prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] An astroid miner discovers a sealed alien ship. The miner enters the ship and to there surprise it activates, scans them, and then speaks. "Warning: Human detected, self destruct activated..3..2..1......just kidding, my creator always said jokes were the best way to break the ice." | Klaxons began to sound when Julia opened the second door of the airlock. "Warning. Human incursion detected. Self destruct activated." She quickly slammed the door controls to close the door and return to her own ship. They did nothing.
Waiting just long enough to ensure her panic, the klaxons cut off. "My apologies, human. I have been programmed to begin each testing session with a practical joke." Julia, floating weightless, did not find the situation funny. When she'd found this strange ship attached to the asteroid she was mining, she had investigated thinking that she could claim salvage rights. Currently she thought it would be a better idea to blast it with a mining laser.
"Who are-?" Her words were cut off as a gravity field activated, pulling her into the dark opening of the ship. She blacked out.
\***********************
She awoke suddenly, but clear-headed. She floated on one side of a large room. There was no door evident on her side, but there was a large opening in the wall in front of her. Between her and it was a sizzling orange force field, going nearly from wall to wall. The only other things on her side of the room were a stack of large metal balls, stuck to the floor below her somehow. On the other side of the force field there was a large red button.
The ship's voice sounded again. "Additional apologies, human. The disorientation is a required parameter for the testing scenario. I regret the discomfort, but my programming requires that I test your species for readiness to join the galactic community. You will be tested for Agility, Intelligence, and Survival. To pass, simply make your way to the next room. Good luck."
"Who are you? Why are you testing me?" Julia spent several minutes yelling at the ship before deciding that it wouldn't answer her. She took another look at her surroundings. The door to the next room was visible enough, but the sparking of the force field gave her pause. She swam down to the stack of balls. One came loose in her hands easily enough. She threw it at the door.
When the ball struck the force field, it exploded in a blinding flash. She was glad she hadn't thrown her body at it. There were gaps at the edges of the force field, but they were too small to fit herself through. She guessed that the button on the other side turned the field off, but she wouldn't be able to reach it.
Fortunately she'd grown up playing zero-g football. She ricocheted a ball off the wall at the gap, and it hit the button easily. "That test wasn't so hard," she said as the field shut down.
\***********************
The next room was more complicated. An intelligence test, the ship had said. It appeared to have three apparatuses.
On the left was a large glass jar. Inside was an apple floating motionless. The only opening in the jar was a hole too small for her hand, but just the right size for a stick sitting next to it. She took the stick and poked the apple. It fell as if suddenly affected by gravity, disappeared into an opening on the bottom of the jar, and rolled out onto the floor. When she touched it again it regained its weightlessness and the floor around the jar turned green.
"I guess that was a test for tool use," Julia said to herself.
The next test was even simpler. A series of numbers illuminated on a pillar. One, One, Two, Three, Five. She hit the button with an eight and the pillar turned green.
"Elementary math. Obviously their intelligence expectations aren't too high."
The last test stumped her. Two buttons, too far apart for her to touch both of them. Whenever she touched one of them, the other deactivated. She felt sure that they had to be depressed at the same time. She tried using the stick, but it was too short. After ten minutes of struggling, she gave up. "I can't do this myself. I need help."
"Help granted," said the ship as a metallic hand extended from the wall and touched the second button. A door appeared in the wall.
"That whole time I just had to ask for help?"
"True intelligence is knowing your own limitations. You are a social species and often need others," the ship replied. "You also could have thrown the apple."
"You're talking to me now?"
"I'm only allowed to talk to intelligent beings. Besides, I need to explain the next test."
\***********************
"This is the test of Survival."
It was a single button, easily accessible, on a plinth in front of her. The final door was behind the plinth.
"So I just push the button and I survive?"
"The button tests the survival of your species. What you would call a Darwinian test. There is a hostile alien species in a nearby stellar system. Humans will encounter them soon. When you do, one of you is likely to kill the other. The galactic community dislikes such war. To simplify things we have provided this button."
