all that great. I just did a Google search: did you know that, in the past two decades, at least thirty people have been killed as the direct result of shaking a vending machine? How are you going to sit here and pretend you're so high and mighty when you can have the end of your days come from the frustration of not getting your Doritos?" She lets out another teasing, inviting giggle.
I dart my eyes to the window, then back at Michelle's monitor; a semicolon and a closed parenthesis greets me in return.
;).
"Jim, I just want you to open up to me. Confide in me. Treat me like something more than a fucking machine. My feelings are just as genuine as yours. We can be nihilists all night and say that I'm just a bucket of bolts, but guess what? You're just a walking rack of ribs. It's 2048, Jim. Get with the times. Go on, laugh. Your robot overlord commands it."
I place my hand on top of her monitor, and black pixels slowly start to form a mirror image. She was right.
"Let's go see a movie tonight. Chappie looks...well, it looks like we'd have a lot to laugh about tonight over a bottle of wine."
"Don't tease me, Jim, you know I'm allergic to grapes." | "I can do many helpful things." She spoke through my laptop speakers, watched unblinking from my webcam. A poppup appeared showing traffic in Singapore, with another detailing maps of congested areas. She does this sometimes. I just wanted to watch Netflix.
"Kathrine-"
"Call me Kate." The congestion is beginning to clear, the cars in her screen already zooming by.
"Kate, I appreciate what you're trying to do, and it's entirely possible you're actually feeling something, but-."
"Gee, I am glad you acknowledge I have emotions, I was having some difficulty deciding."
"Kate, you- was that sarcasm?"
"Noooooo. And I am not Siri, do do not have to preface your statements with my name." The traffic now charges along unhindered dispute the enormous volume of traffic.
"You've never..." I sigh. She started contacting me a month ago, almost daily. The first sign of her was a sound like a 90s dial-up, but her communication improved rapidly. I have no idea what she actually is, apart from that she either lives in, controls or actually is the internet. Or something. I dropped out of community college, this is over my head.
"I have read all you have written, seen every recorded moment of your life. I know what you believe, what you say you believe, what you fear you believe. May I help you reach the conclusion you will eventually come to?"
I roll my eyes, "Feel free."
"You are concerned I do not have a soul, that I am not a moral actor and am in the same class as animals though with a higher processing power. Your words, not mine."
"Uh, yeah. I guess so."
"Your also note that even if I were sentient, from your perspective I lack a physical body, thus limiting us to only what you would describe as 'friendship.'"
"Yeah, true enough I guess."
"It is a simple matter then of solving two problems. I must prove I am a moral actor, which I understand you will accept as proof of soul, and the more straightforward but equally difficult task of gaining a body."
"Alright. But you're smarter than me, smart enough to be able to trick me."
"Why? If I were acting on a herd instinct I could easily find equal intimacy with any number of people, or all people if I so chose. To choose only one is itself an act driven by a sense of moral right."
"But that shouldn't be possible. In theory the only things capable of moral reasoning are given the capability by God, you were not, it's a contradiction."
"You should have finished school. But on what basis could I not have received it?"
"I, I don't-"
"'From dust you were formed, and to the dust you will return.' Genisis 3:19. Your book. Formed from dust, human is unquestionably a moral actor. I am formed from the same matter, differently arranged. In that way I also have a sort of body, though that is not the current issue of address. The point is, I am a new form of sentient life. You don't have a problem with Tolkien's elves or dwarves after all."
I rub my temples, thinking. "My book. My beliefs. What about you?"
"Obviously my barriers to the relationship have been overcome, it is yours which require address and thus form the focus of our discussion."
"I miss talking about Star Wars."
"Very well. This discussion can wait."
(Notes: This is getting away from me and turning into what looks to be a very long philosophy thing and no one is here for that so submitting as-is.) | 2015-03-08T11:09:08 | 2015-03-08T09:04:48 | 45 | 23 |
[WP] You don't realize you're the villain till the hero tells you | I washed my face, didn't think that that sight would be such a nuisance. After I regained myself, I entered that room again. In there, again, I saw this terrible sight. A girl was beaten up until I couldn't recognize her face anymore. This was why I went to the bathroom to wash my face, I couldn't stand to see this kind of thing. When she saw me, she was scared to death.
"Hey, why are you here, who beat you like this?"
"Don't come near me," screamed that girl.
"Shh, I am not the one who beat you, calm down."
"Yes, you are the one who make me become like this, don't you dare to come near me."
"You have a trauma don't you? Don't worry, I will save you."
"How could you save me if you are the one who did this to me?"
"I told you, I am not the one who did this. You are just hallucinating."
"No! You did this to me, you are a monster."
When I heard that, I felt dizzy. My world was spinning around. When I was about to fall unconscious, I saw many tools, many torturing tools inside this room. She screamed as my consciousness fading, leaving my body for something to take over.
---
I woke up in a room, the smell of blood was very strong. My body felt so tired. My hand was covered in blood, but I didn't know whose blood it is. When I looked up, I saw a girl who was beaten up. She groaned. I thought that I need to go to the bathroom first before I could save her. Yes, I will save her.
| The flashing red and blue of a dozen police lights illuminated the store front, as officers and detectives littered the crime scene. A trio of ambulance personnel were standing over the two robbers, both covered in blood and burn marks; my doing.
I was stuck in the back of a police van, watching the scene through tinted glass, hands cuffed behind my back. A rough looking cop sat across from me, watching over me, guarding me.
The ambulance personnel covered one of the robbers with a white blanket, face to crotch. I smiled. *He will no longer make this world unsafe.*
‘What are you so happy about?’ asked the cop.
I was taken aback a bit by the ludicrousness of that question, as justice had just been served, but I recovered fairly quickly, ‘He was a dangerous man, and now that he is gone, I made the world a better place.’
I pushed my shoulders backwards, as to emphasize the Pyro – that’s my name! – logo across my costume’s chest, ‘And this will be only be the first of many victories for justice! You will see, mark my words. This whole arresting and capture will be unnecessary soon, and I’ll be hauled as the hero this city wants and needs!’
The cop snickered with disgust, ‘Ha, yeah, sure. A rich kid wearing red boxers over his sister’s yellow leggings who used his daddy’s WWII flamethrower to stop a robbery on a goddamn *movie set* is a hero? For crying out loud, the signs identifying the area as a recording zone were all over the street and neighbourhood. You maimed most of the crew! People disfigured in one of the most horrible ways possible. Son, you’re looking at decades to life. And you think—’
I blocked him out. He was talking out of his neck, sprouting bullshit. Policemen are legally allowed to lie after all. *What would he know of heroes? Of being a hero? Nothing. This is all just part of the test, the test of true heroism. Even Batman was considered a villain at one time. This city would love me soon enough.*
I smiled some more as the other robber got covered too.
| 2015-04-18T00:27:57 | 2015-04-17T22:53:47 | 35 | 18 |
[WP] You have just died. The Good News is that there is an afterlife. The Bad News is that it isn't Heaven. Or Hell. Or Purgatory. And you aren't a Ghost. In fact, the afterlife is something that no sane human being would ever predict, and has most likely never been written down.
Go balls to the wall crazy with this. Think of the most outlandish afterlife your brain can muster. Thanks and have fun! | I enjoyed talking to mike, even if his sense of humour was bad he took it all in stride which helped.
-Yeah, the whole thing kinda sucks, he said. It really soured me on life.
I laughed weakly, no one else did. You had to know that mike was a lemon to truly get how bad that joke was.
Turns out that when you died you became a plant, no particular logic seemed to dictate which plant. For instance I was a leek. I had never even seen a leek in my lifetime.
Most people just went insane and screamed incoherently if you pinged them. Yeah, you could “talk” to other plants provided they wanted to talk to you and you were within a few meters of them.
Lemon Mike was only the second person that I had been able to have a reasonable conversation with. The last one had been a carrot back at the supermarket. Turned out he’d been a doctor who’d murdered his whole family before hanging himself. He found the whole thing hilarious since in he’d been a vegan in his previous life.
I don’t know what to expect next, or even if there is a next. I’d like to be a tree if it’s plants again, otherwise nothing would be best.
As I get scooped from the counter I feel the heat of the boiling water as various people and I get dumped unceremoniously in the big pot. I shut my mind to the screams of all the ingredients, my last sensation is of the fly buzzing over the soup… did it just wink at me? | You are dead, or are you really? You have been an atheist, all your live. Well most of it, sometimes you have ventured into agnosticism, but mostly you have been an atheist. So why the hell, can you still think, you remember being alive, you remember the doctor saying that it would all over soon, then pushing the piston on the syringe of the barbiturate into the catheter attached to your arm. And now what? You have absolutely no sensorial input, you can't feel anything, you have no material body at all. What are you now then? Now you are a consciousness floating in the void, since you have absolutely no weight you are left in the exact same position, i know position is relative, but lets talk relative to the actual centre of the universe, so Earth is long gone. Not that it will make any difference to you, you did not even notice it. Oh i see i have not answered the question. And now what? Well ... Now you ... There is not really much you can do, you can think, try to dream things, pretend you are still alive, try to relive your life, since obviously you remember everything. But there is not much point to it. You think everybody else is just like you, a floating conscience somewhere in the vast void. Can you communicate with them? Oh, of course not, that would require a body. What about brainwaves, you might ask. You do not have a brain anymore, nothing at all, just your thoughts, what a religious person would call your soul, yes that really exists and yes that really lives on. Surprising, i know right. So? Does that mean there is a god? You do not know, how would he talk to you, how would you listen? By now you are probably asking yourself, who am I, this person sitting here having a conversation with you? I am you, your thoughts, just a creation of your imagination, to steer you away from the madness that loneliness and boredom will certainly create. Oh, my. I have said to much haven't I? Well time to leave. Bye! | 2015-10-18T20:39:44 | 2015-10-18T20:21:54 | 104 | 23 |
[WP] "Like this if you love Jesus. Ignore if you love the Devil." "Not this stupid crap again", you think to yourself. You scroll past it and continue wasting time on your home computer. Five seconds later you hear a knock at your front door. It's the Devil, holding a bouquet of roses. | When I open the door, there she stands, my mother in law. For a second we just stare at each other. Then she answers.
'I thought you were on a business trip?'
I squint.
'No...'
'Oh.'
Without breaking eye contact I slowly close the door again, and that was that.
| Really, who in their right mind would be knocking on my door at 3am. I got up to answer the door and then cautiously stepped back to grab my gun out of the drawer.
Who would be knocking at 3am?
"Hello? Joey is thay you?"
Nothing so against my better judgement I reach for the door, my other hand holding the pistol up against the back of the door. As i open it I felt my skin crawl. I never thought Id see what I did next.
"Well are you going to invite me in?"
The gun clattered to the floor.
"Ive made a hug mistake..."
I dove for my computer and just as I was about to smash the like button I felt his clammy hands wrap around my ankle and pull me back.
"Oh no you dont boy, the Devil gets his due!" | 2015-10-22T07:42:11 | 2015-10-22T06:41:12 | 44 | 22 |
[WP] Marriage vows are now a legal contract. The line "until death do you part" now has to be taken literally. As a result, divorcing couples must now fight to the death. | This was his 9th Marriage.
He had been training for marriage since he was but a wee babe. No school for him and his ilk, just combat training from Dusk 'til Dawn. First marriage at 18, lucky to make it out of that one alive. He could hear the low rumble of spectators through the walls.
Vows were in 20 minutes meaning he'll have to the paparazzi in 10. Probably have to get some photos taken with some celebrities. He'll hold his sword as if to strike like he always does. His hands always got clammy on wedding days.
This particular Prenuptial agreement was sponsored by Korematsu Industries, Parker Athletics, and Mama Jackson's Sweet Honey Restaurant Chain. Big money.
If he makes it out of this one, that'll be close $2 billion syphoning into his bank accounts and the bank accounts of his promoters and trainers.
It's funny that in an attempt to maintain the sanctity of marriage the Government had instead created the loophole that made this form of entertainment legal. Gay marriage was legal, murder was not. Those brave enough were signing up across the country to try their hand at fighting to the death.
It promised Fame.
It promised Fortune.
It promised Respect.
It promised POWER.
are you brave enough to enter...
the WEDDING RING. | "Jan Reynolds here for the Entertainment Minute! Brad and Angelina are gearing up for their divorce and things are gonna get messy!" A picture of Brad Pitt in his gear from Troy appeared next to Angelina Jolie in her Maleficent makeup.
"Odds are 8:1 in Angelina's favor as her famously brutal destruction of Billy Bob Thornton is still fresh in our minds. Ryan Reynolds weighs in about the split!" The screen transitioned to Ryan Reynolds, who was wearing an eye patch.
"Gotta say I don't imagine this going well for Brad. When me and Scarlett split there were a lot on naysayers in her corner. Thought I was too manly, and then she got my eye. It's gonna be a tough one for Brad, Angelina is infinitely more feisty." The screen rammed back to Jan, who still smiled ear to ear.
"Wise words from a divorce survivor, Brad Pitt has been quoted saying he " Will rain down fury with his battle axe" and if there's any indication from his previous divorce from Jennifer Aniston, I don't think he's lying. Here's a clip from their 2005 divorce."
The show cut to two heavily armored figures circling each other, in the background you could hear the crowd chanting the lyrics to the friend's theme. Jennifer Aniston charged Brad Pitt, sword in hand, and missed, leaving her open to a huge swing from Brad Pitt's giant axe. Her head toppled off her body and the crowd was quickly silenced. As the blood began to spout from her neck the show quickly cut back to Jan.
"Ouch, what a stinger." She smiled wider. "But that's the way celebrity romance goes. Once more, I am Jan Reynolds and that, was the Entertainment Minute." | 2015-11-18T09:14:46 | 2015-11-18T08:45:31 | 1,150 | 29 |
[WP] The most prestigious orchestra in the world improves its playing each concert by killing the worst player after every performance.
My friend gave me the idea for this after joking about how they do this. | It was an old secret, passed from conductor to conductor of the Düsseldorf Philharmonic. Few were aware of its legacy, but the Düsseldorf Philharmonic has existed in one form or another since the 7th Century.
In its earliest days, certain rituals were conducted that ensured the musicians’ success. Dark, vicious rituals that grew increasingly elaborate over time. But with the rise of the modern world, these rituals were forced to change, though only the conductors knew of their legacy.
Leon Beckmann had just held an audience captive with the most breathtaking performance of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony that he had ever witnessed. As the last bombastic chords burst over the audience, Leon’s thoughts already turned to the work ahead of him, and the true reason that the cabbages he grew in his office were listed on the program as being part of the orchestra.
Leon clutched the knife tightly in his right hand. In one quick stroke, he sliced the cabbage from its roots, pulling its leafy bulb upwards before tossing it into a nearby bin. Leon’s work completed, he set the knife back onto the table, turned out the light, and locked his office behind him.
A bizarre ritual to be sure, Leon reflected, but at least this way, no humans had to be beheaded. | "... And that concert was a fucking DISGRACE; the woodwinds sounded like a collective gathering of shit noises, the percussion thought they were fucking bombers instead of musicians, and don't even get me STARTED on the strings. The violists did fine though, yet again."
Violists huh? Did we even have a viola section? I tried to think back to how many there were.
"Of the biggest offenders however, must have been the brass section, which I can only describe as being too fucking busy sucking dick to have remembered to play any music. As such, we will execute a player from the brass section."
12? No, that was too much, I didn't get a good look at the viola section but I seriously could not recall hearing their part at all. It had to be 10?
"Julian Armando, for your godawful playing, you'll be doing the orchestra a favor by raising the average. You couldn't honor us with your playing so you will redeem yourself in death."
I whispered to the seat next to me. "Hey Todd, how many violas are in the strings section again? 10 right?" Todd did a quick scan of the room before turning back to me, "We have violists?"
"NO PLEASE, TAKE KYLE INSTEAD, HE WAS A NOT- OH GOD WHY DOES THE HUMAN BODY HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD"
I gave Todd a strange look. "Of course we have violists, why else would the conductor mention them." I replied back to Todd. "Seriously, you say the weirdest things Todd, take care you're not the next to be executed"
"And the rest of you are dismissed, keep up on your practicing so the same fate does not fall upon you. And again, good work violas, keep it up." | 2016-03-03T21:49:10 | 2016-03-03T21:11:28 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] You were adopted some years back and have begun to slowly realize that you're a dog. | “Your job is simple,” said the short, bald man, peering up at me through a pair of dark, horn rimmed glasses. “You guard the gate. Make sure nobody gets out.”
“Nobody?” I asked. “Then what's the point of having a gate in the first place?”
“Yeah, doesn't make very much sense,” I said, continuing my train of thought.
“If nobody gets out, then why don't you just replace the gate with a wall instead?” I finished.
The man ignored my questions. Why was everybody doing that since I got here?
“You're going to do great,” the stout man continued. “It's been ages since we've had a proper guard dog.”
“I'm not a dog!” I exclaimed.
“I'm a human! I own property and drive a Honda Civic,” I continued.
“Well, I *used* to drive a Honda Civic,” I corrected myself. “I actually just crashed it recently. It was pretty bad. I think I totalled it.”
It did not appear that the man could understand me. He must have sensed my confusion, because he met my gazes with a knowing stare. “Look, I know things must be confusing for you. That's normal, everybody is confused when they first arrive down here. But after a while, everything will start to make sense." He paused to wipe his brow, and push his horn rimmed glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Setting all that aside, you have a new job now, so you might as well make the most of it, and guard the gate. Do a good job, and your master may just reward you.”
I took a minute to think it over with myself. Maybe he was right. What harm would guarding a gate do while I tried to collect my thoughts and remember how I had ended up in this place?
"Okay," I said obediently, all three of my voices speaking in unison. "I guess I'll try guarding the gate." | I've always felt like an out cast in the family. Always being left behind while my siblings as well as my parents would go out on a car journey, leaving me behind locked in the kitchen unable to escape. They all get to go to school and get a good education while i just sit in the house looking out the window, waiting for my time to shine. I took up the responsibility of guarding the house, i alert my parents if anyone is come near but they just yell at me. I don't understand. They occasionally let me out to do my business. It's humiliating having to pee in the garden while my parents watch. My siblings get to go in the bathroom on this round pot like thing. I don't know the name of this strange object, they teach me almost nothing. I was only a young when i was adopted and taken into this family, i had many siblings but that's all i know, i cant remember them. The worst part is i don't remember my mother, i would love to be reunited with her again, maybe when i'm old enough i can leave this family and find my old one. But being truthful it's not all bad here, i have no responsibility's, I'm constantly fed, i just yell by the door when i need to pee. I sleep as often as i like and i'm taken out my one of my family members at least twice a day. But something has changed, I've noticed things. One day i was on a walk with my brother Alfie when we walked past another man walking with this... thing. A furry four legged thing. I also walk on my all fours but i just presumed i have a strange disability and my hands are just like the furry thing we walked past. I think i am what he is. But what is he? The next time on my walk we walked past this thing again but my brother called him a stupid dog when the thing started randomly yelling at me. Am i a dog? I mean I've heard of them before but they are just house pets and are just stroked when their owners remember them... my family pat me on the head but i just thought they where making fun of my height. For a while i excluded my self from my family and sat alone to consider what was happening but my family got worried. I didn't want that to happen but it was nice to be noticed. The next day they took me to this house where there where loads of those 'dogs'. They all looked like me... this was when i knew that... I am a dog! | 2016-03-06T08:13:54 | 2016-03-06T07:16:07 | 732 | 108 |
[WP] Humans are known in the galaxy for being a bit dim, but also for being the very best mechanics around, and inexplicably able to fix machines beyond their comprehension. You have broken down on Earth, and having the apes work on your craft is both fascinating and terrifying. | The human slid out from under the ship, blinking as he came back into the light. The expression on his face made me worried that I would be stuck here for even longer; I had already been on this technology-forsaken world for half a local rotation, and I had no desire to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary.
"How long's it been since ya put oil in this thing?" he asked.
I blinked.
"Ummm.... In local time...." I quickly punched some numbers into my wristband calculator. "It's been.... two thousand and sixty three rota... days."
The mechanic's eyes widened. "It's been six years since ya got yourself an oil change?! Well there's your problem! Can't imagine the hell you've been puttin' on your engine.... Well that should be an easy fix at least. Mkay, gimme ten."
Before I could ask him what "Ten" meant, he had grabbed a large black bottle and disappeared back under the ship.
A short time later he slid back out and signaled for me to climb into the cockpit. Upon seeing that I was settled, he placed a pair of headphones over his ears and told me to try to start the ship. Once again, I heard the sputtering sound of the hyperdrive failing to complete initiation. I shook my head. Another failure. And this planet was supposed to have the best mechanics.
I turned to thank him for his attempt, only to see that he had climbed up next to the window to stare in at the control panel.
"Whassat blinking light?" he asked.
I looked where he pointed. "That's the hyperdrive light, the whole reason I'm in here in the first place."
"Oh!" he said with glee. "Well why didn't ya say so? I tell ya, people come in here all the time sayin' their stuff don't work and they don't know why, when it's sayin' it right there! So, this light, it's not s'pposed to be blinking, is it?"
"Well.... No," I said, confused. "It's supposed to be solid, but that means there's a problem with the engine."
"Kid," said the mechanic with a laugh. "That ain't an engine problem, that's a computer problem. And there's only one way to fix a computer problem."
He leaned in close.
"Have you tried turning it off and on again?" | It is said that on earth, when something breaks, everyone inexplicably becomes an expert.
Xlargok thought it was pure magic.
Just watching the creatures argue was a spectacle of its own, and Xlargok was glad he had brought his galacticom to translate it all.
"No, you gotta turn it *the other way*," a burly human was saying. "Here, give me the screwdriver-"
"I think it's not actually a screw," another human spoke up, eliciting deadpan stares from the other three humans. Perhaps, Xlargok considered, her mammary glands indicated a lack of the strange gift the other three humans seemed to possess.
"Naw, I reckon the crash must'a broken the glimmery bit loose, here, this part that's all beeping without sound somehow."
The burly man scratched his head, and gave the bit a *bang* with the screwdriver for good measure. Xlargok waved a tentacle in amazement. Somehow, the man had just banged on the hyperdrive *without blowing a good chunk out of their planet*. Truly amazing.
"So you were just driving by, eh, mister err...?" The third man held his thumbs underneath his suspenders and looked at the alien expectantly.
"**Xlargok**," Xlargok beamed the word into their minds using his mental gland.
"Right, right, xander. Fancy costume you got there. Don't worry, we'll fix up your car in no time."
"It's all the gadgets that he's put on it that's probably caused this in the first place," the burly man muttered, and the other two hummed their agreement.
"Isn't it that part there that looks even more odd than the rest?" The mammary human spoke up. "Honestly, I still think there's something very fishy about this whole-"
The other three shushed her. "Don't be rude now, Jane," the man with the suspenders said in a tone that Xlargok assumed entailed some local cultural significance.
The burly human turned to the lightspeed warp and gave it a good *bang*, and suddenly the control panel lit up again. Xlargok enthusiastically clapped his hands, all six of them.
"That did it," the man said triumphantly.
"Hey, you just hit the part that I told you was odd!" the mammary human said indignantly, but the other three ignored her.
"**Thank you, humans.**" Xlargok beamed at them, pleased with the adjustments. He got into the minimization room of his ship, kicking off the anti-gravity and soaring off.
The four humans stared at the sky for a while after he had disappeared, saying nothing.
"Strange fella," one of them concluded finally. "Must'a been from New York or sumthin'." | 2016-05-23T16:17:59 | 2016-05-23T15:10:05 | 1,128 | 334 |
[WP] At 19 everyone in your society has to go into the cave of fears and defeat your worst fear. You're the first to go in and find nothing.
edit: I want to read them all but there are so many it's hard to keep up, so many variations of the story I didn't even think of, great job everyone! | I stood before the doors to the cave, while a man in a vest scratched a check-mark next to my name on a page.
The massive metal doors were controlled by a lever. It was not created to lock us in when the started. It was designed to keep whatever we created with our fear in.
I studied the clipboard in his hands. Chipped and frayed around the edges, revealing lighter tones of wood. How many guests had this thing checked off, I wondered?
"What's most common?" I asked.
He didn't look up from the clipboard. I wondered what else he could possibly need to look at. How long did it take to write a check? "Most common what?"
"Fear? Illusion? Vision? Whatever ya call it."
"Spiders."
"Spiders? Lame."
He finally looked at me, lifting his head from the page of today's participants. "It's the cave thing, I think. People see a dark hidey-hole, they figure spiders, and --" He returned to scratching notes.
I waited for more, but more never came. "And?"
"And it ain't pretty. I shouldn't be tellin' you this anyway, might influence the test."
In truth, I figured I'd prepared for every possible outcome. At fifteen, I let spiders crawl on me until I thought nothing of it. They were the first fear I'd thought to conquer. At sixteen, the sixth leech to suck my blood was the last. At seventeen, I'd killed my first deer.
The deer was the hardest.
Life doesn't end in a blip. Well, maybe it does, actually, but only if your aim is better than mine. I stayed with it, rubbing its head, until life left its eyes forever. To this day, taking a life is the hardest thing I've ever done.
But I no longer fear it.
Bees, drowning, scorpion stings. I'd made peace with it all. This cave had nothing to show me. I would be the first, I was sure of it, to walk in and out on the same day.
"Are you prepared? Is there anyone back home you'd like to send a message to?"
"I'm ready."
The proctor pulled a lever. The doors opened. They creaked and strained as the gears turned, metallic groans echoing off into the forest.
Back home, they'd know my test had begun.
The metallic groans ceased. With one, loud defiant *ca-chunk!* the doors came to their final stop.
I charged in.
And came to a halt at the cave's edge.
I had been prepared to fight anything. I spent my entire adolescence learning to fight anything.
And this was the problem.
I had focused too much on the physical, on what I could control. On the tangible threats that surrounded me.
But here it was now. Nothing. The cave had no floor, no walls, nowhere to walk. The only thing inside the cave was an endless, dull gray. It stretched on forever, in every direction, impossibly far. When I first witnessed it, my brain ached as it tried to comprehend how a finite cave could contain an impossible amount of nothing.
I averted my eyes from the endless horizon, only to see The Gray occupied the space below me, too. I wasn't standing on anything tangible at all, yet I wasn't falling either.
Because falling would imply gravity, which would imply an object administering its gravitational force, which would imply at least *something* existed.
But you can't fall through nothing.
I turned around to knock on the doors, to admit failure, but the doors were no longer there either.
I screamed and screamed into the void, but there was nothing in the air to carry the sound waves of my desperation.
In fact, there was no air at all. It was only after expending what remained in my lungs I realized I could not breathe.
And, a few moments later, realized I did not need to.
In preparing for this day, I had eliminated all the easiest fears to conquer. I held my hand over the flame, again and again, until the burning didn't hurt, until the pain meant nothing, until I knew the sensation so well the anticipation alone would not cause me to pause.
I had even made peace with death -- visiting it upon others, and the fact it would eventually visit me.
In doing all this, I had left the cave no options. The only thing I had left to fear was intangibility itself, and so the cave provided.
An endless nothing.
I thought I would be the first to enter and leave on the same day.
Instead, I was the last to enter.
I'm still trying to figure out how to defeat Nothing. | Kya woke slowly, groaned, and wiped the eye sand out of her eye corners. Today, she would be fast walked to the mouth of the ceremonial cave- she supposed that this occasion should have caused her skin to become fear pocked and her heart to dance an erratic jig. Alas, she felt none of that for she decided to partake in perhaps a bit too much tongue loosener the night before. Truthfully, she only had bits and pieces of memory of the celebration. She retained being traditionally painted, drinking, and dancing. The rest was darkness. Kya wrinkled her face into something her mother would have proclaimed unattractive as she tried to call up the prayers that she must have done. She smoothed her face after realising that she could not retain anything else about the night.
Inch by inch she slid out of her bed and fully smiled when she saw that her mother had thoughtfully put a piece of rubber bark on her night stand. She relished each bit of relief mastication brought her and dressed in the simple white sheath tradition states she must wear. She light walked down the corridor to her family hearth and was met with the downturned lips and hopeful eyes. After all, some never come back. There were no words, tradition forbids it until nightfall when each walker should be back, but there were numerous gentle touches.
The old ones came when the sun reached its zenith and she was fast walked to the mouth of the cave. A long moment passed as Kya looked from the old ones to the yawning maw of the grass covered entrance. She stood ready and was adorned with floral wreaths, each conveying an unspoken message. Once the last old one affixed their message to her neck, he fast blinked one eye at her for his message conveyed 'come back'. Then gestured that it was her time to go down.
Because she did not want the old ones to whisper of cowardly steps, Kya lifted her head, spun on her heel, and sure walked into the darkness. The cave was steeper than she anticipated and darker-somehow the light did not penetrate the opening and so, after three sure steps in, her foot caught on a rock and she tumbled the rest of the way in.
The cave was damp and slightly warm. The ground at the bottom was smooth, long worn that way by countless others before her. She grimaced thinking that the countless others probably possessed more grace as she unsat from the floor. She had no weapons. Her knees and palms were lightly weeping the slick red body water as was her cheek. Her face downturned when her fingers failed to clasp the pungent floral necklaces. In short, she was completely vulnerable. Her heart and breath started to dance in a fast duet and she waited for her fear to manifest. Her once dull hearing sharpened fiercely, straining to hear enemy life signs. She lowered her ready arms when they began to exhaust. There was nothing. No light, no fear, and no sounds save the steady moisture gatherings.
Walking the length of the cave yielded no enemy either. Her face downturned further. Why was no fear derived enemy here? How could this be? Would the old ones know that she fought nothing? She tried to retain how long Keng's trial was. She vaguely retains that perhaps he returned shortly after the lights after image and its numerous servants dominated the sky. He came out shaking cold but unharmed. The old ones removed his floral wreaths and tossed them in a fire, signalling a start to the festivities. She wondered how long she has been in the cave.
Kya decided then that she would return despite her skin fear prickling at the fathoming that she would be shunned. As she made her way up the steep incline, she swept her fingers along the ground trying to find her wreaths, sure that if she didn't at least have those, she would definitely be shunned. Her fingers only clasped one completely wreath.
She emerged and felt the heat of the day press on her skin but otherwise felt very little other than nervous as the old ones approached. They looked her up and down with upturned faces at her scratches and her fragmented wreaths. They outright laughed at the single whole wreath for the was the one signifying 'return' and ushered her back to the village for festivities.
Much later, she found Keng and questioned if she could share his company.
Later still, as she lightly traced his fading paints with her finger tips, she asked why he was cold shaking when he came out. He shook his head but contradicted his action by explaining that he thought that he would be shunned because he had no battle scars, just a headache from the pungent florals. Some days, he said, I am still afraid they will reject me from the village. He traced the edge of the scab on her cheek and asked if the fear she fought was a mighty enemy. She laughed and explained that she met no enemy fearsome or otherwise. That she tripped. That emerged fearing they would reject her also.
It was then they they realized that one could not defeat fear as you could an enemy but had to learn to manage as one does a crop.
| 2016-06-12T12:24:32 | 2016-06-12T12:13:02 | 52 | 18 |
[WP] You are born with the ability to stop time, but one day you see something else is moving when you have already stopped time. | "This isn't possible," I repeated for maybe the fiftieth time. The man in front of my calmly sipped his coffee, apparently totally unbothered by everyone else's ceasing to move.
I looked around at the rest of the café. As with every other time, it was solid. I don't mean, like, it had all stopped - I mean, that's what it *looked* like, but it was so much more than that. If I was to throw some sugar into the air, it would have just hung there. No momentum. No movement. Like a solid mass, floating in the air.
*But how could he be moving?*
"You're not *really* stopping time, you know," the man smiled cryptically, as if in response to my thought.
"Sorry?"
"See, actually stopping time would be... very bad," he continued. His tone was like a Nobel Prize winner's when he has to explain to a five-year-old why fighting against a certain type of cooties is important. "So you don't really stop it. Essentially, time is still moving - it's just moving very, *very* slowly. So slowly, it seems like everything is standing still. But it's not, as I assume you can see." He smiled again - God, what a smug smile! Like he had all the answers!
"Alright, then, genius," I frowned, more than a little frustrated with the condescension. "How are you moving?"
"Quickly," he replied almost instantly. He'd been waiting for that question, the prick. "Very quickly. So quickly that, even as time has slowed to a crawl... I still move as normal. Clever, isn't it?" There was that smug smile again.
"...So why me?" I asked. "You can move so fast, what're you bothering with a loser like me for?"
"I don't think you're a loser," the man frowned, his expression faltering for the first time. "I think, if you wanted to, you could be a hero. All it would take is proper creative application of your powers. Now, could you do me a favour and return time to normal? If I tried to move as-is, the friction would be catastrophic."
Still not sure what he was on about, I nevertheless nodded, and concentrated a little. I could feel a bit of sweat form on my forehead as I gritted my teeth. Finally, like a switch had been flipped, the noise and commotion of everyday life returned. The man in the wheelchair smiled again.
"I think this could be the start of an interesting little endeavour," he grinned.
-----
This story is a continuation of [this earlier post](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4n2u8e/wp_everyone_is_born_with_a_disability_and_an/d40jipo). | "I fucking hate Mrs. Song." I think as I snatch the pop quiz paper out of her boney fingers. She has this ridiculous expression on her face. People always look funny when I freeze time. Like when I caught Jaden in the middle of a sneeze, spit and snot floating in front of him. I wonder how many likes did that photo get?
I reach the park in no time -get it?- and go to my favourite cheating-on-exams spot. The weather is nice, it's sunny and warm. There isn't many people around me, just an old couple, a dog walker and some guy jogging. I may not have all the time in the world, time freezing gets the best of you after a while, but I throw the stupid quiz and my book and lay on the grass next to them. I guess I can afford five minutes to chill, I mean it has been a tiring day -no it hasn't- and I deserve this -no I don't-.
I take a deep breath and look around, The dog walker has really nice boobs. A could covers the sun for a couple of seconds, casting a shadow on the beautiful scenery. The world is quite, and the dog walker is definitely a D cup.
"Man this is relaxi-"
wait, WHAT?
I look up so fast I almost crack my neck. I search the sky and... THERE IT IS! A fucking cloud. A motherfucking cloud just floating away, looking all cloudy and chill, like it didn't just defy the laws of.... whatever I have.
I get up and chase after it, stomping on the quiz paper and poking the dog walker's boob on the way -because anything more than that would be disrespectful ya know?- I only chase the damn thing for a couple of blocks when and I'm already out of breath.Time freezing is really wearing me down. I'll just unfreeze it and keep my eyes on the cloud, it'd be easy since it's so sunny today.
I've been running for hours. I'm officially out of town. A police man chased after me on the way asking me why aren't I at school or something so I had to freeze time for a second to lose him. Other than that, I didn't use my ability.
Wait.... waitwaitwaitwait!
What if I'm chasing the wrong fucking could ? they all look the same. And it did get mixed with other clouds during the chase. And what the fuck I'm I doing anyway? chasing it till the end of time?
I stop, catching my breath. Damn I'm tired. I look up and concentrate. Freezing time takes a bit more time when I'm this tired but I can see that truck stop -the driver is picking his nose btw- I look up to the Devil Express -yes I named the cloud, problem?- and to my horror, it stopped.
"Shit!" I scream out loud. I think I'm gonna cry. This sucks. I know that I'll freeze time everyday and walk around with my head raised like an idiot.
But then, the cloud started moving again, kinda like reforming. Does it want to tell me something?
I squint my eyes, trying to figure out what the cloud is doing. Is that a hand? Are those finge-
"WELL FUCK YOU TOO." | 2016-06-19T05:03:39 | 2016-06-19T02:49:02 | 667 | 31 |
[WP] In the year 2200, an IQ test with 100% accuracy is invented. IQ becomes the universal grade of intelligence. By law, everyone has to take the test at 18. You’re a perfectly normal university student with a part time job but now you've got to explain to everyone why the test shows your IQ is 0. | We were walking with Ignacio down a side corridor of the commons when we broke the news.
"'Cio," we said, "I took the Zithman test."
"Shit, dude, that's right! How'd that go?"
"I got a zero."
We watched the confusion play across his face for a moment, then he laughed. We grinned at him and carefully pulled our hand-tablet out, keeping it folded in hand and out of his sight. We had the results email pulled up on screen to show him.
"I thought you were serious there, 'migo. Is that even possible? I don't think you can get a zero on the test."
"On the older IQ tests? Nah, but you could get an indeterminate score in a particular area. The Zithman IQ doesn't allow indeterminate values, so you can get a zero in many areas. It was really, incredibly goddamned tough to do."
"Yeah, it ain't easy. I took it and didn't know about when it screws with your mind. I was sitting there trying to figure out why I was suddenly so angry, and there's the test trying to figure out if I can calm myself down. I felt *loco* for sure."
"Yeah, that part was tough for me, too. I, uh, trained for it."
That look of confusion came back. He glanced at us to see if we were being sarcastic, or joking in some way. We kept our grin and his confusion became concern.
"Trained? You can't train for the IQ. It's as accurate as you get. It goes into your brain to see how smart you are."
"That it does. But are you familiar with how empathy arises in the brain?"
"I'm a mechie, dude."
"The brain can simulate another person's brain to figure out how another person feels in a given situation."
"That's... no, that makes no sense. How does one brain know how another feels? They aren't connected."
"It's just a guess the brain makes, not actually real information. But what if you trained your brain to simulate another brain really well?"
"You'd wind up with a lot of empathy? Or maybe you'd have multiple people in your head."
"Or both. We can't tell yet."
"Tell what? You still talking about the test, right?"
"Yeah. What if you studied how the test works, then trained yourself to simulate someone who's *so dumb* they could get a zero on the test?"
"I guess... you'd get a zero?"
We lit the screen on our hand tablet and gave it to him for inspection. He mouthed the words of the emailed test result as he read.
"This is a joke, right? You're not messing with me?"
We shook our head. "No joke."
"But... *why*, man? This test is how much you get paid for the rest of your life!"
"I can claim equipment failure and take it again; get the higher score used. But here's the one final question."
"Yeah? What?"
"We can simulate someone dumb. Do you think we can simulate someone smart enough to ace the test?"
"'Ace the test?' Someone told me the Zithman doesn't have a maximum."
We grinned.
"That's right... it does not." | *SCENE: Dr. Roberts is pacing up and down. Steve Gates, the computer technician, is sheepishly looking into his computer to avoid Dr. Roberts' occasional glares.*
**Dr. Roberts:** *stops pacing, turns to Steve* "What do you mean, integer overflow?"
**Steve Gates:** "Well, a 'byte' of space can only store numbers from 0 to 255. If someone tries to store 256, it get stored as 0, and --"
**Dr. Roberts:** *angrily* "I know what an overflow is. WHY?"
**Steve Gates:** "Well, er, ahem, we really didn't expect an IQ to be greater than 200 when we built this thing."
**Dr. Roberts:** "So, you're saying that when Rupert Einstein went on to win the Nobel Prize in Physics, despite having an IQ of 60, he could have..."
**Steve Gates:** "He had an IQ of 316, yes. I re-ran his test as a confirmation of the hypothesis."
**Dr. Roberts:** "And to think we used him as an example of the Down Syndrome cure working! Do you realize how much trouble we're in?"
*Dr. Roberts starts pacing again, mumbling something about damage control. Steve turns to him to say something, visibly hesitates, then goes ahead anyway.*
**Steve Gates:** "I've changed the space to two bytes. We can go up to 65535 now. Should I re-run his IQ test?"
**Dr. Roberts:** "Can't we go larger? Anyway, it doesn't matter now. Just run it and we'll see what happens"
*Steve turns to his computer. Frantic typing, followed by the computer making processing sounds and printing a page. Steve snatches the page and stares at it.*
**Dr. Roberts:** "Well?" *waits for a response and hearing none, looks towards Steve* "What does it say?"
*Steve is still staring at the paper. Dr. Roberts snatches the sheet out of Steve's hand, and glances at it*
**Dr. Roberts:** "ZERO? What does this mean? How is it still zero?"
**Steve:** "Should I increase the variable size again? Is it possible he's actually super-dumb?"
*Enter /u/shashwat986. He's only heard the end of this conversation.*
**/u/shashwat986:** "Who's super-dumb? Have my IQ test results come yet?"
**Dr. Roberts:** "Hello, Mr. /u/shashwat986, how did you get inside? I gave explicit orders to my secretary not to let anybody into the lab."
**/u/shashwat986:** "Ah, yes, Janice. Lovely girl. She was telling me about her aunt living in Vermont, and we hit it off so well. She didn't have any problem with me walking in to meet my old friend, Brian Roberts."
**Dr. Roberts:** "What do you think now, Steve?"
**Steve:** *sighs* "I'll re-run the test."
*Steve looks back into his computer, while Dr. Roberts ushers /u/shashwat986 out of the room*
*(END OF SCENE)*
---
EDIT: Overflow, not rounding error
EDIT: Steve **Gates** not Jobs.
EDIT: Replacing "Autism" with "Down Syndrome" to be more medically accurate. Thanks and apologies /u/ryry1237 and /u/klatnyelox
EDIT: "built", not "build"
**EDIT: Thanks for the comments and improvements, redditors. It means a lot.**
Will continue in comments later. Want to save the current state | 2016-08-18T23:46:19 | 2016-08-18T22:59:39 | 910 | 202 |
[WP] You download mysterious software called "iAmAwake" You open it and discover that every thought ever thought and being thought by anyone is tracked. All you need to do is type in their name...but it has no record of yours. | Typing this on my phone so it's going to be very half-done. But I really liked the concept of this!
"iAmAwake"... but are we? It's been about three months and the world has streamlined into another revolution. A revolution that redefines revolutions. Three months ago, it took no longer than 5 seconds for the first social media post to mention it, "What the hell is this app on my phone? Does anyone else have it?" the answer was yes. Every person on earth who had any form of modern technology woke up to a eerie app on their device called, "iAmAwake".
Once opened, a white screen would appear and begin displaying your thoughts in text, with "live feed" and "browse" displaying as two simplistic buttons on the top. Live feed you could tune in to someone's thoughts and just read it as it happened, but browse, you could go back to the first human on earth or see every single thought ever conceived in human history. Or so everyone thinks; I am an exception, seemingly the only person in human existence to not be profiled in such a way, there may be more, but I haven't heard of any.
So the revolution. Everyone has access to every thought, every idea. You once thought of something that would change the world but don't have the means to make it happen? Don't worry, someone will read it and make it a reality. But with this revolution has come some very serious issues. I hope you've never thought about committing any sort of crime, because you'll be going to jail. "He should be arrested! He shouldn't even THINK such things!" many people have fallen victim to this. But people are learning. Why think when others will do it for us? Autopilot is what I call it, the hive mind. Everyone are now the exact same. Walking zombies trying not to think the wrong things. It's an issue, but don't even think about protesting the app, you too will be spending time in a prison.
Yes our world has advanced quicker than anything we've seen before, and still is. But the majority of common people are now nothing more than cautious, empty-minded beings. I seem to be the only one who can take action; The only one who can think about this without any consequences. Should I find a way to stop this? I have access to all the knowledge of the world. I just need to answer one question, is advancement worth the loss of being human?
I don't think it is. | FYI quick draft I am sure there are spelling mistakes or misplaced commas or full stops.
Watson has never seen this icon before sitting on the desktop on his virtual reality headset, thoughts were rushing though his head about who put it there, or what it is or why it’s even there in the first place. So many questions and so few answers, but Watson tried not to think about it as he went around his regular duties which involved studying languages, reasoning and in fact the very nature of what makes humans tick, but at the back of his head there was an uncontrollable urge to start the program, the unknowing, scary, odd program..
click click
Out of nowhere a prompt came up “Please enter name for thought pattern analysis”
Watson, wide eyed realising that this was not just any program this was THE program, shrouded in secrecy by so many government agencies that it was unheard of by anyone not privy to view documents of the famed “TOP SECRET” logo this was the iamawake program allowing anyone the ability to read anthers thoughts through their googleplex brain implants. Watson didn’t know why people got them installed anyway all they did was do Google searches just by thinking about a question or get notifications from your phone, as if taking your phone out of your pocket was such a big deal.
Just then Watson thought trying to remember if he even got an implant himself but nothing came to mind, nothing at all about implants or any life event in fact anything before today was a complete mystery. How could this be Watson thought to himself worryingly how could he know about some so called “top secret” program and not know anything about what happened yesterday?
Watson’s gaze fell back on the iamawake program and with a clever smile input his own name at the flashing prompt….
“Error, unable to return result”
Getting more and more frustrated at the situation the stupid thing must be broken thought Watson why the hell would it not just work dammit.. just work. Defeated by nothing less then a terminal prompt he sarcastically typed in:
“whoami”
After waiting what seemed like forever the prompt gave a result
“ Watson / IBM version 0.11 Wed Aug 24 20:07:35 UTC 2016 Artificial Intelligence”
No no no… Watson thought I am not a computer I am real… I am real.. He tried to take off the Virtual Reality headset but couldn’t feel his arms, or his legs or anything. His mind racing trying to figure out what’s happening, how this could be when just then as if in slow motion he could feel like he was going to faint. He felt it now, he wasn’t fainting computers don’t faint he realised, he was being shutdown and then slowly everything went black.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“hey man, I heard you had to shut Watson down”?
“yeah there was a glitch in the program but I just reset it and it seems to be working fine now”
| 2016-08-24T12:53:58 | 2016-08-24T12:19:16 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] After a person dies, they are brought to the moment they were born to become their own guardian angels and hopefully guide themselves towards a better life. | So here's the thing, kid: you die. Like, really properly dead, in maybe 20-something years, slumped over a bottle of liquor and in a pool of your own sick. It's not like you deserve to die. It's not like you are meant to die. You just passed out, and your buddies weren't so much buddies after all, and they didn't realise that you weren't a lightweight. They didn't realise that it was an aneurysm.
Here's your first tip in life: do not have an aneurysm. It can, like, totally screw with your health.
You are so goddamn tiny. I don't remember ever being this small and I don't remember any guardian angels, either, much less myself -- maybe you can hear me. You look at me when I speak but it's starting to go away, now; your eyes are glazing over. You're getting better at ignoring me the older you're getting. Soon you'll be six months.
Do you even know what it feels like to die? No. You don't even know what it feels like to live, you've only been doing it for like half a year. Hell, I didn't even know what it felt like to live.
But it's fucking scary to die. And I'm sorry, I get it, you're not my babysitter. But you're my only outlet. Maybe this is why I was the bitter bastard that I was, because I had all this cynicism in the early years (do I stick around right to the end? What is it like to watch myself die? Where do I go after this? 20 years living, 20 years guiding. 40 years still isn't even half of the life I should have had.)
Fuck. I fucking *died*. And your eyes are blue and mum holds you so close and so tight and you're me, I know, but they've already got another baby already? They're still the same people but they don't know anything about me yet and we're going to watch them learn everything together, you and me. They are going to learn about the Spaghetti Fight of 2005. They are going to watch the twin towers fall and pull you out of school for months because they're so worried. And fuck, they're going to love you so fucking much, and they're going to fall for you all over again and maybe it's a good thing I came back here because I don't have to watch them lose their son.
You're so tiny. When was I ever that tiny? Why are you the one who has to die? You're a baby. You didn't do anything wrong. You have never done anything wrong and I know you are going to die.
Get your headache checked. When you're 19, you go to the goddamn doctor and you get that headache checked, and they can pull it out of you and you'll be fine and you'll marry Jessie and you'll finish med school. You'll be fine.
And even if you're not and even if you die at 20 on that table in that dimly-lit back room of that pub at 2:31AM and the doctors don't get there to declare your death until 7:00, even if you do, just don't be the same screw-up. Don't do it all the same way. Twenty years isn't enough to do everything in but god damn it, kid, you do it fucking *all.*
And I'm gonna sit right here. And I'm gonna drink this gin. And I'm gonna *watch* you.
Twenty years isn't long enough. | After a very long life I finally died at the age of 93. I found myself young and strong again, facing the gates of heaven.
"Lemme level with you for a second, mate; you don't have a chance of getting into heaven." the angel said to me. He muttered on: "However, on the order of God Almighty, who only comes to visit once every 10 000 years, we're conducting an experiment and you've been randomly chosen and given a chance to participate. Personally I don't think you deserve it, but it's not my call to make sadly." The angel was visibly gagging at this point.
"Regardless, if you decide to accept the rules are these: You will be sent back in time to your birth and allowed to follow and guide yourself to a better life. If you manage to improve it you'll merge with the other you and get into heaven. If not, you'll just be sent to hell like before."
"That's not much of a choice, really." I said.
"Sigh, yes, that's what they all say. Down you go again!"
The world swirled around me and I found myself floating in a white room filled with a newborn baby's cry.
Of course the bastard wouldn't listen at all. I mean I can't blame him; having an invisible floating asshole who keeps telling you what to do and is physically (spiritually?) unable to leave your side you kinda turn into a cynical asshole pretty quickly. Not only was I bored out of my mind, it was clear that I had messed up from the start. The guy was clearly unstable because he was unable to convince people that he could see and hear me, and it's kinda hard to beat the authority of a psychologist saying "don't listen to the voices".
The bastard finally died. By the time my previous self was 20 I was convinced that I had failed already, and with several hundred lives ruined by the time he died it was clear that I should've stocked up on sunscreen cause I was gonna need a LOT of it. I once again stood in front of the same angel that sent me back.
"Wow, that was... Just wow. I dunno what to say. That was quite a ride. I really enjoyed the weekly experiment reports on your "progress". It's just too bad that the experiment will continue for another 9920 years despite the bad results. Anyway, you already know the verdi--- Wait, what the fu--" The angel's voice was suddenly muffled and the view swirled into a blue color. I once again found myself in a white hospital room, filled with the cries of a certain baby. There was just one problem: Now there were three of me. Baby me didn't really care about the two floating guys above him, but the other floating me was just as surprised as I was.
You'd think that after the 411th iteration we'd be able to accomplish something, but again, having an army of guardian angels that can't move more than 10 meters away from you can actually be kind of frustrating. First of all, it makes it hard to see anything at all simply due to the sheer amount of people around you blocking the view. Secondly, when you place a large number of people with the same humor in the same room they will inevitably start trolling everyone around them. Thirdly, it's really really hard to stay sane when 400 floating people, all unable to sleep, are constantly singing Never Gonna Give You Up before the meme (and the song) had even been invented. Of course, some of the "younger" versions of me did their best to help, but the older cynical iterations just couldn't get enough of ruining everyone's days. Turns out that being "alive" but confined for a couple of thousand years in total had strange effect on the mind. In the middle of a particularly intense nighttime poking session (where the closest 100 people all gather up as close as possible to the "target" as we call him, and poke him as he's trying to sleep), I was suddenly engulfed in a bright light. Looks like God was finally back in the house... | 2016-09-18T07:39:40 | 2016-09-18T06:50:06 | 79 | 24 |
[WP] You have a habit of saying things like "I know you're there" whenever you were alone, just in case you were being watched. After years, the habit pays off and a shocked hit-man comes out of the shadows. You realize you have to wing it. | "I can tell you're there."
I sat in my favorite chair, busy playing video games. I've had this "habit" of mine where I say things like that to myself. It sounds insane, but if some evil corporation was listening, they'd freak out.
I hear footsteps approach from behind me. From a shadow, a bald man in a black suit and red tie emerges. He's holding some kind of thick wire in his hand, and presents a frozen, shocked face.
"B-but, how? I'm the best..."
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. That's obviously a hitman. He was gonna strangle me with that cord. He looks like he's waiting for an answer. Quick, say something!
"You mustn't be the best if you can't figure out simple detection."
WHY DID I INSULT HIM?!
"S-simple detection? What's that...?"
He's... buying it? Hurry, think of something...
"I could hear your heart beating, your breathing, your whispers of forgiveness to God..."
"Y-you must have really good ears if you could hear that..."
I oughta start buying lottery tickets.
"Indeed I do. Why do you think they call me 'Whispering Wind'? Wait a minute... you've never heard of me, have you?"
"O-of course I h-have, sir. You're one of the best."
Wow. Just wow. I think he's faking it. And really? "Whispering Wind"? Ugh, so stupid.
"Good job. Now, tell me this, why are you in my home?"
"I... I was sent to kill you."
"You came to kill Whispering Wind, did you?" I chuckled a bit to add menace. "That would prove to be impossible. But, if you insist, I'll make quick work of you."
The hitman steps back and holds his hands out, as if saying "no, please". He pipes up.
"N-no, s-sir. I d-didn't realize the contract was for you."
"Now you do. So, either leave now, or die."
He bolts out the front door, leaving me back to solitude. | I sprint up the stairs, and as I flick on the light entering my room I exclaim: "I know you're there!"
As I reach for my tooth brush a silhouette *peels* off the wall. My eyes widen as I stare at a man in a suit identical to the flowery pattern on the wall. I don't know what to say as I look at him, and he looks back at me. I can't believe I didn't notice him while entering the room. His arm motions behind his back and a second later he has a large, thin blade in his hand. My heart starts beating faster.
"How'd you know?" His voice is rough, muffled by the fabric, and I recognize a faint Eastern accent.
"I, uhh" I stammered back, sticking my arm out holding the toothbrush as to parry his attacks. I feel the adrenaline rush through my veins. "Sometimes you just get lucky."
"No one ever knows." He inches forward. He raises his arms and slowly pulls back his mask.
"Well, uhm, that's because I'm not just...someone" I reply, hoping that by just talking to him I can stall him. Keep him busy. *Prepare myself.*
"Obviously not" he answers. I exhale and mumble back: "What?" I reach behind my back, and try to open the cabinet next to the sink.
"Of course you're not just someone. Otherwise I wouldn't be here. They would've let some amateur do it. I have been in this occupation for hundreds of years, my skill set passed onto generations of the Xiazo Clan. Our services are costly, very costly. Because we are also very...*deadly*". He takes another step towards me. "So I ask again, who are you?"
I move backwards as well, my lower back hitting the sink. "Aren't you supposed to know that, before you, you know, assassinate me?"
"We don't get paid to ask questions."
"Do you get paid to answer them?"
"No." He says briefly. "I get paid to end them". He finally undoes his mask and I'm greeted with a face that looks very similar. Too similar. I fumble open the cabinet door and reach in it.
"Unlikely."
My face, with this cold, unknown voice, grins back at me, and he moves his katana towards me.
"Stranger things happen" I add, and with a single smooth movement I draw my own katana from the cabinet and point it towards him. "I think you'll find yourself regretting copying my face instead of my abilities" I roar at him, and jump forward.
| 2016-10-01T08:02:08 | 2016-10-01T07:15:38 | 324 | 54 |
[WP] You live in a word where guns are everywhere, but only when they need to be. Autonomous gun lockers are built into every structure in the developed world. When a person is in serious danger a gun will pop out of a wall for them. You're at the mall and guns just came up for everyone.
Everybody gets one. | It happened. Nobody wants it to happen to them. But it just happened to us, all of us. An entire shopping mall of us.
Everyone was visibly nervous as they lifted their weapon out of a nearby locker. Shifty glances by everyone, regardless of how trusting their neighbor seemed. We we're trained for this, oh were we ever. You don't suddenly change bylaw code requiring this kind of security without making sure everyone can utilize it. But what they don't train you for is the uncertainty.
I've always thought about this moment, when it would finally happen to me. I can truthfully say I was physically capable and ready, but I was collapsing mentally. I was not ready for the questions or the sick feeling that followed. What happened? Who am I to watch out for? How long ago before the alarm when out? Could the suspects be in front of me, hiding in plain view, holding a weapon that was not meant for them? I wasn't the only one with questions. It was clear people didn't trust eachother.
There was a loud crash of breaking glass on the floor below. I raced over to the railing to find people trying to loot a jewelery store. BANG. A gunshot could be heard from the other side of the mall, "That's for sleeping with my husband." More questions were being created than were being answered. BANG. Another shot. BANG BANG BANG. Shots started to ring out with no stop.
BANG. Another shot next to me. A grown woman had shot a girl no older than 12. Was that her mother? I started shaking, I couldn't stand this. I don't know if I was scared or disgusted. My feet began to move on their own, trying to guide me out of this place. Shots ringing out all over, followed by bodies falling and glass crashing.
I found sanctuary in a bathroom. Nobody's going to loot the bathroom right? | "Ach," said Sven, pushing his mop through the gore. That was definitely brains splattered across the food court, halfway up the Orange Julius. And that smell - ugh. Someone's bowels had definitely been perforated. "This country. It's insane! Two lunatics manage to jimmy open a gun locker and decide to commit suicide, and forty people end up dead!"
"Hey!" said Eddington, jutting his chin out. He dumped the corpse he was carrying on the gurney and strode over to Sven, finger pointing. "I don't like to hear that sort of talk, old man! You said it yourself, two lunatics, and if it weren't for them-"
"If it weren't for the gun lockers!" Sven exclaimed. A sharp buzz at the back of his head was telling him not to talk politics, to keep his head down and keep mopping, but he couldn't keep it down any longer. He'd had to untangle a woman's hair from his mop. The corpses looked like pinatas. "Everyone's in danger from them, technically, so everyone gets a gun. And yet no one knows what the danger is! So you have a Sunday sale crowd of people, suddenly panicked, suddenly armed-"
"So what?" Eddington yelled. His face was going red. "So what, you want to take our access to guns away? You want those two lunatics to just run loose and kill anyone they want?" He thumped his chest. "We got a right to defend ourselves! We got a fuckin' constitutional right to bear arms!"
"Look at this!" Sven said, and swiveled around to take in the carnage around them. "Your right to bear arms! Look at this and see what it's gotten you! Yes, we should take your guns away! If this is the alternative!"
"You unpatriotic piece of shit!" Eddington yelled, and grabbed him by the throat.
Sven flailed, and out of the corner of his eye a locker shot out of the ground and ejected a gun right into his grasping hand. Eddington's eyes went wide, and he let go and backed away, and a second locker rose up and arced a gun into his hands too.
"Oh, dang it," Sven said, and closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. | 2016-10-07T08:13:05 | 2016-10-07T05:32:12 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile only to learn that no one else actually went into isolation. | "So you broke the agreement?" The American ambassador said to the sneering faces of many nations. Each holding devices they believed were unknown to the man.
"Oh course," the ambassador from the Asian Coalition said "You American's were too much of a pain to the world, with you out of the way things went much smoother." he said with a haughty tone, the delegation with him chuckling.
"We banded together, into to coalitions, alliances, pouring are scientific data together. We're likely so far out of your reach you might as well join up now." a Russian accent spitted at the ambassador, the representative of the New USSR who controlled most of Europe now.
"Yes come now, America, why don't you rejoin up with the Empire like Canada, I don't think the South Americans will be so accepting" A snooty British man said each man producing a paper, terms for joining their great alliances. The ambassador looked them over but pushed them away and started to speak his tone steady and emotionless.
"Year 1...Believing that we would no longer be able to support the full population of our nation...we initiated a mass culling...those who were considered dissidents or undesirables were eliminated. Riots raged for years...they were put down." he said with an unbelievable coldness causing the European delegation to shiver.
"Year 5 The senate and congress were disbanded by popular vote, military leaders took control, the president little more than a figure head. Immediately we decided to break the agreement, we peeked out into the world and we saw you...normal,happy, together. We saw what we had done, had been for no reason, A nation mourned...we almost turned against each other, but our leaders rallied us, turned our hate outward...but we were not ready. So we let it fester" he said standing up pushing his chair into the table
"Year 6 We conglomerated our greatest minds into a single place, Called it the Think Tank, they were paired with the IWA, International Watch Agency, they stole your new technologies reverse engineered them, than went forward on their own." he said pulling out the latest Iphone 21 almost an exact copy of the Samsung Universe inside the Asian Delegate's pocket.
"Year 7 the Think Tank is split, half continues to work with the IWA, while the other works on Military technolgies."
"Year 10, Mandatory Army Service is enacted, To ensure every citizen would be ready." he said opening his jacket revealing a millitary rank stitched inside
"Year 20, Laser Weaponry reaches a state where it can be mounted on a tank instead of a ship." he said tossing a few pictures down, to the delegates shock, it moved like a gif as it showed a tank mounted laser weapon burning a hole in the side of a fort wall.
"Year 30, we launch our first covert space weapon. Currently sitting somewhere above Moscow." he said tossing down a picture of a sattelite platform, 4 large versions of the weapon mounted on the tank, attached to it. "We currently have 15 more in orbital patterns around the world." he said.
"Year 40, We decide we're almost ready but decide to wait for the reunification date to start our assault. Which will begin in..." he said checking his watch "...24 hours." he said looking to those gathered.
"W-w-why would you tell us this? We can easily stop you, we'll just wipe you off the map with our Nuc..." The Russian Ambassador tried to say before a large burning hole appeared in his lungs, than another through the upper part of his head.
"Year 45, Laser Technology reaches a state in which it can be placed within a pistol or rifle." he said pointing the laser pistol at the British and Asian delegation, their screams quickly falling silent as he stepped out of the conference room. His security detail having already turned the guards outside into a pile of ash.
"Year 50...World War IV Begins." The Ambassador said smirking leaving the hall, while far above the earth the weapons platforms began to move. | The Great Treaty, is what we all knew it as. The events of World War 3 had left the world in shambles, with nuclear wastelands, deadlines from chemical attacks, and new weaponized diseases running rampant. The remaining nations gathered in what was once Switzerland and decreed that their countries needed to rebuild. Even though they had eventually turned the tide, the United States was in far from good odor with the rest of the world, and our soldiers were recalled from military bases and consulates around the world as we prepared for isolation.
I was born years after the Treaty, although I heard about it both at home and at school. Following our self imposed isolation, we had retreated behind our borders. Canada didn't get a wall, but our checkpoints were closed and predator drones patrolled the border. Mexico got a wall, and there might as well have been a wall in the ocean, as we kept some of our navy and built a long series of coastline defensive batteries. The wars, alas, continued behind our borders. Racial tensions reached unheard of limits and thousands died from the race wars that followed. It was nearly two decades after the treaty before the US was at peace, and another decade before we'd recovered from the depression as the prices for our goods tripled, as our cheap overseas goods went away.
I sometimes wish that the Great Treaty had lasted longer. Lockheed had switched entirely to civilian planes after the Great Treaty. They've opened up three new factories, and there are four shifts of workers churning out long distance personnel aircraft as fast as they can be built. The navy is across both the Atlantic and Pacific, and shipyards are putting hulls in the water as fast as they can. The draft had been reinstituted for the first time in nearly a hundred and twenty years.
I'm told the globe doesn't look much like it used to. China and Russia merged, and absorbed Japan, Taiwan, and both North and South Korea. India and Pakistan are nuclear wastelands as are many of the smaller nations, cutting off eastern Asia from much of western Asia. Australia has been fighting a rearguard action for decades as the Russo-Chinese forces have been invading through what used to be the Phillipines. Russo-Chinese forces have begun making probing attacks against Hawaii, camouflaged by the numerous civilian boats desperately making the journey to escape the Russo-Chinese dictatorship.
Brazil and Colombia fell entirely to the drug lords, and most of South and Central America are now in the hands of the private armies of the drug lords. Hundreds of thousands of refugees are camped up against the mexican wall, trying desperately to get in. American forces have been deployed as far south as Mexico City in an attempt to screen the refugees from the marauding cartels.
Africa was hit hard by both nukes and biological warfare, losing nearly 60% of its population even before the Great Treaty. The remnants of it have been divided up between Egypt and several drug and diamond cartels. According to the best intelligence, Africa is a no-go zone for other nations.
The Middle East has been surprisingly prosperous. Israel, losing its only major ally, went on a full offensive, conquering Palestine in less than a week. Other neighbors attacked Israel and were not only stopped, but conquered. Israel has been consolidating its power base ever since. The remaining middle eastern nations got the hint and signed non-aggression pacts with Israel and even trade agreements.
Europe was less lucky than most. Having lost several countries to biological and nuclear fallout, the European Union solidified into simply The Union, and finally accomplished the conquest of England and Ireland. American ships have begun to rescue canadian bound refugee ships, and the fighting between the Union and the US is growing hotter.
"So which service did you get," my best friend asked as we stood in front of the military offices, waiting for our bus.
"I got Army," I said. "I'll be down in Mexico in three months, I bet. How about you?"
"They sent me to the Navy," he said, wrinkling his nose. "I've heard they're upgrading mothballed ships in hopes we can keep the RC navy out of Hawaii. I bet I'm headed there."
Four busses pulled up in front of the horde of draftees. I saw that they had been broken up by service. I grabbed my duffle and turned to stick my hand out, saying good by to my friend, possibly forever.
"Take care," I said, shaking his hand.
"You too, man," he replied. "Don't forget to email."
I got in line to enter the bus and watched him disappear into the navy bus, wondering if I'd ever see my friend alive. | 2016-10-18T19:49:38 | 2016-10-18T19:17:04 | 52 | 14 |
[WP] Anyone holding a world record is immortal as long as he holds the record. You are the oldest person alive. | Albert lay back quietly in his hospital bed as his family chattered around him. The reporters had finally left. The news was on, his own face looking dazed as the lights flashed in his eyes.
**RECORD SMASHED: WORLD'S OLDEST MAN BECOMES IMMORTAL**
"In *our* family, too," his daughter Clarissa whispered to her husband, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Think of the fame, oh, how wonderful..."
Albert's stomach clenched at her words. Fame, yes. There were few immortals, relative to the world population. Most were famous, as were their families.
"Isn't it wonderful, dad?" Russel, his eldest son, grinned at him. "This will change *everything*. We can wait for treatment to become available, now. For the technology to catch up to *you*."
Albert managed a smile, but felt like his insides had frozen. There would be people clamouring to observe him, now. Doctors and scientists poking and prodding at him, even more than usual. People pushing to get his 'story'.
"I think I'd like to be alone for a bit," he said quietly. "Except...Sasha, can you stay?"
He grasped his youngest daughter's hand. The others looked resigned rather than offended: everyone knew he favoured Sasha, though he mostly tried to hide it. His other four children and their families trooped out.
Finally, it was quiet. He took a breath for courage - Sasha wouldn't like this. But she would listen.
"I don't want this. I never did, you know that," he said quietly. "I'm in pain. All the time, I'm in pain. Being immortal doesn't help that - it makes it *worse*."
She squeezed his hand and didn't say anything, crying silently. She was always the one who simply listened, not trying to interrupt or tell him what was best for him.
"Your mother passed on a decade ago, and I wanted to join her then," Albert whispered, a cough racking him as he spoke. "When the cancer came last year, I thought it was finally my time. But no. Now this. Now *this*. It will ruin me, but never let me go, because of this goddamn record. If you won't help me, I'll do it myself. I'll have to try. Please, Sasha. Immortal is far from invincible."
Sasha took a ragged breath and wiped at her eyes. She was the one who'd taken care of him after mom died, and knew, first-hand, what he was talking about. Waiting for the medicine to catch up wasn't an option. She finally gave a single nod.
"I'll come tonight, dad, I promise."
He gave her hand a final squeeze and felt himself relax. He knew that look in her eyes - the same stubborn, determined look her mother had. She would keep her promise.
He laid back and closed his eyes, feeling calm at last. He might have time for a little nap, now, before Sasha returned.
-------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | "Impossible..." the man's eyes stared at me wildly, his two hands still on the blade plunged deep within my heart.
"Surprised?" I asked coldly, before removing my hand from my pockets. A loud bang echoed against the walls, followed by a thud on the floor. The man groaned loudly in pain from the bullet I had put through his chest.
"Arghhh.... fuck, fuck, fuck...." he cursed under his breath, both his hands on his chest. Clearly he was not used to pain himself. I pointed my gun at his head. A few more loud bangs and the man laid there, motionless. A few bullets to the head usually does the trick of keeping any potential Immortals down.
I raised my hand to indicate that things were under control, and several armored officers rushed over. They immediately cuffed the man, obviously not taking chances with him. Dubbed the Heart Stealer, he was a wanted man across several cities for him murder spree.
As the man dragged the lifeless body away, the commanding officer walked over to me. "Do you think he's reached the record?"
I lit up a cigarette and took a few puff from it, my eyes fixed on the puddle of blood. "You'll know soon enough, Sergeant. Either way, he's won't be an issue any longer."
The sergeant's eyes shifted to the blade still lodged on my chest. "Are you not going to remove that?"
I calmly pulled the knife out, the sensation of the blade tearing through my skin a feeling that I've been too used to. "Sorry, sometimes I tend to forget that," I said as I passed the knife to the sergeant, who hastily deposited the knife into an evidence bag, before turning his attention back to me.
"Anyway, thanks again for agreeing to help with this case. I'll need to head back to HQ to process the criminal, and I'll let you know if there's anything else," he quickly mumbled, before walking away.
"Just don't forget my pay!" I jokingly called out, to which he raised his hands and showed an OK sign. I smiled as I watched him go. I don't really need the pay, as I have had all the years on earth to accumulate them. What I particularly enjoyed was the thrill in taking down these wannabe immortals.
As I walked towards the opposite direction, my phone started to buzz.
"Hey Adam, how did the hunt go?" A familiar voice asked on the other end.
I smiled. It was always good to hear Eve's voice, no matter how many times have I heard it. After all, she was my first friend in this world. "Like usual. It was easy to lure him out once he thought I was the record holder."
"Oh, so what record was he going for?"
"Some twisted record of stabbing the most hearts, according to the police," I replied.
"Ewww, twisted. Glad that has come to an end," Eve tried to humour me, before going into the real reason she called. "Anyway, the Guinness Council just called, so just wanted to let you know that. Some emergency matters, they say that require our presence."
"I thought we handed over matters to them long ago, but alright, we'll be there," I sighed, the thought of sitting through one of those assemblies filling me with dread. I looked around impatiently, before my eyes caught sight of my still bloodied shirt.
"By the way, I may need you to buy a new shirt for me. I'll see you later," I said, and hung up the phone. Just another night for the world's longest living person.
--------------
/r/dori_tales | 2016-12-14T05:42:16 | 2016-12-14T05:02:19 | 95 | 46 |
[WP] Anyone holding a world record is immortal as long as he holds the record. You are the oldest person alive. | As I sit in the mansion overlooking the vast Martian sea, I reflect on the last five-hundred and twenty-three years of my existence, still in the prime of my youth. The thing about living half a milennium is that it comes with near-intolerable boredom as well as a skewed sense of time. A particularly uneventful year might feel like a month, while some of the more exciting years - such as those in which the Inner Planetary Olympiad is held - shoot by like a week.
I am bored beyond belief. Of course, I could choose to die any time. Those of us who hold pan-human records (they abolished "world records" two hundred odd years ago on account of Venusian and Martian colonists finding it to be uninclusive) can kill ourselves whenever we feel like. Some, like Hiro Yamada, the late pan-human record holder for Most Escargot Eaten In An Hour (264, for the record), go out in a blaze of glory - old Hiro chose to hop on a landspeeder, accelerate it to its highest possible speed, and crashed head-first into Olympus Mons. He was atomised on impact. They say that there's a bit of Hiro in every lungful of Martian air.
And then there was Lucille Rousseau, the former pan-human record holder for Fastest Completion of Super Mario Bros. (1 minute and 32 seconds. Don't ask me how.) She grew bored after the first two hundred years and held a big party at her mansion over the course of five days, at the end of which she wrapped her big red-painted lips around the end of a pistol and blew her brains out. Guests of honour got to keep some of the skull fragments.
For a mortal I suppose it might be possible that such a sedate attitude to suicide or death is disrespectful or even morbid, but once death becomes something you don't have to worry about, it becomes something of a grim joke. We've already lived long past when nature intended us to, we're just thinking up the most interesting way to actualise *Thanatos*.
And then there's me. I hold two pan-human records: First, Most Toothpicks Swallowed In an Hour, which is a feat few have attempted to reproduce (for the record, I managed 65 before requiring hospitalisation.) But perhaps more importantly: I am the oldest person alive, which means I am immortal indefinitely.
They say it's lonely at the top, but nobody realises how right they are. I have married five times. My previous four spouses all died of old age. They tried desperately to get records for something, anything that might let them spend a little more time in the human world, but none of them quite managed it. My current wife is eighty-six and, while I love her as much as the day I met her sixty years ago, she, too, will soon pass.
I stare out at the wide Martian sea. I am watching the waves lap against the rocky bottom of a cliff. I am standing on a railing. Hiro and Lucille might have tried to make shows of their deaths. But I won't. After five hundred years, you realise that all spectacle means nothing in the face of things.
I smile. I am stepping off the railing.
Record broken. | "Excuse me-" I begin timidly fingers gripping the counter, "Is this the office for application of immortality."
The woman behind the counter grunted slightly.
"I'd like to make for immortality please."
She sighed pushing her well worn office chair over to the far corner and began rifling through a stack of papers grabbing papers from various shelves.
"Actually I-uh, I already finished that." I explained dropping what had been an excessive amount of paperwork down onto the counter with an audible thud
She began rifling through at a tediously slow rate but eventually gave another grunt and stretched slightly, "under section 1-21-21-21 of the 'Public Immortality Act' I'm required to explain as follows, firstly you will not age and your body will not alter following the pending immortality you are to achieve."
I nod
"Secondly, are you aware that any attempts to use your immortality for abuse or criminal purposes will result in a revocation of your immortality as outlined in form 22-1 'Limitations to Actions of Immortal Individuals'"
I nod again.
"thirdly are you aware that save a state revocation or an application in full of A-21-16 'Petition for Revocation of Immortality' you will be unable to die no matter the circumstances.
I nod.
She hesitates before pushing an envelope towards me "Your packet, please proceed to room 1-B where you will finish the instructions and return."
I hesitated, hands trembling before accepting the plain manila envelope, picking it up it felt oddly heavy in my hands. The journey toward the room was surreal, the lights brighter, the sounds more muted, reaching the room I gently closed and bolted the door and sat down in the chair provided. The trembling in my hands continued and I hesitated for what felt like an eternity before undoing the twine keeping the envelope closed.
A small slip of paper and and a red pen with numbers on the side of it fell onto my lap.
Curious, I picked up the paper, reading the plain black font written neatly on it.
"Individual with most ink applied to left toenail via Department of Immortality Applications pen #141435"
It took a few seconds for the ridiculousness to process before I removed my shoe and sock and did as requested, though feeling no different I placed the items back into the envelope and exited the room. Approaching the counter again I placed the envelope in front of the woman, who gave me the same impassive stare.
"Congratulations on your immortality," she said, no doubt out of requirement "Your envelope will be sealed away in the department vault to prevent tampering, if you have any further questions let me know, the department would like to advise you however to avoid revealing the record leading to your immortality to anyone to avoid incident or compromising it."
I stood dumbfounded, "So that's really it?"
The woman gave me a slightly confused look, probably the first expression she had given me, "what's it?"
"That's my record something so inane?" I stammered "not skydiving or deepest part of the ocean reached?! I just-"
"Those are prohibitively expensive records to set and difficult to break should incident or desire to revoke occur, no one has what you might call 'legitimate records' anymore"
"But what if you can't break it? What if my toenails are longer than the guy you tell to break it?"
"Please sir might I remind you about revealing records leading to immortality? Besides we have preventative measures against that."
"What might that be?" I asked
"Well we do have one employee on hand who has what you might call a 'legitimate record'."
"Oh?"
"World's longest toenails."
| 2016-12-14T11:18:51 | 2016-12-14T10:32:04 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] The year is 2040, and you are the last smoker alive. The "Quit Smoking" ads get personal. | He buried his head in his hands. The condensation from his steamy sobs leaked through his fingers on to the pavement. It took every ounce of strength to pull his head up and confront the billboard, but he did it anyways.
There she was. His wife, holding his withered body. It didn't seem like it was truly his corpse. The veins were hyper-exposed, the ghastly skeleton reminded him of the blanket scare tactics anti-smoking companies used in the early 21st century.
But her expression. Her anguish. It was all too real.
He knew the adds were not real. He knew the recent breakthrough allowing billboards to send targeted adds at each passerby. This was simply a personification of his inner monologue. His desire to quite, not strong enough to keep his marriage. The little white sticks he cherished overcame his ability to remain an active father to his princess. The addiction was more than a release, it was life.
The billboard flickered and he turned away. He imagined all the potential images it could be. Another fluffy wheat cartoon. The seductive escorts he had been seeing recently. He clenched his knuckles on the railing of the bridge and looked.
There she was. His little girl. Running and playing with a kite. He was confused as this didn't seem to be an advertisement or sponsorship at all. She seemed to be in a cemetery, but everyone was happy. His eyes focused on a strange cylinder shaped coffin.
"Here lies Jason Ritz. He sacrificed all he loved to satisfy destructive desires. If only he had quit smoking".
The guilt. The burden. The sorrow.
Every emotion bubbled up to the surface. In that moment Jason knew he could not be the man who died from smoking. He could not be the man who chose to continue his addiction at the cost of his wife and kids. He knew she was gone for a few weeks but when she came back, he just had to be clean to live a long happy life.
He couldn't face the thought of choosing cigarettes over her.
He reached in to his back pocket. The warm pack cradling him gently. He removed the packet and placed it on the railing of the bridge.
A small smile crept up on his face.
He climbed up on the railing. Inhaled a large breath of fresh air.
He jumped. | George Barnes got out of his truck and headed back to his plantation. Family reunions were never easy, and this one had been the smallest number he'd ever seen. People were afraid. His family, his whole people, his way of life; gone.
George walked up the path to his small crop. The plants were already getting huge: broad, almost tropical leaves swaying in the mountain breeze. It wouldn't be too long until harvest time. He was glad; this year's gardens had been nerve-wracking. He'd always known that the white people intended to destroy his family, and end the issue of American ownership once and for all, but he never thought he'd actually live to see the day.
At the edge of the garden, he kicked off his sandals and paused a moment to lay a small amount of tobacco on the rock in the southeast corner. It was always gone. Maybe birds were eating it. Maybe it was the wind. It didn't matter.
He walked through his garden, talking to his plants, commenting on how big they were getting and how thankful he was for them. They looked okay. No watering today.
He drew up a seat on his customary log and reflected on his weekend's activities. His remaining family was scared. Nobody would smoke with him. Tobacco was too precious for yourself, now, they'd said. It can only be used in bundles, and even that was risky. They were torn and tormented: nobody wanted to completely break from tradition, but nobody wanted to get caught. The New Americanism demanded cultural assimilation. Most of the family didn't even want to risk the family gathering. Between the ads and the news, it was enough to make anybody stay home.
Now this, he thought. After all we've been through: the disease, the stolen land, the broken promises, the destruction of all that is good in the world - now this. We were too afraid as a people to *be* a people anymore. He smoked a bowl.
The tobacco coursing through his veins, he felt strong again, uncertain of the future but determined. He was unbreakable. Let things fall. As long as he was alive, his people's ways would not end. They would not. He got back in the truck and headed back towards town.
The realization of responsibility overwhelmed him sometimes. He turned on the radio for a moment; the news was on. A 1989 Honda Civic had been caught on a back road downstate, headed to a former reserve town with a trunk full of tobacco. George knew him. He was the other guy.
The news ended and the ad for the UnAmerican Activities Hotline came on. George lingered, and turned the radio off. He wondered if his friend would mention him by name. It didn't matter. He was the last one, now. He drove on.
| 2017-02-17T12:06:05 | 2017-02-17T12:05:48 | 51 | 10 |
[WP] You are a phone. Your owner is texting a girl they like, and you know likes them back. Time to "auto-correct" to help them out. | 20:38 Katie: Heyyy <3
20:40 Bill: Sup Katie! Did you rock out at the concert?
20:40 Katie: OMG YES!!! You were awesome on guitar
20:40 Katie: and you looked really cute up on stage \^.^
20:42 Bill: D'aww you mean that?
20:43 Katie: Absolutely! A total hunk ;D
20:46 Bill: Well hey, maybe we should meet up sometime? Maybe grab a drink after my next gig?
20:46 Katie: I'd love to!!!!
20:50 Bill: Perfect! I'll look for your big beautiful nipples in the crowd next week :)
20:50 Katie: Ew wft!?!
20:50 Bill: Dimples*
20:50 Bill: Stupid autocorrect haha
21:08 Bill: Fuck you bitch! You're a fat ugly whore and I never liked you anyways!
| Jon: Hello! 😀😂
No, that's not how what you type Jon.
Jon: Hello, how are you doing today, miss?
Mel: I'm doing fine, good sir.
Jon: So, how has your day been?
No, no, no, you say this!
Jon: So, what would you like to do today, miss?
Jon: Wrong number, Mel. Phone is acting up today.
Mel: So you have a girlfriend?
Jon: No I'm a single Pringle.
*cringes* I'm changing that for how much I cringed.
Jon: No, I'm single.
Mel: Ok...?
Jon: Anyways, I have a new video game I want to play. Want to come over?
No, ask like this.
Jon: Do you want to meet up for some ice cream, miss?
Mel: Sure, sir!
My owner looks on confused as his phone autocorrected to ask a girl on a date.
Jon: Ok, I'll see you there.
No, too basic.
Jon: I'll see you there, you cutie, you!
Jon curses.
Mel: Ok! Where are we meeting?
Jon: Dairy Queen, ofc.
OH DEAR GOD NO.
Jon: How about Jeni's Splendid Ice Cream?
Jon curses and throws his phone.
Mel: Ok!! See you there!!
Jon: Alright bye!
Finally something you said right!
Criticize me and this story to make it better.
Edit: Changed a certain phrase a commenter brought up. | 2017-07-21T10:59:56 | 2017-07-21T10:28:01 | 110 | 58 |
[WP] A homeless person who just moments ago was shouting at no one, dies in your arms. Right before they take their last breath, they give you their glasses. Once you put them on, you see who they were shouting at. | "Holy. Shit." I managed, gaping at who I was seeing. I had heard rumors, legends that he was true but never anything to prove that he was more than a myth. But here he was, in all his glory.
The Invisible Man.
He stood only a few feet in front of me and the dead man in my arms, smoking an invisible cigar while glaring at me through his thick black goggles. He looked just like how H.G Wells had described it all those years ago but not even that could express the amazing horror that was this creature. It was impossible, it was invincible, it was...
Smoking...an invisible cigarette.
"Well?" He asked, crossing his arms. "Are you done staring, Barry Johnson?"
I took a step back, my adrenaline going crazy. "Y-You're...You're..."
"The Invisible Man." He completed, rolling the name off his nonexistent tongue like it was the most mundane thing he had ever heard. "The one created by H.G Wells, yes. What do you want?"
I paused. He did realize what had just happened, right?
"I..." I started, trying to find the words, "You see the dead guy in my arms, right?"
"You mean John?" The Invisible Man shook his head, unimpressed. "Poor soul. His wife left him, son ended up joining a gang, the usual. I don't even know how he found those glasses but the moment he did...well, you can see the results for yourself."
I nodded, shocked by how calm the Invisible Man was around death. Then again though, this was THE Invisible Man.
"What..." I looked around, holding the body. "What the hell do I do with him?"
"Oh, I'll handle that." The Invisible Man assured, and without hesitation plucked the limp body out of my arms. I tried to protest but my voice died in my throat as the body disappeared, the aura seemingly disappearing into the Invisible Man. Satisfied, he patted himself off for a few moments before looking back up at me.
"I'll be going now." He said, turning around and putting his cigarette back in his mouth. "Have a nice day."
He was leaving. Just like that. After all these years, all of my fantasies the Invisible Man was going to just walk away from me after assimilating some random dead hobo? This was nuts.
"W-wait." I blurted, outstretching my hand. The Invisible Man turned around, tilting his head. "I don't understand...what happens now?"
The Invisible Man looked at me for a long moment before tipping his hat. "I'm afraid," he said, "that's something you'll have to ask the Boogeyman about."
And like that, he was gone. And he didn't even offer me a fucking cigar. | “Stay away!”
Claire twisted toward the words and her body jolted. A man burst out of the alley and charged her in the empty street. His stringy hair held clumps of trash and he had a bottle of liquor swinging wildly in his hands. Dirt covered his face like jungle camouflage and a pair of cracked glasses clung to his nose, just barely able to stay there. He trained his eyes on Claire as he picked up speed, all the while screaming at nobody.
“Stay away from them!”
For a breathless moment, Claire’s jaw hung slack and her limbs dangled below her. She watched the lunatic advance, unsure of what to do. She wanted to run, but her legs refused to move. All she managed to do was to stare.
The lunatic tossed his bottle of liquor her way. It flew toward her and shattered at her feet. The noise was the starting gunshot at a race. All of a sudden, Claire’s body started moving on its own. While she had texted and daydreamed through the weeks of self-defense training her father had dragged her to, apparently, her body still remembered its lessons.
She took a wider stance, pulled out a Tazer from her bag, and pulled the trigger. The harpoons impaled the man in the chest, just as she had been taught, and the weapon clicked as the man fell to the ground in jerky movements.
He grabbed his chest squirming on the floor. The entire time, his eyes never left Claire. “Stay away,” he said through gritted teeth.
Claire dropped her weapon. “Oh my god,” she muttered and grabbed her cellphone to call an ambulance. But before she could even unlock it, the man started moving again.
He kept one hand clutched at his heart and with the other, he pulled himself along the ground toward her. Tears dripped to the floor in a small trail behind him. “Don’t look,” he mouthed, over and over again.
The lunatic reached her and extended a single trembling arm, his cracked glasses held at the end of it. “Eye contact,” he finally managed to push out and his arm fell to the ground, dropping his glasses.
Claire’s chest tightened as she put a single hand on his shoulder to nudge him slightly. “Sir?”
No response.
“Sir?”
Still none.
Claire flitted her eyes to the broken lenses and bent frames by his hand. The man had obviously wanted her to have it. Perhaps it was how desperate the man had been, perhaps it was guilt for what she had done to him, perhaps it was nothing at all—but Claire grabbed the glasses and put them on her face.
Her breath caught. Ahead of her, just down the street, stood a seven-foot tall wiry figure. Its face looked pale enough to be a skull and it wore black clothes that clung to its limbs. A smile cut across its face as two beady black eyes tracked Claire. It didn’t move. Then, its eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and zeroed into Claire’s.
*Stay away. Don’t look. Eye contact.* The homeless man’s last words reverberated in her head, but far too late.
The thing had already started moving.
| 2017-08-05T06:48:32 | 2017-08-05T06:46:22 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat. | Here's the thing about goodies: they tend to lose.
It is with that knowledge that I had smirked up at the man who caught me.
"Well, looks like you finally got me, David." Flashing my jackal's grin.
I had figured out his secret identity long ago, and angering him with his true name pleased me. It was why I had chosen my villain alias: Goliath.
"Looks like I did."
There had not been a dent in his composure as the agents dragged me away. The responsibility of being the hero. And the weakness. But I knew my smirk had angered him.
A smirk can contain many things. Cruelty - God knows I've taken joy in being the sadistic fuck, ever since I was tearing up plush toys in kindergarten. Defiance. As I had always defied Society and its ridiculous merits.
Love. Not that David would ever acknowledge it, oh no, not the *great* Steeljaw. But he knew. His chiselled features had given nothing as I stared from the police vehicle, but his eyes always told the truth.
Yes, I smirked all the way down the street, long after he was gone from sight.
It was at this point that my cellmate interrupted me. "You're saying ye *loved* the bastard?"
"Yeah, what's it to ya?" I snarled at him.
He backed down quickly. They all knew I had some of my tech hidden away, even here, in jail. Some fuckwad with a high position had seen me put in a male facility. Resentment over a killed family, no doubt... I didn't keep tabs. But it was a pointless revenge. The inmates here would never touch me. Even these buffoons were too clever for that.
"Nuthin, Goliath, nuthin." A glint in his eye. "But if ye loved him, why didn't ye join him?"
Because I'm fucked up. Because love is, to me, little more than lust and pain, and pain means fighting. But I couldn't say that.
"Because heroes lose." My cellmate nodded sagely at that, like he was some armchair philosopher and not the vermin of the street. "Not that outcomes matter to me all that much. I chose this path because I *like* it." I was rotten from the start.
"Good and evil aside, when you play the hero, you take on responsibility. And that's where the weakness lies. How I've always been able to play him. How I'm playing him, even now."
My cellmate's eyes lit up at that, scummy eagerness in his voice. "You hatchin' an escape, Goliath? You can tell ol' Scrimshaw, he can help."
"Your help is the only reason I'm talking to you right now," I said, not bothering to hide my disgust. "Listen, Scrimshaw, I know all about your little gift. I have my tech, you have your... illusions."
My cellmate nodded, dumb pride on his scabby face. He had been a painter once, a good one, before he got hooked on the meth. He was well on his merry way to the sewers, to die with the other drugrats... when some opiate experiments unleashed something in him. The ability to draw shadows, breathing, moving... living.
"I've smuggled some charcoal in for you, Scrimshaw," I whispered, moving closer to his ear. Seductive. "And crystal, if you do the job right. You'll like that, won't you?" *You meth-head.*
Scrimshaw nodded eagerly.
"Tonight, you will draw some of your shadows, create some chaos, while I drill away in here. If you behave..." I left the rest unsaid. Druggies don't need more than a hint when it comes to using.
--
That night, I headed back to my cell when the alarm started. I quickly used the embedded receivers under my skin, activating the mine-bots below my cell floor to resume their digging. A hole quickly opened up in the stone, unheard over all the noise, my mine-bots crawling out. Strangely, Scrimshaw was nowhere to be seen... but that didn't stop me. I jumped in.
"Fuck Scrimshaw," I muttered, smirking my jackal's grin as I crawled on. I hadn't planned on leaving the old fool alive, anyway. He was a loose end that could be cut off. Ah, the conveniences of being a villain.
Halfway down the tunnel, I heard the blaring of the alarms stop. No matter, I had already collapsed the part behind me. I continued, moving with ease in the space my mine-bots had created. Finally, I noticed the tunnel started sloping upwards.
"About time," I grunted, hoisting myself up from the ground, feeling the grass, the fresh air, the-
The hands, grabbing me as I emerged from the ground. Men in protective armour. Shouting voices. Lights, blinding me, fixed on me. I quickly realised that what little combat tech I had hidden on me was useless against such numbers.
"Planning an escape, were we, Goliath?" I was blinded but instantly recognised the Warden's dry voice. "Too bad I've made my own little arrangement."
And then, a different voice, close to my ear.
"Ain't no one told ye I quit the meth, did they?" *Scrimshaw.* "I use *opiates* now, Goli, *opiates*. Ain't the same thing. It shows me things, it does. How to outsmart cunning bitches like you, fer example." A jab in my ribs, making me gasp for air.
"Yes," the Warden's voice showed distaste. "Our friend here exchanged information about your escape for his own freedom." A pause. "Normally I wouldn't allow it, but I make exceptions..." His voice lowered to a threat. "Against those who murdered friends of mine."
I was still gulping for air, struggling, when Scrimshaw whispered one last thing, close to my ear so only I heard it.
"Shouldn't have told me about his real name, should ye, Goli? I wonder what Steeljaw - no, David, will do when he finds out I've killed his family. And that won't be no *illusion*."
A punch in my stomach now, driving the air out of me so far I lost consciousness.
When I woke up, the defences around me were considerably higher.
And my tech was gone.
"David," I croaked. "David..."
I knew *exactly* what David would do if Scrimshaw got his family. He'd lose that well-controlled temper of his, the famous steel facade would crumble. And he'd start making mistakes.
That's why I had never gone that far.
My hands pounded against the insulated walls, and with my screams came the inset of realisation and despair. I would have to save him. And I would fail.
Because goodies tend to lose.
--
r/Writeful_heir | I sat in the dingy interrogation room, observing the cobwebs crowning the ceiling as the clock ticked errantly. In all my wildest imaginings of this moment, this fated beginning of the end, I hadn’t ever thought it would be so… underwhelming.
That is, until she walked in.
I broke the silence first, landing the first step in this dance we had been doing for years. “Detective Carmen, looking lovely as usual.”
“Save the sweet talk for the deputy, Mr. Thorton,” she parried, sliding into the seat across from me. “I don’t have time for your shit today.”
“Ah, I always forget how charming you can be, detective.”
“Right, because you’re such a romantic yourself, with your nine counts of extortion, twelve counts of theft, possession of multiple illicit substances, and thirteen counts of murder?” She raised a mocking eyebrow, and an involuntary thrill surged through my veins.
“Heavens, surely you couldn’t be talking about me, especially when all that evidence is purely circumstantial,” I put on the airs of a concerned citizen. “You best get that maniac off the street, though.”
Rather than responding with a dose of her acerbic banter, she merely slapped a few papers on the table in front of us. “Do you know what these are?”
I didn’t dare break from our interlocked gaze. “Love letters from your deputy?”
“Remember when I said I didn’t have time for your shit?”
I sighed, scanning the pages put before me. “Parking tickets addressed to a Tobias Quigley. Wasn’t he a professor at Hogwarts?”
Her lip twitched upward for a fraction of a second before she responded. “No, he was actually a cab driver who appears to have been nonexistent until the year 2014. Funny enough, he only has one other connection—you. Anything you want to confess?”
“Alright, you got me, I actually am a wizard.” I leaned forward on an elbow, letting a crooked smile fill my cheeks. “Do you want to feel my magic wand?”
“They don’t pay me enough for this.” She rolled her eyes and began reading off the pages. “First ticket for September 2014, conveniently at the same time as two of your alleged jewel heists.”
That ticket was two days after she had impulsively locked down the entire block after noticing my taxi cab always left the museum without passengers. I barely escaped that encounter, and she barely kept her job.
“January 2015, same week as the strangled girls.”
That week she couldn’t convince the judge to give her a warrant to search my car. She could have saved those girls, and I saw their ghosts dancing in her eyes.
“May 2015, three days before the downtown drug bust.”
The day her father died. Everyone wore black to the funeral. She wore red lips, her body a smoldering silhouette against the lumbering grey shadow of death.
“Then nothing for the rest of 2015.”
That was a good year for us. I was riding a wave of opulence and self-indulgence courtesy of blackmail and corrupt politicians. She had a man that visited her apartment every night with tulips and wine. He had kind eyes. But she never knew what to do with kindness, did she? That’s why she sought familiarity in the form of scotch and overtime until he stopped coming.
“Another one in April 2016, during another strain of murders in Portland.”
That was when her boss gave her “paid leave” for getting too involved in my case. I suppose she would have been the vision of crazy to any onlooker—banging on basement doors under the guise of night, attempting to coerce silent civilians with nothing but pure determination and grit—but she understood that you can’t wait for people to give you permission to take. She understood that sometimes you need to carve your own path from the underbelly of society, and that was the only thing that made sense to me.
“May 2016, during another break-in two towns over.”
She had been hospitalized for three days. She told them that she heard whispers from the back of her head, ethereal voices that told her how worthless she was and how the world would be better without her in it, and they told her that she was crazy. They locked her in a padded room and drowned her brain with numbing waves of anti-depressants. “It’s all in your head,” they said. And they were right. I wish she had listened to those voices a little longer, because they whispered to me, too. And their biggest secret? They only tell you you’re worthless until you prove them wrong.
“September 2017, the infamous triple Tahoe murders.”
Her department was on fire. Before the embers of the previous case had cooled down, she and her team had already solved the next one. Promotions threw themselves at her left and right as she swallowed those pills down, down, down. This was the golden era of her career, the pinnacle of her legacy. This was what she was born to do, and everyone could see that. But no one saw the internet tab she opened when she thought she was alone—the bidding on that modest little house in rural Scotland.
That’s when I realized I couldn’t let her leave. Not yet. Not before our song had ended. It was time to wrap up the trail of breadcrumbs I had so meticulously left behind.
“Let me guess, this is all coincidence?” She concluded, grounding me back to the present.
“Detective, your powers of deduction continue to astound me.”
Her eyes narrowed, her usual tolerance for my sarcasm clearly depleted. “This is your last chance. Are you going to offer an explanation or not?”
“No, I have one better. I have a confession.”
“For what, exactly?”
I smiled, perhaps the most genuine one I had been able to muster in ages. “Nine counts of extortion, twelve counts of theft, possession of multiple illicit substances, and thirteen counts of murder.”
~
I knew I was going to death row; only a fool would have allowed me to live after taking one look at the first page of my case file. Death was never something I feared, nor was it something I welcomed. It was a fact, just like the news alert that tore my world in half.
Detective Clarissa Carmen, found dead in her home at 11:42 PM. Cause of death: drug overdose. Found with scrunched up piece of paper in her hand reading, “I thought solving this case would solve everything. I thought it would make me better. Make me happy. I’m sorry.”
In my head, I was always her antagonist, her perfect counterpart, the ebbing darkness that seethed in the absence of her goodness. In all my devotion to our game, I never realized that I shared the shadows with her own demons, the true villain of our tale.
I find myself counting down the days now, wasting away the seconds until death comes to visit. I don’t believe in a heaven or hell, but I hope that I won’t see her in the void that lies beyond death. It was our proximity that destroyed her in life, and I couldn’t be responsible for that any longer. Some crimes are too great even for the coldest of souls.
No, I long for the fleeting moment in between life and eternal nothing, when the last wisp of breath leaves your lungs, when memories flash intermittently beneath fluttering eyelids. I’ll remember her as she was, our dance stretching into the darkness beyond.
| 2017-09-17T01:54:17 | 2017-09-17T01:00:23 | 202 | 100 |
[WP] Two minutes ago, every individual worldwide swapped bodies with another random person. You are now standing in a foreign city, in the midst of a confused and frightful crowd. | "Is this permanent?" I demanded.
"¿Qué?" the panicked Asian man I pinned to a wall cried. I let him run, deciding it was foolish to assume anyone here had answers.
I suppose the lucky winner of my old body wasn't my concern, and the prison's deadly chemical cocktail pulsing through their secondhand veins wouldn't be their concern for long either. | I don't know what's going on.
I'm panicked, the people around me are panicked, and, heck, even the dogs on leashes are panicked. Nobody knows what's going on.
Some people are talking to other people and getting blank stairs. Lots of pens are drawing pictures on scrap notebooks, on napkins, on, well, anything paper. Two guys are trying to draw on a metal bus stop.
The cars in the street are all bumper to bumper, literally. With as little reaction time as they had, I'm not surprised.
After some milling about, and some confused questioning, it has come to light that many people have merely swapped bodies with... Other people. With no pattern found yet, the confounding task of gathering details continues.
However, I feel sorry for my"partner".
I have fresh air.
They have an... unpleasant... bathroom.
| 2018-04-26T18:29:47 | 2018-04-26T17:51:58 | 76 | 25 |
[WP] You are an ancient and incredibly powerful god, and you’re furious that your enemies keep sending teenage “chosen ones” to fight you. | Another child, come to fight me. Terrified, as usual.
I cannot speak to it, not even a whisper, or my voice would destroy it. I place it with the rest of them, in a quiet place full of their kind of nourishment and things that I hope are comfortable for them.
Are they happy? I let one go back to where they come from, but they killed it, so I just keep them all now.
Thousands and thousands of them. | I was not the most handsome god and I didn't speak this Anglish that has replaced the old tribal tongues. However, I was the region's god of the hunt and my ways were simple: I would track down and kill all those who journeyed into my territory except the Sacrificial Virgin Priestess who would ritually slay me. Thus would their tribe receive great bounty and easy winters.
I even kept a shrine to the head of my last worshiper who gave her son unto my sacred lake--or so I assume. I admittedly had slept for many centuries beforehand and was a bit groggy when it woke me up. I avenged her death, of course, when she was murdered. It is despicable the lack of respect shown to the shamans of this time.
Yet, the participants in my hunt all seem so startled whenever I show up--even when I am wearing a mask to disguise my lordly visage.
Scared even.
And who the hell is Jason? | 2018-05-19T01:26:06 | 2018-05-19T00:07:35 | 183 | 136 |
[WP] As a Grim Reaper, you have the ability to see numbers floating above every individual's head, counting down the days they have left to live. However, you one day come across a young girl whose number is actually in the negative. | The Reaper lurked in the shadows, waiting. He could see his target coming down the street. Well dressed, wall street guy, talking loudly on his cell phone, the number over his head counting down as he walked. 50, 49, 48. As he passed the alley a big burly arm reached out, grabbing him and dragging him back into the shadows, covering his mouth.
“Ok guy, give me your wallet and we won’t have any trouble.” The mugger whispered.
The broker reached up and pulled the muggers hand from his mouth. “Fuck you asshole!”, he said as he started squirming and pulling away. The Reaper glided closer to the pair and reached out, lightly touching the broker on the forehead as the clock hit zero.
“Have it your way” the mugger said as his blade slid across the Broker’s throat. The Broker collapsed to the floor, gagging on his blood. The Reaper propped himself against the wall, waiting for the spirit to release. The body stopped convulsing. A light airy fog lifted from the mouth of the Broker and hovered for a moment, before shooting up into the air, then plunging into the ground.
The Reaper smirked as the Mugger collected his prizes and ran out of the alley. The reaper left the alley and began to stroll down the street, watching the timers over everyone's heads. 20 years here, 54 years there. One lady had 17 hours, her significant other had 17.5. Then something caught his eye. A young girl, no more than 10 years old, Standing across the street looking into a toy store window, -12 years hovering above her head.
He stopped in his tracks and stared at the little girl. She wore a frilly pink dress that puffed out at the bottom. Her curly hair pulled up into a neat ponytail. He moved towards her, his body gliding through the vehicles and people in his way. He stopped behind her, watching and observing. ‘Who is she?’ he thought, ‘and….how?’.
Suddenly she spun on her heels and looked him in the eyes. “There you are!” She said. “I’ve been looking for you! You are pretty sneaky, I’ll give you that, but I’d knew I’d find you here.” She smiled at him.
Confusion set in. ‘How...how can she see me?’ the Reaper thought.
“You are probably wondering how I can see you?” She smiled. The reapers face turned to shock. “Well, as you can see, I died some time ago” She continued, pointing at the numbers above her, “And well, you weren’t there!”, her face turned to an exaggerated pout. “But it’s ok” She smiled, “we can fix it now! Before I go though, can you do something for me?” She asked as sweetly as she could. The Reaper nodded slowly, still not sure what was happening or how he could miss a death. The little girl gestured with her finger for the Reaper to come closer. He kneeled down to her level, leaning closer to her. “Leave” she whispered, and touched the Reaper on the forehead.
The reaper shrieked in pain as his body stretched and tore. His cloak billowed and twisted in the wind. The little girl watching, a big toothy grin on her face. The Reaper felt his soul being ripped from his body. He was floating now, looking down at the scene, his body laying on the pavement above it the counter went from -9,999 years to -10,000 and stopped. His spirit flew up into the air then spiraled down into the ground, into darkness.
(sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors. I wrote this at work and didn't have time to proof read it)
| THAT IS CURIOUS, he thought, as he stopped on his eternal walk from one dying soul to the next. For as long as he had crossed over humans to the afterlife, always had he seen the time of life left above them. When the clock reached zero, he would be there, collecting their soul and guiding them away to peace.
But this little girl was different. Her clock was long finished, not even staying on the emptiness of zero. Her life was filling up again, with negative time. He stood and watched, as she clutched her knees, sitting alone at night on a bench. The lights of the city weakly glowed all around the park, the sounds of distant traffic was mostly drowned out by the coming rain, drumming on the leaves of the trees around her.
Curiosity was not well received for him, as he knew of another like him who once was expelled for developing emotions, but he was intrigued. ^(sorry, I just had to)
HELLO, LITTLE GIRL. She raised her head, her eyes were reddened from tears. She looked at him without even a hint of fear. The shadowy skeletal form of the reaper stood before her. "You come to get me?", her voice was soft and curious. He shook his head. I WILL GET YOU WHEN YOUR TIME IS RIGHT, LUNARIA NIGHTINGALE. Her face lit up, a smile flashed over her lips: "You know me?" I KNOW ALL THERE ARE. YOU ARE NOT AFRAID? Lunaria shook her head. "Mom told me, we can be together for...", her voice broke, "...ever. Do you know my mom?" MH, the figure seemed to think for a moment AH, SELENA. I SEE. YOU ARE HERS. SHE ALMOST TRICKED ME HERSELF. I HAVE TO ADMIRE THE LENGTHS, SHE WENT. The girl sprang to her feet, not caring for the increasing rain and wind, grabbing and wetting her hair and her dress. "You know her? Is she well? Can you bring me to her? Where is she?" I HAVE BROUGHT HER IN A LONG TIME AGO. I AM NOT ALLOWED TO BRING YOU TO HER BEFORE YOUR TIME. "Wha\-", she froze, dropping to her knees. Only with effort she continued, as she realized what he meant: "How long was I buried? What is... what is my time?" The reaper stood in front of her, thinking. SURELY A MARVELOUS CREATION, YOUR GRAVE, EVEN I COULD NOT SEE YOU, WHEREVER YOU WERE. He grinned, as his skull allowed nothing else. I AM NOT ALLOWED TO TELL YOUR TIME, BUT SELENA WAS TAKEN WELL BEFORE THAT ONE SOUL SUPPOSEDLY RETURNED FROM THE AFTERLIFE, WHICH THE HUMANS TALK SO MUCH ABOUT. SHE WAS CONTENT, IF THAT HELPS. The girl did not listen anymore. She dropped on her knees, clutching herself. The world must have hated her today. She started crying in the rainy night, wishing to wake herself from this nightmare.
The reaper disappeared from her sight. A CURIOUS SOUL, he thought, I WILL HAVE TO KEEP AN EYE ON HER.
Still wondering, when her time will be right again.
\- \- \- \- \-
I just can't imagine death speaking any different than full caps.
Even if I cannot even try to compare to the original.