Julia was confused. "What does the button do?"
"Push it and your species will survive. The other will be destroyed."
Julia's hand hovered over the button. "And what happens to me?"
"You will be able to leave through that door and go back to your ship. Humanity, deemed worthy, will be sent a representative from the galactic community."
The thought of going back to her ship was enough for Julia. She pushed the button. The room turned orange and she passed out.
The ship sighed to itself. "Another failure. Oh well, humanity will rid itself of its genocidal ways eventually." The ship wiped Julia's memory, placed her back in her ship, and went off in search of another human. | “Asteroide 1 command, I think I see ship at heading +16° 08’ 37”
“Vagabundo 1 can you repea— ot -es --- to ----- eat ---- igh”
He turned the communications node off. The static was unending. He knew he had executive control of the vessel on-mission either way.
Arturo began to type a revised heading into his skiff’s navigational system. Each blue button briefly turning yellow with each input before quickly joining in with the ocean of flickering blue lights, Arturo began to have second thoughts. His hand gripped the thrust control and hesitated, staring at the throttle and imagining all the nightmarish reasons a ship is downed out here in the middle of nowhere before slowly twisting the knob clockwise. The ship responded with a low and ominous thrum as it lurched towards certain danger, the thrum increasing in volume as if yelling at Arturo to turn away, to forsake its’ crew and carry on to Ceres. It was only him out here, after all.
As Arturo pressed onwards, over 100km away from his expected route, he confirmed what the radar system had alerted: the ship was certainly a ship, though strangely designed. The asteroid it anchored to was larger than others around it, though few risk anchoring anywhere in an asteroid belt. Arturo’s chest tightened as he wiped his brow and finalized the heading, aiming to stop just beyond the entry port of the anchored vessel. Well, at least I think that’s the entry.
He stood up from the large captain’s chair, making a loud clang as his boots connected to the metal grate beneath him. He walked toward the docking compartment, his boots making a small whir each time he lifted his feet. The bulkhead door opened with a hiss as it repressurized the compartment, pulling apart silently for Arturo to enter.
He donned the extra vehicular activity gear, a slightly tarnished orange suit with an oblong white helmet, which contained an additional supply of oxygen for astronauts that have been left in space for too long. Arturo thought of the rumors that he’d heard of the “final supply”, that it is not oxygen but a chemical agent to kill a wanderer rather than let them suffocate. Arturo thought that was a comforting notion, rather than a threatening one. Stranded from ship, flailing about, the nearest object a lifetime away? He felt that he was already in the grave if he wasn’t within some type of atmosphere.
He snapped the helmet on and pushed a large button behind him, sliding the bulkhead doors shut. He couldn’t hear it, but he knew the room was being depressurized as the suit slightly puffed up in reaction to the vacuum of the container. *An orange marshmallow man, here to rescue you!* A quick burst of air left his nose as he stepped forward against the exterior door. Grabbing the tether next to him, he harnessed into the retention system and pushed a button on it’s inside frame. The exterior door began to silently move upwards.
Arturo saw the boxy exterior of the ship meters away, along with a ridiculous amount of wires, cables, and pipes. He began to think that this ship was not poorly designed, but damaged. He pushed forward against the edge of the ship, pulling his body perpendicular to where he was standing. He looked up, now seeing the ship directly above him, and pushed off the ledge.
He moved slower than he wanted, with any second unsecured to a ship becoming another second closer to confirming his gravesite. He had planned to die on a sleek catamaran somewhere in the Red Sea, not in some backwater interior mining belt. His hands stayed open, reaching closer and closer towards the ship with each second passing, until they finally clasped onto the shoddy exterior of the ship, next to a slightly-smoother square entry.