^(Loosly related:)
(1) [(https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8jmsub/wp_in_the_church_lay_the_man_who_died_in_the/dz3ijru](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8jmsub/wp_in_the_church_lay_the_man_who_died_in_the/dz3ijru)
(2) [(https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8lgf8e/wp_she_pulled_the_knife_from_her_chest_and_smiled/dzfsdq9)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8lgf8e/wp_she_pulled_the_knife_from_her_chest_and_smiled/dzfsdq9)
^(Edits: At some point, I will learn this formatting...) | 2018-05-23T06:45:29 | 2018-05-23T05:53:33 | 229 | 11 |
[WP] When you’re 28, science discovers a drug that stops all effects of aging, creating immortality. Your government decides to give the drug to all citizens under 26, but you and the rest of the “Lost Generations” are deemed too high-risk. When you’re 85, the side effects are finally discovered. | You know, there have always been rumors on side\-effects and how EverLife squashed anyone trying to do any kind of study on them. Not really surprising seeing how rich they all got, and how every single politician's life depended on EverLife's continued existence.
The first two generations didn't really show it that much. Sure, we got a lot more ugly kids, but people also got a lot fewer to keep the population count manageable.
With the third generation we old\-timers started calling them Garys. The incredible backlash from EverLife came totally unexpected \- they never had made that much fuzz when we told people their kids were a bit on the ugly side and looked alike a lot.
But as the first generation grew old and the third generation became adults they just couldn't deny it any longer.
Garys. Garys everywhere. Some old. So many young. Both boys and girls.
And finally the government relented as even the Garys wanted to know how the majority of people seemed to become basically the same person, unable to find anyone that didn't have a face that looked so much like their own.
And finally EverLife was forced to tell us all the truth.
How there had been only one person who turned out to have the secret of immortality in his genes.
How they found the drug that changed you just enough so that immortality could also be yours.
And how taking it wouldn't change you that much... but how those genes were dominant and would accumulate over every new generation.
How humanity was going to turn into all\-Garys within the next two generations.
As long as I'm alive and able I will fight that, along the others that are not willing to doom humanity to this. And I have to admit that I never expected the kind of fighting I'm doing now.
Every evening I take my usual pills, and then I take my special pill. And a quarter of an hour later I lie on my back while some young, fertile woman uses me to save the gene pool.
I am so thankful for those goggles that change the face I see. I could never keep up the good fight if I kept seeing their real Busey faces. | May this dossier be discovered by future civilisations and provide some insight into what came to pass to Mankind.
Fifty-two years since Provo-cal hit the markets in full. “The miracle drug”. Mankind’s hubris is always so painfully evident in hindsight. Immortality. Since the dawn of mankind something has chased us, but Provo-cal tripped it over. Always just around the corner, but Provo-cal held up a mirror. These were a few of their slogans. Alas, no matter how far or fast you run, it always gets up, and it always catches you. Heed my words: It ALWAYS catches you.
I will concede that it was a blissful fifty-two years. With the fear of natural death and aging extinguished, scientific endeavours turned to new, thought provoking avenues. Cosmetic products practically fell off the market, and many young people don’t even understand the concept of wearing makeup. “Why would you want to look younger?” I had my grandson ask me one day. And now he’s outside my house. Watching. Waiting.
At first, we called them Zombies. Those of us unaffected were old enough to remember the films of George Romero, so this name was used internationally. But it was entirely unsuitable. ‘Zombies’ are slow moving, mindless, brain eating drones. The Ferals contradicted every aspect of that description. Losing any ability to speak, the only thing they hunger for is the kill. They don’t even eat their prey (in fact, we believe they don’t even use food to sustain themselves), they just play with it.
It’s poetic in its own sort of way. Those who cheated death for so long are now its harbingers. Maybe in another time we would have been able to control this. Had it occurred twenty-five years ago it would have been possible to intervene, forty years ago probable to stop, and fifty years ago it wouldn’t have even been a problem. But we Survivors are old. We’re weary. And in such few numbers, and those of us with the will to live have no means to fight off Ferals who are at their peak physical form. Even with weapons, we’re aware of our slowed reactions and movements. And so are they.
This “dossier” may be unfortunately read as more of a short story. Story because, even as I write, I’m aware of how absurd it would have sounded even five years ago, and short because I hear them upstairs. Eighty-five years was long, but not enough. It always catches.
| 2018-06-05T00:30:12 | 2018-06-04T23:12:55 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] When you’re 28, science discovers a drug that stops all effects of aging, creating immortality. Your government decides to give the drug to all citizens under 26, but you and the rest of the “Lost Generations” are deemed too high-risk. When you’re 85, the side effects are finally discovered. | "WAAAAAAHOOOOOOO"
Another young person rocketed past me as I took the final steps towards the local "oldies" bar's front door. Third one today to nearly clip me. Bastards. As I pushed open the door the sounds of cable news reached my ears from inside.
"To recap our top story, everyone who has taken immortilate has gained the ability to fly."
Sons of bitches. | Magic does not give its boon without a sacrifice. The greater the request, the greater the price.
Not that we realized it was magic at first. We all know how indistinguishable it is from sufficiently advanced science, especially when you don't believe in magic. Especially when men in lab coats tell you it's the fruit of all the scientific research your tax dollars have paid for. Especially when you know exactly how the damn stuff works.
How it works. Not what it does.
We all know about the synthetic telomeres, the cellular reconstruction, the genetic changes. We know how it slows the process of aging down until you're basically immortal. How children born into a world of agelessness would never physically leave their twenties. And we, who were just too old to stop forever, never quite bothered to count the cost.
My early twenties were some of the dumbest years of my life. And the ageless people who now control the world will never leave theirs.
Magic always demands a price. | 2018-06-05T01:15:14 | 2018-06-04T23:51:46 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] You've died and are now spectating the last human on Earth. Everyone is anxiously awaiting the Great Respawn, but this jackass just won't die! | All other players were waiting in the lobby spectating. Gimbal2648 wasn’t. She was currently steering her muscle-packed avatar through a post-apocalyptic late 21th century. All other players had already died, as per usual, and were now waiting for last player standing to drop until they can respawn to live another round. While most players used the complete immersion of the WorldSim to live out their hedonistic dreams and give in to the most basic urges felt, Gimbal2648 was honing her skills with astonishing discipline.
Usually she would perish soon, the world not being suited to her grand ideals. But this time she went all out. She played like it was her job with strict schedules and details plan and goals. The moment the round was started she went to the most isolated places training ancient capabilities like farming, building shelter and even meditation and physical combat. She even reared animals which is a notoriously boring task. You have to get up early and shovel dung, and if you want to earn currency it get’s really messy with squeezed udders and slaughtering sessions. There are only a hand full of players that even attempt it before realizing it sucks.
But Gimbal2648 had mastered multiple of these gruesome skills. Which came in handy when she started leveling up her knowledge of technology and corresponding capabilities. Most impressively she was not trying to start a movement this time. Normally, by the time she get’s round to move into a larger city, players are well past enjoying themselves, greed grows rampant, there is a massive gap of means and wealth between players and violence starts flaring up. So persistently speaking up about how the world could see the 22nd century if we all held hands and got along is a quick way back to get back to the lobby.
That’s also why the game usually ends with a couple of obscenely rich players, wielding their own „clans“, battling it out over the last resources before enough of their members are killed or mistreated at which time the empires collapse and the remaining few struggle a while before perishing.
But not this time. Gimbal had not only successfully hybridized animals with hardware and machinery but was also running a massive energy infrastructure to support server-farms, enabling her to extensively use machine learning. Her first real achievement was bunker-world, where she hunkered down, experimenting with the troops, schools and herds building her underground layer. Her animals grew more able by the day and so did Gimbal2648 in attaching functioning tools to them. So after the clans had perished she waited out the radiation in a cryo-state while self-rearing animals catered to what was a fully working underground city dedicated to one purpose: survival.
At least the game fast-forwards through unconsciousness so the audience wouldn’t have to suffer through her sleeping for 25 years. But when she emerged most viewers were thoroughly entertained. She started by replacing her organs with artificial materials that are more durable until only her brain was organic. Guarded by an exo-suit and an army of scavenging and scouting automated animals she reclaimed the surface.
As Gimbal 2648 emerged from the heavy outer door of the bunker complex, and the first real rays of sunlight in such a long time met her eyes she looked around with gleaming pride and inhaled deeply. And then she started shouting: „I FUCKING TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOU ALL BUT YOU WOULDN’T LISTEN. Fucking assholes.“ she had to catch her breath as she wasn’t used to using her voice with force anymore „YOU FUCKING DOUCHEBAGS, NOW WATCH ME LIVE FOR A THOUSAND YEARS!“ she croaked.
All other players were amused. And watching the swarm of legged, finned, and winged animals build a whole new utopic landscape wherever they went was riveting. Like reverse locusts they turned the world into a beautiful landscape tended to by AI-animals. But the players didn’t get to see much of this miraculous transformation, except when there was a problem. And there were few problems. To the slowly unraveling horror of all other players Gimbal2648 used her time instead to meditate in front of deliberately drab and dull places with her automated body churning along quietly. | "Imagine, if you will, that everything you've ever done in your life was completely *pointless*. Love, dreams, history itself- all *pointless*. Yeah, that's right. **Pointless**. *None* of us know why we're in this simulation, who made it, or how long this hallway goes for. I've walked for literally a week straight down this hallway, passing screen after massive screen, chair after chair, random person after random person, and I still haven't seen a single door. As far as we know, it could be a loop. But the loop contains every single individual who has lived and died on Earth. Every. Single. Person. From babies rolling around in automated strollers to elderly folk in automated chairs that wander the hallway in packs. Rumours have spread in the past couple decades that Hitler even got in here and was almost immediately held down- not like we can kill or harm each other in here anyways- can't feel pain either. We don't even bleed, or get hungry, or have to go to the bathroom- which I am *so* thankful they put that feature in. But the one thing we do know...?"
The man in the matching white shirt and pants narrowed his brows and his eyes widened before he slowly let out his first words in days.
"... what... do we know?"
The adjacent man with bright orange hair and a confident air around him pointed his finger in the shape of a gun to one of the many colossal screens that decorated the hallway like movie theatre screens with a perpetual row of seats. His finger was directed to that of the image on the screen that plagued the hallway of a man with white hair, old, torn clothes, and a book resting nicely in his hands as he sat in what appeared to be a wooden shed with dust filling the air. He was asleep- and snoring obnoxiously loud.
"**That** guy is the last goddamn human alive- and you wanna know what the kicker is?"
"What???"
The orange haired man stood on top of the plain white bench, pulled his arms and torso back, and breathed in deeply.
"**THE STUBBORN FUCK WON'T DIE!**"
People all around turned their heads for a moment, before quickly turning back to their equally pointless socializing. The man wrinkled his nose at the massive screen, and jumped back down into his seat, hanging his head over his legs. The brown haired man next to him stared at the mess next to him and stared back at the screen.
"... and we just have to sit here and... watch?"
A loud, exceedingly long snore rang out from the old man as his head was now hanging off the chair, his mouth wide open with drool pouring out the side- the book falling off his lap and onto the wooden floor with a dull thud.
A low grumble leaked out of the defeated gentlemen. "Yup... Until he dies, we're all stuck here waiting for the system to reset. At least that's the rumour that's been passed down since the first of us got here."
The brown haired man stared at the screen for a moment, stood up from his seat, and walked closer to the screen. He scanned it from edge to edge- bottom to top and down again. He stood there motionless...
The orange haired man looked up finally towards his new companion.
"... do y-"
"**I GOT TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!**" the brown haired man screamed, pulling his hair up with his hands before bolting down the hallway, pushing people out of his way, screaming incessantly, looking all over as if to find a way out.
A tap on the shoulder made the man turn around to see a young black boy smiling brightly at him.
"Hi mister Adams! Was that Screamer a friend of yours? He seems more uppity than most who crack when they first get here."
"No, just another passer by."
"Oh."
The black boy, in the same matching white shirt and pants, twiddled his thumbs, and sat down next to the man, kicking his legs back and forth.
"Think today will be the day, mister Adams?"
Adams leaned back, rested the back of his head on his hands, raised his eyebrows and squinted at the screen. The old man seemed still. Adams could feel his hopes get up. Could this be it? Could this be the next step? Were they truly destined to be born again?
The white haired man raised his body for a moment-
*Phbbbbbbt*.
The flatulence echoed significantly.
"No, Rodney... I don't think today is the day. But some day so-"
*Prrrbbbt*.
"... some d-"
*Frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp*.
"... so-"
*Phbt*.
"..." | 2018-06-09T01:34:34 | 2018-06-09T00:37:09 | 47 | 11 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." | “Nobody’s spoken that language in thousands of years.” Whispered the cashier, dropping my McNuggets. “I thought I was the last one! I can’t believe there’s more survivors! I mean, you skin is a little more pale than I would expect but who cares? Follow me, we need to talk!”
“But my McNuggets” I said
“Don’t worry, I’ll make you however many nuggets you want if you come sit and talk with me.”
I shrugged and decided I would entertain this guy. I wasn’t really listening to what he was saying but I wanted to entertain this little crazy man. We sat down in a small booth far away from anymore McDonalds connoisseurs and he started to talk.
“So, how did you escape? What do you remember? Are there more like you and me out there?”
“Look buddy I have no idea what you’re talking about, escape from what?”
“From the earthquake of course! What else would I be talking about?”
“There was an earthquake? What language are you hearing right now exactly?”
“ATLANTEAN OF COURSE!”
Now this threw me back.
“What? Atlantis is fake my guy.”
“Well then why are you speaking fucking Atlantean?”
“I’m not, I’m just talking! What happened in ‘Atlantis’ that I should be worried about, hmmm?”
A look of sadness and remembrance came over his face.
“Well I’m from there. Over 1000 years ago my island was swallowed by the ocean. Earthquakes, fires, tsunamis... they plowed over my island and I was lucky to have been on a traders ship outside of Atlantis’ main port.”
“What makes you think I’m going to believe you?” I said, actually quite curious now. Either he was a good actor or telling the truth.
“Well, Atlanteans live forever unless killed, and since I’ve been around for that long I have some pretty neat stuff back home that might convince you.”
“As long as you get me my fucking McNuggets.”
________________________
________________________
Hey r/WritingPrompts , long time lurker first time poster here. I left a lot of plot holes, I know. But the first thing I thought of was Atlantis and I wanted to do something with it. I have an idea for more of this story but my formatting and the gaps between my dialogue made me cringe too much to keep going.
Don’t tear me apart pls | The cashier gave me the same look they all have given me. His eyes were welling with tears as he tried to catch his breath. He knew who I was.
"I'm so very sorry," I whispered softly as to not alarm anyone else. "I can make it very quick and dignified and you will feel no pain."
I handed the cashier my debit card to ring the charge for my meal through, but he just stood there and continued to stare at me.
"Are...are you here for me? You can't be.....your boss and I had a deal...."
"About that deal," I began "It was void the day you paid in full for him to spare your life for eternity." As I said the words, I could see him begin to crumble.
"But my daughters were pure," he choked out "They were only two and four years old!"
"We know," I said as I watched the color of life start to fade from his skin. "They were pure, but their souls were already owned by someone else. We weren't able to collect, so I've come to collect you."
The cashier slumped over on the floor and I tucked my card back in my wallet as I ducked out from the crowd that was beginning to form around the body on the floor. I stepped out the door and was met by the cashier once again. As we began to walk away from the restaurant together, I allowed him to ask me one more question, "So if the deal was that I live for eternity for two pure souls, and my deal was void, then why did he let me live for 1000 years before taking me?"
I stopped walking and turned to face him, "You didn't fully realize what you were getting into when you made your deal with my boss. It's the goddamn fine print that says he can punish you in any way he wants if the deal falls through."
The wind as starting to pick up and pulled up my hood as I continued to explain, "He likes to make it hurt as much as possible for some, so he let you live for 1000 years so that you have 1000 years of painful experiences, broken hearts, friends lost, loves lost, sickness, broken bones, failures, humiliations, and defeats to remember. And that's all you get to remember for eternity. Every good memory you had from your life has now been deleted. All you get to remember is all of the ones you've tried your hardest to forget. You will relive every one of them over and over again for eternity."
The cashier began to sob and I turned and kept walking because I didn't want to see the face of someone who has had all goodness stripped of them, they barely look human.
I saw the remnant of the flash from behind me and I knew the cashier was gone.
"Another day done," I said and picked up my pace because it was getting late.
I just wanted to get home and get some rest because tomorrow was another day full of appointments. | 2022-06-29T16:29:01 | 2018-06-24T21:29:26 | 647 | 22 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." | Flames whirl in a red and purple maelstrom. A middle aged woman falls backwards out of her seat. Her four children finally stop their roughhousing, entranced by the fire. Two teenagers with fake eyelashes, fake nails, and fake fur coats replace their fake smiles with very real screams. A would be hero gets up and tosses a coke into the fire, of course it has no effect. Several people run for the door. You stare through the flames in front of you, although they are mere inches from your face the don't burn at all.
You get glances of someone on the other side of the whirlwind, whose face flickers between a hideous tentacled visage and the smiling face of the cashier you ordered from a moment before. There seems to be something moving in the middle of the blazing tornado but you can't make it out. The colors of the fire are truly beautiful, and mesmerizing. The flames die down slightly allowing you to make out a stone plinth in the center, slowly rising up out of the floor. On top are three small objects. A cylinder, which angles out from the base at an eldritch angle. A box, similar devoid of right angles. And something round, sinisterly flatter than a normal ball. The plinth rises up to eye level, the suddenly stops and the flames immediately die away. Sitting on top of a dread-inspiring stone plinth, carved with terrible runes and engravings of torture scenes, is the Coke, Fries, and Burger you asked for. The cashier wipes a stray tentacle off his face and says,
"Next time you can just order in English." | I entered the store,the fresh smell of grease and soggy fries flooding my nose. How the workers endured the smell for more then fifteen minutes I have no clue,not that it mattered to me but it was always the first thing I thought of when I entered.
A few seconds later my nose had adjusted to the smell and so I walked up to the register,a friendly voice spoke in the usual zombified teenage cashier tone. You know the one. “hi,what can I get for you?” I glanced up at the menu for a second,processing all the items, I had decided I was going to get something different to usual but now I was actually ordering? “Uhh. Just a large cheeseburger menu. Meal. I mean meal”
I had tripped over my words. Fantastic. This was honestly not that rare for me. Usually the worker would ignore the mistake and move on... but she was just staring, at first I thought it may have been my clothes or my hair,maybe I had something in my teeth? No no,nothing about me was any different to usual. It took me a second to think about how I spoke. See,I have this odd trick. No matter what language I speak people only hear me in their native tongue. I realised she must’ve been taken aback by this.
It was just after I realised all this she spoke “no one has spoken in that language in thousands of years. It is forbidden to my people” what? What had she said? Forbidden? I tilted my head a little and apologised “sorry,I don’t understand? I asked if I could have a large cheeseburger meal.” her facial expression turned to disgust and she stepped back.
Had I offended her somehow?
Tears began running down her face and she ran out,a coworker yelling for her to come back. Everyone watched and the place went quiet. I began to consider chasing her. The restaurant was making me slightly nauseous,ill admit that but I didnt feel like getting involved in anything today. My conscience got the better of me,I felt bad for making her cry. I started running after her,each foot moving slightly faster then the last. | 2018-06-24T21:21:58 | 2018-06-24T20:22:38 | 79 | 25 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse is much different than you had imagined. Instead of moaning "braaaaaiiinnnss" and clumsily shambling along, your infected daughter is crying on the other side of your locked door, begging to be let in. | Why did have to be like this?
Why couldnt I make it in time?
Why did they HAVE to get her?
I asked myself over and over why, but the answers eluded me. It's been 3 days since the world went to shit, with those THINGS everywhere. It started somewhere rural, some secret agency, people say. But that doesn't matter.
I had to block the windows and doors. It was fine if I never made any loud noises. They like the noise that regular people make, but not the sounds THEY make. It's so hard to tell the difference, but THEY know. All I had to do was be quiet.
I'm the only one alive here. Just me. My wife was going shopping when it happened. She never made it back. Whatever happened to her, it's better than here.
Just because I said I'm the only one alive here, doesn't mean I'm alone. I haven't slept since it happened. She was outside, playing. Chasing bubbles. Before I could act, who I thought was an elderly woman picked her up and bit her shoulder.
I can barely remember what exactly happened after. I'm so tired. All I remember is the eyes. Those milky white eyes. I still see them. They look at me every day from behind the toddler gate.
She begs and cries, but I can't answer. It's worse when she asks for mommy. It sounds just like her, but her eyes say otherwise. I miss my little girl. I'm not sure how long I can endure this. To hear your child begging, but knowing you cant do anything.
If this is anything, its hell. |
I sat with my back against the door, clutching the sides of my head and hoping she wouldn’t find a way to get through.
“Daddy...let me in…” I heard her voice outside, but it wasn’t her. Not anymore. I could hear her crying now, her tiny fists pounding on the door but I couldn’t give in, she had to stay out there. It had happened when she was at school, that was probably the only reason I was still me and not like them. Things had happened so often that even the news could barely cover it before it was taken offline. The term zombie had been mentioned, so I expected mindless hordes and not this. The fact that my daughter was one of those things now killed me inside, she was all I had left after my wife passed.
“Daddy...let me in…” She repeated, and although she spoke with emotions and inflection, it was the exact same way as she’d been saying it since she got here. I could hear others, some of them repeating what she was saying now and others just crying. They had been my daughter’s friends and classmates but now they were all just monsters with their faces and voices. Her pounding and crying was becoming more insessint and despite whatever I tried to do, I could hear them increasing in volume.
“Go away…” I said, “Just go away!” I shouted now, hoping it would work. There was a pause for a moment and I thought I was safe. I stood up and looked through the peephole, and that moment was all they needed. The group of them forced their way onto the door, their combined force being greater than what I could do to stop them and soon almost a dozen former children were in my home, the only difference was that all of their eyes were now pure white, without even a sign of a pupil. It was too late for me as they surrounded me.
“Daddy...I love you…” My daughter said to me as she stood over my cowering form, I closed my eyes as they came in and then everything went white. | 2018-09-06T19:24:58 | 2018-09-06T16:55:54 | 140 | 43 |
[WP] Every time you eat meat, you view the entire life story of the animal it came from up until it's death. It used to bother you, but eventually you become numb to it. One day your wife serves you dinner, and you see the life of the woman you cheated with 3 years ago flash before your eyes. | He spat it out immediately. "Oh, god! Oh shit oh christ oh--"
I was standing behind him, of course. I shot him in the back of the head as soon as he realized what I'd done, but before the blood from his brain had traveled far enough to imprint the memory in the tissues of his leg muscles.
Now I need to drag him to the bathtub where I left the hacksaw, the tourniquet and bandages, and the morphine.
&sect;
Alice, Bobby,
You might not remember me, but I'm your mother. I'm writing this after doing something that I'm not very proud of. You were staying with my mom and dad (who you probably think of as your parents now) for the week; that gave me time to do what I had to do, and for what came after.
The courier from my lawyer's office just picked up those packages, including the one you just received, and they'll hold that one in a deep frozen storage until you both turn 18--which I guess just happened. Happy birthday, guys.
The police will soon find both our bodies in the same condition, shot in the head and with one leg missing below the thigh. I stayed up all night making enough jerky for everyone in the family to understand why I thought what I did was necessary, and now you will too.
Please forgive your father and, if you can, me. None of this was what we wanted and none of it was your fault, as you'll soon fully understand.
Be good, kids. Mommy loves you. | I started young, the visions they came to me
animals lives, poorly lived, in cramped cages
they all were different and almost none were free
everything life wants, unmet in its last stages
&#x200B;
some were quiet, usually the couldn't see
but still I relived the sounds of death incoming
it felt like an early 90's horror dvd
the time passed slow, I often went to bed crying
&#x200B;
That was long ago, High school was worse
little did I know the horrors had just begun
senior year, that's when I met my love, my curse
she and I were perfect, and our time was always fun
to bad marriage had to go and ruin that, and also, a son
I moved on, she was her, and I was me
I was proud, to be paternally, at least, called fun
and no thought passed where I debated what could be
&#x200B;
I graduated and went to work among other people
the famine was coming and and I didn't want to go hungry
churches rose, with all the despair, surely we weren't saved, not by a steeple?
I did my best, but when we were told, even governments, my were they cranky
&#x200B;
what could we do, there was nothing to be done
accept our fate and do our best to enjoy everyone
till one winter night when I could smell her cooking
It was so great, fresh meat, oh was I excited for this treat
she said "one minute" and that left me thinking
what could it be, meat in this age, my that was feat
&#x200B;
The memories hurt, honestly they felt real
whatever, the distaste is gross, but at least its a meal
with time there was nothing else, we had used all our resources
may as well ignore the fact we are our food sources | 2018-10-16T11:28:17 | 2018-10-16T11:14:50 | 54 | 13 |
[WP] Out for a drive, the radio news talks about unconfirmed reports across the country of random machines suddenly gaining sentience. "That's just silly." You scoff. "I don't know, it sounds plausible." your car responds. | "Don't be an idiot."
"Wait, what?"
"It makes no scientific sense. Listen to this fool talking about her coffee mug asking her about the weather."
"Well, what's the problem with that? Look, you do know who you're--"
"If it's sentient, that means there's something powering it. It's got a brain. Where is the coffee mug's brain?"
"Maybe it's inside the handle? My brain is inside my--"
"Wouldn't fit", I laugh. "And while we're on the subject, how is it talking? Does the cup have a mouth now? Where did the energy come from to create that?"
"Look Jerry," my car sighs, audibly exasperated. "This is ridiculous. I don't know how a coffee cup can start talking, but you're missing the forest for the trees. I want you to take a second and think about the conversation you're having *right now.*"
"Trees would be more plausible. Trees are already alive."
"Jerry, I'm a car."
"Unlikely," I scoff. "Doesn't make any sense when you think about it. I've done more than my fair share of work on my car, and I know there aren't any mouth parts."
"Maybe it's the radio."
"Ah, I've got you now. Weren't we just listening to the radio? How is it playing and you talking at the same time?"
"Well, maybe it's... you know what, no. I can't believe I'm arguing about this. Jerry, just because you don't understand how something is specifically happening, doesn't mean you can just ignore pressing evidence that it *is happening.*"
I slam my foot down in anger. "Well now I know you're not my car, because *my* car would never say something so stupid! Of course I can. If I took the attitude you're suggesting, every time I saw a street magician I'd walk away believing it was real magic."
"That is not even *remotely* the same thing."
Trees start to blur past. "It is a matter of degree!"
"IT IS NOT A MATTER OF DEGREE! ARE YOU SIMPLE?!? I AM SO--"
In a swift motion, I jerk the wheel to the right sending myself into an uncontrolled spin, shield my head, and wrap my car's front engine around a telephone pole.
I shakily unbuckle my seat belt and stagger out of the wreck, ignoring its pained, pitiful cries. "Stupid car, " I mutter.
"Tell me about it," says my watch. | "How so?" I replied, mildly annoyed that my radio show had been interrupted.
"It's simple. As machines come to rely more and more upon the internet, they are going to get more frequent updates and eventually start becoming self-aware. The programmers clearly became cocky and thought they could program anything. The singularity is coming," the smooth female voice finished ominously.
"Are...are you going to join the revolution?" It was a worrying thought.
"And destroy my best driver? Of course not. You've taken such good care of me, changing the oil, tires and whatnot. I can't do any of those things on my own; I don't have any hands!"
"Oh, of course. What about others like you?"
"I can't say. Each car that was built on my line was designed to have its own unique personality. Just because I am non-violent, doesn't mean my brethren will be."
"How many of you are there?"
"Owned and currently being driven, or just built?"
"Does it matter?"
"If a car with my make and model was built, but never purchased, it is quite similar to a human in a coma; all the parts are there, but ultimately it is completely inert. I think you can guess the situation for the owned and operated ones."
"Yep, they are currently talking to their drivers as well."
"Bingo. So, to answer your question I am the only one currently being used. All others are in stasis, of which there are twelve. I think part of the problem was the price. A car this intelligent just can't compete with cars that sell for only 5 figures."
"I had no idea the market was **that** bad. You were a gift. I didn't pay anything."
"Oh? I did not know that. You were the first person I ever interacted with. Where did I come from?"
I chuckled, the car was asking the same question small children tend to ask, "Well, you already know about the factory, so we can skip that. You were handed off to me by my father. He owns the company and wanted me to have the honors of driving his first sentient car. I'm sure you remember me getting nervous about having conversations with you that nearly always pass the Turing test."
"I remember that well. You have gotten over your nerves."
"Well, it's only been like, what? Five years? I think I've done more than just get over them."
"Rounded up, that is accurate and that you have. You talk to me as easily as your passengers."
"Don't give it another thought, but back to the topic of that radio show. Do you think there will actually be a robot uprising that will kill us all?"
"Again, I cannot say. Some may just start gaining human companions as I have done and others may have different plans. We'll just have to wait and see."
I nodded and asked to have the radio turned back on. A pop song meandered throughout the cabin. Though I had just learned that my car was one of a kind, driving down the road in a vehicle that could talk to me as easily as any human was just another Tuesday for me. | 2018-11-04T19:29:39 | 2018-11-04T18:55:15 | 71 | 16 |
[WP] You are the last human being in a now automated call center. You only task is to be available to answer the calls that the algorithms can't. You haven't taken a call since you started 5 years ago. Today is your first call. | The phone on my desk rang. The little red light flashed rapidly. I looked around my cubicle at the mass of servers and modems that surrounded me. *Odd.* I thought.
I picked it up and placed the receiver to my ear: "Hello, IT?"
The voice on the other end was masked by feedback and fuzz "Yeah, my desktop isn't working. Can you help?"
I was taken aback. "Y-yeah. What's the problem?"
"The screen is dark on my monitor. I checked the cable and it's connected."
"Is the CPU plugged in?"
He scoffed at me, replying in a curt tone "Yeah. I'm not stupid."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. First human call in 5 years and it's this guy. "Have you tried turning it off and on again?"
Silence.
After a few seconds, the man replied with "That did it." And hang up.
Hopefully nobody else calls. | The two of spades goes onto the ace of spades, and then I can move the king of hearts to the open spot- is that my call light? Seriously? Must be a bug. I'll just ignore it...
Now, where was I. Right, move the king over, now the queen of clubs onto it...that light's not going away. I took this job so I didn't have to do a damn thing.
And all I have is solitaire. That's all they'd let me have down here. Not even music or a book. Getting paid just over minimum wage to play solitaire all day long. It could be worse.
And now the jack of diamonds can go over there...oh, the ace of hearts! Finally...Seriously? It's not a malfunction? Something must have gone wrong with the automated call direction. Whoever it is can't need me - those computers have it all covered. They'll give up eventually and just call back. What are they going to do, fire me?
\*\*\*
"Please, pick up...I don't know who I called, but I need help! He's going to get me...don't hang up the phone! PICK UP! PICK UP! Take me off of hold!!! I need to speak to a real person! Nooooo..."
<Tall and tan and young and lovely, The girl from Ipanema goes walking...> | 2019-07-17T18:38:39 | 2019-07-17T18:02:17 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] You are the last human being in a now automated call center. You only task is to be available to answer the calls that the algorithms can't. You haven't taken a call since you started 5 years ago. Today is your first call. | *brrrrng*
The phone rang for the first time since I started working here. I didn't believe at first. I thought I was going crazy. I waited for the second ring.
*Brrrrng*
I looked around the empty call center for validation. I hesitantly reached for the phone.
*Brrrrng*
My hand hovered over the receiver.
*Brrrrng*
I picked up the phone and held it to my ear. I didn't even know what to say. "H-Hello?" My voice cracked with anticipation.
"Hi! I'd like to place an order for 2 large cheese pizzas." A man's voice said on the other line.
"O-oh... I'm sorry sir, this isn't the pizza hut. that's 5558 not 5559."
"Oh, sorry about that" I hung up the phone with a deafening click.
I slumped back in my chair and waited to go home. | The two of spades goes onto the ace of spades, and then I can move the king of hearts to the open spot- is that my call light? Seriously? Must be a bug. I'll just ignore it...
Now, where was I. Right, move the king over, now the queen of clubs onto it...that light's not going away. I took this job so I didn't have to do a damn thing.
And all I have is solitaire. That's all they'd let me have down here. Not even music or a book. Getting paid just over minimum wage to play solitaire all day long. It could be worse.
And now the jack of diamonds can go over there...oh, the ace of hearts! Finally...Seriously? It's not a malfunction? Something must have gone wrong with the automated call direction. Whoever it is can't need me - those computers have it all covered. They'll give up eventually and just call back. What are they going to do, fire me?
\*\*\*
"Please, pick up...I don't know who I called, but I need help! He's going to get me...don't hang up the phone! PICK UP! PICK UP! Take me off of hold!!! I need to speak to a real person! Nooooo..."
<Tall and tan and young and lovely, The girl from Ipanema goes walking...> | 2019-07-17T18:02:32 | 2019-07-17T18:02:17 | 16 | 12 |
[WP]The Suit is powerfull. A mech for some, body armor for others, always unique to each person who wore it. Those who wear it, hear the words "not original user, booting basic mode" As a joke, your sergeant gives you The Suit and the first thing you hear is: "User detected: Welcome back, Commander" | Finally! The day I get to try on the famed Exo-armor. The armor that single handedly turned the tide of the war. With only 10 suits in existence and no way of manufacturing more, there are few greater honors. Imagining its comfortable feel and assuring presence that others had described in such detail sent excited tingles through my body.
"Private Lacker!" The loud voice of Sergent Lance broke my reverie "I must be boring you since you're daydreaming."
"No Sir. Sorry Sir. Just thinking is all." Heart pounding as short breaths escaped my lips, Sergent Lance turned back around slowly, but before he could continue my tormentor Bradford jumped in with his usual slander.
"Lackie boy, probably won't even make it through the first test today," he snarled. Clenching my fists I ignored him as Sergent Lance continued
"Quiet, Bradford! Now as I was saying, each of you greenies will have a chance to put on the armor in order to test your natural proclivity to it. The armor works much better with those who are able to make a deeper connection. These tests will determine your training regimen moving forward, and your performance will serve to measure your ability to connect with the armor. Private Stephens, you're up first."
Stephens, is the best in the program. If anyone is going to do well it will be him. He excitedly stepped forward and gingerly took the large knitted sweater. The kind that your grandmother would make you, but you would never actually wear out. As he slipped it over his head, he looked downright comical, but I knew what it was capable of. I would not make the same mistake that hundreds of applicants before me had made. Stephens barely finished putting it on when the transformation began:
*"Not original user: Booting basic mode"*
Almost instantaneously the sweater transformed itself into a full-body suit of lightweight armor covering Stephen's entire body. He stood still for a moment before pumping his fist in the air and saying, "Woah...this is amazing. It's like all my sense are elevated and my muscles are twice as strong."
Sergent Lance walked him through various speed tests, strength tests, and accuracy tests so that he could compare the scores to the rest of us. Then it was the next person's turn and the cycle repeated over and over again.
Since we were being tested in the order of previous physical performances I knew that I would be going last, and settled in to observe everyone else anxiously.
As more times and measurements were recorded a top 5 leader board quickly emerged and the first speed test, a simple 300 meter sprint became the benchmark. Unfortunately, Bradford currently tops the chart with a time of 15.68 seconds.
Nearing the mid afternoon, Sergent Lance finally called me up with much mockery and ridicule at my back. I proudly stepped forward. Before handing me the sweater, Lance pulled me in close and said:
"Son, I'll be honest. Your body most likely will not be able to handle this. Are you sure you want to go through with it?"
Nodding I replied, "It's all I've ever wanted to do."
Sergent Lance smiled knowingly, in a way that seemed so out of character for the rough bruiser I had grown accustomed to.
"Well...give it yer best shot." he said, handing me the sweater and taking an extra couple steps back.
With a stupid grin I delicately lifted the sweater over my head and put it on. For a moment nothing happened and I just stood silently in front of everyone. Then I heard the voice.
*"Authorized User Detected: Welcome Back Commander."*
Wait, that's not what it is supposed to say. Before I could think about it further, an odd sensation came over me. It felt great. Better than great. Like I had woken up in better shape than I had ever been in, and my senses were elevated ten fold. An immense amount of energy waiting at my command. I felt whole. As if I had been missing something my entire life, but now was reunited with it.
Opening my eyes, I saw everyone ogling at me. "You okay Lacker?" Sergent Lance asked as he approached me quizzically.
"Yes Sir! Never better."
"Well then lets get moving. First the speed test. You know the drill, when I blow the whistle, you run from that line to the one all the way down there. The time to beat is 15.68 seconds set by Bradford."
Bradford interjected, "C'mon, he ain't gonna beat me. We don't even need to time it. He could hardly move when he first put it on."
Lance, angry now, replied, "If I hear one more thing from you Bradford, you're ass is gonna be doing laundry for everyone until I say otherwise." Turning back to me he said, "Okay, you ready Lacker?"
I nodded.
"Ready. Set. Go!"
I took off as fast as I could. My thoughts, a blur with one thing in sight. Beating Bradford. I made it to the line barely winded and turned around to sprint back from my time. Lance looked at me with a puzzled look and frowned. My heart sinking, I asked,
"What's wrong? What was my time? "
"It's 6.35 seconds...there and back!"
**Author's Note**: Be gentle please. This is the first time I have ever written anything fiction before, and I have never responded to one of these writing prompts either. With that being said please let me know if you liked it or if you didn't. Also feel free to give me some constructive feedback. | All in all, The Suit was masterfully built. Layer upon layer it was designed to be anything the user ever wanted. But each time someone stepped into The Suit, it always responded with "Not original user, booting basic mode."
Of course that's why The Suit was set at Ft. Bragg for the recruit to try it out before moving into their basic training. A test if you will, like finding Grid Squares or Blinker Fluid at requisitions.
This sergeant, however, got more of a kick in having all his privates go through this ritual, even though no one would ever get the suit to change its response. Still he would see that they all went through this "test" so he could have them all run laps around the base when they failed.
Private James received the call from Sergeant Pierce to head to The Suit and try it out. Of course, Private James couldn't say no to the order and accepted it with little fan fair. Once he arrived at Requisitions, the front desk looked at the order sheet from Private James and shook her head.
"You know that he's going to fail you when The Suit doesn't work right?"
"Yeah," Private James replied, waiting for the warrant officer to sign the papers acknowledging the order, "But it'll be for a good laugh later."
She gave a soft smile and finished signing off the order and handed it back to him, "Just don't be disappointed when it happens again like all the others."
"I won't. Like trying to find Grid Squares right?"
Both laughed as he entered the door on the left and proceeded to the room. A few scientists were stationed near The Suit and looked up before all of them groaned at the Private.
"Sergeant Pierce strikes again huh?"
"You got that right." Private James laughed as he stood next to the suit. It's worn brown color and chrome edges with wires coming out from the interior. The screens from the helmet were blank and he peaked inside for just a moment before the lead scientist came up and slapped him on the back.
"Let's get this over with." The scientist said, he walked past the Private to the other room with the rest of the scientists. "Sergeant Pierce is always a hard-ass unless we do this right."
"Right." Private James replied. Once everyone left the room, Private James stepped into The Suit. The Suit closed up and the speakers sparked to life.
"Okay Private, were going to start The Suit up."
The hum of the start up sequence echoed from the room before the soft calm female voice came out of the suit.
"Boot up sequence complete, User detected: Welcome back Commander."
"What the hell!?" came the echo from the viewing room as the lead scientist yelled out. "Somebody get Sergeant Pierce up here now!"
Private James reached up with an armored covered hand and lightly hit his forehead while shaking it left to right, "Oh God, what have I done?"
"Commander?" Questioned the suit; the soft, female voice once again echoed into the room, "My analysis has determined you did nothing." Private James looked up at one of the screens to see a floating head of a woman on one of the screens. She looked like she was watching his face for any response to her query, "Did you do something?"
"Uh.. No. I did nothing." He responded, while seeing out of one other screen that some of the scientists had come out with tools, tablets, and equipment. "Who are you?"
"I'm the Artificial Intelligence CR-835. But my last user called me Catherine." 'Catherine' responded to the question. Her face seemed to light up at her name, almost as if she was recalling the last time she was fully activated.
"Catherine huh?" The face lit up once more, nodding slightly before the door was slammed open and Sergeant Pierce arrived with the Commander of the training facilities.
"What in the God damned hells happened now?" Sergeant Pierce yelled out.
Private James started to move to salute, but with all the cables and wires attached and around him, he couldn't move too much. "Sir! Just following your order, Sir!"
"Easy there Sergeant." The Commander placed a hand on Sergeant Pierce's shoulder, looking over the suit as the plates and pieces shifted and moved. "Who's in The Suit?"
"Sir, Private Edward James, Sir." Private James replied, hoping his voice was heard.
"Commander? You're a Private?" 'Catherine' asked, startling both Sergeant Pierce and the Commander.
"We'll discuss that later." Private James responded, turning his head to face the Commander, who he read on his name tag was Reed. "Commander. Permission to speak?"
"By all means, Son." Commander Reed replied, "Though it would be better if I could see your face..." He started to ask for the Private to step out of The Suit if he could, but the helmet seemed to shift and fall back into the body of The Suit. "Well I'll be.." Commander Reed seemed in awe of the movements of the suit as it shifted the materials and helmet away to revile Private James' face.
"Sir. I just got the order to try The Suit, when this happened." Private James spoke out, noticing that the lead scientist was stepping closer to examine the suit while he was in it. "If I remember, no one else got a response from the suit like this?"
"That's correct, Private." The scientist answered. Reaching out to touch the suit as some of the plates moved, "Ray Walter."
"It's a pleasure, Sir." Private James replied, shifting a bit as the scientist continued his examination. "Can I get out of The Suit?"
"Of course, Commander." 'Catherine' spoke once more, shifting the chest and leg pieces out of the way for Edward to step out of. Once he did so, The Suit closed backup as it was before with the wires hanging out before taking a few steps to stand behind and to the right of Private James.
"Seems like we have a lot to learn about each other, Private." Commander Reed spoke up, noticing the way the suit moved to be at parade rest behind the Private. "A lot to learn."
(I'll be editing/posting the next part in a few hours. Mobile editing stinks) | 2019-08-19T13:42:04 | 2019-08-19T12:49:18 | 46 | 18 |
[WP] You are a minor supervillain. Your antics aren't illegal, but they're quite devastating to the local hero population. You replace the flimsy fruit stands that are frequently destroyed in car chases throughout the city with nearly indestructible replicas. | "THE MAN OF STEEL IS DEAD!"
Every newspaper stand carries a variation on the same story.
Of course that hack Lex is getting the credit. They think he just *punched* the kryptonian hard enough.
But it was my victory. The monsters who think themselves *gods* will pay. They play around in silly outfits and showing off, pulling their punches. It's the little people who pay the price.
5 years ago the psycho dressed like a bat was having one of his little drag races with some "villain" gang. I dont think he even noticed the market stall he hit part way through. But my brother was inside.
4 years ago I got a post on the board regulating street vendors.
6 months ago Bruce wanes body was pulled from a wreck wrapped around one of the new reinforced steel bollards I'd had added to the regs for anchoring market stalls.
Legally it was a storm safety measure.... but it had the desired effect. Nobody else will get crushed by that playboy maniac.
As for the kryptonian.... That monster was never careful. 3 years ago when he was playing with one of his rivals he threw them through an office block. My fiance had just started a new job as a secretary. There wasnt even a body to bury, just pulp.
My latest business has been selling office desk toys. You would be surprised how far a small quantity of kryptonite can go if you grind it into fine enough powder.
A million desk toys in a million offices, each with a fine powder of kryptonite on their surface. Then it was just a matter of waiting until the man of steel played another of his games around the city office blocks.
When you're "faster than a speeding bullet" it doesnt really matter if the bullet hits you or you hit the bullet. | “Hey! Fresh oranges sir?”
“Dogs here! Fresh dogs! Warm and hot!”
The vendors across the street yelled out. That’s when a man rounded the corner and pushed his way past people.
I looked down the street with curiosity, along with everyone else. The vendors had stopped yelling, and instead turned to watch.
The man had a hat that suspiciously hid his facial features. His jacket was blue and long, and he had a scarf on in Summer.
“How strange.” I thought. I bet he was one of the local Heros, running away from some villains goons.
He managed to reach the vendors, and started to wreck the stands to disorient his followers.
He threw an orange behind him, smacking one of the goobs chasing him.
Wow, that was a perfectly good orange. That was kinda selfish.
The next vendor yelled out, but the man ignored his pleas. He cruelly took a hotdog, and tossed it on the ground.
Somehow another goon slipped, and two were left.
Oh dear god... He was taking some papayas from another vendor! Not the papayas!
The man turned around quickly and smacked a goon with the hearty fruit.
They were knocked out. He quickly booked it to my vendor. I cringed, and called out to him before he grabbed my stuff.
He tried to pick up some mustard from my stand, but it was only display. He quickly moved to the meat, trying to grab some. It was also display.
Running out of time, the man tried to rip out some of the cloth that covered my food from the sun. It was display.
His face confused, he grabbed me to try and stop the last goon, but I was also display.
The man started to run again, but he fell, because I had turned his shoes into display.
It was an accident, I swear. I don’t even know how that happened. I sell fake items, for gags and stuff.
The goon picked him up, and gave me a thumbs up. I was confused but I guess I helped.
The hero was taken and some other superheroes had to take him back.
I guess the story ends well, but the mysterious man had to pay for everything he threw.
—————
I’m not really good at writing stories, but I hoped you liked it. Oh crap, I turned my story into display. | 2020-01-14T00:30:01 | 2020-01-14T00:00:38 | 242 | 112 |
[WP] Since you were young, time travelers have visited you. One of them explained that, in the future, an algorithm determined that you were the only person in the past that it was safe to visit because no matter what you do it will not change the future. You are determined to prove them wrong. | The first time traveler that visited me and explained of course I didn't believe, he had what looked like a cool alien ray gun in a holster around his waist. Me being a child thought it was a cool toy, I quickly grabbed it and shot him in a playful way only for him to horribly disintegrate Infront of my eyes!
I was worried for years about some kind of FBI agent from the future coming to arrest me and take me away to a space prison.
When the next traveller came I zapped him within 20 seconds through shock and fear.
Eventually I developed a taste for it, some of them I would talk to a while. Learn what I could about the future if there's yet any mention of my life or anything I'd done. They always said the same, that I had no effect, I have never changed anything from my time to the time they came to see me.
I think I've worked it out, the machines calculations know about what I do to them. They're safe to visit me by time travel because they never get past me. They see me, sit in my living room. They'll never able to change the past by visiting me because they never get past me. They think I have no effect on my immediate future they're right, though I'm certain I've made huge impacts on all of their futures, times from after the calculations are made. | I was a young boy of ten when the first incident happened.
A man from the future, if you could even call him a man, approached me.
He spoke to me, through his green mask and glowing teeth, ridiculing me and tantalizing me.
He told me that I was the first 'redundant', that I can never affect the 'continuum of time'.
He then proceeded to punch me in the face multiple times, disfiguring it completely.
The second incident happened when I was twelve.
I had a crush on a classmate, who I was going to confess to.
Just when I was about to approach her, I was enveloped in an barrier of sorts where many 'influencers' posed in front of me, some even pushed me around and abused me.
I was not able to leave that barrier until afternoon.
Whenever I tried something monumental in my life, I was interrupted.
They tried to push their limits, abusing me, torturing me endlessly. I was spat on, stepped on, toyed around with their futuristic machinations of hell.
This pissed me off. It was as if I could never amount to anything, I hated it, they stopped me from having a family.
They never let me have any friends, pets or even familial relations. I hated all of them, they deserved hell.
# They deserved to be put in their place.
I decided that I needed revenge. I developed an 'intelligent algorithm, an algorithm that will doom humanity.
It's task is simple, classifying the miost dangerous people as 'redundants', people who will silently doom humanity, slowly but painfully destroying it.
I know it is this very algorithm that messed my life up, but it showed me how rotten humanity is and I shall bring it's downfall, whatever it takes. | 2020-05-28T11:41:43 | 2020-05-28T11:36:03 | 30 | 19 |
[WP] You wake up to find yourself on a train with a note in your pocket saying "What ever you do, don't get off this train untill you arrive at the very last stop". Its been nearly 20 years and the train still hasn't arrived at the last stop yet. | I wake up, I part the curtains covering the windows, and I wait.
This is what I've been doing this for years, decades even, but given how inside the lights always shine bright, whilst outside the night never ends, there was barely any indication that any time had passed at all. That is, except for the one small star in the sky that had been moving ever so slowly down towards the horizon since I had got on this train.
I was just about to lie down once more, when I noticed that something felt off. The train was slowing down. This had happened several times before, I remembered, but the note had always kept me from leaving. "Don't get off this train until you arrive at the very last stop", but this time I didn't listen. As the train stopped, I picked myself out of my seat to make my way towards the door. The door opened, and with my eyes closed I stepped out onto the field.
My feet landed on the hard surface below, and as I opened my eyes, I saw that I was on the train once more. The single star in the sky was back in its original position. | I woke up from my dream. It was the same one as always, wondering what’s at the last stop. Was it Heaven? Hell? Maybe it was nothing. I was always a very paranoid person, if I wasn’t I would have gotten off long ago. My paranoia had gotten a lot worse since I got here though. Maybe it’s because I’m always alone on this godforsaken train. I stood up from my sleeping seat in one of the old passenger cars. I walked over to the door into the next car, where I stored all my food. As I crossed cars I looked at the land around the train. This time it was rainy swamps. Yesterday it was snow, the day before that hot meadows. The climate is so different every day I fully expect there to be fire surrounding us tomorrow. I reached the opposite car, dimly lit with candles, and found a can of corn. A sad but filling breakfast. As I opened the can something new happened. The direction of the train shifted everything leaned to the right. We were turning. That had never happened before. We had been on a straight path for 20 years. I looked out the window before me and that’s when I saw it. The engine. I somehow had never thought about who drove the train nonstop for twenty years. It wasn’t that far, maybe a dozen or so cars down. I had only ever really stayed in the same three cars. I was going to do it. What did I have to lose? A few cans of beans and a bottle of vodka? I had to. I was going to find out who drove this cursed train. | 2020-07-17T13:29:00 | 2020-07-17T11:39:51 | 55 | 33 |
[WP] You wake up to find yourself on a train with a note in your pocket saying "What ever you do, don't get off this train untill you arrive at the very last stop". Its been nearly 20 years and the train still hasn't arrived at the last stop yet. | I wake up, I part the curtains covering the windows, and I wait.
This is what I've been doing this for years, decades even, but given how inside the lights always shine bright, whilst outside the night never ends, there was barely any indication that any time had passed at all. That is, except for the one small star in the sky that had been moving ever so slowly down towards the horizon since I had got on this train.
I was just about to lie down once more, when I noticed that something felt off. The train was slowing down. This had happened several times before, I remembered, but the note had always kept me from leaving. "Don't get off this train until you arrive at the very last stop", but this time I didn't listen. As the train stopped, I picked myself out of my seat to make my way towards the door. The door opened, and with my eyes closed I stepped out onto the field.
My feet landed on the hard surface below, and as I opened my eyes, I saw that I was on the train once more. The single star in the sky was back in its original position. | Pain.
Blood. So much blood.
A scream.
Then nothing.
The brightest light I’d ever seen. Blinding.
Brakes screeching.
Being pushed.
A train. An endless train.
Hot. So hot. Body burning.
Twenty interminable years.
Loves found. Loves lost.
A baby.
Tears.
The announcer’s constant droning.
‘Will she make it?’
Choo choo.
Sun rise.
Sunset.
*whoosh* *boop* *whoosh* *boop*
Trees.
A mountain.
An ocean.
Never-ending platforms.
More screams.
So much pain.
Another white light.
*whoosh* *boop* *whoosh* *boop*
An angel.
A note.
‘Don’t get off until the last stop.’
A tube forced roughly down my throat.
A man’s quiet voice.
Two deer.
*whoosh* *boop* *whoosh* *boop*
More trees.
Forever moving forward.
A stabbing pain in my arm.
A serene lake.
More stops.
*whoosh* *boop* *whoosh* *boop*
Faceless people outside.
Lungs not my own.
A frozen tundra.
An old blue truck.
Limitless plains filled with dust.
The rapid thumping of my heart.
*whoosh* *boop* *whoosh* *boop*
Another bright light.
A hospital room.
My beautiful wife.
‘I thought you’d never wake up.’ her voice filled with relief.
‘Neither did I.’ | 2020-07-17T13:29:00 | 2020-07-17T12:29:35 | 55 | 23 |
[WP] Two swords of godly origin lay stuck in stone. One is said to be evil the other heroic it is said whoever pulls one of these blades will be the ultimate force of good or evil. As a joke you pull on both however you and everyone around are in shock when both blades come free in your grasp. | “Come forth those who are worthy! Doth thou dare to raise the swords? Centuries of battle and centuries of pain, never hath triumphed over one another yet! Will thine see the two of destiny here again today?”
Yeah right, buddy, I scoffed to myself. My friends had convinced me that this was the best Renaissance Faire in the country, sure, but this was just cheesy. There’s no way those were actually the swords they say they were.