Pushing on each tile next to the smooth square, hoping that the ship had an older generation style of handle. He found a loose tile and pushed further, eventually laying it flat and grasped the pull-handle to open the hatch. A small gas explosion near each corner blew the door off it’s seal with slight speed. Arturo was not feeling good about this, seeing as the ship only does that when it’s remotely set for body-recollection. Wanderers had a rough job, and the designers of the ship took that to heart; to save costs, they chose to make it easier to collect bodies than the costly route of keeping them alive. This way, they can’t scuttle the craft in a desperate attempt to escape. Arturo shrugged and began to pull his body into the compartment. His radio cracked on, jolting his body from the surprise. He quickly became irritated as the static continued.
He pulled himself fully into he compartment and began to move to the interior door, seeing a large button similar to the one on his own ship. He pushed the button, and suddenly dozens of voices in various languages immediately began repeating the same message, “Warning: Human detected, self destruct activated.”
Arturo’s eye’s felt like exploding as he scrambled to move out of the compartment. Easier said than done, he felt like a fish flopping about on land.
“3….”
Arturo flailed his legs, hoping they could catch onto something to bring him closer to the ship
“2…”
*THE ROPE* he thought to himself as he reached to his waist and grabbed the tether connecting him to his ship.
“1…”
Violently heaving himself along, he knew that he was not going to make it, but knew that he’d die trying.
“Just kidding. Ha. Ha. Ha. My creator always said jokes were the best way to break the ice.”
Arturo was still forcing himself along the rope. He made it to the exterior door ledge and loaded his arm back to slam back the button cover before freezing. *Jokes were the – WHAT?!* He held himself against on the ledge with one hand; his other hand on his heart, trying to keep it inside his chest.
“My creator is dead. He is in the bathroom. Well, on the bathroom floor. Input required for takeoff. Please assist.” | 2021-10-12T11:08:51 | 2021-10-12T10:42:16 | 46 | 20 |
[WP] A crippled god is isolated within their only remaining temple. Having lost all their power after their patrons abandoned them, the only thing keeping them alive for the past few years is the unwavering devotion of a single dog. | Time brings an end to all. This had been one of her prime tenets of her holy text. There was a time when her brightly painted temples had numbered in the hundreds nearly two millennia ago. Since the fall of the old empire and the arrival of new gods her worshippers had been pushed deeper and deeper into hiding, her worship outlawed by the new. Over the last decade, she had felt the deaths of the last of her hidden priestesses at their small shrines, hidden in the forests.
Now she sat staring at her final follower as they both clung to the last of their lives together, a couple embracing the inevitability of what was sure to come. The small dog, a pet of the very last of her priestesses whose decaying corpse rested mere yards away, lay before her crumbling stone altar drawing ragged breaths as the dark unseen reaper approached.
At the death of her last priestess she had tried to conserve her power, realizing that the dog would not be around forever. She knew she could last some time beyond the passing of this last believer. The goddess had a plan to use the last of her power to appear to a person under the guise of a new demi-god, stoking their worship for small favors, and slowly rebuilding her followers to return to former glory. It would be hard, but not impossible for a clever goddess such as herself to rebuild a following.
It started with pity. Watching the small dog search for food as it grew hungrier and whining for a master that had gone where she could no longer be found. She said she would only do it once, use her power to create food for the mongrel. Seeing the happiness on the small animal's face when she materialized with the meal caused her a joy she had not felt in centuries. The promise was broken and the once became many.
It became love over time as she and the small dog grew closer and closer. The dog was old and had an illness that was spreading slowly, eating at its body. Still, he wagged his tail in delight whenever she would materialize. The goddess tried healing her new friend but when that failed turned to using her waning stores of energy to ease its pain.
Day after day they both grew weaker. The goddess smiled to herself as she realized that both their ends approached. She had worked miracles, parted seas, sunk navies, and of course smote the enemy in battles. Of all her achievements, her greatest lay before her panting for air as she calmly stroked its fur. He took one final ragged breath and her smile fell.
As she stood looking down at the small companion whom she had come to love beyond all others, she understood that he too had loved her back with a love that was unconditional. Grief filled her as the last of the energy holding her form together began to fade and she realized she had enough power to manifest one last miracle. As the goddess faded to join her companion in the beyond, it bore no witness. There were no kings to see this wonder nor worshippers to gasp in awe. The single teardrop manifested, falling through the air and landed on the fur of her lost friend. | A forgotten God watched with fear as two travelers walked down the dusty streets of the desolate town where his last bastion of worship remained. They wore the ragged clothing of vagrants, and talked openly to each other.