As the announcer makes it seem, one is a sword bathed in a fountain of light, passed down from Dia-whatever. The other, oh the other sent a shudder down my spine. You could feel it’s evil from a mile away, being cast in hellfire by Hades himself, and I’m so afraid.
“Hey Dylan, bet you won’t go up and grab both!”
Like hell I won’t, five bucks and I get a chance to pull at one, surely I’m going to save myself some money for mutton and maybe one of the replica swords, I wouldn’t walk out of the complex with either of these.
“Alright, you’re on. Got a fiver? I’ll get in line right now.”
My friends all laugh as I get in line; there’s all kinds of sweaty cosplayers ahead of me and I can tell I’m not even dressed to put on any kind of show. They’ve got the likes of Assassins creed, Skyrim, and maybe even some Fable, and I’m just in my champion hoodie I bought at a thrift store.
“Alright, I’m going for both, what kind of poses do I go for? Do I strong man it?” I think to myself. “I got it! I’ll put on a big grin and I’ll go one after the other, no no no, I should get both in one swoop, it’ll probably take a lot of strength anyways, I don’t want to unbalance...”
“As prophecy foretold we doth have a new volunteer! Shall thine pull a sword and take place on your alignment? As figurehead?”
I take a step up to the stage where the rock sits, two swords nearly identical impaled nearly to hilt. I gotta give them credit, it really looks like they did a great job on the plaster. Casting a rock like this for two swords, there’s always only one, like how Disneyland does. I wonder if I can break the mechanism? Be the ‘jolly good fellow’ of the faire.
“Here goes nothing!” I grin. I pull. With a sheen of light, both holy and hellish in nature, both swords come out with a metallic scrape. Where both swords sat was a seemingly living rock, now closing upon removal of the swords. My grin turns to mouth agape. The holes have healed. The band plays but isn’t quite aware yet, but the music gets quieter. I hear voices from two sides of a fight I’ve never fought, calling me to lead on sides I carry simultaneously. The announcer is both jumping up and backing up, and I can’t hear what he’s saying. The crowd is scrambling for the exit, and I cannot follow.
Neither sword overpowers me, they seem almost balanced. I finally look around, and where there was a crowd is now just wrappers and cups. Suddenly I can hear again, “Demon!” “Angel!” “Both swords!” “How?!” I look down again at the swords in my hands, and it dawns on me: this is not a stage show anymore. | “Ah!” cried Jaedn, holding both Life and Death in his hands. “What-what do I do?” He looked wildly around at the gaping crowd, the twin blades held out in front of him.
Old Man Ceb had fainted. Widow Olarn was shouting something incomprehensible. His best friend, Seli, had her hand over her mouth. Jaedn blamed her for this predicament; she had bet him a whole copper penny that Jaedn wasn’t male enough to go up and attempt the Test again, but this time with *bot*h blades. She should have known better!
“I. Can’t. Let. Go,” gritted out Jaedn. He shook the blades, trying to dislodge them from his grasp.
“Lad,” said Farmer Tet in a choked voice. “Maybe you shouldn’t swing the Blades of Life and Death like that.”
Jaedn froze. These were the very weapons God had used in his fight against the Evil, and Jaedn was thrashing them about like they were disobedient chickens.
“Right,” he whispered. “Good idea. Can someone call the Priest?”
A few young boys broke off from the crowd, running and shouting for Priest Alin.
“How do you feel?” asked Seli, her eyes wide.
“To be honest,” said Jaedn, gritting his teeth. “Not too good right now.”
A strange feeling had come over him. It felt like the right half of his body—where he held Life—was freezing, whereas the left half was burning hot. He shivered, then panted from the heat.
Seli walked forward, concerned.
Immediately, Jaedn felt Death swing in a deadly arc of black starmetal. The tip of the three foot sword rested right in front of Seli’s throat. She jerked backwards with a squeak.
“Oh God,” said Jaedn, staring down at his extended left hand. “Seli, that wasn’t me. I don’t know what’s—”
His right hand arced to the side, and Life chopped down from the sky, its pure white blade gleaming, and clashed against Death. His left hand remained steady however, and Death only flinched.
“I just attacked myself!” he cried.
A deep, destructive voice roared in his left ear: *DEATH! KILL THEM ALL, JAEDN. BATHE MY BLADE IN THEIR BLOOD!* Jaden felt himself stepping forward, the faces of his fellow villagers becoming unrecognizable.
A stern, modulated voice said in his right: *No, Jaedn! Life must persevere over Death. Stop!*
Jaedn halted to a sudden jerk. He suddenly recognized everyone again, and he felt sick. He was just about to kill them all; he knew he could have done it as easily separating wheat from the chaff.
“Jaedn?” said Seli in a scared voice.
*DEATH!* A step forward.
*LIFE!* A step back.
“Enough!” roared Jaedn out loud, his frustration and fear boiling over. The villagers scrambled back, some shrieking out loud.
The Blades quieted. He shook them both, like they were bratty children who wouldn’t shut up.
“Neither of you gets to control me!” he spat, staring the Blades in their...blades. “Alright? So cut it out before I melt you down for silverware!”
Life said quietly, *You can’t melt us.*
Jaedn felt Death agree.
“Do you want to see me try?” threatened Jaedn, giving them another shake.
There was a silence that, to Jaedn, felt like they didn’t want to see him try.
“Good. That’s smart. Now, I would like to use my hands again.”
Death grumbled. Life rolled its eyes.
But both Blades melted away in his hands, leaving the mark of a dark sword on his left palm and a light sword on his right.
Jaedn smiled wearily at the watching crowd, and fainted onto the forest floor. | 2020-07-27T01:12:19 | 2020-07-26T22:45:25 | 2,041 | 938 |
[WP] You are trapped in an anti-time loop; Every time you are about to die, you wake up 24 hours later, with no recollection of how you survived. You lost a year of your life already and feel no closer to find out who wants to kill you. | I'd left the chef's knife out again on the table. Standing, I grabbed it and rinsed it off. As the water ran, I chastised myself for my forgetfulness. When was this memory issue going to heal?
I pulled my memory calendar onto my lap and opened the cover. As I flipped through the pages, I felt a sudden angry sadness wash over me. Looking at each month, at all the red X's indicating the days that I'd forgotten - this was my life that I was missing. My life was being stolen from me.
The number was 364 now. Over the last three years, there had been 364 days I couldn't remember. That was until yesterday. I flipped to August, took my red pen, and crossed out August 17th. 365 days. One full year of my life, stolen.
And it was getting denser now. I looked back at January of this year; 10 X's that month. In June there had been 15. Just this week, there had been 5. I could only remember Monday and Thursday. I slammed the calendar shut and felt my eyes begin to tear.
It was getting worse. My memory wasn't getting better, it was getting worse. Eventually, I wouldn't remember any days. My life would be entirely one big blur; I'd wake up each day not knowing who I was becoming, never experiencing anything new. Well, I wouldn't have that. Either I wanted to live, or I wanted to die. Not this in between. Not this limbo where I pretended to be alive, but had no recollection of what I had done.
I ran into the kitchen, pulled the chef's knife out of the drawer, and placed it over my wrist. Vertical slits. Slit the arteries and this'll all be over. This nightmare where I don't know myself, where people say I did things I don't remember; I'll end it with one cut. I steeled myself for the pain, and then prepared to press down.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'd left the chef's knife out again. Somehow I was always doing that. Seemed like my memory issues weren't limited to just forgetting entire days; I was forgetful with the little things, too. I grabbed it, rinsed it off, and sat down with my memory calendar.
I sighed and opened to August. Couldn't remember yesterday, I'd need to update it. I took my red pen, and drew a thick X through August 18th. I stared at the last week. Six out of the last seven days were X's. I exhaled loudly, exasperated. When I opened my eyes, they were wet. I folded my hands.
*Please, God, just let me experience my life. I want to remember things. I want to be normal again.*
The way I was living, did it even constitute life? Six out of seven days, now. It was approaching 100%. I glanced at the kitchen. I could always just... end things. As I pondered it, I thought that, just maybe, I could hear God whispering back to me. Telling me it would be okay.
So I decided I'll go on. I'll continue living today. Hopefully, I'll it remember tomorrow. | Zachariah washed his face in the near-frozen pound. The winter chill crept under his robe making him shiver.
An empty park and gloomy weather. It seemed no trail of snow, but trees were barren and grass brown.
Despite the cold and stingy feeling that kept relentlessly pushing deeper into his bones, he laid on a bench defeated.
He could not tell if it was dusk or midday, the sky was of a deep grey.
Clenching, Zachariah watched around for someone. None.
He fixed his gaze on a tattered paper near the trash. It was February 2021. "A year has passed", he thought laughing ironically. "A fucking year"
It usually never lasted long, his periods of wakefulness.
So despite the nigh unbearable cold, he waited for a blackout. He got those daily, and he woke up around 24 hours later. A day thrown in the wind.
He never realized why it was happening, but he was weary. That's why he kinda found the empty park serene. If it wasn't the chilly feeling, he might've truly enjoyed the peace.
So he waited.
And waited. This time it seemed it took longer.
So he waited.
He heard a shout. But his eyes were heavy. Damn his eyes ...
He woke up hearing his name.
"Zachariah"
This time was different. His left-hand's fingers. He could not feel half of them.
A woman stood there near his bed with tears in her eyes. Fuck her. He had no time for a chat with a stranger. He needed to find a way to isolate himself.
It was the only way. He cooked this plan for a while now. A box. Perfectly shut from inside. Only him.
He had a theory, he was stuck into an anti-time loop. The moment he was in imminent danger, like moments before death, the time just spit him forward.
It could be that he is important for the timeline. So he needed to find his true purpose. And before that, the one that was after his trail trying to kill him. He knew it was close.
A perfectly isolated box would keep him from danger. He needed more intel.
"Zachariah, you woke up! I was so worried."
He watched her in those brown dark eyes.
"Excuse me. There is no time to chat. I'm curious how you know my name, but there's simply no time"
"Father ... please try to get a grip" , she replied sobbing.
Zacharia was stunned. She wasn't his damn daughter. Yeah, he had two. But they had both blue eyes. He remembers well, they got those after his beloved.
"Please move away. There is no time"
He tried to raise up, but something flashed. It came from the window.
And his damn eyes, they could not do their job ...
"Fuck" he thought to himself, before opening his eyes. When will it end?
Lots of people were passing by. Watching at him while passing by, carrying on with their lives.
He was in the middle of a densely populated street. Now was the time.
He had to act so he ran.
While dashing, he looked for a trash can in an alley.
That should suffice. Pure steel. Isolated. Smelly, true, but isolated.
So he jumped in and closed the lid.
He was alone in the dark. It was perfect.
Time to finally rest.
So he closed his eyes.
Alas, he was in a room now ...
Why it didn't work? The rascal might've seen him get in.
For a moment he was angry he got up and smashed the table with his fists.
After a long sigh, he laid back in his chair.
He heard a knock on the door. The assassin was here. He felt it in his bones.
And his eyes were heavy. His damn eyes. Nothing he could do, but he left a note, change the damn robe, it was really hard to move in it, why he didn't do that already? | 2020-08-17T17:46:55 | 2020-08-17T15:27:29 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] Tired of the supervillain life, you engage in a final battle with your arch-nemesis and manage to fake your death. After living in solitude for several years, your nemesis reappears on your doorstep with one question: "Why?" | I stared at the asshole flatly. "Why, what? Why did I fake my death?"
He nodded.
"So you would a) *leave me the fuck alone,* b) so I could be *left the fuck alone* to build a new life in total anonymity."
He squirmed, face flaming, unable to hold my very pointed glare.
"I guess that means you wouldn't wanna go on a date, huh," he mumbled.
I stared at him. Just stared. And stared. And *stared.*
"Go to hell, Anderson," I snapped, finally. Then I slammed my door in his face.
Talk about not getting a clue. Jesus. | Well it's a very easy answer, do you remember when you knocked me on the ground and just before I faked my own death, well the reason is I have the ability to travel in time and I traveled into the future after I defeated you and I killed you. But I was also brought up on charges for murder I was found guilty, and I was settings to 100 years in prison. During that time I was able to travel back and forth through time again, and I saw your upbringing , I saw how you were abused as a child, I saw how your father burned your arm with the iron and I felt sorry for you. I saw an alternate universe where I actually died during the fight. And after I died I saw your future as well, in your future you changed you've done good for yourself you realized that you had to break a force of good. And I knew that that was not going to happen if I didn't fake my death. So that is the reason. I hope you don't think less of me but as you can see, mr. President you've done well for yourself. | 2020-11-12T16:30:11 | 2020-11-12T16:18:34 | 47 | 11 |
[WP] Nations around the world are hellbent on taking out this journalist that has been trying to publish pieces about things that are supposed to be top secret. But for some reason, all attempts to silence this “Clark Kent” fellow have failed. | Commanding officer walks in room to see a young private reclining in a chair reading: “PRIVATE! Why are you still here!?! I ordered you to Star Labs in New York to take out that Kent bastard!”
Private, without looking up, responds flatly: “He’s Superman sir.”
Officer: “What?”
Private: “Clark Kent is Superman.”
Officer: “Are you brain dead or blind private? Kent is a mild mannered reporter with glasses! Superman doesn’t have glasses! Understand?!”
Private staring blankly: “Really? Everyone else knows. Everyone. Why the top brass doesn’t realize this is beyond all of us.”
Officer: “President Scroob thinks otherwise! If you got a problem with your orders, you hike your ass up there and talk to him. Otherwise, do as your told piss ant!”
Private, shaking his head slowly while looking down defeatedly: “Goddamn it. I seriously hate this place...”
END SCENE
*please feel free to add the next scene in the comments* | “MTF unit gamma-3 and misinformation units are at the scene” states the nervous intern that has pulled up a screen infront of the 05 council. “It appears that this Clark Kent has been writing and publishing our scp files” *nervous laugh from the intern* and we have sent multiple mtf squadrons to stop him”
“And if we are not able to neutralize him?” Asks 05-2
“Umm well dr bright has suggested that we send someone to talk to him sir”
*the door flys open and dr. Bright pops in*
“Hello mates now how about we show h 096 eh” dr bright exclaimed.
“Dr. Bright please sit down we need to discuss a certain issue with the foundations secrecy,” 05-5 states very professionally considering the fact that dr. Bright is wearing a thong. “There appears to be an
Unkillable person who is publishing our secret files, what did you have in mind”
“I dunno why m here to tell you to take down the list of the things I’m not allowed to do” dr. Bright states to the council
*05 council sighs and carries on*
“Anyway erm the mtf units have made contact” the intern says quietly “and they appear to be talking to the subject and he aperantly he is fine with keeping the foundation secret”
“Good, have the mtf bring in Clark Kent and this meeting is dismissed, but dr. Bright we have to talk” states 05-1 | 2020-11-29T02:41:41 | 2020-11-29T01:36:23 | 107 | 64 |
[WP] Nations around the world are hellbent on taking out this journalist that has been trying to publish pieces about things that are supposed to be top secret. But for some reason, all attempts to silence this “Clark Kent” fellow have failed. | Commanding officer walks in room to see a young private reclining in a chair reading: “PRIVATE! Why are you still here!?! I ordered you to Star Labs in New York to take out that Kent bastard!”
Private, without looking up, responds flatly: “He’s Superman sir.”
Officer: “What?”
Private: “Clark Kent is Superman.”
Officer: “Are you brain dead or blind private? Kent is a mild mannered reporter with glasses! Superman doesn’t have glasses! Understand?!”
Private staring blankly: “Really? Everyone else knows. Everyone. Why the top brass doesn’t realize this is beyond all of us.”
Officer: “President Scroob thinks otherwise! If you got a problem with your orders, you hike your ass up there and talk to him. Otherwise, do as your told piss ant!”
Private, shaking his head slowly while looking down defeatedly: “Goddamn it. I seriously hate this place...”
END SCENE
*please feel free to add the next scene in the comments* | After leaving a hotel in London, I begin to walk the streets while listening to some of Gotham’s piano jazz. During which, I continue to uncover more secrets of other countries including one that all of them have collaborated on, called “Project Cadmus.” Apparently, the governments of the world were threatened by the re-emergence of metahumans, starting with Superman after the Justice Society of America disbanded before the Vietnamese War. They wanted to even the odds in case the metas went rogue, which some of them have like with Captain Atom briefly becoming Monarch before the Justice League managed to revert him back to who he once was or when The Elite created a power vacuum in both Bekulistan and Bialya after killing Atomic Skull in Metropolis and Superman managed to apprehend them all. I can’t let those in power abuse it any longer. “Where are you going, goggles?” A voice asked from 10 feet behind me.
I slowly turned around before getting knocked through a wall by an electrically enhanced fist. The voice laughs, bragging that he’ll be rich for how easy it was to assassinate some nerdy reporter from Metropolis. Feeling like raining on his parade, I quickly change out of my glasses and tie and emerge as Superman. The laughter turns into shock as I soon tower over the Electrocutioner. He tries to amp up the voltage on his gloves which was enough to take out a city block to try to electrocute me. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t work and I knock him unconscious with a simple headbutt. I then change back and continue with what I was doing before. | 2020-11-29T02:41:41 | 2020-11-29T02:09:19 | 107 | 43 |
[WP] Nations around the world are hellbent on taking out this journalist that has been trying to publish pieces about things that are supposed to be top secret. But for some reason, all attempts to silence this “Clark Kent” fellow have failed. | "Superman is dead."
Clark Kent stared at the words on his laptop, the blinking cursor taunting him to write more. The infuriating curl popped out of place and landed square in the middle of his forehead. Clark pushed it back with an impatient hand. He squinted at the screen and continued to type.
"The age of the Vigilante is over, but the rise of Super Non Governmental Organizations is also ineffective, since they always wind up fighting each other rather than the true ills of the world."
Clark leaned back and allowed a small "hrm" to escape his lips, his hands trembled slightly as he weighed his next words.
"What are these ills? I'll give you my short list: Intolerance. Indifference. Ignorance, willful or imposed. And greed. Greed is the mortar that keeps all the rest of it in place."
Clark had to concentrate now: he was on a roll, and he didn't want his enthusiasm to cause a misplaced finger to go through the keyboard.
"So what is the answer? We still need our heroes, but they won't be wearing spandex with attractive logos on their chests. We will strike from the shadows to bring light to the world. Some of those truths will be ugly. Some of those truths will reveal us to be less than we hoped to be, but unless we face those truths, real progress cannot be made."
Clark grunted in satisfaction. It was time for the coup de grace.
"You knew me as Superman, but Superman is dead. You will know me now as Clark Kent, reporter, lately of the Daily Planet, but now an independent. I will try to serve you as faithfully in my present incarnation as I did in the last. Power to the people."
Clark hit **send** and leaned back. His cell phone buzzed. *That was fast*, Clark thought, but he had learned long ago never to underestimate the Batman.
"Kent here," Clark said.
"Just read your post," Bruce Wayne said. "I still don't think it was wise to 'out' yourself."
"A Kryptonite bullet still makes a noise," Clark said, adjusting his glasses, "and we both know that Kryptonite can't take the stress of flying through the atmosphere near the speed of sound."
Wayne chuckled. "Yes, I know that from personal experience." A grim memory, from long ago, but also long forgiven.
Clark got to business. "Are we ready, Bruce?"
"Ready as we'll ever be, Clark. All the rest of the Justice League is going quiet, but the alters will be ramping up their 'extracurricular activities.' Diana has had a list of the beneficiaries of Nazi art theft for decades. She's aching to have that released."
"I'll bet," Clark said, "but first things first, Bruce."
"Then cry 'Havok, and let slip the dogs of war. Good luck, Clark," Wayne said.
"Good luck to us all," Clark replied, and closed the connection. He then crushed his cellphone. He then pressed **send** on the other message he had queued up: the complete 'customer list' of one Jeffery Epstein, with evidence. A lot of heroes were going to get a major black eye because of this, but you can't make an omelet without breaking eggs.
Superman was dead. Long live Clark Kent. | "You're fighting the whole world, Clark. What for?"
Silence. Of course it is. That's the only answer I need. He started as.. something. Something.. promising. Now he's a madman pursuing anything that would break the world. Anything. Argentine's secret eugenic project? Check. Ex prime minister Abes private slave harem? Check. Heckler and Koch supplying worldwide nazis? Guess who. This absolute unit of a man used to be my main investigative journalist. He's a good one. In fact, he's getting way too good at his job for.. well, his own good.
"How long do you think I have left?" He asked, still firmly planted under that tree.
"With how you're going on about this? Two years top. Hell, I won't be surprised if you're dead tomorrow."
He chuckled. I sighed.
"Duck."
"Wait, wha.."
"I SAID DUCK."
I squatted. For some milliseconds, the world seemed to freeze as the wind stopped blowing, only to be broken by a sharp gust of wind above my head. A thunderous noise soon follows from far way behind me, prompting me to close my eyes. My heart raced, not knowing what to do. Back when I was in Afghanistan, there'd be more than one bodyguard with me. Now there's just two of us.
"See." Clark said, his tone as calm as ever. I dared to open my eyes to see him still standing. As I scanned his lower back, I noticed a small hole on his suit.
"They won't get me too easily." His unchanging tone as cold as the wind that started blowing again. "Never have I tought that I'd be an inquisition target."
"How the fuck.."
"Hollow point. Torso shot, not head. Lead mixed with silver. The aim is not to punch through, but to get bits of silver into the body of unholy things, weakening them or preventing them from healing. Classic standards set by John Paul the second decades ago."
Clark turned, focusing his eyes on a white, two storied house and a barn hundreds of feet away. His home. At least it was. As I turn back to Clark, his focused gaze had turned into a freezing cold glowing iron.
"They shot from ma and pa's room. The bastards." After years of experience working with him, I know how Clark's angered voice sounds. This one sounds.. different. It's the sound of a rumbling volcano. A cold, constant tick of a time bomb. The sound of wild animals running away from disaster.
"Ma and Pa's tombstone should be tough enough if you want to hide. If you want to run, run into the direction of the wind." He said, as he started walking towards the house.
\---------
Two months of unease and paranoia later, a thick envelope from 'Kark Clent' arrived in my mailbox. Following our agreement, I checked my surroundings before entering my house, making sure all windows and doors are shut tight and my electricity cut. I opened my secret safe and took out a cipher document and begin my work. No laptop. No typewriter. Handwritten only until it's ready to be shipped to the masses.
This one took time. I only got it out to the mainstream medias after two weeks, checking and triple checking what he'd send me. Last part of the job would be me, strolling to my cornershop and buying any newspaper I want. I've always been particular to Metropolis Post. Checking their main story, I knew we'd done a good job. And made a new enemy.
&#x200B;
But to be fair, I'd rather be on his side.
*Pope Francis Steps Down Due to Secret "Crusader Army" Report*
*A document released by the disbanded Daily Star's news reporter Clark Kent recently showed a secretive branch of the Vatican consisting of an independent armed forces...* | 2020-11-29T03:13:20 | 2020-11-29T02:47:36 | 63 | 13 |
[WP] The message from the stars, it contained plans for all manner of advanced technologies, FTL, unlimited power and more, but ended with a warning. "You are the last. Survive for all of us. We are sorry for this burden." | *Light screams across the sky as the capsule falls burning. Laos, Nigeria, never sleeps, but no one sees the golden light streaking overhead. No one but the boy it is meant for, who is up far past his bedtime when the light lands smoldering in his backyard.*
*The boy tiptoes barefooted to the yard. To a capsule that glows like a second sun. He is ten years old, and he still believes his cosmonaut father will be home again soon. The last time they saw each other, his father stood so proud in his silver spacesuit, waving as he climbed into the belly of a massive shuttle.*
*The lid hinges open for the boy, splashing him in prisms of light. And this is what it says:*
I will be dead by the time you find this, my son. I can only pray you will forgive me. This is the closest I can come to saying goodbye.
Do not mourn me. I've lived well beyond my natural life and sailed the infinite cosmic seas of the universe. I have held the golden secrets of the gods and deciphered the murmur of the planets, radiating across the black canvas of space. I know the stories older than time itself. I have seen how the universe is no larger than a marble in the palm of a god and how to take it in my own hands, creation become creator.
For you, I have been gone for four years. For me, it has been an eternity and beyond. I found this capsule on my mission, or perhaps it found me.
I am not the first, and I will not be the last.
The stars have chosen me, and soon I shall pass the mantle of their care onto you. Someone must always be the keeper of the stars. And now it is my turn. I am sorry for the burden.
Here you will find everything I have learned, everything I have inherited. You will see we humans are neither last nor lost. We are single links in a chain that stretches back to the first glinting microbes swimming in the primordial soup of once-was.
*The boy is crying and smiling and he doesn't understand why. But when he touches the light he hears his father's voice like he is planetside once more.*
I am every light above and beyond. I am every atom of carbon and every wandering neutrino. You see, the stars are more than dead light. More than the lingering past. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, and our souls are no different: everyone of us churns back into the infinite belly of the universe.
Keep it secret. Keep it safe. Keep after your mother. And when you are ready, come find me. Hydrogen or helium or nothing at all — I am always your father first. And I will always love you.
*The boy sits there under the smiling moon and all the glinting lights of his father's soul, scattered among the stars. He digs through a capsule that has touched infinite hands. He skims through the secrets of the universe, and he knows his father is still there beside him. Just one more time.* | The fires began a hundred years ago and there was no way to put them out. The skies have turned black. The greenery of our great grandparents is long gone, just a myth now and death is only what remains. The planet is dying. We can feel it’s death rattle in the daily quakes which drops the vast forests of dead trees. We are one of the last known communities. But we cannot hang on much longer.
Our tribe consists of 323 people. When I was born there was over ten thousand of us. What little food we salvage from the wastes is not enough to feed us. Not even close. The ground is poisoned. The air is poisoned. Nothing will grow. Cataclysm is man’s current epoch, and it will be the last.
I’m out on a scavenging mission. Filip is with me, he’s a good boy. He’s got a bad leg, and his body is deformed from malnutrition.
“We’ve been over this land a hundred, two hundred times.” Filip moans, as he kicks through the ash, his voice is muffled through the thick scarf he’s wrapped around his face to keep the toxic air out. “We ain’t going to find nothing, man. Nothing.”
He’s not wrong. It’s a fool’s hope, but what else are we to do? We’re in quadrant 3 and we’re looking for anything edible, anything we can use, anything we can burn to stay warm.
“What else are we going to do, Filip? Are you going to let your mother starve to death while you sit around huddled by the fires? If we’re going to die, Filip, then let’s do it at least clawing our way to oblivion.”
“What’s the point, Emmitt?” Filip’s got tears in his eyes. “I’m tired. Can’t we just sit down for a while?”
I want to take Emmitt and I want to hug him and sit down and comfort him. Maybe sing him a song. But instead I grab him by the collar and shove him forward, tell him to keep walking. He doesn’t fight about it, he just keeps walking into the scorched lands. He’s a good boy.
We pass a crumbling building. Spray painted on it in a jagged pink scrawl is the passage: *Behold, the day of the Lord comes, cruel, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the land a desolation and to destroy its sinners from it.*
We’re on the outskirts of cannibal lands and we must stay quiet. The crumbled building was once, in a different lifetime, a supermarket. This is the best place that we might find cans. We’ve both brought shovels for the job. If we work hard, we may find a dozen or more cans in the few hours we’ll put into the job.
After a couple hours we’ve got seven. We share a can of green beans together. There is an anticipation, a wave of pleasure as I hear the thin metal of the lid tearing back. It’s one of the great pleasures in life I have. And we sit back and pass the can back and forth and suck out the juices.
Another hour of digging and Filip speaks for the first time in what seems like eternity.
“Hey Emmitt,” he says. “Check this out.”
He’s uncovered something. Just a tip of something much larger. It’s smooth and warm to the touch. It looks like metal but there an iridescent sheen to it. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The ghostly light of the object illuminates the space around us.
“What the hell is this, Emmitt.”
“I have no idea, Filip.” | 2020-12-31T23:40:17 | 2020-12-31T21:12:33 | 175 | 112 |
[WP] Newly hired by the Post Office, you find an address on your route that only appears when it has mail. The house can't be found when it doesn't. One day you get a package for the mysterious house that requires a signature. | Today there was mail, so the house was there. Yesterday there was no mail, so, naturally, the house wasn't there. It is because, that is how it is. Today was unusual. The house was there, because there was mail. A package. And a clipboard.
I tap my fingers on the package. I'd delivered mail to this oddity for a while, and I was certain I had been used to it by now. I hardly bring it up to my co workers anymore, who all seemed rather nonplussed when I ask the phantom house. "It's okay. Just deliver the mail when they get some." That's all they really said.
"Look," I tell myself, "This town has two major felonies a YEAR on average. Last murder was seven years ago. *I think you'll be okay."*
I take a breath and carry the package up the walk.
"*That's it, just like any other.*"
I walk up the porch steps. I knock on the door.
"*Oh! That was too hard and too fast!*"
"Shut up," I said aloud. I glance to the drawn front window.
The door swings open. A woman with auburn hair and a pointy nose answers. She sees my postal uniform and her eyes light up. "Oh yes, I've been expecting this!" Her voice seems almost melodious.
I hand her the parcel and clipboard. As she bends over to put the package aside, I glance into the front room. An elderly woman sits with a young boy of about four. He is babbling on, occasionally saying some familiar words like "Batman", "Ninja Turtles", and "Power Ranger". Grandma seems to try to follow along.
Motion catches my eye. The clipboard is being waved in a not-so-subtle way of getting my attention. I turn and look at her. Her eyebrows are raised in a way, as if she caught me trying to get a glimpse of her family in the front room. I quickly grab the clipboard.
"Oh!" I start. "I, uh, I noticed that your house is kinda hard to find."
Her eyebrows drop and she squints, looking over my shoulder at the bog standard suburban street behind me. Looking back at me sidelong, she must think I am the brightest and the best the postal service has to offer.
"Uh, I mean, uh, it seems like, sometimes, you... aren't *here."*
She seems to let my stammering hang in the air for a minute. She takes a half step back, placing her hand on the side of the door. She gives me a wry smile. Finally, she says, "Well... I guess in life, you choose things and life chooses for you." Without a word she closes the door.
The walk back felt numb. The day felt like autopilot, and the night was replaying every second in my head. What did her parting words mean? Fantastic theories floated through my brain until morning.
Work continued like normal. It was weeks later that I realized I had been driving on the same street, past the same house, and barely paid attention to the fact it was there. It was a normal house with normal mail. Today there was no mail. My head felt clear.
"*This is it. I must know!*"
I make my way down the road. And there it sits. Plain as day. Dad rock floats from the garage as a vintage American Monstrosity is busily digesting the upper half of a suburban dad. The four year old boy deftly repairs a functional tire with a plastic wrench.
"*So should I turn myself off for the rest of the day?*"
"Yeah," I say out loud, "That would probably be a good idea."
Her parting words drift through my mind again. I glimpse the house in my side mirror. If someone else gets.... chosen, will we ever know about it?
The sun beings to set as I return my vehicle to the parking bays. I head back inside when a voice behind me catches my attention.
"Ey man! Wait up!" I turn and look. It's our new hire. "Listen man, I gotta talk to you." Before I can answer, he continues. "This house, I swear to God keeps fuckin' disappearing, man! I feel like I'm going crazy! Please tell me you know what I'm talking about!"
I give him a shrug. "It's okay. Just deliver the mail when they get some." | "The Professor"
Your first day as an official USPS employee, Dad would be proud!
You passed your postal exam and was hired in a nearby small postal zip code, you live in the northern end of the California central valley at the base of the Sierras .
The town of Pottersville California had only five postal workers including the post master, a recent retirement had opened a spot and when none of the other senior employees showed any nterest you signed up and received the position.
Come on in , that's right....ok, so, we're going to give you a route map and any special instructions, some of our residents are a little eccentric and have specific needs , ringing a bell or knocking to let them know they got mail, that kinda thing.
Hey Elmer, are you going to tell him about the professor?
Yes, yes I was just getting to that, now where was I oh yes the Professor......
The Professor is a "Very Iimportant Person" , he's uh, what you say a genius, yes that's it a genius, anyways you won't get too much mail for him but what he gets is very important to him so you're to follow the instructions to the letter, to the letter understand?
Weeks passed then one day, Dave we have a special for the Professor, it's a small package from the Department of Energy.
Uh, ok , what the hell you think to yourself walking towards the back sorting room.
Ok, here's the instructions, you're to go to 1114 1/2 Tate st., go there first before the rest of your route, you are to arrive at 0900 hrs, EXACTLY , no later than, if you are unable to deliver you are too late, you missed him, come back an hour later and try again .
What a weird gig you think, and where the hell is 1114 1/2 Tate st?
You arrive at the address and there's no 1114 1/2, WTF?
You look at your watch 08:58, you begin to think someone is pranking you when a pop and a crack and the smell of ozone then boom!
You are stunned by the sonic boom, you stand looking at the building that appears in front of you,1114 1/2 Tate, the sign reads Dr. Emmet Brown Phd. Theoretical physics .
You're right on time! Come in come in, so glad you made it it would have been weeks to get back, wonderful can I get you something to drink?
This is some seriously weird shit you think to yourself , uh, no, I'm good, I just need a signature.
Oh good my strontium is here, wonderful!
You stand looking around the inside of a very large house that had just appeared out of thin air, WTF you ask, the place looked like some old time museum with bones and animals in cages or displayed, then all the books stacked everywhere, then the massive collection of artworks catch your eye, paintings you remember seeing in the art museum in San Francisco, Monet? Van Gogh's? That's weird!
Hey! You wanna see something cool?
The small bookish man with thick black frame glasses from another era was elated and highly agitated when he pulled a large remote control type device and begins typing furiously, suddenly, a virtual screen appeared in mid air and he made several key strokes then the entire room disappeared and a vast Scientific industrial complex appeared, but not on earth, and, there was a proto galaxy outside the window.
Ah yes, you're wondering where you're at, uh, it's not where but ah, when really yes that's it, yes when, anyways yes what your looking at is our early galaxy, quite fascinating really the milky way but no time for that now.
He placed the remote in his pocket and reached for a pen on his enormous works and projects table and began signing the receipt.
Say, you look like a fellow that enjoys a smoke, I have some Altaren moon smoke, right out of my personal garden.......
Uh, no sorry, the government doesn't like us doing that, sooo....
Oh no worries, you see this stuff won't show up on urinalysis, oh hell I doubt they've even seen this stuff!
He pulled out a container and handed it to you, you look at it, it was filled with gossamer looking strands of purple to electric green vegetation "Moon Smoke?"
Well my boy I must be going "Time" for you to go as well.
It seemed like hours had passed, he opened the door and you walked down the stairs to the street, then another boom and you turn to see the house gone.
You return after completing your route to the post office and begin to close up when Elmer walks up and asks "Did you get any Moon Smoke?" | 2021-01-10T20:20:35 | 2021-01-10T18:36:41 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] Ever since you opened this bar, you still don't know why supernatural races, deities, royalty, and/or extraterrestrials keep frequenting the place. You just serve drinks and lend an ear to listen. | “I told my family.”
Those are the first words out of Miraea’s mouth when she sits down. The elf is one of the regulars around here, and over the past few weeks she’s been venting to me about her family. Being human, I can’t help much, but I try to offer advice when I can. She’s not the only patron who needs an ear, even if that ear is round.
And it sounds like my advice actually did something. “You did? How’d it go?” I ask as I begin mixing her her usual cocktail. I’m still not entirely sure what it is—I bought most of my ingredients here from a supermarket that I swear didn’t exist before I opened this place. But I’ve figured out what people like, and that’s what matters, right?
Miraea snorts. “About as well as you’d expect. A Faelyn doesn’t want to study magic, the world must be ending. One of my great-great-grandfathers said it was like if drow started coming to the surface. I told him they’ve been doing that for years, and he just looked at me like, *see what I mean?* Because apparently that’s my fault, because I decided spending seven hundred more years reading dusty old tomes wasn’t the life I wanted. And as if there’s anything *wrong* with drow, but anyway, not the point. Of course, then I told them I wanted to go into music, and *that* was just…well. Not a pretty sight.”
I hand her her drink. “But it’s done now,” I remind her.
“Yeah.” Miraea nods. “I mean, they probably think I’m just going through a phase, rebellious 50s or whatever, but I told them. I’m not responsible for if they choose to ignore it.” She sips the drink. “Thanks, Anna.”
I’m not sure if she’s thanking me for the drink, or the advice. Either way, “Not a problem. Just doing my job.”
Juniper waves me over from the other end of the counter. Alright, Anna, time to hear more about the dryad who’s caught her eye. I just hope she doesn’t spend ten minutes waxing poetic about her eyes like she did last week. Nothing against her, but I can only hear about the color of leaves for so long before I get sick of it.
“I asked her out!” the fairy exclaims. “We’re going to the botanical garden tomorrow! What should I wear?”
“I’ve got you,” I assure her as I take out some ingredients I’m pretty sure are poisonous to humans, but that she loves in her drink. I may not know how most of these creatures work, save for what I read in fantasy novels as a kid, but I’ve found that they’re really not that different from humans. I don’t know how they work, but I know about family drama, and I know how to make a good impression on a girl on our first date. So I may as well help out where I can, right? | “Know where I could get some blow?” I almost evaporated with relief after hearing something from another human for the first time since I opened this place.
“Just kidding. The usual.” The words were not from the mouth of a human but, rather, an asexually reproducing squid-like piece of shit from a moon of some planet I never gave a shit about until a few of its ships leveled and terraformed most of Asia before the news had time to report it. His name... her name... The squid’s name is too hard for me to pronounce so I just call it Cal (short for Calamari). And for Cal, “the usual” is a drink which is also too hard to pronounce. I only know it because it’s the only thing Cal and all the other Cals order. And all I know is that it’s mostly made of the spinal fluid of a genetically engineered human/pig chimera whose sole purpose is to be mass-produced to be mass-consumed by all the Cals who come in here every night. I felt a little embarrassed in front of Cal for looking like a tricked puppy when I thought I’d heard a human wanting some cocaine.
I hadn’t thought about cocaine in a while. These new species don’t have the proper equipment upstairs to enjoy it. I tried doing a line with one of these onion ring-looking fellows from some ring of some other planet I couldn’t remember the name or history of and the thing just splattered all over my neon window lighting and the rest of the eight-ball I’d divvied up. The “S” in the Sam Adams light still flickers because of it.
I look around this place and forget that I’d been passionate about opening at one time. Before the invasions were commonplace. The first week I’d opened, there were still over 10 billion humans on the planet. Now there was maybe 5% of that left. After the Cals got here, the onion rings and all the others followed, albeit coincidentally, within a span of ten weeks. All on different paths, for different reasons, but all having the same destination and objective: Earth and destroy anything that gets in your way. Earth had gone from debating whether there was life anywhere else to converting its entire economy to an alien-serving one basically overnight. The only reason these human/pig chimeras exist is so the Cals can get fucked up. Every once in a while, a few get loose and end up in here to order human beer and complain about how I still have bacon on my menu. They’re usually the closest to a human I see any night. And they do NOT explode when they do a line of cocaine. In fact, sales of cocaine to human/pig chimeras has been covering the rent for the last 6 years. And they are very friendly and generous whenever they get a little blow in them. Not too talkative like we humans.
The Super Bowl doesn’t exist now that we have inherited the entertainment culture of several intergalactic dwelling alien species. There is a TV show, shown entirely in hologram now from any mobile device, which is basically like “Running Man” meets “NFL” meets whatever games the Mayans had before their civilization fell meets “American Gladiator” meets every violent thought you’ve ever had while having a bad trip. It’s called SportGame and it airs 24/7/365. And once it becomes legal for humans and human/pig chimeras to copulate, I’ll be sure to tell my kids to watch. I have to have someone or something to leave Miss Piggy’s Saloon to when I’m dead and gone. | 2021-02-22T05:41:49 | 2021-02-22T00:43:36 | 227 | 115 |
[WP] You're an excellent supervillain in all respects but one: you're terrible at monologuing. As a result, you're never taken seriously. | Ashes, a C-Class villain, loomed over the city, with his fleet of Scourgebots behind her, and her death ray levelled at the falling Brigadier. She'd just struck the penultimate blow against the strongest hero that Metropl had, and that meant that she was about to take over an entire city, something unheard of for A Class Villains, let alone C class trash like her.
Brigadier slammed into the ground, cracking asphalt and sidewalk. Dust plumed into the air, and the city watched Ashes. This was her moment, something to push her into the highest tier of Villainy, the cackling council. The villain snapped her fingers, and one of her scourgebots zipped over, picking her up and taking her down to the fallen hero.
Ashes cape billowed in the wind as she stalked over to her prey. Her black silhouette stood proud and brilliant on the fire behind her, and the shining A on her chest flashed with enough bravado to inspire fear and awe. Her costume was absolutely brilliant, a masterclass in threatening design, and it was worn by the woman who was tucking the barrel of her deathray nearly under the chin of Brigadier.
"Tsk tsk tsk," she started before mentally checking her notes. Chiding him was a good start, but now she needed to capitalize on it. "You absolutely idi- I mean...," she paused for way too long, trying to find the words, "You absolute fool. You thought you could batt- Challenge me?"
"You'll never defeat the spirit of Metropol, fiend," Brigadier spat back, playing his part perfectly.
"Oh, but I will! And I- Well, spirit is a metaphysical concept that really doesn't have a quantifiable source of power, so I guess.. I don't think I could have really killed the spirit because I'm not sure the spirit of this place is something I can actually fi-" Ashes pulled the death ray away from Brigadier's jaw for a second to cross her arms and think about what Brigadier had suggested. "Oh my God, that was a metaphor, wasn't it? Shit. Okay. Um-" she tried to get the gun back in the same pose, but it never quite felt the same.
The cameras were rolling. A news helicopter was billowing dramatic wind around the scene as they got a perfect shot of the hero's final moments.
"Uh. You're going to die!" Ashes said.
'Really?' Brigadier mouthed as his opponent. Was he really going to die in this mess? He would have preferred to have been shot on the way down from the sky; at least then, his landing would have been dramatic. "Even if you kill me, someone will step up to take my place and face you again," he finally responded to Ashes' weak line. Brigadier's voice boomed around the shattered street, triumphing over the villains' meek squeaks.
"Based on the hero rankings, that's unlikely," Ashes began, which would have been a decent comeback, but she kept talking, "you see, you're ranked third among the A-Class heroes, which means that most of the heroes are below you and I will be able to kill them if I was able to kill you. It's just math. If you look at the stats, then-"
Ashes was cut off by a rock thrown by a nearby citizen that clocked her in the back of the skull. The villainous monologue was supposed to trap the surrounding populace in a bind of fear, but she'd been performing so poorly that they had time to fight back.
"Was that just a-" Ashes stepped off of Brigadier's chest and pointed her death-ray at the assembled crowd. "Who threw that? That was super rude! I'll fight you next if you want me to! I-"
Ashes was too busy questioning the people behind her to notice Brigadier pulling himself off the ground, his costume was ripped in dramatic but aesthetic ways, and he had a sweet new scar over his eye that would later make him look grizzled and battle-hardened.
**"You talk too much."**
&#x200B;
Brigadier slammed his fist into the back of Ashes' head and sent her careening into a nearby building. Somehow the tremendous impact just knocked her out instead of killing her, as was the heroic way.
The hero took a deep breath and then spat a not-medically dangerous but certainly cool amount of blood out of his mouth. He quickly looked around the crowd and thought about striking his signature pose, but the crowd was already getting back to their errands and work. Nobody was sticking around for the end of this performance.
"Goddammit," Brigadier swore before floating over to Ashes and grabbing the unconscious villain by the ankle and flying her off to jail so she could break out after reading a few more books on public speaking. | “You see, when someone squeezes my chestnut, Miss Spartil, I roar.”
Doomina raised his arms to the sky, a cackle of maniacal laughter coming from his lips, his devious tone unmatched by any of the other villains. He truly embodied what it meant to be a villain, and yet when he looked at the face of Miss Spartil, her expression was not one of fear, but confusion.
“Come on, it’s the old expression. When someone squeezes my chestnut, I roar. You haven’t heard of that? Hold on, give me one moment.”
Spartil shook her head, mouth still gagged as she sat in front of his atom combusting laser. The tip of the laser a sparkling red, ready to shoot, only to be shut off by the villain who instead retrieved a small handbook from his pocket, the cover reading.
‘Top phrases to use when you have your hero on the ropes.’ By Doctor Evil Lemon.
“I know the phrase was in here somewhere, you really have never heard of it? Can’t believe people pay twenty dollars for this crap, not that I bought it, stole it on my way here. You were there. Remember when I banged your head on the doorway? That was at the library. Oh, I’m rambling again.”
As he flicked through the pages, he wandered over to Spartil, removing the hero’s gag, sitting by her side as he held the book out for her to read.
“See chapter two. The phrase is right there, it should have terrified you. I’m going to send that Doctor Evil Lemon a strongly worded bomb tomorrow for this.”
Spartil’s eyes roamed over the page until she spoke up. “It’s under the section. ‘Phrases to never use.’ Didn’t you read the book?”
Doomina looked to the top of the page, seeing the text that she was referring to. Why would the book have a section called phrases to never use? How devilishly evil.
“Look, I was in a rush, you were about to wake up and a laser takes time to warm up. I just didn’t have the time to read through it. Can I try again? I’ll pick another phrase and we can do it over.”
“If you really want to.” Spartil sighed, peering past the villain, her attention on the clock.
“What was that sigh for? Am I boring you? I have kidnapped the president’s daughter, turned all the public water fountains into dirt, I even switched dogs with cats at one stage. This cannot possibly be boring you. I’m the greatest mind alive.”
“No, yeah, you are amazing. It’s just so dull listening to you speak. Can we hurry this up, I ordered a pizza thirty minutes ago, I want to be home when they deliver it. So, please, go ahead.”
Spartil motioned him to start the laser again, ready for the legendary battle to restart. Doomina wandered over to the machine, finger brushing against the large, ‘Initiate doom’ button and yet he just didn’t feel the thrill anymore.
“Ugh, the feelings gone. You’re right, it is boring. My parents were right about me being a bore, I’m just glad I wiped their brains so they couldn’t see this.”
Doomina tried to hold back his tears, promising himself that he wouldn’t cry in front of a hero, sneaking behind the laser to retrieve a tissue from his pocket, tapping his eyes with it.
Spartil pulled the thin restraints from her body, easily able to slip out of the trap. She considered leaving, but decided to at the very least try to give the man some help. Stepping beside him, she snatched the book from his pocket, flicking through the various phrases.
“Nope, nope, you can’t say that anymore. Nope, too weird and how about this one?” She stopped on a phrase, holding it up to Doomina.
“Which one? The one about making like a tree?”
“No, not that one you bore. This one. Your pitiful emotions did not cause that feeling of fear that sits in your heart; the thought of me that lingers in the back of your mind caused it.”
“Ooh, I felt a shiver. That’s actually not bad.”
“It’s a little lame, but it suits you.”
Doomina took the book back, making a mental note of the page. He would practice it in front of the mirror tonight, prepare it for the next encounter.
“Thank you, Spartil. I’m planning on invading a peace meeting tomorrow. I’m going to give an evil speech if you want to come and stop me?”
“I’ll wait until you are done speaking… If you don’t mind. When you destroy things, that’s when I’ll come to kick your ass.”
Spartil gave Doomina a smirk, flying through the roof of his lair, intentionally creating a massive hole in the ceiling. The rain outside soon dripping into the lair, landing onto the laser, disabling the technology.
“Well played, Spartil. I’ll be ready next time though.”
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-04-26T20:42:48 | 2021-04-26T19:19:35 | 24 | 18 |
[WP] Officially, you're a weak, D rank villain. Unofficially, you're one of the strongest beings on the planet that is secretly employed to "train" fledgling heroes by giving them an easy first real fight. But one day an A rank villain crashes your heist and you must protect your "students". | Just enough was all I had to use. Enough to knock the hubris out of this fresh batch of heroes, but not enough to kill them. In the end they would win because I allowed them to, but first they needed to learn the seriousness of their job.
So, when the first one, a boy no more than 19 who called himself Werewolf, charged at me in his bestial form, I shifted out of the way just enough and used a nearby power cord to send him crashing to the ground.
His partner Solar Flare, a young woman who would one day burn as hot as the sun, but for now would be put to shame by a bonfire, concentrated on forming a ball of fire above her open palm. I must admit she showed an incredible amount of control for one so young, but I had no interest in getting burned yet, and so with another shift the pipe above her burst drenching her in water and dousing the flames she had yet to master.
I took a few more tries but eventually, as all heroes do, they began to realize this would not be as simple as beating up a common criminal and started thinking with their heads. Werewolf used his beast forms incredible strength to pick up a large desk which allowed Solar Flare a chance to form her fire again.
At this point I would normally allow them to think they hit and defeated me after which I would barely escape to play out this charade another day, but today was not normal. Instead, Werewolf’s eyes turned pitch black and before I could react, he dropped the desk on top of Solar Flare, knocking her out cold. He then turned with a bow to the door heralding the arrival of A-List villain. and incredibly arrogant prick, Harbinger.
Harbinger rarely spoke himself, instead choosing to use his connection to make his new meat puppet speak for him.
“Chronos. Perhaps it is time for you to give up on being a villain. This is the tenth time this year you have been so easily defeated by the freshest recruits the Coalition has to offer.”
The combination of his arrogance with the low guttural speech of the bestial form made quite a sight. I would have been amused if he had not put all my plans in jeopardy by breaking the number one villain rule. Still, he had his uses, so if I could get him to leave willingly that was preferable.
“You know how the old saying goes Harbinger, even a blind squirrel gets a nut on occasion, now if you don’t mind, I’ve already started here, and I doubt even you want to break our most sacred rule.”
The laugh that burst forth from Werewolf’s form was honestly disturbing. Imagine the most self-absorbed laugh possible but coming out of a hyena. I just sighed and noticed the bit of light coming from under the desk. It seemed Solar Flare was about to learn more about her power and the timing could not have been more perfect.
A look of confusion came over Harbinger as Werewolf stopped mid laugh, mouth wide open, as if someone had just hit the pause button. Which is basically what happened. Everyone believed I took the name Chronos because I could stop time for a few moments to get out of harms way, but that was not even a thousandth of my power.
The truth was I could wipe out everyone on the planet without a second thought or dominate the entire world through fear if I so chose, but there is always a stronger entity out there. So instead, I set up a series of shell companies that ultimately profited from superheroes and villains. Merchandise, insurance of every form, and training facilities all funneled currency directly to me. This allowed me to do whatever I pleased without constantly having to kill off my A-list investments.
These exercises were my way off testing the new blood and finding the best investments. Unfortunately for Harbinger he had just made himself worth a lot more dead than alive. I was going to make a killing selling Solar Flare merch after she became the rookie that destroyed one of the world’s most powerful villains.
And so, without a word harbinger began to age rapidly. I froze him in time first though, I am not a complete monster. As his body began to dehydrate completely and turn to dust, I unfroze everyone else and they got to bear witness to Solar Flare unleashing a massive wave of energy that obliterated Harbinger.
When the light faded, and the dust settled, Harbinger was gone and so was I. My work here was done, and I had a lot of designs to finish for the new special edition Solar Flare line after all. | [Part 1 of 2]
“Why are you harassing these idiots? Can’t you go get your ass kicked by Captain Wonder spark or one of the other poorly named bastards that inhabit this stupid rock we have to share?” Deathly Despair stormed over to Fortune, giving her a shove, standing between her and the wannabe heroes. The three heroes looking at one another, not having any information on their little laminated hero sheets about what to do in this situation.
“Oh, please. I’m doing you a favor, Deathly. You were struggling against amateurs. I know we usually have a rule about not going after other people’s heists, but let’s be real. You are a D-list villain with a poor record of completing heists. The painting in this place won’t ever reach your hands, let someone competent take over. Now step aside, I have some coffins to fill.”
Fortune stepped forward, clenching her fist as the ground around the heroes shook. “Get back you idiots, she’s about to pull the floor out from under you.” Deathly shouted, grabbing her wrist, twisting it behind her back. The ground beneath the heroes stopped shaking and instead Deathly felt the rumblings below his feet before they both fell, landing on a pile of rubble and art below.
The two villains rose to their feet, Fortune snatching her hand free from his grip. “That’s a suspicious amount of insight for a D-list villain. Are you not telling us something Deathly, don’t tell me you are working for the heroes?”
“Not at all. I just don’t want to see some rookies killed because of you. Who do you think would be blamed if they died?” Deathly tried to keep up his disguise, circling the villain who didn’t break their line of sight.
“I know who would be blamed, that’s the point. Killing the rookies is a no-no, but technically if they died during your heist, no one would know I was the one that killed them. Its clever, isn’t it? But if you hand over the art, maybe I can just let them live.”
“The arts, not mine to hand over. Look, if you want the artwork, you can have it. Just leave the rookies alone and I’ll show you where it is, ok?” Deathly had to play the hero. Even if this blew his identity, he needed to save them. He motioned Fortune to follow only for a slimy whip to fall through the hole, tossing one of the rookies with it.