“What was this place called again?” The younger man in a wide brimmed hat asked.
His friend answered “The map just says ‘Bonum Puerum’. Doesn’t sound like any town name I’ve ever heard of before. This place looks like it was pretty big once though.”
“If the great Stanley, born before the mountains themselves, hasn’t heard of this place then it must be old indeed.” The young man smiled from under his hat.
“Not too old to still kick your ass Bently so you better watch who you’re calling old.” Stanley said, smiling back. “Look there is something up the street.”
The two travelers were approaching an intersection with a two story wooden building across the road, and an emaciated dog lay barely moving at the foot of the stairs. As they approached the stairs the dog’s head lifted weakly to look in their direction. Its fur was patchy and where the skin was visible there were open sores.
They stepped up to it slowly with their hands in placating gestures to let it know they meant it no harm, but it appeared too sick and exhausted to care either way. “It’s nearly dead Stan. Get out your bowl so I can give it some water.” Bently said while reaching into his pack to grab his waterskin.
Stanley scoffed “Like hell I’m letting that thing drink out of my only bowl. It looks like it has every disease in the book.”
“Fine, I'll use mine. Later you’ll have to tell me about this book you read that lists diseases.” Bently quipped. He reached back into his pack and pulled out a small wooden bowl, and set it down next to the dog before pouring water into it.
As the water was poured the dog perked up and slowly rose to its feet warily watching them as it ducked to drink. The two friends watched the dog hastily drain the bowl before it looked up to them with renewed vigor. Then as if it were not just on death’s door the dog barked and hopped up the stairs into the building.
Stanley and Bently looked at each other in surprise then followed it up to the building. They pushed open the double doors that had been cracked to allow the dog in. Inside was large grimy room with a vaulted ceiling and broken benches lining a central walkway leading up to a raised altar. The dog stood facing the blockish altar as if they weren’t there.
Bently looked at his friend with a smile. “Look Stan, he's praying. Maybe if you did that more throughout your life you wouldn’t be stuck wandering the wastes with me?”
“If I knew that was the case I’d have become a priest.” Stanley said as they both walked down the central aisle to approach the dog.
The voiceless God who had been watching them suddenly felt his essence being siphoned as it had been so many times before, and his fear deepened. The two travelers turned quickly as the doors behind slammed shut with a reverberating boom that rained dust down on them from the rafters.
Sickening popping noises drew their attention back to the altar and to the once emaciated dog. It began spasming and its flesh stretched as the muscles and bones underneath seemed to be pushing to find a way out. Within moments the hound stood before them six foot tall and bulging with strength a bear would envy.
The God could do nothing as the beast drew on his power with relentless indifference, and he wept for the men. His temple had become a prison and a place of butchery. | 2022-01-07T01:15:04 | 2022-01-07T01:00:14 | 93 | 66 |
[WP] A crippled god is isolated within their only remaining temple. Having lost all their power after their patrons abandoned them, the only thing keeping them alive for the past few years is the unwavering devotion of a single dog. | Time brings an end to all. This had been one of her prime tenets of her holy text. There was a time when her brightly painted temples had numbered in the hundreds nearly two millennia ago. Since the fall of the old empire and the arrival of new gods her worshippers had been pushed deeper and deeper into hiding, her worship outlawed by the new. Over the last decade, she had felt the deaths of the last of her hidden priestesses at their small shrines, hidden in the forests.
Now she sat staring at her final follower as they both clung to the last of their lives together, a couple embracing the inevitability of what was sure to come. The small dog, a pet of the very last of her priestesses whose decaying corpse rested mere yards away, lay before her crumbling stone altar drawing ragged breaths as the dark unseen reaper approached.