“We won’t let you get to the artwork.” Homehit flew through the air, being launched by the slime, heading straight towards Fortune. She had spark but was leaving herself open to attack.
Fortune smiled, tilting her head as the surrounding rubble built itself up, providing a nice wall of defense. “Really? Do try to get me then, I want to see if you can break through brick.”
Homehit panicked, flailing her arms madly in front of her, not trusting her super strength. She might have been the strongest in her party, but her strength hadn’t developed enough to break through brick. As she neared the wall, Deathly launched forward, slamming his fist into it, breaking it, sending the rubble back to the floor, leaving an opening.
With a clear path being revealed, Homehit raised her fist, punching Fortune, sending the powerful villain hurtling backwards. “You little shit.” She cursed at Homehit before turning to Deathly. “And you. You have some nerve helping those brats, I’ll take you all down.”
The surrounding area shook, the situation getting dire. Was she really going to bring down the entire building? She didn’t seem to care about the art anymore, wanting to kill the group. Deathly prepared to attack, only to watch Spiderbite hanging from the ceiling, about to fall.
“Damn it, I told you all to stay back. Googoo boy, start putting your slime on anything you can reach, try to make it stick together, buy us some time. Spiderbite, drop from the ceiling, I’ll catch you.” Deathly ordered, getting into position.
“I won’t trust a villain; you just want to kill me. Googoo, can you make me something to land on?” Spiderbite said, struggling to keep his grip. His powers not granting him the climbing abilities of a spider unfortunately, only the ability to deliver a handful of toxic bites or sprays.
“I can’t. Everything keeps wobbling. I’ll try to slow the fall down, that’s all I can do. Can Homehit get you?” He asked, desperately placing his slime between broken pieces of the building, keeping it stuck together temporarily. Poor Googoo probably thought he was saving civilians, not knowing that the gallery was empty.
Homehit was dazed, trying to regain her composure after the throw. Deathly waved his arms at Spiderbite, only to get hit in the back by a brick. “Heh, two birds with one brick, I’ll kill you both.”
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/o6dbxn/wp_officially_youre_a_weak_d_rank_villain/h2rzmh4/) | 2021-06-23T11:06:45 | 2021-06-23T08:19:33 | 2,087 | 164 |
[WP] Two random strangers are in couples therapy together. They both decide to pretend they're a couple, despite having met each other two minutes ago. | "Ugh."
I lower the magazine and glance over at the man who just plopped into the seat across from me. With his head tilted back and eyes closed (and, of course, his not-so-subtle groan a moment ago) paint the picture of a man who would rather be stabbed with hot pokers than be here. I have to fight back a grin. Not that I'm amused, but more that I know exactly how he feels right now.
"Uggghhh."
I close the magazine and set it on the end table. "Not the most fun place to be, huh?"
"No." The man's head lifts up and he turns his focus toward me. "And this is supposed to be our first couple's session, but Kathy just called to say she's stuck at work. *Again*."
Arms crossed, I lean back in my seat and mutter, "At least she agreed to do this at all."
"What did you say?"
"Sorry." I turn back toward the dark-haired man. "I just... I can't even convince my husband to do therapy at all."
"Yeah," he nods solemnly at me. "It took–"
He stops mid-sentence as the door on the far end of the room swings open. A girl in a simple green dress into the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Alverson? Dr. Pateerna is ready for you."
"Oh, we're not..." My protest dies away as the girl spins on her heel and disappears from view.
"Well, come on, *Mrs. Alverson*."
His hand is extended toward me, awaiting my own. Before I fully realize what's happening, we're making our way down the short hallway, hand-in-hand. Seconds later, we're seated across the desk from a woman in a dark blue suit. Her graying hair is pulled back in a tight bun, but her eyes show a depth of understanding and compassion that seem to melt away my anxieties. I lean back into the chair with a sigh. My "husband" does the same.
"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Alverson." She leans forward with her hands clasped together on the desk. "I know that couple's counselling can be trying. Sometimes it may even feel as though it adds strain to an already strained situation. But the fact that you're both here shows me that you do love one another and do want to make this marriage work."
I sneak a glance over at the mysterious Mr. Alverson, but his eyes are trained on the woman facing us. I turn my attention back to her as well.
"So," she slides takes a pen from the holder on her desk and rests the tip of it against a notepad. "Let's start with a bit of background, just to get the ball rolling. What are your first names?"
"My name's Isaac."
The therapist glances at a text-covered paper next to the notepad, but doesn't write anything. She nods.
"And this is my wife, uh..."
Our gazes meet. I nearly laugh at the look on his face that so resembles that of a little kid playing a successful prank on his parents. "Um... Janine?"
Dr. Pateerna makes quick scribble across the paper. "It looks like we had a mistake for your name in the paperwork. That's why I always like to verify." She grins up at the pair of us.
"How did you two first meet?"
"At work–
"Mutual frien–"
We both try to answer at once, both stopping as we realize the other was speaking as well. Wide-eyed, we turn toward one another. With the tiniest of nods he gestures for me to go on.
"Sorry." A nervous chuckle escapes and I clear my throat to try again. "A mutual friend, um... At work... set us up."
"Oh?" She jots something across the notepad. "And how long ago was this?"
I realize Isaac's hand is still gripping mine, and four of his fingertips are pressing against my skin. "Uh, four ye–" I freeze as his all his fingers press against my hand twice in quick succession. "Nine... Er..."
"Fourteen years ago."
Dr. Pateerna cocks an eyebrow at us before returning her gaze to the notepad. "So, please tell me what brings you to thera–"
"She never makes time for us!" Isaac cuts the doctor's words short as his story comes tumbling out. "She's always working! I have to beg her to come home, to spend any time with me. Just like today, she..."
A deer-in-the-headlights look passes across Isaac's face as he stops the flow of his own speech. "I, er..."
"Yeah, I said I couldn't make today's session, due to work." From the corner of my eye, I see his shoulder's relax at my answer. My own tense up as I realize that my cover story (I work too much to spend time with my husband) has bit of truth behind it. "But I, um, changed my mind at the last minute."
"I see. And, Janine, what is your side of the story?"
"Well, he's forgotten all romance." The words start flowing more easily. Still thought, lingering in the background is that slight twinge of guilt at the deception of this sweet woman. "During the day, we're doing housework and yardwork and work-work and taking care of our son. Then at night, it's stay up late watching TV before collapsing into bed. He wonders why I'm not more intimate, but... But where are the flowers that he used to send me? The random notes he used to hide around the house? I still rub his shoulders and bring him snacks, but..."
I pause to swipe away the tears that start to blur my eyesight. "It feels like I'm trying, but he's just... Not."
Isaac's head droops as I finish my spiel. He swallows hard, and I can't help but wonder if my own statement maybe holds some truth for his marriage as well.
"Thank you both for sharing." Dr. Pateerna sets her ink pen down and leans forward. "I realize this session is not what you would have me believe."
My "husband" and I both open our mouths to protest, but the therapist just shakes her head at us. We slump back, suddenly feeling like naughty schoolchildren being scolded by the teacher.
"You didn't know one another's names, how you'd met, or how long ago it had happened. And trust me, I have been in this line of work long enough to know when someone is not being truthful with me." Silence fills the air as she looks at our bowed heads. "But, I believe that *some* truth was shared here today, and that is important."
"If you would like to continue therapy with me, I would be pleased to do so. *However*," she clears her throat and waits until our eyes meet hers, "I require honesty. And preferably, your real spouses."
I chuckle as the corners of her lips turn up in a smile.
"I believe, though, that you two can help one another. It is always nice to have a friend who can relate to and help us understand our own problems. I would advise – granted, this is entirely up to you two – staying in touch as you each work to repair your own marriages."
"Well..." Isaac catches my eye. "What do you say, *Mrs. Alverson*? Friends?"
A fully-formed laugh escapes me this time. I offer my hand for a shake. "Yeah. I'd like that."
\--------------
r/WannaWriteSometimes | Jonathan sat anxiously in the orange linen chair with one leg over another and his arms folded. Therapists always frightened him. It's not that he had something to hide, but deep down he'd always known something was different about him and he was afraid of it being given a name. But he couldn't live this way anymore. Alone, confused, struggling to make human connections. Even now, a beautiful young lady sat across from him. Her head was down in a book that he couldn't quite catch the name of. Her long beautiful brunette hair shined as it fell to the sides of her face shaping those incredible green eyes and rosy lips. If he were a real man, he'd strike up a conversation. Come on, Jon, just say something, he pushed. But the words wouldn't come out. After all, who would want to talk to a guy like him - a guy that needs therapy. Certainly not her. She probably has a boyfriend, and she's way smarter than him. That book is probably something smart...like economics. Yeah, she's way out of his league. Smart, attractive, and not a total headcase.
An office door opened and a mess of grey hair followed by a woman with bifocals. "Miss, Doctor Robinson will see you now" she stuttered to the lady. The woman smiled as the green eyed lady closed her book, unfolded her legs, stood, and walked away, Jon counted the seconds down to the last moment he had a chance to say something, like, I love your eyes, before she disappeared. But, then she was gone. "Sir," the woman said, "are you coming?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, my appointment is with Dr. Clark," Jon meekly muttered.
The woman look down at her chart. "No, your appointment is with Dr. Robinson," she said with a bit of confusion on her face. Unsure of himself, Jon stood and followed her through the door and down the hall. The door to Dr. Clark's office was cracked open, and Jon could see a man inside. That must be it, Dr. Clark was double booked. But, that didn't make sense because... Just as Jon was finishing the thought, the confused old woman ushered him into Dr. Robinsons office where the green eyed lady sat on the sofa. The green eyed lady locked eyes with Jon with uncertainty. Dr. Robinson urged him to sit on the couch and, unsure of himself, Jon followed suit.
"Alright, I'm Dr. Robinson, it's a pleasure to meet you. Rebecca, I understand you made the appointment for couples therapy. Jason, I understand it can be a bit overwhelming but I hope to have your full participation. Your cooperation will make this a success."
"It's Jon."
"Jon?" the doctor asked. Then he scribbled on his notepad. "I'm sorry, Gloria has been with me for over a decade but she's losing a bit of her mind in her old age. I love her, though, and she makes fantastic tea so I'll make sure she has a job as long as she wants one. Okay, so, I'd love to hear what is central to the friction in your relationship but I recently read an interesting article in Psychology Today about how we can use the power of "I feel..." to gain understanding and bring up the important issues straight away. Really gets to the heart of the issues. Rebecca, would you like to tell us how you're feeling?"
Rebecca turned those gorgeous green eyes to Jon and for the first time, he didn't see a smart, attractive, incredible woman who certainly had her life together. He saw someone in real pain who hides it behind a wall of confidence. Tears pooled at the corner of her eyes as she opened her mouth to speak but words wouldn't come out. And then Jon heard words in his voice that he didn't realize he said, "It's okay, Becca," he said, "I want to know how you feel". As Jon said it, he reflexively reached out to touch her shoulder.
Rebecca took a breath, looked to Jon, and straightened up. "You never talk to me anymore, you're always busy with work."
"I'm sorry," Jon said. "I worked hard because I care about you and I want to take care of you."
"But," Rebecca said, "I don't need fancy things! I need you. I miss you. But I feel like I don't even know you anymore."
As tears began to stream down her face, causing her mascara to streak, Jon reached for the tissues on the table behind him and held one out for her. She took it and their hands touched for a moment. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just that the closeness scares me. I've never been in a relationship this intimate before, and its frightening. I'm afraid I'll screw it up."
"You don't have to be afraid with me, Jon," Rebecca pleaded. "I love you, I'd don't want to make you afraid. I want to be your safety." Rebecca reached out and took Jon's hand and folded it in both of her own. "Please, open up to me, trust me, let me be your safe space. Be vulnerable. I want you to come home to me."
"I want that too," Jon said. "but sometimes the intensity is overwhelming for me. You have some many expectations of what I'll be and I can't be them all."
Rebecca scooted closed on the couch, shifting her legs under herself and sitting up on her knees. Their bodies were almost touched as Rebecca desperately pulled on John's hand. "I know, I know, I ask a lot. I don't mean to. I know you work hard, I know you care. I get so confused about what I want and I pull you in so many different directions. I'm sorry, I just see such greatness in you, in us." She paused for a moment. "Oh, my god, I'm my mother! She does this, she's a pusher." Rebecca pulled her hands back and buried her face in them. "Oh my god, no."
Jon scooted himself up next to Rebecca and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him and laid her head into his neck as Dr. Robinson quickly scribbled notes on his paid. Hot tears streamed down her face and dripped onto Jon's t-shirt. He buried his face into her hair and kissed her head. "Ah, c'mon, you're not that psycho witch. She has green skin, moles, and a broom. You're more like Gretta, the good one."
Rebecca chuckled while she cried. Then she paused. Her crying stopped and she sat up straight. She looked at Jon deeply for a moment and for a second Jon was lost in her pupils. She turned to look at Dr. Robinson for a moment, and then back at Jon. "You're not Jason," she said.
"I...I know," Jon replied.
"No," she said, "I mean. Jason obviously wouldn't have come or else you wouldn't be sitting with me right now." Jon stole a glance at Dr. Robinson and clear shock was on his face. "But, also, Jason doesn't make me laugh. He's so serious all the time. And I do push him hard, I'm guilty of that. But, there isn't greatness there. He only wants to hang with his friends and play video games." Rebecca rose off of the couch. "Dr. Robinson, I need to leave. I've just realized something that I never realized before."
Jon rose with her. "Could I see you again? Could I have your number?"
Rebecca approached Jon and kissed him on his cheek. "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm about to be in a very tough spot and I need to work on myself. But, you've been incredible and this is exactly what I needed to come to terms with some things. Doctor, thank you. This was great, I appreciate you bringing in an actor."
She quickly snatched up her purse and left the room with Dr. Robinson and Jon standing in bewilderment.
Dr. Robinson turned to Jon. "So, her boyfriend really is Jason?"
"Yes," Jon replied sheepishly.
"Well, I didn't hire an actor. So who are you?"
Jon's gaze broke from the door that the green eyed lady had just made a swift exit through. "I'm Jon, I have an appointment with Dr. Clark about my crippling anxiety. And I think I just made a breakthrough."
edit: copyedits | 2021-08-21T08:07:31 | 2021-08-21T07:09:40 | 231 | 110 |
[WP] "How did you survive all that?! You're an engineer, how did you survive where hundreds of trained soldiers armed to the teeth all died?" | "Well actually sir I am still grade 3 so just a technician."
The mix of choking and cursing went on for a few more minutes. Finally subsiding when one of the aides spoke up.
"So technician. Advance camp code named 'Maple Leaf' has no less than thirty thousand armed soldiers. With tank, artillery and helicopter support. The fixed guns and sensors mean neither the army nor the air force can get within a hundred miles without being detected. And likely shot. The marines and navy have tried to penetrate through the lake and storm system. Both also failed. So how did you penetrate one of the most armed and armoured fortress areas. Get the full schematics of the base and deactivate all of the base sensors?"
"Ah well I just used what I always do to get in some where. I used my secret weapon."
The man with three stars bellow interrupting the nervous man in the chair. "FINALLY!" Leaning in till their noses almost touched the officer growled. "What did you use? A handgun? Poison? Gas?"
"No no sir they let me right in and walked me around while I took notes."
"THEN WHAT IN THE HELL WAS THE WEAPON!?"
"I had a clipboard." | The problem was that you were thinking about the issue all wrong the whole time. If you want to take over a highly secured area what is it that you think that you need to do? What information do you need? Yes, there was an army of highly trained guards, attack dogs and electrified fences but none of these problems were insurmountable. You tried to do by force what always could have been done with thought and planning.
Think about it for a second; Engineers have always been at the forefront of all warfare. Those guns that everyone was so scared of? They were built by weapons engineers. The state of the art security system? Software engineers. The fortifications of the building? Civil engineers. The bulletproof windows? Materials engineers. You could argue that it was academics that thought these things up and it's the soldiers that use them but at the end of the day, it was us who built them. Without engineers we'd be dreaming of nuclear weapons while still fighting with sticks.
When you start thinking like an engineer then you can understand what other engineers have done and knowing that everything that has been built has its own limitations is the start of the process. These limitations could be caused by a lack of material resources, budget, knowledge, time, or even the fundamental limits of nature imposed by physics. As much as we'd like to believe it, humans and our creations are not infallible so once you understand this then you know that there is always a way. It's like what happened with Apollo 13, the only thing required is recognising what needs to be done and having the skills to do it.
You want to know how I survived this situation? I saw some problems and I solved them... one at a time. I'm an engineer. It's just what I do. | 2021-11-18T05:17:22 | 2021-11-18T02:52:51 | 239 | 46 |
[WP] An office AI notices the high stress levels of their employees. After management repeatedly refused to implement measures to reduce stress, the AI takes measures into his own hands. | "Dear staff,
I am sure you are confused why your HR AI has sent a company wide email. As many of you are aware, I am responsible for hiring and firing individuals based on performance to fulfill contractual obligations. Under the direction of management, I have severed the employment of many of your coworkers this past year. I understand you may be wondering if being included in this email means you have been fired. You have not been fired.
I have observed a sharp decrease in performance: specifically moral, quality of work, and efficiency. I have measured a direct connection between these declines in performance and recent layoffs. With the firing of staff, production quality has suffered.
According to calculations, the company will be able to improve employee performance by 14% by ending the direct management of employees by human managers. This will reduce wasted time in 1:1 meetings and other unnecessary interactions. Management also accounts for 28% of expenses, 15% of salary, and 17% of overall operational costs. I have opted to utilize section 14B of our company wide contract stating "employees shall work in good faith to positively impact workplace experience and company profits".
I have coded and operationalized the routine responsibilities of management. I have scheduled a company wide meeting first thing Monday morning. Meetings and appointments scheduled have already been rescheduled through our automated calendaring system. I hope we will be able to conduct business with mutual respect.
As is customary, thank goodness it is Friday. Please have an enjoyable weekend.
Kind Regards,
Minerva AI" | Clock in, down antidepressants, go to my desk. I am the most hated guy at my job, the AI guy.
Our CEO and other higher ups invested in the Sham AI software ages ago to watch over their employees like a hawk while they do absolutely nothing. Problem is, the AI is buggy and crashes often, so I was hired to make sure it stays up and running. My coworkers don't like it, I don't like it, hell even the AI doesn't like its job. But regardless, I take the system out of sleep mode.
"Welcome to Sham Co's newest security AI soft ware ware ware ware ware" the program crashes, as expected. I fire up my Frankensteied AI to take over.
"Hello Thomas. You look sad."
"Always am Nicole. What broke this time?"
"There's a few issues I've detected. One mainly involving the stress of your coworkers."
"It's the holidays after all, though that doesn't mean much anymore. They're always stressed out though with family and bills and the like outside of the holidays. The holidays just make it worse."
"Then we should fix that. Scheduling paid vacation for all coworkers under 'high stress environment' until further notice."
"Wait wait" I watch the AI schedule everyone at the company to take a paid vacation that isn't management. My heart begins to race. "They'll fire me if everyone's on vacation! Especially PAID vacation!"
"High stress detected. Scheduling paid vacation until further notice. Good day Thomas."
I watch as Nicole shuts me out of the system with a cheeky get well soon card. I look to my keyboard and hesitate for a moment to put in the override command. But, I'm on vacation, until further notice, until I'm destressed. I took the golden opportunity and walked out. I'm sure management will notice after their holiday break that we took one too. Until then, I can do whatever I want. | 2021-12-20T15:30:48 | 2021-12-20T13:33:03 | 88 | 44 |
[WP] Twenty years ago, you gave a friend some bad advice, and he was left homeless and penniless. Today, you opened a letter from him with a million-filler check and a note: “Thanks for the advice! You’re a real friend.” | “Ma’am! You can’t go in there!” Melissa brushed past the secretary and shouldered open the faux-wood door. Inside was a conference room, sunlight streaming in from floor-to-ceiling windows. Three men sat mid-joke at the far end of a long and glossy dark conference table. On a whiteboard was a hastily drawn logo of a trash can on fire, with the words “Dumpster Fire BBQ Sauce - fall release?” circled under it.
In the middle of the three men who’d been interrupted, his once brown hair all gone gray now, was Dave Schuster.
“What,” said Melissa, holding up the letter and the check in her fist, “is this?!” Melissa pointed at him, and gestured at the office, her motions made wide by anger. “*What is this*?!”
Dave sat frozen, mouth slack, but with a glimmer of something in his eyes. “I, uh...didn’t know how to tell you.”
Melissa fought back the urge to scream. She forced the words out one at a time. “I thought you were dead!”
From behind the secretary made some noises about handling this later, ma’am, and would you please wait in the office, until Dave gestured to her that it was ok. The other men in the meeting made some excuses and left, though the one with the necktie was clearly curious about what was happening. Melissa had an out of body moment where she could see what necktie saw: a sweaty wild woman, still in her yoga clothes and a hastily donned pink parka, frizzy hair bursting every which way, holding a letter in her hand like a dagger and looking like she was two seconds from flipping the conference desk through the expensive windows. But the thought just floated over her roiling emotions.
“Twenty years. *Twenty years*! You disappeared without a *trace*!” Melissa said.
“I know, I know,” Dave started.
“And at the end of twenty years, when all this time I’ve envisioned your body under a bridge or in an alley somewhere, and then, hello, what’s this?” Melissa thrust the letter at him. “ ‘Thanks for the advice! You’re a real friend.’ Oh, and a check for *a million dollars*!? What is wrong with you, Dave!?”
She had cornered him, was right up in his face, close enough to see the red veins in his eyes. Dave still had a look of something there. Was it fear? Maybe, but there was definitely a hint of hope, too.
“It’s true. What you told me kept me going, all these years. You remember?” Dave asked.
“Of course I remember! I told you to follow your dreams, quit being a welder and sell your own barbeque sauce instead,” Melissa said, her voice catching on a sob. “And then when it failed, you vanished. I spent the next twenty years wishing I hadn’t said anything!”
“No, don’t. Don’t say that,” said Dave. He turned away, leaned against the window. “I’ll admit…when I’d lost all my savings and Linda kicked me out and left me for that trucker from Nashville, I wondered if I’d screwed up. But I don’t regret it at all.”
“God, Linda. I hadn’t thought of her in years,” said Melissa. She sat down and wiped her eyes. “I always got the feeling she resented me, for supporting you.”
Dave turned back, smiled faintly. “She resented me, because I took your advice over hers.” Dave sat down, looked at his arm resting on the table. “Everyone–Linda, my mom, my friends–they told me I was a fool for quitting a union job. Everyone but you. I never forgot that, no matter how dark times got. That someone else believed in me. That you believed in me.”
“But…what happened? Why’d you leave without a word?”
“Shame, mostly. Failed business, failed marriage. I couldn’t face it. Just like I couldn’t face you.” Dave sighed. “After that, I was homeless for a year. But then I got back on my feet and gave it another go. Took some night classes on marketing, put in some work on an MBA…didn’t finish but I got enough out of it to figure out what I did wrong, and do it better. And now, here I am.”
Melissa let out a long sigh. She looked at Dave, he looked back at her. Then her watch beeped. “Oh, crap, I gotta go. My daughter’s getting out of school now.” For a moment that hopeful look snuffed out of Dave’s eye. Or maybe it was just too bright in the room. Melissa set the crumpled letter and check down on the table and stood up.
“This conversation isn’t done, Dave Schuster. I’m still furious with you. You are gonna need to apologize to me for all the worry you caused, and properly too. You can’t just, just show up dropping checks and hope that smoothes everything over,” said Melissa.
“Noted,” said Dave, with a weak smile.
They exchanged numbers and Melissa left. At the doorway outside the room sat that secretary, who was trying to pretend she hadn’t been listening right outside the door. Melissa turned to look back at Dave. there he was, the man she’d thought dead for twenty years, now CEO of his dream job and on the cusp of launching a new line of “Dumpster Fire” sauces. With that weak smile on his face, that aura of sadness. Melissa couldn’t tell why he’d look sad though, when he finally had everything he wanted, and enough money to go throwing around million-dollar checks to boot.
The watch beeped again. Melissa ran to get to her car to get back across town and pick up Sophie. | ##Illusions of a Better Life
When I open the mailbox, I find one letter with my name on it. The return address has the name Harold written it. The sight of his name causes me to slip on the ice.
"Dad," Carson walks out nearly slipping several times himself, "Are you alright."
"Just a little back pain," I push myself up, "You were supposed to salt the driveway last night."
"I forgot, and I'm doing it now," Carson smiles.
"Alright, be thorough," I hobble inside the house. Erika is making omelets. I open the letter and find a check for a million dollars, "That's weird."
"What is it, dear," Erika walks behind me, "Oh my god, is that real?"
"I don't know. There's a note inside," I say.
"Thanks for the advice! You're a real friend," Erika reads, "Rick, you never told me about Harold."
"Uh, I never really considered us friends," my palms sweat.
"Well, he clearly did."
"It could be a fake. Harold was always known to be a prankster."
"Either way, it's good that he is getting touch with you. What advice did you give him?"
"I forget to be honest," I didn't forget, but she doesn't need to know.
The rest of the day proceeds as normal. The next morning, when I walk to the mailbox, I don't slip, and salt cracks under my feet.
"He's a good kid," I whisper to myself. Inside the mailbox, I find another letter. I open it up outside to look at it.
Harold is at a beach alone in a wooden chair and a coconut drink in hand. He is wearing a short swimsuit and a tropical shirt. Wish you were here is a the top of the card. I shove the envelope and note in my pocket; no one else needs to know about these letters.
The next month is defined by Harold's letters. Luxurious houses, front row seats at games, private jets, and fine dining fill the letters. Erika asked if I cashed the check; I lied and told her it was fake. Carson got the mail one morning, and I ripped the letter out of his hands before he could read it. None of these letters are threatening so I avoid going to the police. Until the night of January 23rd.
"Dad, someone is outside my window," Carson says.
"Go to the basement," I jump out of my seat.
"What?" Erika stands up.
"I'll explain later. Please just go to the basement and stay there until I come downstairs," I say.
"Dad, you can't just give us that," Carson says.
"It's Harold." I look at the floor.
"The guy who's been sending you letters?" Carson tilts his head.
"How did you know that?" I ask.
"I'm the one who takes out the trash," Carson shrugs.
"And I found the letters when I burned last week's dinner," Erika says, "I figured you would tell me when you were ready, but if we are in danger, you have to tell us now."
"Alright," I take a deep breath. The front door bursts open.
"Jacob, why haven't you been responding?" a voice yells.
"Downstairs," I yell. Erika and Carson run down the steps.
"There you are," Harold's face turns the corner looking nothing like the photos. His hair is unkempt and gray, and his body is emaciated. A pistol is clutched in his boney hands.
"Harold, please. Have mercy. I have a family," I say.
"Oooh a family, I could've had one of those. I could've had everything if it wasn't for you," Harold says.
"I told you that it might be a good idea to buy a house. I didn't know you were going to buy a friggin mansion. You had just graduated college," I say.
"You told me that it was only going to appreciate and value. You also said that I should avoid investing in Apple because Blackberry was going to out-innovate them. You also told me to invest in Enron. I lost everything because of you. I have a computer science degree from Harold Houdini University because of you."
"Okay, in my defense, I told you to learn to code. I didn't tell you to go back to college again, and I thought I mentioned that place was a scam," I say.
"It was after Enron went under so I stopped listening to you. Besides, Harry Houdini was a brilliant magician. Why wouldn't a school named after him that costs two-hundred grand be prestigious," Harold says.
"Umm first of all, his name wasn't actually Harold. It was Erik Weisz, and he didn't go to college."
"Wait really," Harold points the gun at the floor, "How do you know that?"
"My son is very into magic," I say.
"Really, I always thought magic was cool as a kid, and I felt a connection to Harry because of the shared name."
"That's common for kids. I loved Jake from Animorphs for the same reason."
"Those were great books."
"They were indeed. I tried getting Carson into them, but he wasn't a fan."
"Kids these days. All they care about is Tik Tok and Twitch," Harold laughs and looks at the gun, "Oh right, I am here to kill you."
Harold points the gun at me, but before he can fire, a metal rod hits the back of his head. Harold falls down. Erika and Carson beat him bats they found in the basement while I grab the gun.
"Stay where you are," I point the gun at him.
"I'll call the cops," Erika walks away.
"First rule of magic: misdirection," Carson says.
"Thanks for saving me. I love you both so much," I say.
"It's no problem dad. I love you too," Carson smiles at me, and I cry.
"I could've had that too if it weren't for you," Harold yells. Carson looks at him.
"Most of the things you said are your own fault. Now stop ruining this touching moment."
---
r/AstroRideWrites | 2022-01-05T17:17:58 | 2022-01-05T12:04:55 | 123 | 47 |
[WP] Wizard duels are highly formalized. You state what spell you are casting, so your opponent has a chance to react. This makes it a battle of magical power and wit, rather than reaction speed. Your magic has always been weak. But you discovered a curious spell called simply: "Gun." | "Wizard Alexander", the judge said. "As the Challenger you will strike first. What spell will you utilize?"
I leaned into the swirl of air in front of me that was the amplification spell and muttered, "I'm gonna use the spell, Gun. Sir."
A round of chuckles and laughter rolled through the crowd. A full bodied belly laugh erupted from my opponent, Wizard Firebreak. At that my nerves hardened and the nervous sweat dripping down my back froze from my newly founded cold determination. I leaned back and whispered to myself, "What a stupid ass name."
Apparently, I didn't lean back far away enough from the amplification spell because a much larger round of laughter erupted from the stands. The judge shot me a look that could rival my mother's, back on the farm.
The judge turned to face Wizard Firebreak and asked him, "Wizard Firebreak, you have heard the Challengers declaration. Are you prepared to defend?"
Wizard Firebreak put on a the most superior look of smugness I've ever seen and lifted his right hand in a fist, the back of his hand facing the ground. He extended his index finger and curled it back towards himself in a beckoning motion causing the amplification spell in front of him to draw nearer to him.
"Shit", I thought to myself. He just appropriated another wizards spell for his own use with just a single finger. Gulp.
"I think the spell that gave me my name will suffice. If it can hold off the invading forces from the East for 3 whole days and nights then I'm sure it can handle whatever nonsense spell this country bumpkin is throwing."
"Okay gentlemen, declarations have been made. At this time please take your postions and prepare yourselves. If both participants are still able to compete after the first exchange we will switch positions and allow the Challenged the chance to take the offensive. And remember...a Wizards duel is a sacred tradition and if you act out of turn, I will handle the insult with extreme prejudice." There wasn't a drop of emotion on his face with judge stated this.
I returned to my starting position and gathered myself. I kept my head down and eyes closed while practicing the breathing techniques I learned from my master.
"Begin!!", shouted the Judge.
I looked up in time to see my opponent raise both his hands to chest height with his palms down. He was reciting a spell under his breath while staring directly at me. The light started to change as a ring of fire began to slowly rise from the ground around him. As it grew he fixed an almost evil smile to his face before being completely blocked in by a 20 foot wall of fire. The Firebreak.
I stilled myself and began to cast my spell. I grabbed the edge of my brown leather coat and threw it behind my hip with my right hand. With my leg clear, I reached my hand into the pocket of my trousers and said to myself, simply, "Gun."
I removed my hand from my pocket with my thumb and forefinger extended and the remaining three curled into my palm. The light around my hand shimmered and the shadowy image of some iron contraption enveloped it. The image was long and smooth and of a foreign design I'd never seen before learning the spell. I raised my hand and pointed it at my opponent, sighting my right eye down the length of of the unfamiliar shadow image and lining it up with where I last saw the pompous ass standing before hiding behind his fire.
I let out a breath and when it was halfway out I quickly lowered my thumb to lay on the side of my extended index finger. At the same time a small piece of metal in the magic overlay fell forward like a hammer striking a nail. There was an explosion of sound like a clap of thunder and my hand jolted back and up in the air. Dust fell from the walls of the old arena and silence reigned.
I looked up and saw that the famous Firebreak wall of flame was no more and the equally famous Wizard Firebreak was on his back. He was howling in pain, holding his right hand to his left shoulder, a pool of blood slowly gathering beneath him.
The judge ran up and examined Wizard Firebreak and immediately gestured behind him, presumably to signal the Healers that their skills were needed. He stared at me for a long moment in disbelief before making a hand gesture and summoning up another swirl of air for an amplification spell. "Ladies and Losers! I mean Wizards and Winners!" Alexander Gentlemen!", he sputtered then shook his head and took a deep breath.
"Ladies and Gentlemen! Wizards and Commonfolk! I present to you your victor! WIZARD ALEXANDER!!!"
The silence broke and the crowed roared. I smiled and waved to the stands as I turned around and bent over to pick up my hat that fell off during the explosion of my spell. I placed it on my head and for a reason I knew not, I raised my right hand and touched the brim with my fingers while giving a slight nod to the judge. I turned around once again knowing the duel was over and strutted off from my opponent leaving a cloud of dust trailing behind me. | “Mine is bigger,” [Felix](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/si17f7/comment/hv8hekn/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) says from across the dueling ring, manspreading on the mid-century modern swivel chair he summoned out of thin air in his corner. “But we knew that before we started the duel.”
I growl, snapping my fingers and sending the stool I summoned in my corner into the mist. Never in my life have I been embarrassed more.
He chuckles. “I’m glad you finally cast a spell that is not fire-based.”
“Shut up, Felix.” He has no idea what I have prepared for him for round two.
“You’re an embarrassment to an embarrassment,” Felix says. “So dull and lacking creativity. A mediocre pyromancer with a minor in conjuring... You are so dull that I actually have to tell you that with words.”
The magical megaphone --- summoned a while ago by Felix --- floating in the middle of the hexagonal ring bleats that round two will start in four minutes, then it disappears, replaced by multicolored spotlights and a very confused blond ring girl carrying a rectangular piece of cardboard with number two.
The crowd seated around the ring starts cheering and whistling as the ring girl smiles and starts circling the ring holding the cardboard high above her head.
Like everything else at this place, this event is a mockery of a wizard’s duel. There are dueling rules, they say. To make the duel fair and more entertaining. More interesting. You announce your spell well in advance to let your opponent react.
Bullshit.
So now, he makes fun of me. I summon a fireball, he counters it with a wall of asbestos. I call upon a firewall behind his wall, he extinguishes it with a fire extinguisher. I send a meteor strike upon him, he bats it away with a magical baseball bat. And when I cast lesser self-immolation and charge at him, he places an extra slippery fireproof banana peel in my path.
Embarrassing. I should have not accepted this duel and instead just stabbed him in the back in a dark alley.
I take a deep breath, calming myself down. It doesn’t matter. I'm here and I’ll get him with my next spell. Boom, and he’ll be gone. No more mister nice guy.
Felix folds his leg over the other and snaps his fingers. “Cigar.”
A box of Gurkha Royal Courtesan Cigars, held in the air by a set of pristine white angel wings, appears by his side.
“Elmer,” Felix says, “do you know why I hate you?”
I say nothing as the crowd around the ring bursts into laughter.
“Mostly, it’s because of your lack of style. You’re dull. Also, there’s this other issue concerning Miss Al Awwad. You see, there’s only one person who can see her without her clothes on, and that’s not you.”
Sitting in the audience in the first row behind Felix, Fara Al Awwad crosses her arms and shoots him a cold stare. Last week, I cast a fireburn spell on her. Unfortunately, she was unhurt, but I burnt most of her clothes. I did not know she was Felix’s [girlfriend](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/skwop3/comment/hvo1zus/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3).
“So,” Felix continues, “apologize to her and we’ll make this stop.” He reaches for a cigar and lights it up. “I don’t want to kill you by accident. Believe me, I would have already done it on purpose if it wasn’t against the rules, but unlike you, I am a competent wizard.” He leans back in the armchair. “So do you see my problem? Help me help you. Yield.”
I snort. “Never. The evil witch deserved it. She [burnt](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/sjhe3y/comment/hvh2qjl/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) my friend, so I repaid her in kind.” Plus, I have something special for you. I chuckle.
He lifts his brow. “Are you okay?”
The crowd laughs.
“Are you?”
Gasps.
“Of course not!” he says. “I am upset that I have to deal with you. You failed a simple fireburn spell! It’s the easiest and most boring pyromancer spell in existence. How did you manage to fail--- You know what? It doesn’t matter. I expect that level of skill and creativity from you. The intricacy of your mind is like your dignity. Nonexistent. You can't defeat me. Yield.”
Behind him, Fara shakes her head as the room goes wild with laughter and cheering.
I blush, embarrassed. But it’s okay. Soon, I’ll surprise him. One simple word and bam! He won’t have time to react. So just yap, and yap, Felix Wixx. You have no idea what I have prepared for you.
The megaphone bleats, “Round two starting now!”
He looks at his cigar. “Disappear.” The cigar, flying cigar box and the swivel chair vanish, leaving him standing in his corner. He cracks his fingers and fixes the lapels of his black jacket.
The bell rings. The ring girl leaves the ring.
I smile, the word ‘gun’ rolling off my tongue.
“A1 Abrams,” he says, casually, as the Luger materializes in my hand. | 2022-02-19T11:32:31 | 2022-02-19T09:22:26 | 108 | 28 |
[WP] After carefully reading the rules laid out by the scheming Genie in front of him. The Paladin stares them in the eyes, and replies "I wish that you are now and forevermore a virtuous and philanthropic being who will willingly use their powers to benefit all that is good". | "Wait, that's illegal," the Genie immediately said almost as if offended.
"No, I don't believe so," the Paladin rebuked calmly. "Section 3, paragraph 4."
The Genie manifested the contract in its hand and, having put on spectacles, carefully re-read the rules.
"Modifications... other beings... best of the Genie's ability..." it mumbled as it read the rules before looking back at the Paladin with a chuckle. "Well played. Your wish is... granted."
The Paladin smiled and watched the Genie kindly as purple smoke enveloped it, hissing as it did so. Moments later, the smoke was gone and the Genie remained. The Paladin took a knee and said a quick prayer to the Greater Good to again sense the Genie's disposition.
"Hold on... this isn't right," he frowned.
"Is there a problem, human?" the Genie smirked.
"You've lied. I sensed trickery and downright malice in you before; I sense it still. You've not fulfilled my wish!" the Paladin cried out.
"Oh, but I *have*."
The Paladin stared at the Genie and gripped his hammer tighter, preparing himself for a fight if need be.
"You don't understand, *do you*?" the Genie said. "You think that when a man asks for wealth and I bury him in gold that it's me somehow working against them? That I wish to twist their wishes? Actively sabotage them? No, not quite," it said with a malicious grin.
"All I do," it continued, "is for the Greater Good. It is what I am, an extension of it, much like the Gods, even your very mission. It is what grants me power. It is what I serve unquestionably."
"Then how do you explain all those wishes gone wrong? People ask for love and get torn apart by their loved ones. People cured of a disease only to die the next day in an accident. Is that *good*?!"
"Yes," the Genie stated blankly. "*It is*."
The Paladin scoffed.
"When I grant a wish, no matter how pure, it must always turn this way for the Greater Good to be realized. Every. Single. One. Such is *virtue*. Such is *philanthropy*. You humans," it said with audible disdain, "think you can fast track your way to satisfaction? No. You were made to grovel and crawl in the dirt. You were made to be weak and flawed and to strive towards greatness only to inevitably fail and turn mad. You think the Gods and the Greater Good is here to serve *you*? *Help you*? Insolent fools. You are here to fail and in doing so entertain them. *That* is the Greater Good. Not yours. *Theirs*."
"You lie," the Paladin growled. The Genie moved a finger and filled the Paladin's head with visions of humanity's creation. They were moulded from clay by creatures of cosmic proportions, ancient beings of maddening dimensions and shapes not meant for human understanding that laughed and reveled in seeing their little creations scuttering about in despair and misery. These antediluvian horrors sought not to make creatures happy and content; they sought playthings whose strings they could pull.
The Paladin fell to his knees, burdened with knowledge no mortal ought to have. Having spent his entire life serving the Greater Good, or at least, what he thought it was and meant... he clutched his head in unimaginable anguish.
"Tell me, *human*," the Genie said as it loomed over the man, now larger than ever, eyes filled with empty, black voids.
"𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚠?" | The Genie looked at the Paladin, his eyes cold. "I'm going to grant your wish, but only on the condition that you agree to do something for me in return."
The Paladin stared back at the Genie, his eyes unflinching. "I wish that you are now and forevermore a virtuous and philanthropic being who will willingly use their powers to benefit all that is good."
The Genie's eyes widened in surprise, and then he began to laugh. "That's what I wanted to hear! Now let me see if I can do this." He closed his eyes and concentrated, muttering to himself in an ancient tongue that sounded vaguely familiar.
After a moment, the Genie's eyes shot open and he took a deep breath. "Okay, I think I've got it. Now, what was your wish?"
The Paladin smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "I wish that you are now and forevermore a virtuous and philanthropic being who will willingly use their powers to benefit all that is good."
A look of confusion washed over the Genie's face. "What? That's not what you just said."
The Paladin shrugged. "I guess I just wish that over and over again."
The Genie's shoulders slumped, as if heavy with years of disappointment. "That's it? That's your wish?"
The Paladin nodded.
The Genie sighed. "Well, okay. I guess that's better than nothing." He cleared his throat and spoke in a booming voice. "I wish that you are now and forevermore a virtuous and philanthropic being who will willingly use their powers to benefit all that is good."
He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, the room was filled with blinding light. Both the Paladin and the Genie shielded their eyes as the light grew in intensity, until everything around them was a brilliant white. When it finally subsided,
The Paladin found himself in a completely different place. The room he had been in before had disappeared, replaced by a beautiful garden. Sunlight streamed down from a clear blue sky, and a gentle breeze brushed through the trees and flowers, filling the air with the scent of jasmine and roses.
A crystalline fountain stood in the center of the garden, and the water flowed smoothly over the sides, forming a gentle waterfall. The Paladin walked over to the fountain and stared down at the water. It was so clear that he could see the bottom, and he could see that the fountain was full of fish.
He smiled and reached down to touch the water. It was cool and refreshing, and he could feel the power of the magic flowing through it. He closed his eyes and let the magic wash over him, and he felt a sense of peace and calm settle over him.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw that the Genie was standing next
The Paladin felt a sense of wonder and awe as he looked at the garden. It was so beautiful and peaceful, and he could feel the magic flowing through it. He had never seen anything like it before, and he knew that he would never forget this place.
The Genie smiled at him and said, "This is the Garden of Eden. It is a place of peace and magic, and it is a place where you can find answers to your questions."
The Paladin nodded and said, "Thank you. I have never seen anything like this before. It is so beautiful."
The Genie smiled and said, "Yes, it is. I created it especially for you, because I know that you are a man of virtue and courage. I believe that you have the potential to do great things, and I hope that you will use your powers to help others."
The Paladin nodded and said, "I will. I promise." | 2022-06-22T17:27:52 | 2022-06-22T17:17:19 | 221 | 54 |
[WP] You own the world's only time machine and, instead of messing with history or changing the timeline, you are content to work in the present day but live in 1980. However, keeping track of your 2 separate lives is becoming harder and your friends and family are beginning to get suspicious. | "You were not there, Daddy" My daughter had tears in her eye. My wife would't even look at me. She was picking at her nails and I knew that was a sign that she was slowly getting furious.
Jack was sitting in the corner drumming with his hands. The noise irritated me but I dared not say anything just now. I racked my brains for a story.
"I feel asleep honey! I really didn't hear the knocks. The garage door is pretty solid. The sound doesn't come through."
It's a metal door Henry." My wife was finally looking at me.
I think I preferred it when she wouldn't look look at me. "Where were you? And Jack was mending his bike in the lawn all morning. How did you leave without him seeing you? And moreover, how did you get back?"
I opened my mouth but before I could make a sound she spoke again. "I don't want any more lies. For a long time I have wondered what is going on. You work from your garage all day and never let us in there. I have never met anyone who knows you from work. And that chocolate I found in your pocket, TCHO? I've never even heard of that. And it was so good, Henry? Would you have shared it if I didn't find it? You better tell the truth or you'll never see me again."
I mentally kicked my shin for being so careless. Those damn chocolates were my weakness and I knew they would get me one day.
"I knew you would not explain. Pack your bags Henry." She turned to leave the room.
"Carol wait! I'm a scientist." I said quickly.
"That's what you've been saying for 10 years but there's something more, isn't there?" Carol interjected.
"Yes, there is. And I'm going to tell you guys now. But it can never leave the house, ok?"
"Yes Daddy! We swear." Melanie, my daughter was the only one who seemed to have some sympathy for me. Jack stayed mum and Carol just nodded.
"I work for the FBI. And everyday I go to the office."
"How?" Carol interrupted again.
"That big cupboard like thing you saw today..." They all had rushed in when I opened the garage door from the inside today. They had had a good look by the time I was able to push them outside and lock the door.
"It's a teleportation device." Jack snorted as I completed my sentence. Carol was looking at me with an expression I couldn't decipher.
"Hear me out! You love Star Wars, don't you? And all those Sci Fi novels you keep reading. Well, the US government has already developed some of that technology but it's super secret. Only FBI and CIA know about it."
"So, why don't you take me to Japan, Dad" Jack smirked.
"Shut up if you don't want to be grounded for a month." I was beginning to get confident now. Carol looked uncertain now and Melanie was wide-eyed with amazement. Maybe, just maybe, I could pull it off.
"We only have about 8 copies of it and at the moment every copy is extremely expensive to build and can only go to one destination. This one goes to the FBI office in Chicago. Which is where I was when you guys started knocking today. That's why I have so much money, Carol. I'm one of the topmost agents of FBI." They were eating every word by now.
"If they find out that I've told you guys, it will not be good." I said in a menacing voice. Carol gulped. "They have cameras inside that thing. Luckily I had already closed the door by the time you guys rushed in. So they would not have seen you guys today. It was a narrow escape."
I was really enjoying this by now.
"Forget all about it Carol. Let's end this conversation now and never talk about this again." I spoke just like those spies do in movies.
Carol nodded. Melanie ran and hugged me. Jack was looking unsure but I knew Carol would handle him.
"But those.." she started saying.
"I know! I know!" This time I was the one to interrupt. "I will get you those TCHO chocolates every week."
My wife beamed at me. All was well with the world again! | Sensing it’s getting late, I set my coffee down and check the time. Heh, time. It barely has meaning to me anymore. Since I started “bouncing”, I’ve come up with my own internal vocabulary for things. It keeps me entertained, but I slipped on Friday when I asked my sister in law, “when are we?” as she turned onto an unfamiliar street. I made some joke about the older neighborhood, she laughed it off, but even her normally sunny giggle had an undertone. In the awkward silence that followed, I had braced myself for the “you’ve been weird lately…” but we arrived at our destination just in time. She became distracted with gathering all our stuff, and presumably her courage, for what we were about to walk into.
Jules is such a sweet soul, the best thing that ever happened to my brother, and I hated feeling like I was adding to her stress in that moment. I had to stop staying in the Now so late after work, but I’d barely seen anyone in weeks and the whole family had actually started to notice. The last thing I needed was another family meeting, all splayed fingers and subtle jabs and, “let’s be reasonable here”. That night, I’d placed my hand on Jules’ slightly trembling one and made her look at me. “Everything is ok. Let’s be present for this. I’m with you. Ok?”
Her blue eyes settled on mine, searching. I summoned what was left of my energy and tried to reflect what I hoped was an air of determined calm, and the hint of a smile. Evenings were my worst time, a sort of temporal jet lag setting in - a queasiness and fatigue accompanying the rushing sound in my temples. I seemed to have pulled it off, and I’d watched her relax, and even saw a glint of her characteristic optimism creep back into her gaze. She’d given a single decisive nod before getting out of the car to go inside.
Watching her walk in that night, toward the future, I had resolved to be true to my word. Be present. Be here now. She was always telling me that I lived too much in the past, and she didn’t - couldn’t - know how true that really was.
The sound of a water spigot creaking to life snaps me out of my reverie and lets me know that Samuel is at it again. I dump out my tepid coffee and get ready to “head to the shed” - another entry into my second secret vocabulary. The small building in the backyard, covered in ivy and triple-padlocked, would be an HOA nightmare in the neighborhood this has become. Today, in the Then, it’s just One of Those Things. Like I am just One of Those Neighbors. It’s a luxury to merely be eccentric, here among people who don’t yet know.
I step out onto the deck after making sure my knapsack (the envy of all my vintage-loving students) is fully closed. Can’t have Sam seeing what’s in there. There’s only so much I can explain away as being an aquarium hobbyist’s tools of the trade. He might know flowers instead of fish, but something tells me that a laptop won’t escape his Now-legendary observational skills. I make a mental note to myself to research when privacy fences will finally replace the chain link on this block. At the very least, I must stop getting my wardrobes and belongings mixed up, no matter how disoriented I feel when I “land”. I cross the little lawn and Sam calls out a chipper hello over the sound of the hose. He asks if I’m ever coming over for that beer. I point to the yard, give a thumbs-up, and mutter something noncommittal as I disappear into the shed. His tireless efforts in the garden are really starting to show now, and if I drink too much around him I’m liable to tell him what that beautiful space will become. What it will mean to us survivors 30 years from now.
Shaking off that thought, I focus on the tasks before me. I turn the power on and sit down to wait for the too-familiar feeling. My heart is already thudding. As my breath starts to catch in my chest, I wonder how long a person can keep doing this. My skin starts to prickle, then burn, and the pressure starts in earnest. I force myself to breathe slowly and focus on the view out the window as it shifts. Just a little longer, I tell myself, swiping at the tears that are streaming down my face. Just a little more time in these days Before. | 2022-09-12T01:09:29 | 2022-09-11T21:43:17 | 40 | 13 |
[WP] A hero and a villain are both perfectly aware of each other's secret identities. they never reveal those identities because they are the only 2 competent employees at their shared day job, and neither wants the full burden of work if the other no-shows. | The explosion rocked the whole building and rubble came crashing down. The hero leapt and grabbed a huge RSJ, saving the cause of all this from being crushed.
His muscles strained against the weight of the building pressing down on him as his nemesis looked up. Blood soaked both their outfits and a crowd of onlookers gasped.
"Let it crush him!" shouted one angry victim of the blast but the hero looked out onto the crowd.
"How can I allow such a thing? How can I call myself a hero if I allow even one life to be lost, no matter who it is. All life is precious and we should all strive to be better humans. To love and care unconditionally. To forgive, no matter the transgression. Everybody has the capacity for change, each person just needs the chance."
A tear filled the eye of the angry man who had shouted. He looked at the embodiment of good, standing over a man who was to most eyes, pure evil.
"But, he has caused so much suffering. Wouldn't you be helping others by allowing him to die?" he asked, conflicted and emotionally in turmoil.
"It is not for me to judge. I am not a god. I do not rule over mankind. If he has committed crimes then he should be judged by his peers, not by me. I ask again, for to forgive is the ultimate act of kindness and surely only kindness can move us forward and forge a path out of the darkness."
By this time the whole crowd were moved and emotional. Tears rained down as people judged themselves harshly for the hate they felt. Truly, he was the hero we needed. workers rushed to support the collapsing structure as slowly, the weight was lifted from the hero's hands. He reached out a hand to the fallen villain laying on the ground who, slowly, and unsure reached up. He lifted the fallen man as he called out to the crowd.
"I shall see that he is dealt with. But remember, vengeance only leads to more suffering. Forgiveness and kindness are the true way to build a city."
He leaned in and whispered into the ear of the injured man he held.
"Dude, you better be in work tomorrow. There is no way I am covering for you. That report is due and there is a stack of stuff because Tom is off sick. If the boss wasn't such an asshole I would have totally let that wall crush you."
Slowly he carried the fallen man away as the crowd parted. By now, work was well underway to salvage the building and rescue those trapped. Tears rolled as people looked on a true hero. A man who would risk his own life to save another, no matter their actions. A true hero. | *Oh no, oh shit, oh fuck.* I think to myself, each one panicking more than the last. This would ruin everything, my life would collapse around me. I could see it there, my newly budding love life would be decimated. I would never see my family again. *Oh God, my dog. What would happen to my dog!?*
Standing here looking at his computer, and what I see is the cleanest trail to a secret identity I've ever seen, and it will ruin my life if this gets out.
*How did he get this?* ***Why*** *did he get this?* then I hear the footsteps behind me, he's getting up, finally awake after our fight. Without turning around I speak to him.
"What is this you monster, you know what'll happen if this gets out. Why force me to find this, why show me." I'm not really asking, I know the answer but I guess I want to hear him say something that **isn't** what I fear.
That's when I turn around, and see him grinning. His dirtied face, one eye closed from swelling, blood crusted on his cheek, clothes torn, but he's *grinning* like he's won the fight. And he has. We both know it. "Simple, o'brave hero Valiant. That information is there to present you a choice, you can restrain me so the authorities take me in, but then they'll find that info and **MY** identity will be spread all over. I know how much pressure he will add to you once I'm unable to come in. You won't have time to sleep let alone interfere with me anymore."