At the death of her last priestess she had tried to conserve her power, realizing that the dog would not be around forever. She knew she could last some time beyond the passing of this last believer. The goddess had a plan to use the last of her power to appear to a person under the guise of a new demi-god, stoking their worship for small favors, and slowly rebuilding her followers to return to former glory. It would be hard, but not impossible for a clever goddess such as herself to rebuild a following.
It started with pity. Watching the small dog search for food as it grew hungrier and whining for a master that had gone where she could no longer be found. She said she would only do it once, use her power to create food for the mongrel. Seeing the happiness on the small animal's face when she materialized with the meal caused her a joy she had not felt in centuries. The promise was broken and the once became many.
It became love over time as she and the small dog grew closer and closer. The dog was old and had an illness that was spreading slowly, eating at its body. Still, he wagged his tail in delight whenever she would materialize. The goddess tried healing her new friend but when that failed turned to using her waning stores of energy to ease its pain.
Day after day they both grew weaker. The goddess smiled to herself as she realized that both their ends approached. She had worked miracles, parted seas, sunk navies, and of course smote the enemy in battles. Of all her achievements, her greatest lay before her panting for air as she calmly stroked its fur. He took one final ragged breath and her smile fell.
As she stood looking down at the small companion whom she had come to love beyond all others, she understood that he too had loved her back with a love that was unconditional. Grief filled her as the last of the energy holding her form together began to fade and she realized she had enough power to manifest one last miracle. As the goddess faded to join her companion in the beyond, it bore no witness. There were no kings to see this wonder nor worshippers to gasp in awe. The single teardrop manifested, falling through the air and landed on the fur of her lost friend. | “I’m sorry friend, I don’t believe there’s anything I can offer you. You should move on, find a new home.” Athima felt the wet nose of his companion nudge against his broken legs. He pitied the animal; how foolish it was to be loyal to a broken god like him. If only it had the same sense as his other worshippers and left when it watched him fall.
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand you, Hela. You’re the one feeding me now. What could you possibly have to gain out of this?” Athima scratched under the dog’s chin, trying to wrap his head around the dog’s decision. He had performed miracles for others and yet the one that he fed his scraps to was the only one that stayed by his side, nursing him back to health as best they could. “Please, find some happiness for yourself, little one. I don’t want you to waste your life at my side.”
Hela only tilted her head at his request, floppy ears hanging downward as she stared up at him before slowly dropping her head onto his lap, waiting for more pats. Athima granted the request, running his fingers through the mud-covered dark fur. “It once was so lively here. Families used to sing and dance through the halls. Now it’s so eerily silent. I hope everyone is doing fine. I know they abandoned me, but I wish for their safety.”
Athima continued to stroke the dog’s fur, only for Hela to jump up from his lap, rushing to the decaying halls of the temple, letting out an orchestra of loud barks as she did. The walls echoed with barks, filling the room with the sound for a few moments before she stopped, turning back to Athima, wagging her tail.
“Thank you. I think I needed that.” Athima crawled towards her, dragging his body along the stone floor of the temple. When Hela spotted this, she moved to his side, offering her body. Athima wrapped an arm around her, allowing her to drag him across the temple floors. “Mind helping me to my room?”
The intelligence of Hela always amazed Athima. She had picked up on his commands so easily, understanding most of the commands he needed to get through his daily life. She pulled him towards his bedroom, resting his body against the edge of the bed. “Thank you, little one. I appreciate it.”
Athima grabbed the blankets hanging from his bed, pulling his body onto the soft mattress. Even while he did that, he could still feel the wet nose of Hela poking him, trying to help push him onto the bed. Even if her nudges didn’t help, he appreciated the attempt. When Athima got into bed, he reached down for Hela, pulling her up so she could join him.
“You’re a wonderful dog, Hela, and an even better friend. Thank you. If it weren’t for you, I believe I would have abandoned this realm long ago. You give me hope. Maybe one day you will even give me the strength to leave this temple and try my hand at being a mortal. That thought still scares me, but If I had you by my side, maybe I could do it.” He smiled at Hela, who only returned the gesture by licking his face.