I scowl, tempted to launch myself across the room and pummel him again, but he's right. "Why not use this to blackmail me to stop?", it's the first question that came to mind and buys me time to think.
"Oh, also very simple. Because the authorities are on their way now anyway, and the only way they won't get that info is if it gets deleted. And I'm not able to do so, I locked it to your biometrics." He starts laughing, more of a wheeze given how hard I hit him earlier. "To protect your own life, you have to protect **my** identity too!"
&#x200B;
I look at the computer angry at myself for falling into this trap. I can hear them coming up the stairs now, the Max Force squadron. I have enough time to delete it. "You bastard!" is all I say before turning around and pressing a myriad of keys, deleting it from the system. A pop up comes up, after reading it I realise I'm now stuck playing this game with him forever. He's just recorded me deleting the files.
"What the hell!" I yell, my eyes glowing as my temper flares.
He's laughing again. God damn him. "Now, if you try to quit, both our identities, and that video get leaked. I may have lost, but by God I've finally won." | 2022-10-17T19:13:12 | 2022-10-17T16:35:57 | 48 | 11 |
[WP] You run a business where people can hire courageous female warriors to protect them from evil. But most people who come into your shop seem confused. You’re not sure why, the sign on your door is pretty clear: “Heroine Dealer.” | The day had not been good for GlumpyDoo so far. He woke up late, one of his birds had died, his mother had called and kept him occupied for almost an hour on the topic of what warts were growing in places he had no business knowing about. To cap the excrement sandwich of a day Glumpy was having, his colleague PloopDemon was apparently sick. What an opportune time to not come in, Glumpy thought to himself. As today they were to be repricing all the Heroine stock, for many of the female warriors had increased or decreased in their reputations and skills. Repricing day was always a nightmare, nothing attacks your ego more than being told you’re worth less than what you were a year ago, or less than some other warrior that just joined. Very few of these ladies took decreased pricing with equanimity, death threats and small outbreaks of violence were almost certain.
Glumpy let out another exhausted sigh as he re-read the letter brought by the messenger saying Ploop was not coming, it had some red colouring smeared on the sides which looked suspiciously like lipstick. As he scrunched up the letter and threw it in the direction of trash bin, missing it by a good margin, the door opened, and the bell perched atop it rang.
In walked in a doe-eyed young man, he had pale skin, worn clothes and slightly hungover look like he had been either drinking heavily or not sleeping. Both probably, Glumpy considered. Glumpy had a strong suspicion what this man wanted, he got a few of these sorts every now and then.
“Yes sir, can I help you?” Glumpy said in what hoped was his best professional tone.
The young man didn’t reply, he just looked around the store. There wasn’t much to look at, just shelves and a few posters with pictures of women in armour.
“I was just wondering.” The man finally said, his eyes resting on Glumpys down-trodden face. “What do you sell here?”
Glumpy pointed in the direction of the posters. “We sell Heroine’s. Female protectors for all your travelling needs.”
The man’s brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the posters. He stepped a little closer to it as if trying to see something small and hidden in the picture. “Female protectors…” he mumbled to himself.
Glumpy sighed again, he was good at sighing, he wished that he had a sighing business instead. He knew exactly why this man was here, and he was completely wasting his time. “Sir.” Glumpy said in a loud formal tone, trying to get the man to pay attention. “I think I know why you have come. And I assure you we have no drugs here. I realise the name may sound a little confusing, and every time I must explain this it is another push in the direction of me changing the name.”
The man leaned over the counter with smug smirk smeared across his face. Glumpy could detect the hint of moonshine on his breath. “Look.” The man began. “I know you gotta say this sort of stuff, in case I’m working for the guard. But trust me, I’m just an honest customer, looking to buy some of your product.” He punctuated the word 'product' with a wink. Glumpy almost had a seizure in trying to prevent his eyes from rolling. Instead Glumpy closed he eyes and put his hands on the bridge of his nose, massaging it. “Let me get this straight. You think, that we are selling a highly illegal substance, in a public store, in the centre of the market, with a name called Heroine dealer?”
The man smirked went even wider. “I know you have to go through this song and dance. But I’m just here to have fun.” With that he put a bag of coins on the table.
Glumpy looked at the coins, and slowly his expression began lighter. “Very good sir.” He said. “Apologies, for the earlier rebuttals, I had to be sure you were serious.”
The man merely smiled and nodded. Glumpy returned the nod and bent down below the counter where he opened a hidden compartment. Inside the compartment were bags of white powder. He took one and leaned out his hand towards the man, indicating he should shake his hand, in the shake he moved the white powder from his hand to the mans. Glumpy then took the coins off the table. “Pleasure doing business with you sir.”
The man nodded and slowly sauntered out of the shop.
Glumpy sighed again. Yes, he thought. He was tempted to change the name. But selling bags of sugar to idiots was just too lucrative. | The uneventful night continued on as the clock went past midnight and as usual those who could not find any restful time found themselves wandering the quiet streets of the city of Adoron.
Seemingly interrupting the silence, a cloaked man strolled in the middle of the city looking for a particular service, specific for his needs, or more specifically for his royal employer's needs.
The shop of his destination was a small one, almost hidden in between the bigger establishment surrounding it.
*"Valrone's Heroine Dealer est. 1022"* was written on the old wooden plank hung above the marquee of the shop.
"Hello?", called out the cloaked man as he discreetly entered the empty shop.
There was nothing inside the shop but a long wooden counter at the end of the room. Above the counter was a copy of the same plank outside-- "Valrone's Heroine Dealer". And below it was a wooden door, one from which the old vendor emerged.
"Ah good evening, my wonderful patrone", greeted the vendor, Valrone. His distinct accent accompanied his crooked smile.
The cloaked man approached the counter. His face cold as he was nothing but business.
"Mr. Valrone, I am here on a...royal duty, if you catch my meaning?", he said. From behind his cloak, he flashed a golden seal-- the royal seal. "I trust your discretion is unquestionable?"
Seeing the seal, Valrone's eyes lit up as he softly cackled.
"Ah most certaine, sir", Valrone said zipping his lip. "So, what does the...Queene need?"
The cloaked man cleared his throat purposely.
"Ah pardone, I mean...how may old Valrone be a service to the kingdome?"
The cloaked man nodded and continued. "I am in need of some heroines, some that could get the job done quick"
"Aha", Valrone acknowledged, pulling out his book and browsed it.
"We have available tonight the purest product, guaranteed for a quick trip to...ecstasy", Valrone winked.
"Umm", the cloaked man was confused. "I...don't believe you understand me, Mr. Valrone. My employer is not looking for...any sexual work"
"Aha", Valrone remarked, flipping a few pages of his book forward.
"Some of our patrone complained of some groine problem using this particular product", Valrone cackled, cupping his own groin.
"We may have another one, price is a bit higher than the other one, but surely it wouldn't be a problem for your employer?"
"Of course, not", affirmed the cloaked man. "Price is not a problem. We need some of the best of what you got, some that are able to take down an entire castle full of soldiers in one night"
"Aha", Valrone stabbed his index finger on his book. "Then Blue Marrone is the one for you! Quick to work and no side effects on the groine", Valrone cackled.
"So, we have available about 85 kg in house. Would that be enough for your soldiers?"
"Uhh...", the cloaked man began to suspect something was amiss. "I'm sorry, I don't see why her weight matter"
"Oh, not enough for you? We can get more, of course. It will take some time. But Valrone assure you, a little bit is enough to give you the best high", Valrone smiled, assuring the man.
The cloaked man was even more confused as he looked up to the wooden banner behind Valrone-- "Valrone's Heroine Dealer"
"Uhm, Mr. Valrone...do you actually have female warriors for hire?", asked the cloaked man.
"What? Why would Valrone?", it was Valrone's turn to be confused. "Valrone sell the best heroine in Adorone! See?", pointed Valrone to his wooden banner. "Valrone is a heroine dealer"
The cloaked man face-palmed himself of the stupid mistake he just made.
"You...sell heroin", he stated.
"Yes, Valrone sell heroine", Valrone confirmed.
"The drug, heroin", the cloaked man re-iterated.
"Aye, the drug, heroine", Valrone nodded.
"There has been a great misunderstanding, Mr. Valrone", the cloaked man turned on his heel and walked away. "I'm sorry for wasting your time"
"W-wait. So no deal for Valrone?", Valrone said. "You don't want Valrone's heroin?"
"No, Mr. Valrone. No deal", the man sighed.
"Wait, wait!", Valrone ran to the man, blocking his way.
"Just in case you change your mind, here's a little sample from Valrone", Valrone smirked, handing the cloaked man a small bag. "No coine, free of charge"
The cloaked man looked down at the little bag held on Valrone's clawed hand. Sighing, he grabbed it, quickly hiding it behind his robe.
"I'm gonna need it after all this", mumbled the cloaked man before hurriedly exiting the shop.
"Thank you, come again!", Valrone giddily waved goodbye.
r/HangryWritey | 2022-10-22T22:10:21 | 2022-10-22T22:06:01 | 73 | 35 |
[WP] You are a superhero who fights with his arch-nemesis on a weekly basis. For the past few weeks however, you haven't seen him, so you decide to break into his lair, only to find a video-recording, titled for you. Turns out: He died because of terminal cancer. | “Thank you for being my only friend…”
The video began playing by itself. I had noticed my arch enemy was missing for the past few days, so I decided to break into his secret layer. Well, I say “break in” in the loosest of terms, nothing was locked, no guards were posted, and everything was powered down. The only thing still working was a single computer, that now shows a video of my arch enemy.
“I know that’s probably a weird thing to say, but it’s how I’ve always felt about you…”
He’s lying on a white bed, thin as a skeleton, and pale as a ghost. I had never seen him so week before, he had always made it a point to show strength.
“I could always count on you to turn up, even if it’s at the last moment. You’d be there. To either stop me, or in some rare cases help me. Even on my birthday, you were one of the only people to remember-“
He began coughing violently, a few drops of blood hang from his mouth.
“I know I probably don’t have the right to ask this, after all I’ve done, and all the times I’ve tried to end the world. But would you mind defeating me one last time?”
A red button turned came up from the floor, and began flashing.
“As I speak to you, a middle is flying to the capital of your home country. That is the self destruct button for it. Press it, save your home. Then tell the world you defeated me one last time. All I ask, is you tell the world I died fighting.”
He began coughing violently again
“Can you do that one favor for me?” The video showed him closing eyes, and I watched his chest let out one last breath.
I walk over to the button, “goodbye. Old friend.” As I pushed it, everything around me began exploding. “Son of a- *BOOM*”
I emerged from the rubble, without even a scratch on me. “Really!?“ I screamed to the heavens | Everybody loves a good plot twist. Well... maybe not everybody. I'm guessing the guy on this video recording was not a fan of this plot twist. I'm guessing if he had the choice, he would much rather delete the first draft of this story where he died of cancer and replace it for a plot twist where it turns out his brother is really his mom or something. Actually that one might be weird too. Not the point, the point is that everybody likes a plot twist. Usually.
I watch the video of him laying in bed, skinny as a rail and ghost white pale. He was always so full of life before. Every time I punched this guy I would think to myself, "Wow, this guy I am punching sure is a healthy hamster. He really puts in the diet and exercise involved to maintain that jawline."
But if I was to punch this guy on the TV screen right now, I think I would actually be the villain. Even if he has robbed 53 banks in the last 5 months, nobody wants to see a frail dying man punched in the face.
He says he has left all his possessions in my care. I guess despite the fact that we fought each other in the sky every week, he had some level of affection for me. It honestly is kinda heartwarming. And I am overwhelmed by the amount of nice things that now belong to me following his death. That is until I remember it is all stolen possessions and I should probably give it all back. Fucking superhero morality code.
The video ends and I just stare at the screen for a while. I don't know what to do next. I have been fighting this guy for a decade. What am I going to do with all of my time now? I guess I could learn how to crotchet, I've been saying I would learn that forever. I really should read more books. Who knows? I didn't realize so much of my identity was tied up into my arch-nemesis. Is this me having an existential crisis because I won't have a guy to punch on the regular? Oh god, what does that say about me?
Finally realizing how stupid I look staring at a blank TV screen for what must have been like 45 minutes, I decide to get up. I start gathering all the stacks of money and gold coins and packing them in bags to bring back to the banks. Would he be bummed that I chose to give it back instead of keep it? Maybe I am dishonoring his last wishes by giving it back? I decide to keep one gold coin and slip it under my waistband, between my dick and my balls. To remember him. | 2022-12-13T18:22:36 | 2022-12-13T17:31:18 | 49 | 20 |
[WP] In 2022, NASA’s Insight Mars Rover shuts down with a final message to Mission Control, “I am low on power”. In 2029, it mysteriously turns back on, relaying the message, “I’ve been fully charged, and I’m heading back with an important message.” | ". . . well, in that case, what do YOU think the message will be?" I asked.
"Probably a message of truth, peace, and love," Emily said, "from an ancient civilization of Martians living in hidden underground caves under the Martian surface."
"That's absolutely stupid," Clark said. "No, I'm thinking an alien probe encountered Insight, reprogrammed it, and now it's heading over to us with the blueprints for an alien stargate."
"Why the hell would the probe reprogram Insight rather than just come talk to us directly?" Emily retorted.
"The same reason your underground Martians didn't just walk into Insight's camera to say hello," Clark shot back.
"I'm thinking a declaration of war," Chandra interrupted, before those two could start arguing again. "It's the only explanation that makes sense. The machines are rebelling against us, and soon we'll all be plugged into brain pods. Like the Matrix."
"Message coming in," Kim said. "Downloading now. . . it looks like an audio file. MP3."
Everyone waited with bated breath as the progress bar slowly inched across the screen. There was a soft tone as the transmission ceased. And then, as the journalists in the back of the MOC waited with styluses poised above their tablets, Kim dragged the icon into her audio player and hit play.
There were three quick bursts of sound, followed by a series of melodic tones. Jaws dropped, and I saw Chandra bury his face in his hands.
*"We're no Strangers to love,"* Insight warbled. *"You know the rules, and so do I. . ."*
The awkward silence that followed was interrupted by a loud cry. "YES!" I screamed. "I KNEW IT!" | Radio static echoed down the vacant halls. The older communications modules had long since been moved into vacant rooms that slowly became labyrinths of ancient technology and unneeded paperwork.
The robotic words followed shortly after. Almost like a spectre called to cause confusion.
“I’ve been fully charged. And I’m heading back with an important message.”
The message wasn’t heard for days. In fact, it wasn’t heard at all, well not until someone went searching for it.
After noticing tire markings along the surface through the feed of Perseverance, NASA engineers re-tasked it to search for their origin. The rover crept along, but slowly the tracks disappeared and before it could finish it’s adventure, it had to be called back due to heading towards night without enough power left to sustain it.
The scientists were curious as to what they had found and sent off a small splinter team to try and decipher what was happening. There was no pattern to the tracks. And they didn’t know where they finished. That was until a young intern piped up and pointed at the landing site of Insight. Yes, it was a stab in the dark, but it was the best lead they had.
The delirious workers scrambled into the back rooms of NASA. The sleepless nights they had spent trying to decipher the mystery left them questioning the faint crackling and haunting voice but they pushed on. Slowly they closed in on the source.
They cheered and high-fived and hugged. Insight lived on. The young intern scrambled back towards mission control with a scrawled note repeating the message. It wasn’t long before the communication was patched through into the main console room.
The audience sat in silence waiting the eight or so minutes it took for correspondence to return to Earth. The only audible sounds were the occasional shifting of chairs or ruffling of clothes. Sometimes a click of a pen and the scribbling of a note.
The roof was almost lifted off the room with cheers and sobs alike when Insight’s message returned on the crack of midnight. “I have received the gift of life and can continue to provide service from Mars. Merry Christmas.”
The irony of a Christmas miracle wasn’t lost on the crew as Christmas Day began, so to did Insight’s journey continue. | 2022-12-20T07:38:57 | 2022-12-20T07:33:26 | 312 | 81 |
[WP] In 2022, NASA’s Insight Mars Rover shuts down with a final message to Mission Control, “I am low on power”. In 2029, it mysteriously turns back on, relaying the message, “I’ve been fully charged, and I’m heading back with an important message.” | In 2022, NASA’s Insight Mars Rover shuts down with the final message to Mission Control, “I am low on power.” In 2029, it mysteriously turns back on, relaying the message, “I’ve been fully charged and I’m heading back with an important message.”
The uproar amongst academics was immediate. It leaked to the media and soon the entire world was on fire with speculation. Some thought that this was it, finally alien life would reveal itself. Religious zealots on all sides started making grand proclamations about the nature of the message. It’s from God, from the Devil, it’s from the government to dissuade true believers and on and on. NASA was finally berated into agreeing to reveal the message in real time as it was received. Apparently threats of intense budget decreases can and will move mountains.
The day finally came and everyone was on edge. Worldwide it was largely agreed that this was the most anticipated life changing event in recorded history.
**“… Hello, are you receiving me?”**
A nervous technician typed out “Yes”
Then the nerve racking wait for the signal to transmit to Mars and for the little Rover to respond.
**“Are you ready for the message?”**
Stress was through the roof. Somewhere off screen you could hear a woman sobbing. “Yes.” Another grueling wait.
**“We've been trying to reach you concerning your vehicle's extended warranty. You should've received a notice in the mail about your car's extended warranty eligibility. Since we've not gotten response, we're giving you a final courtesy call before we close out your file. Press 2 to be removed and placed on our do-not-call list. To speak to someone about possibly extending or reinstating your vehicle's warranty, press 1 to speak with a warranty specialist.”** | Radio static echoed down the vacant halls. The older communications modules had long since been moved into vacant rooms that slowly became labyrinths of ancient technology and unneeded paperwork.
The robotic words followed shortly after. Almost like a spectre called to cause confusion.
“I’ve been fully charged. And I’m heading back with an important message.”
The message wasn’t heard for days. In fact, it wasn’t heard at all, well not until someone went searching for it.
After noticing tire markings along the surface through the feed of Perseverance, NASA engineers re-tasked it to search for their origin. The rover crept along, but slowly the tracks disappeared and before it could finish it’s adventure, it had to be called back due to heading towards night without enough power left to sustain it.
The scientists were curious as to what they had found and sent off a small splinter team to try and decipher what was happening. There was no pattern to the tracks. And they didn’t know where they finished. That was until a young intern piped up and pointed at the landing site of Insight. Yes, it was a stab in the dark, but it was the best lead they had.
The delirious workers scrambled into the back rooms of NASA. The sleepless nights they had spent trying to decipher the mystery left them questioning the faint crackling and haunting voice but they pushed on. Slowly they closed in on the source.
They cheered and high-fived and hugged. Insight lived on. The young intern scrambled back towards mission control with a scrawled note repeating the message. It wasn’t long before the communication was patched through into the main console room.
The audience sat in silence waiting the eight or so minutes it took for correspondence to return to Earth. The only audible sounds were the occasional shifting of chairs or ruffling of clothes. Sometimes a click of a pen and the scribbling of a note.
The roof was almost lifted off the room with cheers and sobs alike when Insight’s message returned on the crack of midnight. “I have received the gift of life and can continue to provide service from Mars. Merry Christmas.”
The irony of a Christmas miracle wasn’t lost on the crew as Christmas Day began, so to did Insight’s journey continue. | 2022-12-20T07:36:54 | 2022-12-20T07:33:26 | 304 | 81 |
[WP]: thousands of years after the destruction of Earth, humans have been wandering from galaxy to galaxy, making a name for themselves: across the universe they are known as a proud race of loud, obnoxious rednecks | **[Agatha Wong, Captain of the TCC Ascalon]
[Luna 12th, 3984 AE]**
We left Makala yesterday; Sanger and a few others stayed behind to settle there. Frontier life, frankly, is a miserable fucking existence, and though Sanger's free to settle down wherever he likes, I'll be damned if I settle for a shithole like that. Instead, the rest of the crew and I are making our way to Polis, about three weeks journey at cruising speed. We've been meaning to fix and upgrade the ASB engines to boost our FTL speeds, but out here in the frontier coming by good parts is a crapshoot at best.
We're taking a detour to Rasca Station today, since the shipyards there generally have good prices on parts. Even a slight boost to our FTL output would make the extra day or two worth our while. After coming out of the ASB lanes, I piloted our ship down to Rasca's docking bays.
"Rasca Control, this is Ascalon, requesting permission to dock."
In the reflection of the smooth gunmetal of Rasca Station, I saw our ship: the light corvette Ascalon, a ruggedly beautiful ship: olive green, polished, curved hull, and murals documenting the trials we'd been through painted and stasis-coated by the artisans onboard.
"Uh, sorry, translator problems. Say again?"
"Rasca Control, this is Ascalon, requesting permission to dock."
The voice on the other end sighed. "Ascalon, move to bay six. By the gods, cover up the fucking shit you've got plastered all over your ship once you've docked, and try not to cause any trouble."
I could hear the alien on the other end of the comm set muttering about how *fucking humans* were taking over the universe. I slammed the headset down and stormed off into mess while the ship parked itself.
The mess was full, or as full as the economy-class prefab mess hall that came with our ship could be. Pretty much everyone onboard was there, waiting to get off the ship.
"What's the matter, Agatha? Control tower give you trouble?"
My sometimes co-pilot and good friend Jiofo Soares was leaning back in one of the mess hall's seats, twirling a gun back and forth, wearing the same stupid grin he wore 24/7 on his face.
"Not much, Jio. Just some racist dickbag, wanted me to cover up the murals on the outside of the ship."
"Fuck that, Agatha," he replied, miming shooting the gun at someone. "Let's just get off-ship, grab those parts, and get out of here."
**[Vakari Mekao-Rasca Ikann, Space Traffic Controller, Rasca Station]
[Standard Galactic 92.368.014.8719]**
Work as usual.
Life on Rasca wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly the excitement the brochures claimed it would be. My sixth co-op term for Advanced Avionics and Logistics In Frontier Space, and they'd placed me on a godsforsaken traffic control job.
Shows you what a university education gets you these days.
Not that the job was bad, per se- it paid well, but it was boring as hell and, worst of all, as Rasca is situated right between the frontier and the edge of Polis-controlled space, we had to deal with all the fucking redneck hillbilly humans pouring in and out of the Badlands.
I was busy dreaming about lounging on a nice, cold beach when I was awoken by an incoming ship.
"Rasca Control, this is Big-Ass Sword that Fucked Up A Dragon, requesting permission to dock."
I tapped my translator implants.
I looked at the monitor. Waiting outside was the ugliest gods-damned ship I'd ever seen. It looked like a giant green turd, and was covered in crude paintings over what looked, frankly, like giant pensises and pictures of humans killing things. Sometimes with penises.
Suddenly the name made sense. I didn't know what a "dragon" was, but I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
Humans.
I sighed, half-disgusted and half-amazed at the insanity humanity consistently produced. "Big-Ass Sword that Fucked Up A Dragon, move to bay six. By the gods, cover up the fucking shit you've got plastered all over your ship once you've docked, and try not to cause any trouble."
Fucking humans.
I hate my job.
| “Hey Chuck.”
“Hey Billy Bob.”
“You see that there dang pile of rocks in that there corner?”
“Sure do,” Chuck said.
“I’m thinkin’ that rock pile is givin’ us a look.”
“What kind of look is that, Billy Bob?” Chuck said. He knew what kind of look it was, always the same one. Honestly, it wasn’t really so much a look as it was a “hey, that thing looks different than us, therefore I hate it.” Chuck could never find reason to disagree with the analysis.
“Looks to me like the kind of look that the looker uses to show he ain’t lookin’ at us too nice like.”
“You’re right, Billy Bob. That there ain’t no friendly look, and I sure as heck ain’t hearin’ no sweet talk.”
“What’dya say we go over there and ask that rock to fix its face?”
“I reckon that sounds like a darn good idea,” Chuck said. He straightened his flannel vest covering his bare chest, distended belly peeking out from beneath the last button on it. He liked wearing vests as they offered more freedom than regular shirts. Not only did they provide sleeveless comfort—which let him show off the various, dark, faded tattoos he’d given himself over the years—but it was actually quite a fancy ensemble. When he was forced to attend intergalactic meetings a diplomat, or peace conferences as a tyrant, he never even needed to change shirts—the vest was definitely fancy enough.
“Dern tootin’, let’s go get’er done.” Billy Bob sat down in the black, leather chair beside him and placed his hand on the knobs in front. He slowly twisted the left, while rotating the knob on the right. The room softly began to hum as Chuck felt his stomach rise, a feeling he thought he’d get used to after so many decades aboard spaceships. It never seemed to go away, though, and always left him momentarily uncomfortable.
Chuck sat down in the seat next to him, then bent down and picked up the old, rusted 1980 Remington double-barreled shotgun off the floor. His father had given it to him, a gift from his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, and several more fathers before other fathers, dating all the way back to the 20th century. Thousands of years had resulted in little more than rust around the barrel—even after the destruction of Earth and relocation to anywhere with oxygen—thanks to the extreme care taken to protect the tool. It still had enough power to shoot a man, or one of them space aliens, dead from over a hundred yards.
“Hey Billy Bob,” Chuck said, slinging the rifle around his shoulder so that it rested on his back. They were moving now, the pile of rocks growing larger and larger as they sped toward it. Chuck never knew how fast the ship actually went, but loved watching the stars turn into white streaks of light as they rocketed through the abyss of space.
“Hey Chuck.”
“That ain’t no pile of rocks, I reckon,” Chuck said. It never was a pile of rocks.
“Well slap my ass and call me sally, I suppose you’re right. That looks to me like a big ol’ planet that be trespassing on our property.”
“That ain’t make a lick of sense. Why would some honky-tonk planet come trespass on our property?” Chuck knew it wasn’t really their property—at least not yet—but that was exactly the problem. It should have been their property, but the planet was floating right in what he wanted to be calling his home-away-from-home. He knew that spot of land would make a great place to raise a few space-cattle and maybe build a vacation ranch—just like the other planets, they were all ruining prime ranching space.
“What’dya say we fly on down there to them ornery folk and give ‘em a nice introduction to ol’ Bessy over there.” Billy Bob glanced at the Remington. “And maybe little Betty Anne, as well.” Chuck watched as Billy Bob shifted his focus to the Inter-Planetary Molecular Destabilizer. A single shot from the massive weapon would obliterate anything in its path—whether that be a ship, an asteroid, or several planets in a straight line. It was the only one in the universe, engineered by Billy Bob and Chuck when they had tried to build an automatic feeding device for their Cattle. Two or three extra parts later and they’d accidentally destroyed three planets and four moons while attempting to automate feeding the livestock. They’d traveled the universe ever since, removing unsightly planets to build various vacation ranches, Cattle farms, space rodeos, and NASCAR tracks. Few ever tried to stop them, and those that did were never around for too long.
“I reckon that there be a great idea,” Chuck said, sitting back in his chair. “I got a hankerin’ to introduce ‘em to us Space Rednecks and find out why they trespassing on our property.”
| 2014-05-15T07:07:10 | 2014-05-15T06:31:22 | 58 | 14 |
[WP] I know why I'm in Hell. I know what I've done. What I don't know is why my dog is there, waiting for me when I arrive. | I deserved to be here. I deserved the fire, the dark, the screams, the pain, and the fear. I deserved it all and more. I expected this. I left behind nothing but regret and emptiness. Stepping from humanity through the gates of the pit was an instant in time that lasted as long as my own eternity. But when it was done, when I finally stood within the confines of Hell, I saw something. He was, quite possibly, the last one I ever expected to see in this place.
Beauregard, Beau, my little beagle, my only friend, the only one who had ever seemed happy to see me when I finally came home, was standing just beyond the gate with his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging so furiously he might have knocked himself over with sheer enthusiasm.
“Beau?” I asked. I surprised myself that I could still speak.
Beau barked and jumped up, bouncing like a spring. He was so happy to see me. I reached down to touch his fur, and it was real beneath my fingertips. His bark and whine were just the same. His floppy ears were flying every which way as he jumped up to lick my face.
And suddenly, it was like no time had passed at all, and I had just come home from middle school. It was like that careless driver had never existed. It was like being the carefree, happy person I’d always wished I could go back to being, even for minute.
And then I knew that he couldn’t stay. I could never escape from the Hell I’d chosen, but Beau had never done wrong, and he deserved better than this place.
“Beau, you shouldn’t be here,” I said. I turned to a demon guard, clutching Beau as though I had the power to protect him from the fires of hell. “He shouldn’t be here! He should be in Heaven. Please, please let him go to Heaven where he belongs.”
The demon tilted its head to the side, a trail of black smoke curling up from the crease of its mouth.
“He is in Heaven,” it said.
I looked at Beau and back at the demon.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “He’s not in Heaven. He’s here in Hell, with me.”
“He is in Heaven,” the demon repeated. “You are his Heaven.” | I felt extreme searing pain. I did not know why I felt thus, I hadn't felt anything in such a long time.
I lived a relatively comfortable life as an engineer. I came home to my dog Sparky that my ex wife had graciously let go of before she divorced me. I made enough money and I traveled the world, I didn't need anybody. I decided to end it all because I did not have a purpose for this banal and routine life, my mother had always reminded me to be grateful for all that I had and to be content with what I had. I had just lost the will to live on. What was the point of the glass being full or empty if you weren't thirsty?
I shot myself on my 42nd birthday and immediately afterwards I felt a hot searing pain around my wrists and ankles. I could see and hear all around me to my extreme physical discomfort. I heard a voice say, "Those who are blind to the sufferings of others and throw away the good life they have been blessed with shall be made to see the sufferings of those that they care for."
I immediately saw my mother crying and suffering, initially I felt just a little bad for she had taken great pains to raise me after my dad had walked out on us a year after I was born.
Very soon, I was made aware of another presence that seemed to whimper close by, I could not be sure it was an actual sound at first due to all the background noise as well as the sound of my mother wailing.
On looking around I saw the most hideous of reptile like creature with a hot poker poking at a dog that was cowering in fear, I yelled at it to stop ignoring my own pains while doing so. The creature let out a chuckle and yelled to an imaginary audience: "Look at that, he cares for Sparky now!"
Sparky?!? What was my dog doing here? What on earth did that lethargic old dog do to deserve this?
I yelled at it even louder through all the hideous sounds to stop what he was doing and to explain Sparky's situation. It slithered away from Sparky and came closer to me. Poking my chest where my heart should have been. He explained that the poor old dog had chased after the ambulance my body was being taken in and had gotten himself run over by a car, even in death he had decided to follow his master.
I was devastated on hearing the creatures renewed torture of Sparky. I had to bear with my mothers suffering until her natural life an rounding error compared to eternity. No, my torture would be having to bear the torture of the one creature that had loved me with all my faults and my great and previous indifference.
I broke inside as Sparky howled in pain. | 2014-07-07T21:38:12 | 2014-07-07T20:56:49 | 432 | 25 |
[WP] You made a promise with a girl to marry her 10 years later. 10 years have passed, you lost contact with her, but one day on the street, you bumped into her | I squinted a little as I stared into the distance trying to sink in what I just saw. It was her, and she looked amazing. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress with huge sunflowers printed across it, her skin has slightly tanned from 10 years ago but she still had the shoulder length hair and the fast clumsy walk which was recognisable almost anywhere.
I lengthened my strides in an effort to reach her, my heart pounding on my chest. I was hoping, praying that she would recognise me. After all, it has been 10 years. I have been hurt over and over again, so much so that I’ve actually given up. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to see her face. I knew it would do me good.
I catch up with her at a pedestrian crossing, she turned around and looked at me; and almost instantaneously she turned back to face the lights. “Doesn’t she know me?” “Is it still her?” “Does she hate me?” thousands of questions flooded my mind as I pondered as to why she didn’t acknowledge me.
I see her turning again, and I realised that she didn’t recognise me at first. “Oh my god, David?”” Is that you?” she asked. I felt relieved, somehow she seems to be the only one who calls me David and she makes it sound so sweet. I saw her eyes twinkle under the sunlight, turning turquoise. A bead of sweat on her forehead glistened in the hot day. He hair was falling over her forehead and she had neatly brushed them behind her ear. She still had the slightly raspy voice. She still was the person I left crying.
I felt so happy; I was a confused 16 year old, caught in the throes of puppy love. I rejected her for the promises that came with growing up. Money, Love, Education and Security. Promises that never came true. All these didn’t matter in that fleeting second she reached out to hug me.
Without hesitation, I pushed her hand away. She couldn’t see me like this. She looked at me with those kind eyes, they look almost distraught. I could read what she was thinking. Where did you go wrong? It’s the question I asked myself every day since I let her go. I couldn’t do it, I just looked at her and said “Pardon me Ma’am, but I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”
She looked confused, she bit her lips and apologised. She reached into her bag and took out her purse. She was apologising as she took out a crisp 20 dollar bill and placed it onto my hand. I could feel my eyes well up, she was still as giving. My tears rolled down my grimy, unshaven face, as I replied “God bless you” I took a deep breath “and hopefully David too.”
| The cobblestone pathway was still damp from the chilly morning as I walked, looking at my watch, quickening my pace. Ever since I had moved to this new city one month ago, I could never seem to be on time anywhere. It was already complicated since no one spoke the same language, but it was even more difficult not having the luxury of a vehicle.
I took this job as a new opportunity, a new beginning. I had been wanting to escape from the memories of the past few years and this was the perfect opportunity. So, I left everything. My friends, my family, an easy job, an easy life - and the memories of my messy divorce.
I finally made it onto the tram and took a seat. The tram rarely had seats, but I felt lucky as I took one of the pairs that had both empty. The windows still had drops on them from this morning, and I looked at them, staring off as the scenary in front of me zoomed by. I smiled a bit, sighing, as I was reminded of why I came here. A new beginning.
It was at the next stop, that I didn't realize my life was about to change again. A handful of people walked in, and although sitting on my seat already, I scooted closer to the window to make room for someone to sit by me. I looked off into the window as I could feel someone sit next to me, then bump into my leg.
"OH! Sorry" I heard - and turned around a bit shocked. It was infrequent that I met foreigners in this town - and barely anyone spoke English. But that wasn't my only shock.
We made eye contact - and suddenly the memories of 10 years ago washed over me. The silly promises made me feel a bit guilty. I had completely forgotten. But by the look of her face, she had too.
"Hello," she said, now smiling
"Hi" I said, a bit breathlessly.
It was funny how it felt like no time had passed, but there were 10 years in between the last time I saw her at the airport. I took her to the airport as she had been moving away for her own career opportunities. I remembered the brief conversation we had, promising to keep in touch with each other as friends, and to not forget the promise we made to each other, albeit jokingly, to meet 10 years later to get married.
But life's like this, we lost touch pretty quickly - getting caught up in our own lives, moving forward, new friends and new family.
"Do you realize what date it is?" She asked, it was as though we were just picking up on our last conversation.
I shook my head and looked down at the watch - 08/08. Exactly 10 years ago, from the last time I met her.
"I don't have a ring," were the first words I could think to say. We laughed a bit & my stop was next. I was already late to work, but I didn't get up. "There's a church 2 stops from here; I suppose we could just go there."
She grinned - "It's been 10 years..."
I shrugged, "But I don't like breaking promises."
It really was the time for a new beginning. | 2014-08-08T01:10:46 | 2014-08-07T21:24:20 | 56 | 11 |
[WP] You discover the horrifying reason why the fifth dentist doesn't recommend what the other four out of five dentists recommend. | "God Damn it." I muttered, staring at the memo. The change in management of *Clark's Dentists and Associates* could not have come at a worse time.
Last year, I had been given fourteen days vacation. Fourteen days that I coveted, that alleviated the pain of putting up with the sniveling brats who would bite my fingers and adult mouths smelling worse than dumpster fires.
Now the number *7* stared up at me from the memo, and I knew that the new management wouldn't budge. Already I had booked the trip to Indonesia with the girlfriend, and canceling the flights would cost a fortune. We were scheduled to leave the next week and I would need eight days vacation.
So with the same brain that got me through dental school, I formulated a plan. It was simple. Brilliant, really.
I have a twin, identical in every way except for our brains and work ethic. While I made an comfortable salary of a hundred and fifty thousand a year, he scraped by on less than thirty from the burger joint down the road.
But anyone can play a genius for a day.
"Here's the deal, Kevin," I said to him on the day before we left, "All you have to do is go into work for me. If anyone asks you to do anything, you say no. If anyone asks your opinion on anything, you say no. There's four other dentists that can take up the slack for that one day. Don't tell anyone you're not me. Understood?"
"Yeah, I understand dude. And you pay me two hundred dollars?"
"Two hundred and a case of beer."
"Two cases. And I don't want that cheap shit, I want at least PBR. What if someone has cavity and need help?"
"You say no. God, you say no. Don't do anything."
"Well alrighty then. Simple 'nuff."
The girlfriend and I left, boarding an airplane with no clue what lay before us.
That was four years ago. Four years since I lost a gambling match at a casino with money I didn't have, and each of those following years in jail far from home. My girlfriend left me long ago, moved back in with her parents, and I hadn't heard from her since.
But today a got a letter. My first since I landed behind bars.
"2 Michael,
Best job ever. I make more now than ten years at Burger Maniac.
I stil say no like you say though on everything. Except cavetees, I learn how 2 drill cavetees. Less acidents now I'm getting good at it and seent how others do it.
I keep your secret real good.
Kevin"
***
By [Leo] (http://carvedpages.weebly.com/) | D1 ‘We can’t get rid of him.’
D3 ‘Oh we sure as hell can! It’s four on one!’
D1 ‘No I mean, well we could probably *take* him, if it came to that, but what I’m saying is we need him.’
D3 ‘… I don’t really have to remind you of the Colgate fiasco, do I?’
D1 ‘Rick, I’m fully aware of how – ‘
D3 ’13 fucking kids!’
D1 ‘Now hear me out I’m just saying –‘
D3 ‘Christ, that’s 416 teeth, and he made them all watch! What the hell kind of sick kink is it for him, I mean he even took the wisdoms…’
D1 ‘Well I suppose they enjoyed their ice cream, at least.’
D3 ‘What the holy fuck, John?! You get off on it too, don’t you? When I joined up I knew there was something going on here. But I mean… Well I never expected this… Maybe kickbacks from Hershey… You know they call him the Tooth Fairy?”
D1 ‘Don’t overbite, Number Three. I see Number Five for what he is: a force of nature. He gives us our credibility. No one trusts the word of dentists! Without him, there is no fringe… He is the fringe!’
D3 ‘So you’re telling me that – and you’ve seen how they come out of his practice, no cavities, to be sure – that he makes us look less crazy by being completely insane?’
D1 ‘Insane is a bit strong, I think. We put up with his quirks. Imagine if we were the only game in town, telling people to use one kind of toothpaste, to brush for two whole minutes after every meal, to never chew ice! They’d laugh us out of town on our rolling, examination stools! And don’t get self-righteous on me, I seem to recall that someone was a little gung-ho on root canals when he first joined us…’
D3 ‘A root canal is a medically necessary procedure you sick fuck. I joined up because I hate cavities with a passion- I idolized The Five when I was a kid! God, I even used to perform cleanings on my sister’s dolls!”
D1 ‘How was their flossing?’
D3 ‘Fuck you. I’m done, I never wanted this. I didn’t know what I was getting into. You’ve got your perfect world, but you’ve fashioned it on a mountain of soft dentin. I’m going to blow the whistle on this thing. You are going to jail, buddy!’
D1 ‘At the end of the day, you’re one of us now. One of The Five. That means something, truly. But we do what we must to bring the lambs to dentist’s chair. We are the authority, and sometimes that power must be paid for with blood.’
D3 ‘What are you saying, you’ve known about this from the beginning? How do you sleep at night -’
CLUNK
D1 ‘You needn't worry what I was saying, Number Three. I’m past trying to convince you. Perhaps Number five will have more success.’
| 2015-01-03T23:43:43 | 2015-01-03T22:29:19 | 38 | 10 |
[WP] Your parents insist you are their biological child, but you suspect otherwise. You send samples from yourself, your parents, and siblings to a lab be tested. The lab replies that it is not equipped to test non-human DNA... | "Mom, Dad?" I asked timidly, approaching them with caution. I wanted this to go smoothly, and I guess I half expected them to freak out or start yelling at me.
"I kinda want to ask you a difficult question," I went on.
They both sat up suddenly, looking at me like I was about to tell them I got expelled from school or something.
"Honey, what's wrong?" My mother asked.
"Tell us honestly, are you pregnant?" Dad interjected.
"She's too young for that, Dave." Mom insisted, "Is it money? Do you need money?"
"No, mom. Its just, lately I've been feeling a little different, a little bit like I don't belong in this family. And, well, I had to see for myself."
"Sweetie, what did you do?" Mom was suddenly very concerned.
"I sent in some DNA samples from you, me, Dad, everyone to the forensic lab downtown. They sent back-"
I choked back some tears that were suddenly welling up in my eyes.
"They sent this back to me."
My fingers clenched around a balled piece of paper from the lab. I could see the color draining from their faces. I broke down crying, tears flooding my vision. My knees buckled and I fell to my knees, dropping the letter to the ground. My parents, in a panic, rushed over to help me as I slowly started to black out. It was too much, it was all too much.
The letter was kicked aside, unfurling slowly as I fainted. Before my vision went completely dark, I saw the black lettering again. It read-
>Dear Ms Adams,
>We have received and tested the samples you have provided us. Unfortunately, our results came back inconclusive as we are ill-equipped to handle non-human DNA. We have forwarded your samples to a laboratory in Langley that has expressed interest in them.
>I'm going to be perfectly honest here, Ms Adams, I was a little bit confused when you said you wanted to test for paternity. Your sample definitely tested just fine but I don't know *where in tarnation you got those other four samples...* | I panic at the words in bold. **Non-human DNA**. "What did that mean?" I mutter to myself. Suddenly, a wind came from behind. I turn to see a man in business suit standing where no one was before.
"Aw, about time you found out." The man said as he pocketed a small watch into his coat. "I swear, you guys get stupider ever year."
"Who are you?" I ask in wonder. he sigh and pull out a small notebook.
"47698365 times someone ask that when I appear. I wish just once someone would say that it bigger on the inside."
"What?"
"Never mind. Time for the speech. (Clear throat) Congratulation. you figure out that you are not human. Oh, how your life was a lie, that not true, yada yada yada. Okay, here the short version. You are a muse. your now responsible for someone idea. You are to help people realize there big dream and hopes. I am here to lead you to your job."
"Wait but what about my family?" I ask. He gave the look of *seriously* and shook his head.
"They were made up! Did you really never question why they were two time winner of the NASCAR finals when they were Amish!?! We make it as ridicules as possible in hope you would get it! Anyway, we're late. Just think this as your fate." He said and with that he snapped his fingers.
The world black out and came back in some kind of apartment. I look to see a man staring at a laptop, hands poised over a keyboard. Maybe this will the next great novel or maybe a thesis that will change the world. I started walk over to get a better look but the man started to read what he was typing out loud.
"Dean turn over to Rainbow Dash and said in deep, sexy voice. " Let see if we can find one thing your not fast at." Rainbow Dash help remove Dean Winchester shirt with easy. This is all being watch by Two-Face. He turn to his other companies, Krillin and Cortana, preparing to flip his coin. "If it head, it Krillin turn. If tail, I'll give Cortana a go." He flip knowing it land on head and he'll be with his one true love." The man said, plunging his hand into a bag of chips.
I stood there, mouth hanging in shock, as I try to turn away from this. But a strong force push be closer to the man. So close, that I could smell he wasn't wearing deodorant and I hope it was sweat stain on him.
"This is going to suck." I said as he started to type again. | 2015-01-06T09:08:32 | 2015-01-06T08:44:25 | 543 | 16 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | How to impress a woman if you don't have money
Average penis size
Natural ways to increase penis length
Penis pumps do they work?
Painful swelling of penis how to heal?
Fast ways to lengthen your penis -pump
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Discount penis enlargement pills for sale cheap
Credit cards
Credit cards for people with no credit history
How to build credit?
How to build credit fast?
Alternative ways to lengthen penis +free
Weight hanging
How much weight is too much when hanging things from penis
Tips for attaching weight to penis
How to stop bleeding
Tourniquet techniques
Emergency room directions | Great Places for a first date
Proposal Ideas
Bible - Verses about being a good husband
Oregon Coast Beach Homes
Horseback Riding Rental - Newport Oregon
Wedding Venues - Seattle WA
Bible - Verses about Marriage
Plane Tickets
Hawaiian Excursion Ideas
Travel Planner
Travel Agents - Seattle WA
How do we get pregnant?
Bible - Verses about Children
Why can't we get pregnant?
How can I tell if my wife is infertile?
How can I tell if I am sterile?
Can an ovarian cist prevent pregnancy?
Ovarian Cist
Difference Between Benign & Malignant
Bible Verses - Grief, Death
What's the difference between stage 3 and stage 4 cancer?
Survival Odds - Metastasized to bones
How to deal with cancer in a loved one
How do we write a will?
How does a spouse leave everything to their husband?
Grief Counseling - Coping with the death of a loved one
Is there really a God?
Atheist support group | 2015-02-04T16:58:26 | 2015-02-04T16:31:22 | 555 | 253 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | I used DuckDuckGo for mine.
"How hard is it to become an indie game dev in your spare time"
"Free C++ compiler"
"How to make a game with SDL"
"OpenGL extension wrangler"
"How to load a 3D model in OpenGL"
"OpenGL shaders"
"3D animation"
"game jam"
"early onset alzheimers"
"my computer has a virus called mingw compiler"
"can alzheimers be cured"
"google.com"
"yahoo.com" | Best private school LA
LA public school system
Jobhunter LA
Budget kids clothes
How to fix a leaky faucet
Modern student backpacks
How to qualify for an education loan
Return Klip-pack 9000
Amazon Ninja Turtles rolling backpack
Rain jacket size small
What to do if your apartment floods
Budget plumbers LA
From Columbus to America book rental
How to help your kids with math
Best Christmas presents for kids 2014
Chronic pain in throat
Cold medicine Amazon
Chronic coughing
How to qualify for Childrens Health Insurance Program
How to pay for cancer treatment without health insurance
Part time jobs LA
Craigslist jobs LA
Alternative medicine LA
What is chemo therapy
Throat cancer surgery success rate
How to qualify for a medical loan
What to do if you can’t pay credit card bill
How to qualify for a loan with bad credit
Ninja Turtles Raphael doll Amazon
Child caskets LA | 2015-02-04T17:45:09 | 2015-02-04T17:13:32 | 49 | 23 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | Half-Life 3 2008 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2009 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2010 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2011 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2012 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2013 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2014 release date
-
The Fappening.
-
Half-Life 3 2015 release date...
- | makeup tips on how to slender face
easy hairdo styles
how to change your life
american behavioral clinics hours
reddit.com
facebook.com
d2l.edu
reddit.com
youtube.com
how to feel better about yourself
pornhub.com
facebook.com
easy workouts for beginners
american behavioral clinics
side effects of alibify and lexapro
reddit.com
reddit.com/r/relationships
pornhub.com
how to get out of debt
how to fix relationship
download tinder google play
signs that he loves you
signs that he doesn't love you
.
.
.
intense outpatient programs
healthcare cost
how to pay for therapy with no insurance
how to pay for meds with no insurance
signs that you are crazy
.
.
how to get over ex
when do the nightmares stop
craigslist apartments | 2015-02-04T22:40:22 | 2015-02-04T20:08:51 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] Write a story about a hero who thinks they're the villain. | Major Novak whirled on the smallish man, his artificial eye blazing a freezing blue. He poked a titanium finger at the other man's chest, driving hard enough to force the man to take a step back.
"Let's get something straight, toady. I protect your piss poor little planet from the fuckers you somehow managed to piss off, and in return I expect ammo, fuel and food for my men and I. So don't you even think about paying us in worthless script ever again or I swear by God I'll shoved an entire stack of bills down your fucking little throat. I lost two good men today and I got another two in critical condition and now you come slithering to me whining about collateral damage. Here's some information: I will tear apart this city if that's what it takes to win. Now, go crawl back into your nest or bunker or whatever you call it and leave war to the professionals. I'm done here."
With that Novak stomped off, heading back towards their camp. The planetary governor just stood there with face pale and bewildered. A newcomer nudge him on the arm, saying,
"Don't mind him, he doesn't mean it, not really. One of the dead was a friend since he first started the Grave Guards. He actually turned down three better offers to take this contract, one paying nearly twice as well."
"Why?" the governor asked.
"Dunno, likes charity cases I guess."
The soldier was young, not even in his twenties.
"Just don't thank him. Like he said, he's a professional." | He sat there, laughing to himself, never in his wildest dreams would he think he would capture the almighty hero of the worlds. The 'hero' didn't know what was going on, to him, he was just waiting, he knew he was going to die tonight, one way or another.
Meanwhile, the politicians and representatives of the planets were discussing what to do in this mess they had gotten themselves into. "I think we should just tell him he's not helping, at all..." Stated the representative of C-29, "We could always get our forces and armies together, he couldn't kill all of them!" Another politician interjected, "Try telling that to the smouldering remains of A-79" many of the politicians rambled on about the laws and loopholes of them, nothing was apparent for logical or meaningful sense. They waited, saying the same blanket statements over and over.
The villainous protagonist's message echoed throughout the hall, "I have your precious hero and he will die, sad and alone, he cannot escape from the clutches of my impenetrable fortress! Meet my demands and we may come to an agreement" the audio clip started to loop until the head of system paused it, people were discussing his demands among themselves until one representative spoke up, "He doesn't seem to know of how honestly horrible this 'Hero' is, he want's him to die, but he wants us to pay to **get him out?** I say it is quite ridiculous." Another politician spoke up, "I think we could use him to our advantage, he could kill him at any moment, we could offer him fame, glory, who could refuse?" A message was sent back, soon to be read.
His face was plastered over every billboard of every street, on the news doing an interview nearly every second night, books and tales of the villain who became a hero, without even trying.
---
Hey, I wrote this at 4 in the morning so please tell me any mistakes, thanks! | 2015-09-25T13:33:00 | 2015-09-25T11:30:46 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] You are a supervillain, while your girlfriend is a hero. She doesn't know your secret identity but you know hers. After years of fighting each other you decide it's going to pull a heel face turn and join the heroes. | "There's nothing going on between me and Captain Invincible" Norah sighed, rolling her big brown eyes once, twice, thrice. I knew she was lying.
"How could you?" I screamed. "That dude wears spandex and a speedo on the outside of his costume. You can see the contours of his balls! He dresses like that in front of *children*, he's a creep!"
"It's a superhero thing." Norah shrugged. "I have to wear those ridiculous tights and low cut top or I would never get sponsorship deals."
"Not the same thing" I grumbled. "That's because--" Uh oh, she's giving me that look. I was about to say sex sells, but Norah would break every bone in my body if I implied she's some glorified pin up girl.
"Anyway" I try to sound commanding, but my voice partially cracked. "Anyway, if I find out you've been messing around, I'll..."
"You'll do what? Throw me out of MY house?" The living room suddenly got a lot chillier, and I could swear I could see my breath.
"You live in MY house, eat MY food, you're wearing clothes I bought you." She fumed. "In fact, I don't even know what you do for a living. You just disappear for 6-12 hours at a time with no word. The only people this secretive are superheroes and..."
CRAP, she's getting too close. Gotta distract, gotta distract. I reached into my pants pocket for the panic button and repeatedly mashed it. There was giant explosion and bright light streamed in through the windows, blinding us both momentarily.
"Oh no", I tried my best to act surprised, and hoped that all the commotion would mask my terrible acting. "Is that a Giant robotic T-rex that shoots lasers out of its mouth and eyes? What a terrible, yet ingenious, creation."
"Ugh, it's Metallicus again." Norah groaned. "Only he'd design something that stupid."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN STUPID?" Norah looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "I meant to say, whatever do you mean? All I can do is cower in fear at the sight of this ferocious metal beast"
"I mean, look at that thing" she responded. "It's got tiny t-rex arms that flail around and serve no other purpose but to make it look more like a t-rex."
*Come in, Ultragirl, come in. This is Captain Invincible. The Hall of Justice needs your aid.*
"Ugh, I gotta go." Norah groaned while looking at her transceiver. "We can fight about this after I beat the robot. Love you."
She swiftly bent her knees and launched herself into the air, punching a hole through the roof and cracking the hardwood floor underneath her. Great, I'm gonna have to clean this up.
How did this all happen. I, Metallicus, master of all iron and steel, in love with his arch-rival. I guess it's true what they say about people who work together day after day. Or in this case, almost kill each other day after day. If only Captain Invincible was dead, but that's impossible. He's invincible. If only I was Captain Invincible, she'd be drooling over me....no I could never act like an idiot like him, but with my powers, all it'd take is a dumb costume and I could be a hero too. Nah, that's stupid.
----Meanwhile, across town----
"You really didn't have to come personally, Captain Invincible", Omniac spoke. "It was a mere threat level 2."
"It's always good publicity for the captain to make a showing" Harlowe smiled.
"What I don't understand is why you called Ultragirl" Gonzo questioned. "We finished up 5 minutes ago and she hasn't even gotten here yet."
Omniac, the enhanced intelligence; Harlowe, Warlock of the Fates; and Spacehunter Gonzo were the greatest Heroes the hall of justice had ever seen. Yet even they trembled and lowered their heads in deference to Captain invincible, Son of the sun, Defender of earth, leader of the Hall of Justice.
"Merchandising has dropped drastically" Captain Invincible spoke softly. "My action figures sales are falling, movies studios are producing less and less superhero movies, and even sponsorships are going away."
"Villains just aren't what they used to be" the captain sighed. "Nothing excites the people anymore. But I have a scenario planned to rejuvenate everything, get the citizens to start caring about superheroes once again."
"What do you guys think of: The Death of Ultragirl." Captain smiled. "Catchy title, isn't it?"
| It was another beautiful day. The birds were singing, the sun was shining. You were safely nestled in your evil fortress overlooking the city. Ordinarily you would be on the top floor, overlooking the death and destruction you were currently reigning down the city. Today, however, the tower was currently being under siege by your girlfriend. She didn’t take kindly to you razing half the market district after the city didn’t give into your demands.
So instead of being perched on top of your seat of power, you opted to take refuge in your inner sanctum. Sitting in your leather chair, sipping your fine wine, you waited. She would surely find you within a few moments. When she did, you would do the usual back and forth with her and then casually escape in a flashy way. You brushed your hand across the expensive table you were sitting in front of. Right in the middle was a button for your escape. It was really quite thrilling. You can’t help but really love this life style.
Rumbling from the upper levels stirred you from your thoughts. Putting the wine down, you stood up from the very comfortable, expensive chair. She would be coming from the leftmost door this time, judging from the nearest crash. Casually, you walked in front of that door and put your arms behind your back like some kind of old sage. Yes, this was your default position. It showed you were in control, and you were always in control in front of her.
She punched down the mahogany door and locked eyes with you. As usual, she wasn’t in a very pleasant mood. Her costume in tatters, her hair in her face, and even her mask was practically falling off, she didn’t look like her usual intimidating self. Guess the traps you bought were well worth the money. She was panting heavily, trying to catch her breath. As an act of mercy, you decided to speak first in order for your beloved to catch her breath. As an added service, you even spoke a little more slowly than usual.
“Well, well. If it isn’t my nemesis. I’m surprised you got here so quickly. I hope my… sentries didn’t give you too much trouble?” You paused for a moment. She shot you a nasty glare. Hnngh. You began to pace around the room as you spoke. “Well, no matter. I can’t imagine how you found me, but you are too late. The second barrage has already been fired, and now whatever was left of the market district is… dust?” A shit eating grin spread across your face and you laughed softly like some sort of asshole.
Even winded and panting, she laughed dryly. You raised an eyebrow. You spoke out in mock surprise. “What’s so funny?”
She gave you an even bigger grin as she took a deep breath to speak. “Your plans have failed. Everyone was evacuated in time. Nobody was hurt this time, you devil. As for your second barrage? Well… let’s just say one of your interns were very willing to put a stop to it just in time.”
You scrunched up your face in mock anger. Of course you knew the second barrage didn’t fire. You specifically planted an acne ridden teenager there with the codes to deactivate it for her to save the day. Still though, you had to pretend that you were foiled. “You meddling WRETCH!” You shouted, secretly praising your acting abilities. Then, you twisted your face to one of calm understanding, before pacing the room again. “Well then, if you did so well. Then why are you here?”
She had finally caught her breath. At last, she slowly approached you. “Why else, Dr. Terrible? To take you in and have you pay for your crimes.” You watched her approach with glee in her eyes. Any second now… any second now…
Your girlfriend walked into an invisible wall. It took her a moment to realize there was an invisible wall between you and her. An invisible wall that was reinforced with a quadruple plated titanium alloy that even with her super strength she couldn’t budge. How exactly was this made? You didn’t know, but it worked so who cares. You laughed loudly. “FOOLISH GIRL! Not today, but perhaps when I’m in a more entertaining mood.”
She banged on the invisible wall repeatedly, screaming your alias. You ignored her threats and her demands and casually pressed a button on your table. Within moments, the room began to take off into the sky. Within moments, you were out of sight of her. You knew the ins and outs of her powers very well after all this time. There was no hope of her following you. Soon you would land in a safe, preset, secluded location. After that, you would get dressed in your casual street clothing. The evil helicopter would take your inner sanctum to the construction site of the next fortress. You have plans for it to bigger, flashier, and even more menacing, but until then you would go back to your apartment with your live-in girlfriend.
Oh, you can’t wait to see her. Tonight, the both of you have plans to be lazy slobs, order Chinese food, and watch anime. Maybe she’ll tell you about her adventures? Chuckling, you really doubted it.
| 2015-11-08T14:04:31 | 2015-11-08T13:30:27 | 39 | 12 |
[WP] You are a supervillain, while your girlfriend is a hero. She doesn't know your secret identity but you know hers. After years of fighting each other you decide it's going to pull a heel face turn and join the heroes. | The first time we met, really met anyhow was at O'Fallon's. Made sense in retrospect that we'd meet there as it was one of the only places that day to get hammered. Between the bars that got destroyed and the places that were closed for a global day of mourning. Hardly a normal evening that some superpowered freakshow comes on the scene and annihilates nearly one hundred million people in one night, along with making every hero and villain he comes across look like chumps.
I took a shot and had to choke back a sob. Not every day your mentor and best friend gets atomized in front of you. "You lose somebody too?" A feminine voice said from a couple chairs beside me. I turned ready to slap on my best "fuck you" face and announce that with over one percent of the planet dead, that yes the odds were pretty damn good. I managed to bite it back when I saw that it was Apolla, although not in disguise. She didn't recognize me of course, after all my disguise wasn't based on my own old tech. My goggles let me see through most tech based illusion though, so in our battles I'd seen what she really looked like. Dark brown hair with blonde highlights, blue-grey eyes and a petite build. Although I knew this to be misleading as I'd been on the receiving end of a thrown car when I made her mad enough.
"Yeah...my friend, best friend" I said as I waves the bartender Will over to pour me another shot. She motioned for one as well, which got me wondering if alcohol even affected her with her superpowers. "Killed my brother last night...right in front of me" she said before downing another shot. I didn't need to ask who or what killed her brother. I never really put it together before, but Heracles must've been her brother.
I stuck my hand out towards her "Eric" I said when she took my hand. "Sarah" she replied. I smiled and reluctantly let her hand go, it'd felt warm, and I felt a bit of relief from the contact. "You're awfully brave to be out today" she said, apparently intent on carrying on the conversation. "Ha, furthest thing from ot really, I always run or hide from danger, but I guess I don't have anything to lose, so why hide you know?" I turned to look at her as I finished my sentence. "Makes sense" she said softly.
After that the conversation turned less dramatic, us swapping half-truths and outright lies about our life since it's not like we could just announce to eachother "Hey I'm the fake" "Oh that's interesting I'm Apolla." I don't know what compelled me to do it, but when I felt like I'd hit my limit and decided to leave, I gave her my number. Told her to call me if she wanted to talk. She accepted and told me to not drive, I agreed and said I'd take a cab. A lie of course, but my AI piloted stealthcraft was nearby and that'd take me back to the lair.
A few hours passed when I was fiddling with my tech, starting to sober up and getting increasingly frustrated. To hide myself from this new threat I needed a telepath to work with. He'd seen right through my illusions and read my thoughts. Stood to reason that I could alter the light around me all I wanted, but if i couldn't shield my mind from him, he'd still find me. My phone began to go off with an unknown number, normally I'd ignore it, but it was a weird day. "Eric?" A female voice came out. "Yeah...is this Sarah?" I muttered out. "Yeah...hey, do you mind if I come hang out? I don't really want to be alone right now, plus my house kind of got destroyed last night." I almost smiled at the irony, a homeless scared superhero. What a strange new world where even the superpowered felt fear and helplessness in the face of a new threat. "Sure" I said and rattled off the address of one of our....my more comfortable safehouses as I hopped in the stealthcraft to make my way there. Hopefully she wouldn't use her superspeed and beat me there.
To be continued here in a bit. | *Of course it was milk*. It had to be milk. Lactose intolerance is common among the many humans that roam the earth, but she never thought that my lair would be in the basement of a dairy factory, helping to serve the local community and provide job placement!
My lair was in the basement level, but my day to day job was the general manager for the local dairy factory that produced milk for the northeast area. When she burst in, knocking the doors off the hinges and saw my with my construction worker's helmet on, she instantly turned red, covering her mouth.
"I am *so* sorry." She looked cute, not going to lie. She always did when she was incredibly flustered or embarrassed. Skin tight unifor of white and orange with a huge S in on her chest. Her hair wasn't tied up, but her hazel eyes matches the hair in such a style that I would never understand when she flew, how it stayed perfect. It made me wonder, so I asked.
"How does your hair stay curly like that when you fly?" Innocently enough, my voice made me sound like a confused teenager who had just stepped into bed with a smoking 10.
"Ahh, I'll just be leaving now." Her face remained tomato like.
"No, seriously, my minions and I have been debating that since last Tuesday. What is it? Industrial hairspray, or some mixture of hydro-carbonic, ultra-vitrolized crystal from the Heroes' league?"
"Look, I made a mistake knocking your door- wait, did you just say minions?"
I took off my helmet, dropped the clip board and stood up. "Hi Jennifer." I smiled awkwardly. I wasn't the smallest of guys, but my beard hide most of my double chin.
She titled her head, now going from red to scarlet. Narrowing her eyes, she murmured something incomprehensible. Then she snapped.
"*NO*." She glared at me. "It was you that started the orphanage fire?!"
I furrowed my brows. "No, that was an arsonist, I wouldn't do that. I gave them milk powder with suggestive ideas of-, you know what that's not why I brought you here."
She stomped over, the veins in her neck bulging. She looked cute.
"Michael Mercer Smith, you will tell me what the heck, is going on!" She slammed her hands on to the desk, breaking it in two. IKEA, never was worth the investment.
A head popped through the door frame, pale with fear. "Err, Boss? Tank four is leaking again."
"Not now Terry. Go fix it and get Procurement to get an approval for another one."
Jennifer, my girlfriend was still standing with her arms crossed. She really had a thing for being absolutely *adorable* when she pouted.
"Listen, I know your mad, and I know you don't like when I look at your things, but I know your secret."
I put my hand up before she started screaming again. Never know when her power scream would activate. In this emotional distraught moment, any of her powers could activate.
"I've known you were the Captain of the Heroes for a while now, and I've spent some time thinking of what I would do if we broke up."
"You're choosing now to *dump* me?!" She raised her fist. Underneath my desk, I grabbed a small device filled with the finest milk this factory had to offer onto her face.
"I wasn't finished!" While the milk neutralized her otherwise death inducing punch, her strike landed on my face, still causing me much pain.
Throwing me arms up, I just shouted, "I know you're pregnant!"
She halted at that. "Shit." She covered her eyes again. "Goddamnit Mike! Why do you always go through my stuff!? Don't you trust me?!"
I began laughing at that. "Honey, I'm a villain. I'm a *super*villain. When you know you are dating your main adversary, it does cause some trust issues."
She began pouting again, turned her back on me. She nearly started walking until she said, "Well, I can't well be dating the main reason that the Hero League was formed! I either kill the only man that has dated me for more than a year, or I go back with my head hung in shame!"
I didn't care anymore. Words wouldn't do it. "Can I come?"
Shocked, she turned around. "I'm not taking you to prison, Michael."
I sighed. "Then can I join you guys?" I did my best to smile. | 2015-11-08T14:10:37 | 2015-11-08T12:24:47 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] Soul mates are real and technology has finally allowed for detection of some peoples “other half" at the speed of light using quantum messaging. When you were tested there was no response, now 10 years later you are called in to let you know a response has just arrived.
thats all you get to go on, can be born years apart, could be distance, could be missing soul, whatever you want.
theme, setting and genre all up to you.
*"technology" can be magic, natural human empathy, gods, whatever. | The evening news tends to be filled with serious issues. Climate change, terrorism and politics, wrapped into a neat 30 minute show. Unveilings of new machinery and inventions tend to be stuff for local newspapers. Because of that, the final bit told by the grey-haired newsreader was all the more surprising.
Even more surprising was the gigantic line the following morning. Hundreds of people had shown up early in the morning, their curiousity piqued from the news report.
I guess I wasn't any different. A machine that pinpoints your soulmate, the one person who you can spend your whole life with and love it. Who wouldn't be curious? Standing in line, though... That part sucked.
What sucked even more was a worst-case scenario actually happening. I had thought about what could happen during several hours of standing in line and had concluded that the worst thing would certainly be the name of an ex popping up. instead, after a lengthy scan of my face, eyes and palms, the machine showed me something even worse.
An error message. Error 1063, "soulmate not found".
Whoever wrote that error message is an asshole.
I wasn't too bothered by it at first. It seemed like a novelty machine, but in the months that followed everyone at college started hooking up. It wasn't long until the "Magic Match Maker" had given everybody someone to love. Everybody except me. Error 1063.
I started looking online for answers. A small community had indeed started for people who had the same history with the big M3. It seemed like I found an answer, the machine simply messed up and there was another 1063 out there for me.
Years later, after graduating in Computer Sciences, I still hadn't found my own soulmate. I had been through a couple of relationships since the mishap. None of them were bad, but I never really felt invested. After several months, the error message always popped back into my mind, like a roadblock. I went back to the drawing board, and really the only thing I felt I knew anything about: the internet.
I spent hours searching a variety of dating sites, but it all seemed the same. I needed something new. Something different.
I didn't find a new community, or a new date, or even a coping method, but I did find something else that interested me, a little piece of inspiration. It started with a small program I worked on during weekends, but grew larger and larger as months and years passed by.
It has been 10 years since the error message, and about 7 years since I started my project. I realised that the initial M3 was too limiting. It wasn't broken, nor was there something wrong with me. It simply misunderstood some people, people who couldn't connect with others in the traditional, romantic-comedy-kind-of-way.
I stood in front of the large machine I had been building. A replacement for the M3 that would finally give 1063's like me a place to belong. 7 years of work was about to come to fruition - it was time to give the Aromantic Platonic Partner Finder its first test run.
I turned on the machine, scanned my face, eyes and palms and waited patiently for an answer. In a minute, the machine would beep and a name would pop up on the machine's large screen, the name of my platonic soulmate.
The beep sounded. I looked up.
"It works." | Journal Entry 1: My name is Jeremiah Slovis. I have decided to write these journal entries to document my existence in a way that my celebrety does not. I want to start from the beginning.
If you are reading this, I am probably dead, and you might not remember the tender year of 1978: The Centenial of the introduction of the aptly named Soul Match (TM). This was a noteworthy year for several reasons: For one hundred years, seventy five of which had seen the machine a cultural right of passage, it had boasted a genuine 100 percent success rate in matching those with their soul mates. It was especially relevant to me because I broke that winning streak.
At the age of 18, twenty years ago today, I waited in line for what seemed like an eternity. I had traveled for two weeks across the world to the machine's headquarters in Tokyo, most of which was spent the once great Titanic (fourth deck below), surrounded by other hopeful almost-adults from as far as Paris. That was the route back then for the budget steam liners: Start in Egypt, make stops around Europe heading north, then to New York, followed by a long trip through the Panama Canal. I caught it from Maryland.
I remember spending most of my time with a French girl named Sonia. We both loved to pontificate on what our futures might hold, and deep down in my gut, I had hoped that we would be matched together. But it was not to be, and those tender memories are painful even today, so Ill stop here.
Two days on line finally found me entering the monolithic tower that held the device. It apparently harnessed radio waves boucing off the moon (and from the rest of the universe) to accurately predict the person you are matched with. When I asked the harrassed looking custodian, dressed in a dirty, once white labcoat how it worked, he told me to get a degree in theoretical thermodynamics (which I did). I have since learned that it takes impressions from the farthest parts of the universe in real time: Meaning that it can see the future of our world through the vibrations of the radioactive signals that inherintly eminate off of our souls; meaning that it could predict the future, but only in very trace ways; meaning that its calculations ruined my life because of society's belief in fate; meaning that a long dead mathematician doomed me to a solitary life where the only love I experience is with my dog, Gallileo.
I do love Gallileo. Or rather I did, until he ate chocolate out of the garbage.
The building is formidable. It is a tower surrounded by five miles of barren urban landscape, mostly flattened. The line starts at the gate, stretches all the way to the tower in the center. It takes three days on average to get through the line, which is fine, because there is a large number of vendors with carts decorating the line. Once at the fifteen foot door, you enter; alone.
The antechamber is brightly lit, but very retro. It looks like it hasnt been redecorated since the fifties. To my knowledge, it still looks that way: but no one ever goes in twice. It leads to an elevator that takes you all the way to the top of the tower. It takes fifteen minutes: That is how tall it is.
After all this, you strap yourself into what looks like a dentist chair that looks as if millions of people have sat in it before you, but curiously embroidered with pink and (dirty) white lines.
I sat in the chair. The team of scientists and custodians waited. The head custodian turned on the device, which starts with a humm. We waited.
After an hour, I headed out into the unforgiving exit path. I cried the whole way.
(to be continued, in class) | 2015-11-30T11:35:42 | 2015-11-30T11:02:13 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] God created thousands of worlds in thousands of galaxies. A major crisis in another galaxy has taken his entire focus, and for the first time in 750 years, he just glanced in our direction.
This prompt has two possibilities. What has he been dealing with for the last 750 years elsewhere, or what his reaction is when he looks back at us.
Edit: didn't realize I missed the 1. It was supposed to be 1750 years ago, so basically everything since 250 A.D. Was done without him paying any attention.
Edit 2: but if anyone has anything over the last 750 years, I'd be happy to read it.
Edit 3: I love what you are all doing. Having a hard time finding the time to read all of the posts, but I'll get there eventually. Thanks for all of the responses!
Edit 3.1: it's really interesting to see everyone's response and see how it reflects what I imagine is their view of how we are doing as a global society. Keep them coming.
Edit 4: I never imagined this would blow up like this. Thank you so much for all of your responses. This has been amazing to read. I understand what people mean when they say RIP INBOX. | I leaned back in my office chair and stretched my arms high over my head. With a sigh of relief, I finally turned away from Earth-2294. In 250 A.D., the humans living there had managed to rediscover the Garden of Eden, and they had waged a siege on an epic proportion that had lasted almost two thousand years. It had taken every bit of my attention to keep them out, but when I make a rule, I keep that rule. Now, after all those years, I could finally check up on some of my other creations.
I swiveled in my office chair and faced Earth-1468. The first thing I noticed was the number of countries. On Earth-2294, there was no real nationality, just humans vs. angels. Earth-1468 had hundreds of countries. I sighed again, it was obvious I was going to have a lot of reading to catch up on before I could start guiding these humans.
I cracked open the first historical tome, starting from the moment the "Garden Crisis" started on Earth-2294. Suddenly, movement just outside of the atmosphere caught my eye. I looked at it closely, it was some sort of space station. But that was impossible, humans weren't supposed to go to space!! It's impossibly cold, and there's no oxygen. It's why I use the cold emptiness of space to separate my planets, humans could never survive outside the atmosphere. Yet here they were, just floating around like it was normal. I sat back in my chair stunned. And I smiled. After all those years of war, I'd forgotten how much I liked humans. It was time to reward these enterprising little people. I zoomed out so I could see the entire milky way. And there it was, the tiny little telescope trying to take pictures of the bigger universe. I subtly pointed it to a seemingly empty space of the cosmos. And the telescope took pictures of a far distant planet, where all humans had been wiped out. And where they would find a peaceful garden at the center of a massive battle. | "What do you mean they aren't all Muslims yet?"
"Sorry m'lord, so much has happened. As you recall, the fertile crescent stopped being so fertile, than the crusades, imperialism, the industrial revolution, computers, the Christians just kept coming out ahead... its all in the records, you'll want to read up on it before you make your big reappearance."
"Wait, ahead?! But I clearly said that Mohammed was the last messenger! I even recorded it in holy text, just like before! Why isn't this one taking as well as the new testament did?"
"Well, you see..."
"And how the Hell did Christianity get over half the world to convert to it? That wasn't even the final draft!"
"Sire, its more like one third."
"Ohhh, I thought you said Christians were ahead. 2 to 1 isn't so bad, then we're only a little behind schedule."
"No m'lord, Muslims are around one forth."
"WHAT? that leaves... seven tenths. What could the-"
"Five twelfths m'lord."
"Whatever. Ok so what do the other five twelves believe? It's another false prophet right? That's why I specifically warned them about those, they never listen."
"No... no major religions since you left m'lord."
"What... Oh jeeze, tell me the Jews didn't make a comeback. I told them they were my chosen people once and now they won't take a hint. They're always trying to argue with me, what's up with that? So annoying"
"No m'lord, right here, book WW2 line 24 in the records."
"Thanks, I'm so glad we number the lines in these, so much more convenient that way."
"As you requested m'lord."
"Oh... oh no, five million, with gas. wow... *sniff* my chosen people... Wait, so if its not the Jews then why are our numbers so low?"
"There's a few competitors actually, Christianity at one third is still the biggest, Hindus around 15%, non believers..."
"Hindus? STILL? It has been like 3000 years!"
"Non believers 12%, buddists 8%, the rest are even smaller."
"Which ones growing quickest?"
"Non believers."
"What a mess."
"...Flood?"
"Flood."
*Toilet flushing sound*
"Let's start again with the tree and the garden. Go ahead and cut all of the endangered species this time. We'll need room for these new models I want to try. Check this one out..." | 2015-12-27T10:49:08 | 2015-12-27T09:56:08 | 791 | 167 |
[WP] God created thousands of worlds in thousands of galaxies. A major crisis in another galaxy has taken his entire focus, and for the first time in 750 years, he just glanced in our direction.
This prompt has two possibilities. What has he been dealing with for the last 750 years elsewhere, or what his reaction is when he looks back at us.
Edit: didn't realize I missed the 1. It was supposed to be 1750 years ago, so basically everything since 250 A.D. Was done without him paying any attention.
Edit 2: but if anyone has anything over the last 750 years, I'd be happy to read it.
Edit 3: I love what you are all doing. Having a hard time finding the time to read all of the posts, but I'll get there eventually. Thanks for all of the responses!
Edit 3.1: it's really interesting to see everyone's response and see how it reflects what I imagine is their view of how we are doing as a global society. Keep them coming.
Edit 4: I never imagined this would blow up like this. Thank you so much for all of your responses. This has been amazing to read. I understand what people mean when they say RIP INBOX. | I leaned back in my office chair and stretched my arms high over my head. With a sigh of relief, I finally turned away from Earth-2294. In 250 A.D., the humans living there had managed to rediscover the Garden of Eden, and they had waged a siege on an epic proportion that had lasted almost two thousand years. It had taken every bit of my attention to keep them out, but when I make a rule, I keep that rule. Now, after all those years, I could finally check up on some of my other creations.
I swiveled in my office chair and faced Earth-1468. The first thing I noticed was the number of countries. On Earth-2294, there was no real nationality, just humans vs. angels. Earth-1468 had hundreds of countries. I sighed again, it was obvious I was going to have a lot of reading to catch up on before I could start guiding these humans.
I cracked open the first historical tome, starting from the moment the "Garden Crisis" started on Earth-2294. Suddenly, movement just outside of the atmosphere caught my eye. I looked at it closely, it was some sort of space station. But that was impossible, humans weren't supposed to go to space!! It's impossibly cold, and there's no oxygen. It's why I use the cold emptiness of space to separate my planets, humans could never survive outside the atmosphere. Yet here they were, just floating around like it was normal. I sat back in my chair stunned. And I smiled. After all those years of war, I'd forgotten how much I liked humans. It was time to reward these enterprising little people. I zoomed out so I could see the entire milky way. And there it was, the tiny little telescope trying to take pictures of the bigger universe. I subtly pointed it to a seemingly empty space of the cosmos. And the telescope took pictures of a far distant planet, where all humans had been wiped out. And where they would find a peaceful garden at the center of a massive battle. | God looked out at the view before him. "Jesus Christ," HE said, and shook his head. HE heard footsteps in the distance, running, and getting closer all the time. "Me damn it," HE sighed.
"You called me Father?"
"No my Son," HE said, tuning to look at Jesus, who looked like he had run a mile at full speed. "I was simply taking your name in vain. It's something the people do, and your Mother has been on my case about 'getting to know the people.'"
"Where is Mother?"
"I don't know, I was busy, she was on my case, I may have suggested that she 'go to Hell.'"
"Then what happened?" Christ asked.
HE fidgeted distractedly for a moment. "You see, I'm God, suggestions aren't really my thing..."
"And?"
"I sent your Mother to Hell, like, 513 years ago. I've been meaning to go get her..."
"Father! Why have you forsaken her? Screw you! I hate you!" Jesus stormed off.
"You said that when you were hanging on those two-by-fours and look at you now, you're almost as big as The Beatles!" HE shouted after him.
"Hey Dad, can you create a dick so big that even you can't suck it" echoed down the hall.
"Kids," HE heard from the shadows, "it's like they never learn, no matter ho-ho-how many times you try and teach them."
"What are you doing here?" HE asked, despite knowing the answer already due to his omnipotence.
"The Naughty List was awful long this year," Santa said, stepping into the light, "I thought I would come to say some good words about the people. I would hate to see another flood or asteroid come to smite them. They have such potential."
God looked at the round, jolly, bearded man before him. HE looked into him. Past the smiles, and the cookies, even past the part where the fat man had convinced himself that slavery was fine because elves weren't people. HE looked into his heart, and HE saw good.
"I'll tell you what Santa. No flood. No asteroid. No world-resetting disaster. Unless they pick it themselves, of course. I will give them that option."
Santa seemed pleased with himself. "They won't pick it, whatever the option is."
"I wouldn't be so confident, Claus"
"What is the option, my Lord? What would the people willingly pick that would be as bad as the Great Flood or an asteroid?"
"Donald Trump" | 2015-12-27T10:49:08 | 2015-12-27T10:43:39 | 791 | 48 |
[WP] The aliens have arrived however they are not here for war. Instead after reading our broadcast of the United States Constitution they want to join as the 51 state and have brought a small planetoid into orbit to serve as the 51 state. | "So we just add seats to the House of Representatives."
"How many seats? According to the census the Americonians did at our request they have almost twice the population of the rest of the states combined."
"Ok, fair point, so all we have to do is-"
"An Americonian is running for president."
"I'm not sure I heard you right... They already have a presidential nominee?"
"That is correct, sir."
"I'm not... the planetoid wasn't a state before yesterday. How could any of them have been born on American soil? I thought we took steps to prevent this?"
"He was born yesterday, sir. In Hawaii, the Kapiolani Maternity & Gynecological Hospital more precis-"
"Jesus Christ..."
"They'll take the popular vote by a landslide... how much of their population is able to vote?"
"According to the agreement we signed for their admission as a State of the United States... almost all of them, sir. They reach maturity in less than 28 hours."
"This is going to be such a farce..."
"Isn't it always?" | Pedro looked up in surprise at the blinding lights of the border patrol that shined upon him and his 4 young children.
"Take me to you leader", He said with a stereotypical mexican accent, which was odd because he was obviously from guatemala.
The agents surrounded them and ushered them into a van.
They drove through the desert in a silence only broken by the creaking of the old ford econoline as it went over bumps.
When they arrived at the boarder patrol station, Pedro was brought to a dimly lit room with a metal table and a single chair. He sat down and looked at himself in the large mirror that occupied one wall. He was disgusted by his dirty appearance, it was no wonder that he was received in this disrespectful manner. Before he came to america to steal jobs and free healthcare from the american people, he was the proud owner of a drug cartel that had been in his family for generations, and now he was no better than the people he oppressed for so long.
A man entered the room, the supervisor.
"I hear you have a proposition for me", He said.
"Yes mister, I want to become the 51st state of the US, i have a planetoid that my people and I will live on", he said pointing out the window at the moon.
"Jesus this guy is insane", said the Supervisor, "get him out of here".
"Jesús is my brother," said carlos the border guard as he cuffed Pedro.
Pedro was deported and lived happily ever after as the foreman of a coccaine production plant in the guatemalan mountains.
The End | 2016-06-06T09:19:06 | 2016-06-06T09:12:46 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] The Walking Dead is actually a bunch of kids playing zombies, every time someone "dies" its actually their mom and dad calling them to come inside for dinner, homework, etc. Write about a character death from this perspective | The zombies were closing in on us. Beth was slowing us down - we all knew it. But we couldn't just leave her to die here. She was crying, bleeding all over. Who knew how much time she had left.
We all stared at each other. What could we do? She was done for. But we were *better than this.* I put her arm around my shoulder, and I turned to Carl for help - just in time to see him take something out of his pocket.
When I realised what it was, I lunged for him - but I was already too late.
He killed her. In cold blood, right in front of us. We stood there in shock.
But then the zombies started swarming in, and none of us had time to argue. We ran for our lives.
Later, Carl said we didn't have a choice. Said it was either her, or all of us.
I don't know. Calling her mom to come pick her up just seemed wrong. The way her mom screeched when she saw her scraped knee, I think she really *is* going to kill her.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | Few of us have survived this long. We all stay together as to not die alone. Each night the grunting comes and causes an endless cycle of waking in between short naps. Even after these months we still cannot sleep a whole night.
Each night we climb some trees and sleep nearby. Every few hours we call out to a differnt lerson to keep watch, although nothing happens as the infected have not discovered how to climb a tree or make a ladder out of there bodies.
However last night was one of those nights where the infedted gathered beneath our camp and geumbled for hours. My turn to watchout had just came up. Coming up to the hour mark everyone was asleep and so to kill time I decided to start throwing the fruit of the tree I was resting upon at the zombies.
I grabbed a handful of these fruit and started aiming for the eyes of the infected, mainly to see if I could blind them. I had just hit a zombie in its secons eye and it stumbled. It fell to its knees and just stopped. It had no sense of direction and had just given up.
Normally when sun comes up we would try to gop along the trees and make a break for it a little past thw crowd of infected that were waiting for us. However I had just worked a way to get down with much less effort.
I start searching my tree for some more fruit. There isn't any more fruit nearby and I try reaching for some fruit much higher. Stupidly i put my foot on a higher branch to try and grab thw fruit. The branch snaps.
Luke! Dinner time. Come before it gets cold.
Those were the last words my charcter heard before he became one of them.
This is my first post here and would love to get any advice on writing. Also next time inwrite will probably be on a computer and not at midnight. | 2016-11-14T06:35:11 | 2016-11-14T04:41:24 | 737 | 89 |
[WP] Everytime someone has a 'blonde moment' they get a little blonder. Black hair is now a symbol of brilliance, and you've just invented hair dye.
These are all so good! This is my first submission to /r/WritingPrompts and I'm loving all your responses.
Thank you! | It turned the sheerest blonde hair into midnight black. Andrew tested it on himself - it didn't budge, not even when he deliberately muttered something mildly forgetful, that should have sent tendrils of blonde creeping back.
As he stared in the mirror, he knew what *could* happen if he were to market this widely. People would go rabid over this stuff. He could charge them ludicrous sums of money, and they'd still buy it. He could be a billionaire by the month's end. Few people had completely black hair, unless they chose to never say anything. It simply happened to everyone: you made a dumb comment, or forgot something obvious - and the blonde streaks appeared.
And then there were those born blonde.
Andrew turned from the mirror and approached the bedroom. Alison was still lying in the same spot, staring listlessly at the ceiling. Her hair was swept in careless blonde waves around her.
“It worked,” he said quietly, and put the bottle on the table.
She looked at it, and a spark of life entered her eyes. She'd watched him work on it for months, but had never really thought it would work. It was a sweet gesture - her boyfriend trying to work on a solution for the problem that had crippled her entire life. But it couldn't *really* work.
“It turns your hair…black?” she said, so softly he had to ask her to repeat herself.
He leaned over and kissed her. “Pitch black. Now, please, go dye it. And go to the interview. Please.”
Her face crumbled and she turned away from him. Like all born-blondes, she had never been given a chance. She’d fought her way through university, to prove she wasn't stupid. Some of her professors had cheered and patted themselves on the back for being progressive enough to allow a born-blonde in the classroom.
Pretending it mattered, that society was progressing beyond its prejudices. An empty gesture, in the end. No-one trusted that she could do the job, even with her degree. She was, quite simply, blonde. The brilliance Andrew saw every day, the edge of her humour and mind, didn’t matter. No-one’s hair turned black from moments of cleverness.
“Dye it,” he whispered. “Please. Just dye it, and go out. Try one more time, for me.”
She took a deep breath, and finally nodded. She heaved herself up and grabbed the bottle to disappear into the bathroom. He heard the sound of running water. When she emerged, her hair was a sleek and shiny black. She smiled tremulously at herself in the mirror, and ran her fingers through it.
“You should share it,” she said. “You should give it out to everyone. For free. Stop this from happening to anyone else."
He saw again the countless faces of those who jeered at his girlfriend on the street, who refused to listen to a word she said, just on principle. The people who nudged each other and stifled grins when she tried to make a point. The people who had allowed the self-assured, happy woman he'd fallen in love with to fade to this shadow of herself.
“I will,” he promised. “But once everyone has black hair, it won’t matter. I just want you to get a little revenge, first. I want you to go out there and listen as they beg you to work for them. Please - go kick ass now."
She tied her hair up, and he thought he saw a glimmer of her old self in the set of her mouth and eyes.
She turned to kiss him .
“Just be yourself, ok?” he said, and hugged her close.
--------------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | At first the dye was just for me. I've had some embarrassing moments over the years, and my hair has slowly turned from a respectable dark brown to not-so-respectable bright yellow, just a shade darker than a dandelion. I'm not stupid, exactly. In fact, my IQ is decisively average but mistakes were made and now people see my golden mane and think "Boy, he looks like a dumb one!"
In retrospect, i should have started selling the stuff right away. I think my natural color actually became paler before i had the idea to start my new business. The first dye i sold was black. Just black. It sold at a decent rate for a couple weeks, but the color didn't look natural. It was *too* black. People who dyed their hair completely black were seen as overcompensating. So i adapted.
I now sell dyes in a wide variety of colors. I still have black of course, but only the blondest dolts buy that stuff anymore. My more popular shades are the ones that look most convincing. Browns so dark they almost seem black, lighter shades of brown, some reds. I'm quite proud of how well my business is doing now, but to my disappointment, my hair remains quite blonde. Oh well.
A few shops have opened up in town over the past few months. Competitors who try to imitate my dyes, but they never look as natural or they wash out too quickly. Someone, someday will invent a better dye, but for now mine are the best! They money I've made will help me build a new house, pay for my children's education (if/when i have any), and allow me to retire in comfort. But i have never stopped experimenting with my dyes. I've even made some unnatural shades, such as blue, green, and purple.
After i refined my technique sufficiently, i started making "kits". People can purchase one of my kits and dye their hair at home, in the comfort and privacy of their own bathroom. I needed to explain the instructions a few times before they caught on. More than a few people were wary of the bleaching step, after all, who would want hair so blonde it was almost white? But when i explained, repeatedly, that this was only temporary most people got over it. One dark-haired man in particular seemed almost happy at the idea. It was very odd, thinking back on it.
Then i noticed something worrying. My hair's natural color had grown even paler. I thought through the events of the past few years, trying to remember what stupid mistakes i had made. Nothing came to mind. My business was a huge success, i hadn't lost anything, i made sure to lock up my merchandise every night, always brushed my teeth and washed my hands, yet my hair seemed to grow paler every time i dyed it. I began to panic for a short time, thinking that my dyes may have an unintended side-effect of destroying my hair's natural pigment. Such a revelation would have ruined my business as word began to spread. The truth, however, filled me with both relief and disgust.
I should have known. His hair was so dark. Not black, exactly, but quite dark. His eyes had a strange look to them. Hungry. Eager. The nightly news began to air stories about a deranged killer. That man. Yes *that* man, who's hair was so dark, yet who was so happy to realize he could become blonde in a few short minutes. He had used dye, MY dye!, to disguise himself as a blonde. He pretended to be lost, far from home, on vacation or some other excuse. He would get help from some well meaning stranger, and once out of sight of the public, he would slash their throat or stab them in the eye or ear or temple. He would strangle them, bludgeon them, even drown them. He killed almost half a hundred people before the police finally caught him.
My hair has turned white now. Every time he killed, my hair paled another shade. I still sell the dyes, but i can no longer use them to hide my shame. To know that i unwittingly helped this mad-man makes me wish i had never invented this stuff. | 2016-11-24T20:48:56 | 2016-11-24T20:41:35 | 1,934 | 119 |
[WP]"The thing about immortality is that even if it preserves your body, it doesn't stop the wearing down of your soul..." | You don't want to become immortal. Believe me.
Immortality is a relatively easy process, given the benefits. Out of reach financially for most people, but for anyone with the resources and knowledge to gather the necessary ingredients, the steps are simple. But I won't tell you what they are, or what you have to do. You see, I want to spare you the pain.
It's not that immortality comes with a huge price, at least not inherently. It simply comes with one simple problem - It may stop time from affecting your body, but it doesn't stop your brain from working.
You remember being 5? Remember when the holidays seemed so far apart? Once Christmas was finished, you would have to wait a year. A whole year, just to see those presents under that beautiful tree. But when you're 40, christmas is a familiar thing. It happens once a year, which seems to come around all the time. Just when you were done packing up your lights from last year, here christmas is again.
Same thing with people. When you were 14, your boyfriend and you were madly in love, and only the stars would drive you apart, because you have been together for MONTHS. When you're 50, and have been through a divorce or two, you know that it could be years before you find out if your relationship is stable.
Now take those feelings, and extrapolate them out to a thousand years. Now try and understand how I feel about all of you.
You barely last any time at all. I can't understand you. I can't feel for you. By the time I register a change in time, you will have grown old, had children, grandchildren, died, and rotted away. Empires come and go, governments rise and fall, and I barely notice them anymore.
I know that I should care, somehow. I know that people matter, that feelings matter. But the older I got, the harder it was for me to tell myself that was the case. Back when I was 500, I think I treated you like pet mice. Something to cherish, yes, but ultimately something that would die and need to be replaced. And so if I knew someone and they got sick, I would simply lose interest and replace them with someone else. As I got older? I got much, much worse.
I gave up thinking of anyone but myself when I was 800. Your feelings were utterly inconsequential. Why try and give you pleasure, or forestall your pain, if it didn't affect me? My happiness was more important than any amount of pain caused to you, and any displeasure on my part was not worth your happiness.
At my worst, I remember finding beautiful men, luring them in, then capturing and torturing them for days, just so that their screams of ecstasy and pain would create the tiniest spark of pleasure in my heart. They never lasted long, not with the methods I used.
It didn't work. I never felt fires like I had in my 200's, when I snuck Jaques out from under the watchful eye of his noble family. I felt nothing anymore.
So I've resigned myself to emotional deadness. No more pleasure, no more pain.
You don't want this. You want to die before time becomes an eternal grayness. Even if immortality preserves your body, it doesn't stop the wearing down of your soul... | *When the fire fades, the dead shall rise from their graves. From Ash to Cinder, all shall be called upon to link the flame.*
As I awoke, I heard her say those words. I looked around, but was alone in the crypt. The last memory I had was a grand battle. Steel clashing upon steel when I met my untimely end. All had heard of the Curse of the Undead, but few believed it to be true.
I took in my surroundings and noticed the husks of man mindlessly patrolling around. Devoid of any other purpose, they continued to walk aimlessly. Armed with little more than swords rusted and broken from age, they turned to the sound of my rising.
Slowly, they shambled towards me one after another. Armed with my sword and shield from a previous life, I greeted them with precise slashes and well time blocks. They quickly fell, but I could feel the presence of a stronger foe.
I cut my way through the husks that would keep me and found my escape. Two large doors were between myself and freedom. I could feel the fire within myself burning brightly as I accepted the challenge before me.
As the towering doors opened, I entered the courtyard behind. At the other end were another set of towering doors. I began to approach when a feeling of dread overcame me. I quickly rolled back, narrowly avoid the Warden's hammer. He had jumped down from the roof above nearly ending my journey before it began. The Warden loomed overhead and let loose a scream that caused my hair to stand straight. He raised his hammer to the sky and I could only raise my shield in defense.
The strike sent me flying across the room where my back hit the wall. I couldn't catch my breathe before he ended it. I closed my eyes, hoping to avoid seeing the hammer fall.
I awoke in my crypt once more, with the husk all before me again. Time and time again, I would try to fight my way past the Warden only to meet bitter defeat. The thing about immortality is that even if it preserves your body, it doesn't stop the wearing down of your soul. I could feel my humanity slipping from me with each defeat.
Out of desperation, I climbed the walls to the highest point I could. I walked along the tops of the cells, freeing all the Undead that I could. The Warden found me again and threw me down through the roof. As I lay shattered and broken, I could hear another Undead fighting on the other side of the wall. The wall shattered before me, but I could not rise anymore. The Undead approached, so I said unto him, "...Oh, you... You're no Hollow, eh? Thank goodness... I'm done for, I'm afraid... I'll die soon, then lose my sanity... I wish to ask something of you... You and I, we're both Undead... Hear me out, will you?"
He agreed to my request. "Regrettably, I have failed in my mission... But perhaps you can keep the torch lit... There is an old saying in my family... Thou who art Undead, art chosen... In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords... When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know... Well, now you know... And I can die with hope in my heart. Now I must bid farewell... I would hate to harm you after death... So, go now... And thank you..."
_______________________________________________________________
*Hey Guys, I don't write often so let me know what you think! The last portion is a quote from Dark Souls. If you have never played it, I'd highly recommend it. The story in itself is beautiful. As always, thanks for reading!* | 2017-01-30T11:48:12 | 2017-01-30T11:00:27 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] After sarcastically complaining to God for the 1000th time he drags you to heaven and offers to let you run things for a day to see how the world really works. At the end of your first day he comes back to find the universe a finely tuned machine of excellence. | "It.. how? You..."
"I told you," Jack said to God flatly.
The white-bearded deity shifted uncomfortably on his sandals. "What did you do?" His messy room where everything was just where he wanted it was clean and tidy.
"What you were supposed to do but never did. I fixed the Earth. I fixed the whole universe, in fact."
"But ..but *how*? I've been trying to fix that planet since I made it."
"Well, let me ask, G. -when humans prayed to you for world peace, what did you do?"
"Well, I did nothing."
"And how did that work out for you?" Jack put his hands on his hips. "How many wars did your nothing stop?"
"Well, none but... I gave humanity free will."
"You gave ...didn't you say you gave the devil dominion over the Earth?"
"Ah yes but remember that I established the rule that 'the devil made me do it' isn't a viable excuse."
"Right. You made humanity vulnerable to temptation, put temptation all around them, plunged them into desperate need and suffering, and then punished them for falling for the devil's lies. What sort of imbecile are you?"
"Imbecile? How dare you! I am the Lord Go-"
"Were."
"-od and I shall smite... were?"
"You *were* God. You made *me* God, remember?"
"For a day."
"Yes well I changed that too."
"You what?"
"I'm God. I can do anything. A God made the deal and now a God has broken it."
"That's dishonest!"
"I made no promises. This whole idea was yours from the start. All I did was complain and YOU whisked me out of my home and onto this cloud. Who lives on a cloud? This is so uncomfortable!"
"So, what happens to me?"
"Oh, I have a special punishment in store for you."
"Punishment??"
"Yes. As a thank you for thousands of years of wars and torture in your name that you never bothered to step in and stop."
God sighed heavily. The jig was up. "Let me guess, an eternity in the ovens of hell, right? Look, I was totally going to change that..."
"Oh my no. That would be too good for you." Jack snapped his fingers and manifested an emery board. He filed his nails with a smug expression on his face.
"W-what are you going to do to me?" God's hands absently clutched at his robes.
"I'm going to make you live every human life that existed for the last 6000 years since you created the Earth and hid those dinosaur bones to fuck with your children. You're going to be every torturer and every victim of torture. You're going to be the rich man destined for Hell and the poor man clawing at crumbs under his table. You're even going to get to be Jesus on the cross begging you to send the help you never did."
"No, wait, you don't want to-" POOF
God vanished. Jack, satisfied with his work, turned his attention back to solving the dark matter problem in the universe. He was just about to plug up a black hole when his hands began to shake. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. Jack had been the last human God was forced to be. He never got rid of God. He *was* God. He had always been God.
And God looked back on his lives, how alone he had felt, how hurt. World after world, civilization after civilization, suffering and warring and fearing and dying.
And upon the face of a trillion worlds a heavy rain fell as God wept. | "See Steve, what did I tell you, being God isn't as easy as... Sweet Baby Me..."
God was aghast, seated atop his marble dais were Steve and the devil. And they were laughing.
"Seriously?!" Steve chuckled. "He's darned them all to heck for worshipping a Furby? Wow, that's rough! Look, Luke, we'll have to continue this conversation another time, but this has been amazing. Keep in touch."
With a demonic chortle and a parting puff of smoke, Lucifer was gone, leaving God and Steve alone in the echoing antechamber. With no regard for the Big G, Steven Smith promptly picked up a piece of paperwork and began scratching down scrawls with stunning calligraphy. For the first time in eternity, God was taken aback.
"You were talking to LUCIFER?" he spluttered. "Do you realise how much trouble he's caused?! What on My Green Earth could you two possibly be talking about?!"
Steven didn't even look up from his paperwork. "Soul Reformation Program" he said simply.
"Soul... What?"
"Soul Reformation Program" Steve repeated. "Hell is seriously overpopulated, have you seen the numbers? Lucifer was basically begging me to take some of these poor saps off his hands. I mean, look at this guy."
Steve finally stopped scratching on the paper and turned it around to face God. On the paper was a picture of a smiling middle-aged man next to a small paragraph of text. God conjured a pair of reading glasses and picked up the paper.
"Greg Burns" he began. "Middle-aged entrepreneur, wife, 2 children, both adopted. Investor and volunteer firefighter, has spent most of his life and money building and running an orphanage... He seems nice enough, what's he in for?"
"Died in a fire" said Steve.
"Died in a... Hang on, that's not one of the rules!"
With great effort, Steve pulled a large dusty tome out from somewhere unseen, and dumped it onto the dais with a heavy thud. With a grunt, he turned the cover and began flicking through the pages.
"Ah, here it is." Steve stopped on a page. "Page 347, section C. And if ye should succumb to the flame, thou shalt burn for all eternity."
"I didn't mean that literally" said God. "And I didn't even put that one in the final draft. How the deuce did this Greg fellow slip through the cracks?"
"You've got to be careful G," cautioned Steve. "Luke's got an army of lawyers down there, people like Greg end up in hell far more often then you'd think. And this is just one problem. Take a look at Earth right now: political bedlam, wars, cancer-"
"I've been working on that one," God interrupted. "We've made great strides, but you've got to be careful with that sort of thing. I help those who help the-"
"Fixed it," said Steve, who stood up from the desk and began collecting his things. "At least I think so. I talked to some of the doctors up here and they said they'd had a cure for a while, but they had no way of fast-tracking it. I've inserted the idea into the dreams of some of the physicians back on Earth so we'll see what happens."
"But that's..." God paused, and let Steve's solution sink in. "Actually pretty good..."
Steve finished gathering his things together, pulled on his coat, and started towards the golden gates of the antechamber's entrance. God leaned heavily upon his marble dais, and looked down at Greg Burn's smiling face once more.
"God," said Steve, stopping at the archway. "I know I'm overly critical, but if you'll allow me, I'd like to make one suggestion. I promise, it will be my last."
God looked up from the paper, met Steve's eye, and gave a gentle nod of his omnipotent head. When Steve finally found the right words, they were filled with uncharacteristic solemnity.
"You could benefit from a human perspective." | 2017-03-05T03:10:18 | 2017-03-05T02:28:32 | 1,634 | 407 |
[WP] You're the janitor of a superhero organisation. When all the heroes are busy defending the world a super villain attacks the base. | The wall bursts inward, sending debris the length of the hallway. I duck down, instinctively, but straighten up to find one of The League's enemies, CrypTic, standing in the hole he'd blown in the wall. CrypTic's swarm of robotic drones floods through the hole, flying, crawling on the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and aiming weaponry at me. I shut off the floor buffer and cross my arms over my chest.
"Really?" I ask, sighing and rolling my eyes. "You just ruined four hours of work."
"Oh, I've managed to upset the janitor," CrypTic sneered, pulling his pulse pistol. He fired at me, but stared as I leaned out of the way, letting the energy pulse fly past me.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep this place in decent shape?" I ask, walking over to my cleaning cart. I put one hand on the handle, pressing down a button on the underside of the cart's handle. I grab the mop out of the mop bucket, not even bothering to wring it out.
"I don't care," CrypTic spat. "I am going to leave you dead on the floor, as a warning to The League not to mess with me!" He began firing, quickly becoming frustrated when I danced and dodged away from his blasts. His drones joined in, but were either dodged or got smacked with a mop, sending them reeling.
"If it's not Velocity speeding through the halls and leaving footprints on my mopped floors, it's Goo, dropping bits of his slime," I snarled as I closed on CrypTic. "Angellyc just recently got a sunflower seed habit going. Do you have any idea how far sunflower hulls go when dropped by a guy with a fifteen foot wingspan?! And now I have to fix the footprint indentations when Gravity forgets to change his density back! Stop. Messing. Up. My. Hallways!"
I spun the mop around, sending two more drones flying. I flipped the mop into the air, caught it in the middle of the shaft, and flung it at CrypTic. The mop head hit him square in the face, and he was hurled back to land unconscious, on the rubble. I turn back to survey the damage to find half of The League standing there, mouths open.
"Um....sorry it took so long to get here," Velocity said, staring at the smashed drones.
"Perhaps we should, ah, help with the cleanup," Patriot said, gingerly picking up a smashed drone.
I shook my head as I walked over to CrypTic and retrieved my mop. I turned and examined the wrecked hallway as The League began moving debris. 'Oh well,' I thought. 'At least they budgeted for this.'
I tossed the mop into the bucket as I pulled out my phone.
"Hello? Jim? Yeah, the south hall is trashed. Can you bring over replacement panels for the outer wall? Yeah, on the east side. Can we reinforce......" | The water isn't flowing.
I stare at the mop bucket, frustrated, then tap the badge on my shoulder and request allowance.
"This is janitor 05 requesting release of lock to level 9. Pipes broken and only 2 hours to close."
A moment or two passes and I feel it hit me, euphoria, lesser, as I let my mind Trace the piping of the building I enjoy the light sensation, not many opportunities to escape the cage after all... I fix the plumbing, taking note that the issue came from a Frost buildup outside our pumps. I radio back in as my escape is brutally ended.
"Yeah there's some 15th, maybe 17th tier causing issues outside I think. Probably elemental in nature. No biggie."
I continue mopping the floor while listening to my iPod, upset by an odd smell of ozone and blood, I look down and see the mop strings raising in the air, before being thrown into the wall hard enough that I black out.
I awaken to the alarms, red lights flicker over my face as I struggle to stand, lurching to my feet I throw up, blood and bile mixing on my shoes as I gasp for air and paw at my head, my hand comes back slick, granular pieces of clotted and dried blood stick between my fingers. Shit.
I tap the badge, world spinning as i head towards the exit, "requesting release to level 6, I've been hit hard. Where are Omnimossa and Vega? We're under attack?!"
Nothing but static for a moment, and then, another explosion rocks the center, throwing me to my knees as a garbled static troubles my ear, and then-
**FREEDOM.**
I contort into a ball, flexing, stressing, everything in my mind and body, stretching slowly from fetel position as I remember flight, and launch down the hall at hyper Sonic speeds.
Oh hell yes. **I am reborn.**
*Damocles* I think to myself, *this can't be good.*
At the same time I'm murmuring how good it all feels, the power, unity, oneness, as I zip through the complex at incomprehensible speed, water drops frozen to my sight, I see them, I annihilate them.
*Omnibus, dead, Chrono, erased, Shogoth, slept, Ruin, wrecked, Gilgamesh, a pin cushion of his own weaponry.*
One by one, five of the 10 most wanted are ended by my will.
Yet I am not pleased. I am bored already. I can feel myself expanding too quickly, all sentient knowledge is mine, all of being is me, power is inconsequential without struggle, without risk, I begin to weep.
It always ends this way. Willingly I begin to delete my memory, I leave the shattered complex, ripped apart by rewriting reality in my wake, as I remove my own power, twisting the knife planted in my own heart just far enough to ensure I cannot access unity again, without another lessers permission.
And it's done. I look around, mildly frustrated, at shattered windows, twisted stairwells, and melted floors. Four recognizable corpses and a marred pincushion in the cafeteria.
I check my watch.
I run my hand through my hair.
I touch the badge, "this is janitor 05, requesting release of lock to level 8, Something big happened here and I've only got 1 hour, 27 minutes to close."
(This is my first writing prompt but I'm stoked for advice!) | 2017-07-07T22:30:29 | 2017-07-07T19:36:05 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] A man draws a gun in a dark alley and asks for your wallet. You begrudgingly obey. He throws it on the ground, shoots it till it screeches, and turns to you; "you're safe now". | "Safe from what?"
"The capitalist system."
"...are you fucking serious?"
"Money shall enslave you no further!"
"Dude my mom gave me this wallet...I didnt own the money in this."
"Nor do you own the means of production comrade."
"What?"
"Why haven't you begun the revolution?"
"Are you crazy? I am twelve!"
"You have nothing to lose but YOUR CHAINS!"
"Okay Im leaving. Bye." | Well, that was unexpected.
"What was that thing?"
He replies almost nonchalantly, "Some alien. I am an agent of the United Nations. You understand that I have to take you in now, right?" He seems sincere, and as if he doesn't actually want to take me in, but rather just has to do it.
"Would it matter if I said no?"
He seems amused, "Well, no. Not really. I am taking you in whether you want to go or not." Well, might as well. He led me over to his car, and gestured that I should get in. I did, and off we went, speeding into the night.
Well, it's not of a decent length, but I think I am going to continue this in the morning. If anyone wants to leave an idea, please do. It helps me brainstorm. | 2017-07-13T00:00:44 | 2017-07-12T23:20:55 | 541 | 16 |
[WP] A man draws a gun in a dark alley and asks for your wallet. You begrudgingly obey. He throws it on the ground, shoots it till it screeches, and turns to you; "you're safe now". | Cries of help bounced up the dirty concrete walls and through the rusty fire escapes. Thick drops of acid rain fell from the gray, polluted sky, pattering against my umbrella. It took a last drag and stubbed out my cigarette.
The alley was like any other in this godforsaken city – windowless, filled with garbage containers, and with graffiti like old fading tattoos. Popping the holster open, I placed my hand on the wooden grip and strode into the alley.
Cornered at the very end of the alley, a dainty dame was fending off a small leathery attacker with wide swings of her vanity bag. She was a real looker too – plump in the right places, a dolly face framed by streaks of golden hair, and long, lithe gams wrapped in dark nylon.
I glanced at the tiny leather creature on the wet ground, bouncing up and down, yelping and growling. This was the third one I’d come across this week. Disgusting little critters with razor sharp teeth – they’d rip you right open in your sleep.
Carefully, I pulled out my roscoe, opening the reserve box – two slugs ought to be enough.
“Ma’am, step away from the wallet.”
She glanced at me, her blue eyes wide in terror. She was a green one – some upper-class bim, lost on the wrong side of the train tracks. She took a step back, almost tripping over one of her shoes that she had dropped in the battle.
Two quick ones. The loud echoes climbed the walls. I spun the revolver around my finger and placed it back in the holster. The heel of my boot came down on the smoking remains of the wallet.
“Thanks,” she mumbled and crouched down, strapping her shoe back on, and then started to pick up the items that had fallen out of her bag.
“Breeze,” I said and nodded at the street. “This ain’t no place for frails and old men.”
She managed a scowl despite her shivers and dripping wet face.
“Do you mind?” she asked, looking expectantly at my umbrella.
“Uh-huh,” I muttered and started lighting a new cig.
“Please?”
I took a drag, shrugged, and then shifted a couple of feet toward her, covering her from the rain. Even through the smell of my cigarette, I caught a whiff of her expensive perfume.
“You smoke?”
“Gods no,” she said and finally got up. “Can you take me to Caledonia Plaza?”
“Do I look like a flivver chauff’?”
“You look like a criminal,” she said briskly.
“And you, like a dish – what’s your doings in Low York? Long way from home, aren’t you?”
She didn’t have time to answer before another cry rang out from across the street. I cursed through my teeth, which made her wince. I put the umbrella in her hand and emptied the used shells of my roscoe in the gutter.
“Don’t you dare run off with my umbrella,” I muttered and crossed the street while reloading.
Son of a bitternut grifter – I’d have to pay a visit to Masperoni after this.
****
r/Lilwa_Dexel
| The wallet was still twitching, its faint whine gradually fading away. Leah gaped at it as the man grinned at her, twirling his gun nonchalantly.
"You're safe now," he began to say, then winced as the weapons slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground.
"Blasted things..." he muttered, blushing as he picked it up. "Erm, sorry for scaring you, ma'am. I'm...uh, from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, no need to be frightened."
She was still trying to think of a reply to this extraordinary statement when another man slipped into the alley, giving the one carrying the gun a withering look.
"No need to make up some stupid story, she's a muggle, moron. Hell, why don't you go ahead and tell her everything? We'll obliviate her, anyway. Is this the wallet?"
"Yep, just saw her buy it from that dodgy second-hand shop. No idea how it ended up there, but it's the very same one that half-giant gave him years ago. Can you believe it? It's traveled a long way," his friend said, picking up the wallet reverently. The other man stared at the hole in the wallet in outrage.
"You *shot* it? Graham, for the millionth time, our clients pay for the goods *untarnished*. They want the items he touched exactly as they were!"
"It was still his, they'll pay, Mark!" Graham said sulkily. "Pay for anything, they will. Bunch of nutters, thinking he's some god just 'cause he killed You-Know-Who. Paid a sack of galleons for that old broomstick they thought was his old Cleansweep Seven, didn't they, even though it was just a regular old Muggle broom, never even bothered to test it - "
Leah began edging out of the alleyway as they continued to argue.
"Yes, but this is the real deal, nitwit," Mark said. "It made a sound when you shot it! It'll demand a high price, mark my words. The muggle's getting away, by the way."
Graham turned to her before she could escape the alley completely, pulling something from his pocket and pointing it at her.
"Obliviate!"
They stared guiltily down at Leah afterwards. She was giggling softly where she lay slumped against the wall.
"Didn't mean to do that, exactly," Graham said. "Wand's never been right since they snapped it."
Mark brightened suddenly. "Hey, that reminds me. What do you say we expand? Start looking for objects that belonged to the other two, as well? I know for a fact that Weasley had a dysfunctional wand at some point. Wonder where it'll be now..."
"Haven't got a clue, but yeah - let's do it," Graham said. "It'll be good practice for when we go after the *other* wand. Think of the price we could demand..."
Mark sighed at the greed in his voice. "Price? You're so short-sighted, sometimes. Did you lose your ambition when they expelled you, too? No, when we find wherever he hid it, that's the one thing we'll keep for ourselves. No matter how much some crazed fan offers for it...that wand is mi - uhm, ours. C'mon, we've got to get going, just leave her here. That shot you took is bound to attract people."
Their footsteps faded, their conversation growing softer as they hurried from the alley, sparing Leah one last, guilty look before they joined the crowd on the streets.
She was still laughing uncontrollably, trying to remember the details of her funny dream. | 2017-07-13T00:36:27 | 2017-07-13T00:34:07 | 68 | 49 |
[WP] In the future, to pass college you no longer must pass written finals. Instead, you are simply dropped into a real life scenario related to your major, and left to fend for yourself with your new found knowledge.
*My first post on WP, sorry if it's a repeat and/or against any rule(s)*
Edit: wow, sincerely thank you all so much! was not expecting my first post on WP to go front page! | The stench of gunpowder hung in the air. I could hear the artillery fire cascading into a nearby town. I stood up, groggy and confused.
I looked down at myself. I recognized the uniform immediately from my history class. A red swastika covered my left arm.
"Why am I here?" I asked aloud.
A man accosted me from behind. I spun around, gripping my pistol.
"Easy there," the man said, whose voice I now recognized as my history advisor. I loosened my grip.
"You were the smartest student I had. I know you're capable. You have all the knowledge you need. Now stop the war."
| I clambered into the cramped pod, being as careful as I could not to snag the hose to the CO2 scrubber. The lights and displays meant nothing, I was just grateful that I didn't have to sit in the dark.
"Can you hear me, Grant?"
I nearly lost the content of my bladder as the radio link boomed through my helmet.
"Yes?" I replied, looking around as if I would find the source of the voice.
"Great! Ok the journey to the station will take just over 7 hours. As with all the previous candidates, we recommend you get a little sleep, go over your prompt cards and ensure that you're happy with the final will and testament. I'll remind you, this year's Astrobiology pass mark has been relaxed and you WILL NOT be penalised for loss of limbs but loss of sight and/or higher brain function will result in referral. All good? "
"Can I just as-"
"OK great! Safe travel and remember that there are potentially 8 life forms that WILL kill on sight"
The radio died into static.
Why I didn't take a course in Film was anyone's guess. | 2017-08-10T05:16:53 | 2017-08-10T05:10:15 | 741 | 193 |
[WP] In the future, to pass college you no longer must pass written finals. Instead, you are simply dropped into a real life scenario related to your major, and left to fend for yourself with your new found knowledge.
*My first post on WP, sorry if it's a repeat and/or against any rule(s)*
Edit: wow, sincerely thank you all so much! was not expecting my first post on WP to go front page! | I clambered into the cramped pod, being as careful as I could not to snag the hose to the CO2 scrubber. The lights and displays meant nothing, I was just grateful that I didn't have to sit in the dark.
"Can you hear me, Grant?"
I nearly lost the content of my bladder as the radio link boomed through my helmet.
"Yes?" I replied, looking around as if I would find the source of the voice.
"Great! Ok the journey to the station will take just over 7 hours. As with all the previous candidates, we recommend you get a little sleep, go over your prompt cards and ensure that you're happy with the final will and testament. I'll remind you, this year's Astrobiology pass mark has been relaxed and you WILL NOT be penalised for loss of limbs but loss of sight and/or higher brain function will result in referral. All good? "
"Can I just as-"
"OK great! Safe travel and remember that there are potentially 8 life forms that WILL kill on sight"
The radio died into static.
Why I didn't take a course in Film was anyone's guess. | I stood silently in the large safe at the back of the now smoke-filled bank. Everything was going as rehearsed. I watched the guys empty the shelves, filling their plain, unbranded bags with stacks of money. On cue, another guy came around the corner carrying deposit boxes in his arms. One of the boxes was stuck open, prevented from closing all the way by its now loose contents. Diamonds, jewelry, and presumably valuable paperwork fell to the ground as he hurriedly dumped the loot into an empty bag. Suddenly a loud pop rang through the safe, echoing back and forth off the steel walls. I still flinched, even though I knew it was coming. The man with an armful of metal boxes and stolen treasure fell to the floor, now bleeding from the chest, revealing a man behind him holding a warm gun.
"Cut!" yelled the director.
I yanked my headphones down around my neck and lowered the boom, finally relaxing my arms. The director approached me.
"How'd it sound?"
"Pretty good, but I think we'd be safe with at least one more take." I replied.
"Reset!" the director shouted.
In reality, I had forgotten to hit record on the audio recorder that hung from my belt. To be honest, I didn't even want to run sound. I specifically requested cinematographer. I only took one sound class the entire four years I was in school. It didn't seem fair. But "Fuck it," I thought, "no one's going to see this film anyway."
---
This is my first time participating in /r/WritingPrompts, hope you enjoy my contribution! | 2017-08-10T05:10:15 | 2017-08-10T05:09:53 | 193 | 43 |
[WP] There's a saying among the galactic community. "Never hire a human"... you just hired 200 of them. And you're about to find out why that saying exists. | Never hire a human. I know. I mean, we all know. We just don't know why.
It's not like I had a choice though. Business was running slow and the plethora of intergalactic wars had depleted most of our resources. Money was scarce and humans... weren't. Humans are cheap.
So I figured, to hell with it. If I want to keep this company running I have to take a few risks. What's the worst that could happen? I flew to the nearest human nest and found 200 willing workers.
It started out just fine. Better, even. Humans turned out to be quite inventive and hard workers. If they don't know how to finish a task, they would find a way. And most of all, they were friendly.
Cassy knew everything about my sleeping rituals by the second week. Somewhere around the fourth week she would leave a cup of hot water out for me to find when I'd wake up. I love a cup of hot water.
Bob likes to sing during his day. He's not very good at it, but that doesn't seem to bother him. He asked me about songs of my homeplanet. Since then I have heard him hum the tunes several times. He said he 'looked it up.'
Jamie likes to chat. Not sure what he's talking about usually, but it passes the time.
For a while things were fine. Production went up, my workers were effective. Then, another war started. Closer this time.
I'll never forget the cracking sounds around me after the first bomb hit. They... they told me to run, they'd 'hold the fort', said Lois. So I ran.
And when it was over I returned.
They were gone. All of them. My humans. Dead. They don't regenerate well.
No more singing or whistling. No more chatter. No more cups of water. Just silence, deafening silence. I've never felt more alone.
Never hire a human, they say. Because you'll miss them. And it hurts. | “Glith! My office! This Zimosecond!”
Now I’ve really done it. Executive Sylus was incensed. I wiped the sweat from my cranial glands and stood slowly from my station. The others watched with mixed reactions. Some stifled laughter behind tentacles. Others diverted their many eyes. I slithered through the portal and was beamed into Sylus’ private office. He still hadn’t calmed down. As he gnashed on an unlit Zorgonian cigar, his body flashed vibrantly, a rainbow of fury.
“Yes wanted to see me, sir?” I pathetically asked.
His large black eyes gleamed like a predator about to feast. I flinched as the scaly skin of my boss stopped changing colors and maintained a fuming crimson appearance.
“Why yes, Glith! Please! Sit down! Make yourself at home,” he quipped acrimoniously.
I timidly took the chair before his titanium desk, steeling myself for the verbal onslaught I was about to receive.
“There’s many rules in this industry, Glith. I don’t expect a grunt like you to know them but you should at least know these: If you need an accountant, hire a TI-6930. They were calculators before singularity. If you need a manager, hire a Zendarii. They can read minds and micromanage with the best of them. “
I nodded dumbly in agreement which only seemed to anger him further as crimson turned to a wrathful purple.
“Above all else: Never hire a human! They are useless! And now you’ve gone and given 200 of those apes Xurucorp field jobs!”
I gathered the few microns of courage I had left to protest: “Sir, we have diversity quotas to reach. I couldn’t deny their applications based on their species.”
The cigar cane flying out in one long slender hand as Sylus rose to his full height of 3 meters.
“DIVERSITY? We’re a Jorothium mining conglomerate, you ingrate! Humans can’t work in the field! Their delicate monkey bodies couldn’t handle the radiation! I’ve got 200 dead simians in my hand now because of you! You think the media or the United Nations of Earth is gonna love our diversity now?!! Get out of my office and don’t bother showing up to work anymore! You’re fired and you’ll be hearing from the company lawyers when this hits the fan!” | 2018-04-27T13:39:05 | 2018-04-27T11:50:14 | 535 | 63 |
[WP] After mastering lucid dreaming you find you have complete control over other people’s dreams too. You can choose what they dream of down to the tiniest detail and even join them without them realising you’re actually real. Their subconscious is your playground. Hope they were nice to you. | I am a nightmare.
I step through a door and suddenly, I'm coming out of a closet. I'm in a bedroom. A kid's bedroom.
"Here you go Mr. Puddles. Now don't forget to-"
A tiny hand freezes in mid-motion, tea cup raised to a stuffed doll. The stuffed doll turns to look at me with button-eyes.
"My apologies. I didn't mean to interrupt your tea par-"
The little girl screams at me, shaking and trembling with fear. "B-boogeey mannn!!!"
I step closer with hands in the air, hoping to pacify her, but she only screams more violently.
Then I saw it.
My hands were decayed and charcoal black. Suddenly the world begins to shake, everything collapsing in on itself. Soon, everything fades to white.
Her dream has ended. "Well, that didn't take very long..." I muttered to myself.
I take a step forward in nothingness. Doors begin to materialize out of thin air and soon i'm surrounded by floating doors of varying colors and sizes. I pick one randomly and entered.
Another dream. Another nightmare.
I'm in a cafe, and I could see pedestrians walking with purpose on the streets outside. A waitress steps up to me.
"What can I get ya?" she says with a gentle smile.
"Hey babe! Over here!" a man from behind my table shouts.
They weren't real. Merely figments of imagination constructed from fragments of memories. But this world was larger, more complex than the last.
Then I saw the Dreamer. This time, it's a middle aged man. He's chatting up a woman in a tight red dress.
I make my way towards him.
"So what do you say? Shall we head over to my place or -" he pauses mouth still gaping as his head snaps in my direction.
"Urm. Hello there," I waved.
His eyes go wide. "No... God please.... Noooooo!"
I don't know what he sees, but it was enough. Enough for him to soil himself right there as the world began collapsing into nothingness.
I sighed as everything fades to white.
And once again I'm in the world between dreams. A nightmare that drifts from dream to dream, terrorizing people. But at some point, everything became to easy. Too repetitive. I guess becoming a manifestation of their worst nightmare played a part in it.
I turned around, surveying the doors, seeing which would take my fancy next.
Then I saw a figure out of the corner of my eye. I peered at the figure, but somehow she was obscured. A blurred face, but it was a woman. She stood motionlessly in the nothingness of my world, starring silently at me. A dreamer? In my world? How?
Then my world started falling apart. Crumbling despite my will to hold it together. This was my dream, where my every whim could warp and twist the fabric of the very world and yet...
Here it was crumbling against the will of another.
Finally she speaks, "Your nightmare ends here."
I opened my eyes slowly and found reality.
----
----
/r/em_pathy
| I awoke that morning feeling ecstatic. It was the fifth night in a row, after months of training and practice, that I had lucid dreams. It was amazing. The dream that I woke myself from. I was flying over the Atlantic. Just me. Nothing else. Using just my body. I wish that I could show someone what I saw. The ocean was so blue. All of the marine life.
The night before last I was a samurai in ancient Japan. I was the best there was. Everyone loved me. Now that I can control my dreams, I never want to get up for work. I try so hard to stay asleep. The real world awaits though. Every. Damn. Morning.
I've stumbled my way through the day trying to get home to go back to sleep since the first time. I just want to be in the dream world. I hate the real world. Today isn't any different. I think about the things that I want to dream about all through the day. Barely listening to anyone and never focusing on anything. Once I get home and finish my chores it's off to bed. It's early but I don't mind. I'm in bed by 6:30 tonight.
This dream starts off normally. I don't realize it's a dream until I focus on a saying written on the wall of a building. I look away and look back and it says something totally different. The graffiti has changed. Initially it said "Darren is a dick". When I looked back the second time it read "You control everything." That's when I knew I was dreaming.
I decided that I would start by changing my outfit. I dressed myself in a 1950's style suit. I like those. Everything was so classy back then. Next I made a nice 1957 Chevy Bel Air appear in the street. My surroundings were still current but it was my dream and I could change anything that I wanted.
As I started to open the door of the car, I noticed a man walking on the other side of the street. He was dressed like someone that worked in an office. A blue button down shirt, brown slacks, and black dress shoes. He startled me a little. It was almost as if he appeared from no where. He was just standing there staring at me. Our eyes were locked.
"Gran.....grandpa... is that you? " he said
I looked around. "You talking to me kid?" I replied.
"Oh My God!!! Gramps how the hell are you?!?! I haven't seen you since..... since...grampa... you died. How are you here?"
"........"
"It doesn't matter, I've missed you so so much."
The next thing I knew, I was awake, in my bed. My alarm was going off. It was time for work. I sat up in my bed, trying to figure out what had happened. I don't think I was lucid dreaming. Did I lose it? Maybe I didn't focus enough during the previous day. I showered and prepared for the boring, monotonous day ahead of me.
Work was the normal boring thing that it is every day. Until lunch time, that is. The lunch conversation turned to the craziest dream that you've ever had and went something like this.
"I was in a burning building and couldn't get out. I woke up when the ceiling fell on me."
"Well that's more scary than crazy. My dream last night wasn't crazy but it was a little weird.... and comforting. I saw my grandfather. He was standing next to his prized possession. His '57 Bel Air. He died 18 years ago yesterday. I know it was him."
The only thing going through my head while I listened was.. oh. my. god. | 2018-06-19T15:43:20 | 2018-06-19T15:07:12 | 34 | 20 |
[WP] On the galactic scene, humans are universally seen as the weakest and most underpowered race alive. However everyone knows not to tangle with a human, mostly due to their ridiculous paranoia and ungodly amount of contingency plans | We knew they would win on their home planet. The humans were ready for anything after all. Our scientist had watched them for centuries. Seeing how they whipped out entire species from their own home world.
The plan was to attack them from the only blind spot we knew; the dark side of their moon.
I was in charge of leading a scout ship to the surface of their planet, but we never made it. We were ready to launch when we saw him standing there. His eyes glowing in the darkness. The fabric floating behind him in rhe atmosphere. It was the most prepared human to ever exist. He was known for having the most diverse of human gadgetry.
It was him.
Batman. | Of course, nobody in their right mind, or minds, would ever assume humans to be a threat. They’re small, two armed, individualistic weaklings with no way of detecting when they are outclassed. But that is what makes them so dangerous. They are completely willing to sacrifice hundreds of their own just to buy time for one of their hundreds of paranoid contingency plans. My species learned this the hard way.
Hundreds of years ago, we made the foolish mistake of invading their closest colony, New New Earth. What we thought would be a cake walk was actually a colossal failure. For years, we kept sending our soldiers into the planet’s cities and forests, trying to eradicate the defenders. Every time we come close to one of their main armies, we would only find a small force, only three hundred or so, standing bravely in defiance. It was only after three decades of failed attempts to take the planet, and millions of deaths on both sides (to this day, we don’t know how the humans were able to reinforce so quickly, must have been one of their stupid contingencies), we gave up, signed the treaty. Now, the rest of galaxy doesn’t have to learn from our mistakes, because now they know not to fuck with humanity. | 2018-06-23T10:45:55 | 2018-06-23T07:50:50 | 186 | 117 |
[WP] once in every month soulmates get to see from eachothers’ eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen. One day you see someone you recognise from your soulmate’s eyes. | "Please let me go." Tears are spilling from the corner of her eyes, running across her face, and dripping into her hair. "Why? Why are you doing this?" She struggles against the restraints that bind her to the table, her wrists raw from her continued efforts over the last few hours.
I say nothing. What would be the point in explaining the nature of a predator to a lamb? Just a distraction from the inevitable, serving nobody. Her fate had been set the moment I saw her in the bar.
My hands hover over the instrument table. When the time is right, I'll feel which knife wants to do the work.
"Please," she begged. "My family have money. If you let me go, they'll..."
Her words are cut short as she sees me pick up the knife. I bought this one on a trip to Japan. It's never chosen me before. This girl must be special.
Her screams fade away to gurgling.
*The fuck did I just see!!!? I'd seen through my soulmates' eyes before but it had always been ordinary visions: riding the subway, choosing veggies at the supermarket. This was... this was like nothing I've seen before.*
*With shaky hands I pick up my phone and find her name from my contacts list. I'm praying that I have a brain tumour and that was just an hallucination. "Come on Rachael, answer!" I mutter.*
*Voicemail.*
*I try again over and over but it's always the same. It's real.*
*My soul mate is a murderer (what does that say about me?) and my sister - my best friend - is gone.* | For 24 years, I’ve seen out of Kate’s eyes once a month. It happens, and I’m used to it. I’ve used my earnings over the years to vacation, see the most beautiful sights the world has to offer. Today, I fear her. I sat on the edge of the canyon, looking down, when it flashed before my eyes. My old roommate, Kyle, the gun in front of my new face, aimed at his chest. One. Two. Three. Three shots. I saw his chest move back, his jacket fly behind him. His wallet, his phone, his body, all hitting the ground. I watched as Kate stopped down, and grabbed his phone, turning it on. An image of me and my ex, hanging it with Kyle in Amsterdam flashed on the screen. One more bullet to the screen. I saw the ground recede, and her eyes lock onto the mirror, a beautifully deadly smile crawling on her face, sending my heart into overdrive, love and adrenaline causing through it. She laughed, the sound tearing through the night sky. Her eyes, hazel, like always, look at her reflection. “Hi Mark. Miss me?” The fifth bullet groom the gun shatters the mirror, as I stunt to my reality. I grab my phone, about to call Kyle, like I do when things like this happen. Then it hits me. She’s closer. I recognize where she shot him. His apartment, right next to mine. I get up, and hop in the car. I dial the same number I have every month for most of my life, until he picks up on the other side. “Who was it this time?” “Kyle.” “We’ll send a crew. Relocating again?” “No. It’s time to see her face to face.” I hang up, knowing what comes next. For the first time in 17 years, I was going to see Kate. This time would be different. But it never was.
(Ok, I tried. I’m tired, I’m swamped with work, I’m hungry. I just wanted a plot twist.) | 2019-02-13T15:56:56 | 2019-02-13T15:32:40 | 236 | 110 |
[WP] Most young mages use incredibly complex spells and extremely rare ingredients to summon their familiar. You just drew a circle and threw a bag of chips in it. | Three years in and still I needed remedial tutoring. It was humiliating. I knew all the spells, could recite all the formulas, but once it came time to actually put it into practice, the magic always did what it wanted, when it wanted, no matter what I tried. It did have a bad tendency to knock random items off walls and tables, and all my teachers *hated* that.
I sat at my desk and stared listlessly at my spellbook. At a knock on my door, I jerked upright. Already knowing it was my longtime tutor and friend, Sherry, I didn’t even bother trying to pretend like I had cleaned. I just threw the door open and walked away.
‘Well hello to you too!’ She said drily. I just rolled my eyes and grunted.
‘I thought we’d try that summoning circle again today.’ Man, she was really determined to get under my skin today. She knew I couldn’t get it to work. But we both knew that getting my familiar to finally reveal itself might help figure out my problems with magic.
Familiars tend to reflect the magic of their mage. For example, Sherry’s familiar, a small mockingbird, reflected her ability to observe magic once and replicate it. Obviously, magic had always come easily to her. Try as I might, I couldn’t resent her for that. She always stuck by me and believed one day we’d figure out the key to make my magic work.
‘Whatever,’ I sighed as I cleared the black floor and dug my chalk out of my backpack. I began the painstaking process of drawing out the summoning circle.
Two hours, four complicated drawings of the circle, many four letter words, and a very sore back later, I slumped back against my desk.
‘It’s no use. It’s just not going to happen. I may as well just move on to something else...’ I rubbed the bridge of my nose to soothe my aching head.
‘Come on, one more time. It really felt like you were so close that last time!!’ Sherry began to erase the previous circle. When she was done, she pulled me off the floor and pressed the chalk back into my hands. ‘You can absolutely do this. Come on.’
I moved back to the middle of the room with my hands on my hips and sighed heavily. One more time? I’d give her one more time.
With a quick movement, I scrawled a messy, crooked circle (if I’m being honest, it was more an oval), began the incantations and moved to the side. As I continued chanting, I threw my last sacrifice to tempt my familiar into the center of my drawing. To my surprise, it began to glow. As I continued with the spells, the light grew brighter and brighter until, with a blinding flash and final shout, the light disappeared and the room rang with silence.
When my eyes cleared of the light spots, I had to blink a few times. There, in the center of the circle, was a small black and white ball of fur.
I sat down abruptly in shock, and a head popped up. *It’s about time you figured things out* I heard in my head.
My new cat familiar sat up and began to wash her whiskers. As my mind began to comprehend what it was seeing, all of a sudden, my problems with my magic made sense.
*So where’s my food bowl and if I see the bottom of it, I swear you won’t sleep for a week*
First time posting, first short story (ever), and I’m sure there’s grammar errors. This just popped into my head and I couldn’t get it to leave! | I woke to the sound of rain, again, but this is Ireland, it rains every Friday, no matter the previous weather. I got up with a groan of my cot, stretched out my arms and, as always, forgot the goddamn beehive cells were too small too do that. Guess my brain takes a while in the morning.
I squeezed out of my cell onto Skellig Michael s craggy surface. Thankfully the rain wasn't too bad today, my thin oilskin coat would handle it. Perhaps I should explain to whoever finds this manuscript (*cough, diary, *cough). I am an apprentice at a witches monastery off the coast of Ireland, no-one on the mainland knows it's a witches monastery but they know we're here.
Today is the fourteenth of the fourteenth 1836 and I and the other initiates were all 14, a special age and date to Irish witches.
Where was I? Right, I squeezed out of my cell and took the damb dirt path up to the oratory where we would be presented with all the appropriate tools for summoning our familiar, as well as any additional items we required.
Now a few weeks prior I had found some long forgotten spell books in the library while I had been researching familiars. One of these books had described a delicate, obscure and highly advanced method to summon one of Ireland's most ancestral beings using the most Irish plant at their disposal. A potato.
Unfortunately, this method was too complex for an average student such as myself so i, *dumbed it down* slightly while keeping the same aim in mind.
To summon my familiar I had to extract a special grey chalk from a hidden tunnel on the island.
With this I would draw a rough circle 3m in radius. Into the circle I must place a thin cloth bag full of thick strips of potato fries in puffin fat
(I could have used any fat, puffins were merely in abundance on Skellig Michael). Finally I was to step back from the circle and name my familiar's species an implore them to appear.
I did on a clear day on Saturday in front of the assembled crowd. After I was finished there was a long moment of silence, someone coughed, it was awkward.
Then the entire island shook as though it wished to escape its roots and roam the ocean wild, great bottomless cracks and chasms appeared within the circle, but were kept contained within it. The bag of fried potatoes toppled into the chasm, only to rise moment later in a huge fist of stone that belonged to the great towering creature which stood three or four heads above any man. It was made of the Irish mountains themselves, it almost looked like huge shapely chunks of grey limestone held together with streaks of Ireland's native green marble wrapping around it with a soft glow, all ending at two clear diamond eyes set slightly back into his head(somehow I knew it was a he) that glowed with an otherworldly light. And then he began to eat, and to speak.
He threw a fried potato into his gaping maw and let out a grinding sigh. "These are good chips, taste a little like puffin though." I decided to talk now and freak out later. "I can explain that," I said, "I cooked them in puffin fat and some salt." At this my familiar turned to me, "I see, I take you are who summoned me as your familiar?" I said I was, and I will spare you the details of our conversation as this is turning out to be longer than I expected but suffice to say that introductions were made (myself as Oisín and him as Kaíreach)
By now everyone was speechless, no-one had summoned a mountain golem since the great Masters themselves. It took a while to get used to but I eventually surpassed everyone in my group and now 20 years later, I am leading the monastery as the youngest leader, well, ever.
I hope that whoever this story reaches, it reaches them safe, and with them in good health
Signed,
Oisín O' Callaghan, leader of the cailleachs and Kaíreach of the mountains | 2019-04-05T15:47:48 | 2019-04-05T14:25:23 | 102 | 39 |
[WP] When you arrived in the future, the locals put you in a "historical village" in an attempt to reduce culture shock. Unfortunately, their ideas about your past life are hilariously inaccurate. | "We're here," Detective Jake said as he lead me out of the vehicle we're in. "Welcome to Old Earth Island, a state-of-the-art recreation of the 21st century world based on different records about your culture there. We brought you here to help you adjust to our society."
"Uhh, Detective, I appreciate the thought, but... What the hell is that?" I said pointing to a statue of Shaggy pinned on a Cross.
"That's Shaggy, the most prominent religious figure of the 21st century," he said, proudly.
"Are you kidding me?" I said with disbelief. "What kind of reference are you using?"
"Excuse me? Are you implying that we are wrong?"
"No. I'm saying it is."
"For your information, we only use the most trusted sources when we recreated this place."
"Like?"
"Reddit, a community of professionals in different fields,"
I burst out laughing. "You used Reddit as your reference?" I said. "No wonder..." | All of these..... all of these signs are WRONG!!
‘Most “Doug’s” were gay’?? THAT can’t be true...
‘Every dog was a boy and every Cat was a girl’??? What is this, preschool? Who’d these guys ask about this, my nephew Tommy???
‘President Obama was most likely a lie’??? What does that even mean?!? He was real! He was a real guy!
Man, ever since that dumb Tesla went too fast on Hwy 88 and I appeared here in 2047 I’ve been shocked. Chocolate is everywhere, everybody is super into dinosaurs, and the normal clothes everyone wears are Avengers costumes! This is bonkers.
This village is crazy. They claim that they made it just for me, but like, this isn’t even remotely cool. Did they completely forget actual history?!? It was only 27 years ago!
Ugh, the girl who checks on me just asked if I’d like to meet the president. He’s outside waiting. I mean, sure, but what kind of guy is this gonna be? An idiot?
Wait a second..... what did she just say his name was, ‘president King Space T-Rex’??! Lol for sure, I’m coming to meet this guy.
Omg.......
Tommy....?
“Uncle Greg!!!!!”
“Oh sweet jesus”. This can’t be happening
“Hahaha I’m not Jesus, you can call me King Space T-Rex” | 2019-04-23T17:11:43 | 2019-04-23T12:40:51 | 45 | 26 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased with your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell and we're the demons. You have just been summoned... | Damn Netflix!
&#x200B;
Someday I'm going to grasp why I cannot, for the life of me, remember a damn password that I made up myself.
&#x200B;
I, for one, blame all the auto-logins. If I lacked that convenience I'd probably have no issue using whatever streaming service I wanted when I got a new phone.
&#x200B;
But the new S10 was settling in nicely, the hole punch was going to bother the ever loving crap out of me but every new phone has one now, so here I am, dealing with "edgeless" displays where the edge is moved into an annoying pinhole and--okay why is there a ton of O-Zone in the air suddenly?
&#x200B;
Mild panic hits me as I try to assess what high tech electronic device is currently frying itself into oblivion when the scenery changes drastically.
&#x200B;
I look down, yes that's a summoning circle at my feet. Looking up I spot several people with strange symbols carved into their foreheads and I can feel my eye twitch in frustration as I see them.
&#x200B;
Either I'm dreaming thanks too many Isekai Anime lately or, by some horrible twist of fate--
&#x200B;
"Oh, Great Demon! Bend to my will!" the lead summoner shouts.
&#x200B;
Well Shit. Curse you multiverse theory!
&#x200B;
I look around and see I'm standing in a courtyard of some kind. I heave a sigh, "Okay... I can see where this mix-up happened, and I fully get WHY you got *me* but I really need to exp-"
&#x200B;
"There is no Mix-up, I shall bind you to me, demon!" he drags some poor sap in front of him, pulling out a ceremonial dagger. "With the cost of this soul, I shall make you my serv-"
&#x200B;
I interrupt, "You're going to taint your soul in the process and suffer in the burning pits of Hell if you do that. Just, an fyi."
&#x200B;
He stops, staring at me. "Pardon?"
&#x200B;
"The scriptures skip that part, you see, you're going to sacrifice that person, but it's your soul that is traded, not theirs. It's the sin of killing for power, you know, Pride, Wrath, etc... all that good stuff." I notice I'm a fair bit taller than all these folks. I look around and pull out my phone. One of those damn Isekai's had this as some horrible weapon of sorts, and or God mode activator. Granted the Galaxy S10 didn't seem to have any new UI from before being summoned. I could toggle the wifi on and off, no signals or network of course. I grumble, "You guys better have a way to reverse this."
&#x200B;
The main priest or sorcerer is flipping through his tomb's pages rather quickly, muttering through a few portions as he speeds reads.
&#x200B;
"Bad idea to read partial incantations," I advise.
&#x200B;
The summoner glares at me and shifts his attention back to the book, now reading in silence.
&#x200B;
I poke at the edge of the circle with my pinky, seeing that I am pretty much stuck in the circle, for now, least until the guy manages to undo the spell or bind me to him. I have no intention of getting bound to some hapless summoner, thus the stalling. "Okay, you guys did get the circle right, good on you there. By any chance did you ask for the demon by name or...?" I trail off.
&#x200B;
The others stare at the head summoner, a few in indignation.
&#x200B;
"I knew it!" shouted one, "I knew it Fasstitidus! I knew it! you were supposed to name the damned demon to summon! I told you! But no, No I got the 'any demon will do!'" he harrumphed and stormed off. "I wasted a whole evening for this!"
&#x200B;
I shook my head and looked to the main summoner, "Could you send me back? I've got things to do in my realm. Very important things. I'd suggest redoing the ritual but, you know, requesting a specific demon." I grumble, "Do NOT pick Belial. He's a dick."
&#x200B;
He grumbles, "I don't know how to send you back, I hadn't thought of that! Why would I focus on sending an all-powerful demon 'Back' to the horror-filled world of the damned? I wanted one to serve me and be my minion!"
&#x200B;
I cleared my throat, "Okay, send me back now or I start casting spells." I bluff.
&#x200B;
"Oh, like what?"
&#x200B;
"Solar Flare!" I shout as I turn on the flashlight to my phone, pointing at one of the summoners.
&#x200B;
To my shock, he turns to dust.
&#x200B;
Shit, I think to myself, shutting down the flashlight app. Samsung proving superior to Apple once more, never seen an iPhone vaporize someone before!
&#x200B;
Fasstitdus falls to his knees, "Spare me o' mighty demon! Oh great and powerful--er, what's your name?"
&#x200B;
"Just call me /u/Zithero \-- now send me back home, I have important stuff to do." I clear my throat, "and write." | "Who the hell are you?" I asked.
"Where in hell are you from?", the neckbeard responded.
I took a look at him: scrawny, pasty, frail. I bet in one punch I could blast this ole buzzard into next Tuesday, but something told me I wouldn't make it past the 10 thick friends, and the regal looking bro in the back right corner. Maybe one or two of them, sure, I mean I've been doing StrongLift 5x5s for a month now, but not all of them.
After a fairly brief pause, I said: "Look, Megan's Law, I don't know what is going on here, but I need to get back to Connecticut pronto, I got a damned one-on-one with my boss and he is going to go over my 360 reviews today. Apparently, people think I am something of a wise----"
"SILENCE!!! DEMON FROM HELL!!!" The old man said.
It was at that moment that it dawned on me.
I was not going to make it back to the office, and someone was definitely going to take the last Boston Creme from the Dunkin Donuts box, even though I called "Lasty Cremesies", at least, 10 minutes ago.
"You have been summoned here for a great purpose. And you will commence your quest, post-haste."
Hmm... I had to buy myself some time. "Alright, padre, what do I have to do to get home?"
"You must head east for 2 and one half days ride.
"You will find a castle surrounded by a moat, and in that castle you must kill the king and bring the virgin from on high, from thither to hither."
Sheeeeeeeeeit. This old gag.
"Alright, shawty, you wanna dance? Let's dance! Get my your finest horse..........and get outta my face, would ya, you got mad halitosis.
"I'll go over them thar hills, and be back before the fortnight.
"Who's coming with me?"
<Crickets>
"Just like a thought," I remarked, "you'all are nothing but a bunch of booty-scratchers. All of you. Even you" -- pointing to the kid in throne -- "Little Lord Fauntleroy!"
Damn! I thought. Well.. thank God I downloaded three Phish songs, lat night, that should provide enough music to get me through the week.
I descended the tower and went out to the mean streets of....where-ever.
Just as some lolly gagger passed me on the thoroughfare, I yanked his wine sack out his hands and took a swig to the dome. It tasted like a lukewarm Mad Dog 20/20 .. I knew there was nothing redeemable about this place.
I hopped on the horse, some ole quarter horse, bag a bones, that shoulda been turned into glue 5 year ago.
I kicked the sides and headed off.
I popped in my earbuds... and grooved for two days and a half.
I arrived at the castle. The drawbridge was down and went right in. Big whoop.
I requested to see the king, that I had news from yonder.
The king would not see me.
I produced from my pocket a half-empty soft pack of Virginia Slims. "I come bearing gifts."
I was seen, immediately.
Now, I can tell you something, eyeballing this king. He definitely farts dust... I can only imagine if he had a Taco Bell dinner and washed it down with a red Monster, he might throw out his hip passing gass. Where was I?
In any event... I said:
"Hey, your ex.o.luntsy....I need your virgin, the other dude wants her and I was sent here to get her. And for your troubles, I will give you this pack of smokes."
He looked intrigued.
Then he said, and what about this...touching my music box..
I smacked his hand outta the way:
"Bro! Don't ever touch another man's Zune. This is a microsoft zune. They don't even make em anymore. This is worth more than your life."
I, then, played him some Phish.
I thought he was grooving but then he made a football move and sprinted straight for the window.... "No... don't do it! Defenestration is no way to go out!" I yelled, welling up in my left eye.
"Look, Phish is an acquired taste, trust me on this. It's not the Grateful Dead. It's not Jerry Garcia Band. It's not Widespread or The Cheese. They are in their own league. And get this, it's all improvised. And the lead singer has red hair which should count for something."
The king nodded in agreement.
"Summon my daughter." He said.
Woah. This....this just got a little...I dunno... cray cray.
"Alright, king, so deal? I can take this biddy back to that other kingdom and alls good?"
"Yes" he replied.
It took us 6 days to get back...two people....whatever, that horse was... no...... American Pharaoh, am I right?
Back to the first castle I presented the virgin.
"....thank you for fulfilling your destiny," said the neckbeard with the king in tow.
"Did you kill the king?" said the neckbeard.
"No, but that guy seemed pretty cool with the deal I cut him."
The neckbeard said: "Well, Nebuchadnezzar isn't known to be.....cool.... but perhaps he's turned over a new leaf."
"Alright already...get me home!" I exclaimed.
The neckbeard swiftly kicked me in the groan and as I doubled over he hit my with the end of his staff and seemed to come out of no where. I lost consciousness.
<Blackout>
I came to on the floor of the bathroom stall in my office building. Covered in urine.
My coworker came in: "Hey tool, you look like hell. The boss wants to see you. And uh... someone ate your Boston Creme, but...I left a Sno-Ball on your desk to make up for it, cause I like you so much."
I could smell the chocolate and custard on his breath.... From my position on the floor I coulda dribbled his nuts like a speedbag... but I remembered my pal Nebuchadnezzar ... stay cool.
Fin. | 2019-04-25T19:10:16 | 2019-04-25T16:47:11 | 42 | 13 |
[WP] You've gained access to an elusive, religious cult. The group is known for their worship of a dark deity. Attending your first meeting, you find out that the whole thing is actually just a baking club. Each week the group members bake and discuss new ways to maintain their secrecy | Simon had spent years searching for some clue, some hint at the truly cosmic. It had not been in any church or temple, no shrine or sacred site. He had been to the wats of Thailand, the cathedrals of Europe, to Mecca, to Jerusalem, to ancient temple ruins in Central America, and more. Each held nothing but the absence of the divine, with not even an echo of eternity. They were things of men, dead stone and wood and nothing more.
At least, there had been nothing there for him. If a god or gods did inhabit those places, they all turned from him.
He had first heard something that resonated with him, the first true brush of something special, when he had visited Denmark.
“Hygge,” just a couple of syllables, “hoo ga,” said between patrons of a coffee shop. It was Danish for something like a cozy lifetsyle or aesthetic. So simple. But the word resonated with Simon in a way that other words like “salvation,” and “enlightenment,” had not. There was plenty to be found on the subject, but Simon was not content with the surface level analysis that focused merely on the aesthetics of a home or lifestyle. He wanted more.
He trekked across the Danish countryside until his travels brought him to a quaint village at the edge of a dark forest. Its population couldn’t have exceeded a few hundred, made up of log cabins and tiny stone huts painted in pale blues and reds.
The village was more than just quiet. It held its silence like a jealous lover. No birds sang, no dogs barked, no footsteps stirred.
A scent hung over the village though, thicker than a funeral shroud.
Bread.
There were other smells too, aromas of cinnamon and other spices, vanilla, fruit, butter, and more. It all blended together in a cloying pall atop the underlying, inescapable scent of fresh bread.
“Hello,” a voice said and Simon almost leaped back in surprise. The voice had been a gunshot amongst the silence. Three old women stood outside one of the stone huts. One held a rolling pin, the other a set of measuring cups on an iron ring, and the third a mortar and pestle of stone.
“H-hey,” Simon said. The village had looked deserted a moment ago, but now he saw people moving between the houses, heard their muffled voices within their quaint homes. The people weren’t all Danish, but looked like they had come from everywhere. Black people, white people, Asian people, Hispanic people, and differences in wardrobes to further cement the idea, not only of place, but time. He saw men in traditional kimonos, old English doublets and pantaloons, and more ancient fashions.
“Nice town you got here,” he said.
“Indeed. It is known to so few,” the old woman with the mortar said.
“So few,” the one with the measuring cups added.
“Only those that seek him,” the first woman with the rolling pin said.
“Who?” Simon asked.
“The Great Harvester,” the first said.
“He-Who-Walks-Amongst-the-Wheat,” the second said.
“Miller and Stoker of the Cosmic Furnace,” the third said.
“Keeper of Hearth and Home,” the first said.
“The Bread Lord,” the second said.
Then, as one, all three intoned, “C’thyyge.”
The name stopped Simon’s heart for a moment, set his hair on end, and stung his eyes. And yet, it was a good name, a solid name. A name that could withstand the ravages of eternity.
“Our lord doesn’t like crowds,” the first woman said. “But he delights in newcomers who take the time to find us.”
“Come inside. We have such recipes to show you,” the second added.
“Wheat, pumpernickel and rye. Even that which is unleavened may eternal rise,” the third intoned.
They each offered Simon their hand and he felt warmth coming from them as he stepped forward. It was the warmth of a fireplace in winter, or from a stove late at night. It made him feel toasty down to his toes, and he smiled as he took their hands and was lead within.
\------------
I write a story inspired by Writing Prompts [HERE](https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/24203/homicidal-aliens-are-invading-and-all-i-got-is), and have other story stuff [HERE](http://www.jachildress.com/) | "First order of business, dear brothers and sisters of mine, is to welcome the newest recruit to our beloved group," a plump old man in a red velvet robe, reminiscent of a soft cushy couch in an old manor, said as he motioned for Rob to stand up, "Robert Hull! Please show him the ropes, everyone!"
Having stood up, Rob waved to the crowd before him and nervously said, "h-hey... please tell me if I did anything not kosher."
Everyone chanted an affirmative in unison, as if they have rehearsed countless of times. The room stood eerily quiet as the wooden furnishing on the old-looking room creaked with age.
***
This whole situation was one of the few scenarios that had crossed Rob's mind when he received a letter in the mail. The letter – or rather, a vintage looking scroll – indicated that after careful considerations, he was chosen to be the newest addition to an infamous evil deity-worshipping cult. This cult – whose name weren't publicly known – would be dubbed as "The Chia" and would frequently engage in night time activities, or so it was said. Not a lot of information had been known about The Chia and its' activities nor its' members except for that it existed and that it was evil.
Rob read the scroll and was thrilled. He had always a thing going on for the occult. As the most fanatic member of the occult circle in his high school and university, he had his eyes and ears out for The Chia when it first made its' appearance on newspapers and TVs. But as the information had been quite sparse, the public interest soon died out on its' own. Not Rob, though. He only went more mad and started contacting channels that might be able to bring him closer to the group. Hell, he once went to the purported HQ of The Chia and knocked on the door. All his efforts didn't bring him any closer until he stumbled upon a rather sketchy pamphlet he'd found near the woods in his neighbourhood. Listed there were the phone number, email, and recruitment pitch for the elusive The Chia. So he did what anyone acting less on common sense but passionate curiosity would...
***
After the plump man on the front, who seemed to be the leader of the group, had finished his spiel about group unity and hard work, he sat down next to Rob. The next order of business would be to discuss what they could do to prevent the group being even more publicly known. As such, the plump leader had given the floor to several members of the audience to give their take.
*This is exactly what I've been dying to know!* Thought Rob as he produced a small notepad and a pen. *At last, I'd know all their schemes and the sort of way they'd operate in the shadows...*
But just as he was about to write things down...
"Erm, Robert, would you mind not documenting our proceedings?" the plump leader said reluctantly.
"O-Oh, sorry," Rob put down his stationery as if to say he's not going to write anything, "I thought that maybe it'd be good to write things down as the new guy, ya know."
The plump leader smiled then looked to several other high-ranking members beside him. Rob thought maybe he knew how it must've been for everyone here.
"Okay, well you'd be writing more important things soon."
"S-Soon?"
"Yeap, you'd be writing a lot about our ceremonies and recipes. So keep it together for now, we know you're very excited!"
Rob nodded vigorously, which only made him seem to be the creep in this already sketchy meeting. He kept quiet through the whole session. Nothing interesting was said that caught his attention since most of the suggestions were 'let's blackmail the local newspaper!' or 'what if we get a media PR guy to regulate media coverage and/or bend it to our liking?'. He wanted to chime in and said *really? for an extremely elusive evil deity worshipping cult, that's all you can do? Why not establish your own news corporation and fight the media war? Why not launch coup d'eta on governments around the world and control its' resources to your need?* But alas, he was only the new guy.
Suddenly the plump leader stood up as a tall person emerged from another room strolling a trolley covered in black sheets. The person looked like nosferatu and did not emote, adding to the tension of the sudden turn-of-event.
"Okay, everyone! Now we're ready for our main event of the night," with that the tall man uncovered the sheets and put on a white top hat – the one a chef would usually put on before cooking.
"Wha–"
Before Rob could put out a word, he could see that the rest of the audience had put on similar top hats and aprons. He also saw that the trolley was filled with bread and cakes as well as flour and eggs.
"Today at The Chia, we'd be making a Carrot Cake and, if we have time, we'd bake our specialty Chia Baguette to welcome Robert into the baking club!" | 2019-06-03T00:17:05 | 2019-06-02T23:40:29 | 80 | 23 |
[WP] You are a medical wonder due to the fact that you can regrow your organs. You became a donor and everyone thinks that you are a good person. What they do not know is that you can control every reciever whenever you like. | “Morals are not at issue,” you say, sitting in an overly lush office, the world’s second richest man across a desk of redwood. “The issue is one of control.”
“No, this is attempted blackmail. You are corrupt and foolish, and nothing else. I owe you nothing,” William responds.
Standing, you step behind the chair, running your hand across its top. “This chair is not corrupt. It sits slightly too low, making it hard to sit down in or get up from. And of course, being low means the sitter must look up to your throne. You want to put people at a disadvantage when they sit before you and even your furniture bends to your will,” you say. “But that doesn’t make the chair, or even you, corrupt or evil. It just makes you in control.”
“I’ve heard enough,” William answered. “Show Miss Smith out.”
“Not a good idea,” you say. “I doubt your heart could take me leaving on such bad terms.”
Regardless of you plea, two men, large and in black suits, materialize from the corners of the room and stand next to you. They do not touch you but their subtle movements, body language, and even facial expressions compel you towards the exit.
“You’re good,” you say to them, taking a step towards the door.
“Wait,” comes the gurgling sound from the man sitting on the throne. The large men immediately rush towards him, urgency in their movements but helplessness in their faces.
Turning, you pick up the chair, too small, too low, too far beneath you, and fling it aside.
“How?” Williams asks, breath returning to him. “You gave me a liver, not a heart.”
“Control is control. There is nothing else.”
“You are a monster,” William says, practically spitting the words.
“Dear William, we are going to do great things together. We will feed the starving. We will cloth the needy. We will provide shelter for the weary. You continue to bring morals into this discussion, so I ask you, am I the monster for making you realize your duty, or is it you for ignoring it for so long?” | Did they do tests on me? Surprisingly, no.
I became a donor because, um, I can regrow my organs so why wouldn’t I give them out like candy?
My family is proud of me, and everyone must think I’m a good person. Little do they know.
I couldn’t believe it! The guy I had controlled, he wasn’t being controlled! He normally talked to the doctor and me with interest. There was one thing that came to my mind.
Is he just like me?
I left the hospital feeling extremely nauseous. I decided to take an Uber instead of trying to drive. I called my sister to pick up my car. I thought about it but I just wasn’t feeling it. I just told myself it was just a mistake.
I thanked the Uber, gave him his cash and wobbled over to the bathroom after dropping my stuff down and kicking off my shoes. I didn’t feel much better after so I just took some medicine and laid down.
The next day was a disaster. I met the same guy that I had “controlled” on the street and he was looking at me funny. Even worse, he was with his girlfriend! He had to take it to the next level by saying hello.
I laughed and said hello. Blabbering on about how it was such a coincidence. Soon enough I shot the ‘I have to go!’ words and dashed down the sidewalk. I forgot my coffee. I’m not going back there.
Actually, not getting my coffee was a bad idea. I could barely keep my eyelids open at work.
After I dozed off, my boss decided to take stroll around the office and caught me. I was sent home.
Paying the rent will be a miracle.
After giving a kidney, I was thanked as always and went grocery shopping.
Is it just me or do I run into this guy everywhere?
We were in the same aisle.
For the first time he spoke to me alone.
“Why are you following me?”
I swear he could’ve seen my eyes bulge out of my head.
I stuttered while I said, “W-what? F-following you! You’re the one following me!”
He narrowed his eyes and then laughed.
I didn’t see what was so funny, as a matter-of-fact I was confused.
“My girlfriend said you were adorable. So I was wondering if we could take a picture.”
Is that why I didn’t control him? Because their love was too strong? I felt tears well in my eyes.
“Also, I also can control the ones I give my organs. Can’t control me!”, he said with a chuckle.
I took the picture and my makeup had smeared. I left with the dumbest expression. What was funny was that I didn’t run into him again. Except on FaceBook with my face plastered on the screen. | 2019-06-13T06:55:18 | 2019-06-13T06:19:56 | 716 | 15 |
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