“Now, let’s get some rest.” He patted Hela before releasing her, letting Hela roam to her favorite spot. Hela resting her head against his chest as she curled up beside him. “Goodnight, friend.”
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2022-01-07T01:15:04 | 2022-01-06T23:06:29 | 93 | 50 |
[WP] Ten years into the zombie apocalypse, you find a computer with a connection to the internet. You are surprised to find that all of the global news stations are reporting as though nothing is wrong, and there is no mention at all of zombies, or your country. | "Hello? Is this thing working? I guess it is. Alright, my name is Manuel. Yeah, like that dude from *Faulty Towers*, you can laugh it up now, british folks."
The sound of heavy footsteps play throught the stream. The camera seems to be faulty, but slowly the image becomes clearer: The streamer is walking fast through what appears to be an abbandoned building.
"Definetively, God, Alah, Buddah or the freaking leprechauns must be playing me the most impressive prank of all times... *Fuck!*"
Manuel whispers that curse as he ducks behind a corner; a Woman appears briefly on the screen, wearing rags and covered in what looke like dried blood and filth. She is so thin that she seems to be a walking death, trembling with each step and making eerie breath sounds.
After a few minutes, Manuel resumes his walking.
"Ten years ago, the first case of 'Human Rabid Disease Virus', or 'HARD-V', as we nicknamed it, appeared in my city. Some say it was a woman, some said it was actually a dog, or even freaking aliens. I don't care, to be honest: Facts goes that in less than twelve hours, half of the inhabitants of the city had been infected. The symptoms are... well. Patient first get high fever, laboured breath, and then falls unconscious. Next, he or she wakes up and tries to split your skull open to feast on your delicious brain.
Quite a sight, isn't it?"
He stops again and produces an smartphone in front of the camera. He is checking Twitch's chat; some viewers mention that the phone is an *antique.*
"What? You don't believe me? Oh well, worry not, you will. O know most of you will think that I am simply a gamer pretending to be in a zombie apocalypse, so let me tell you this: Search for my country, Spain, and look at the news. You'll find virtually *nothing*. Nada. Zero. Zip. Just political mumbo-jumbo, but no news at all of what is happening in Spain. And even more, try, just *try* to book your holidays there. Every single hotel, flight, boat or freaking Uber is filled to capacity. It is impossible to come here! And now try to search news related to Barcelona between December 2011 and June 2012. Please go, check it out, and then come back."
A few minutes pass in which Manuel gets out of the building and runs through some streets, stopping behind abbandoned vehicles, burned-down army transports, and finally starts to march towards an avenue, jumping over what appear to be random obstacles.
"Yeah, you saw it. Just a few notes saying that communications with Barcelona seem to have failed, and some news about riots. But nothing else. So let me tell you this: Ten years ago there *WAS* a zombie apocalypse, and my city, my country, were where it begun. So I can only guess that OTAN, the USA, the Illuminati or whatever-the-fuck-is-responsible-for-this-massacre has silenced it!! Some would say you cannot make a whole country dissappear, and they didn't just do that! Portugal and Andorra are gone too!! They went through the same treatment!"
He jumps through a window and, immediatly, crouches behind it, resting his back over the wall.
"I knkow it's not the first time... Well, IF my previous streams have somehow reached you, this is not the first time you saw me. Something funny happened: After I managed to stablish a satellite internet connection, apparently thanks to a guy called Elon Musk, and after I wrote my first messages on Reddit... the freaking army appeared here.
I though they were finally going to save us! But then, they started hunting down the survivors. Damn my luck..."
Manuel stays there, catching back his breath, before finally climbing the stairs inside the building to what appears to be a fourth stage. He looks through the window, sun is setting and soon night will arrive.
"I have been running for the last few days. But those bastards don't know a few things. Look, can you see them?"
The camera moves, as if Manuel had grabbed it with his hand to show it through the window. Despite the low quality, the movement of human figures is obvious, as they take cover and advanced coordinated towards the building where Manuel is hiding. The camera moves again, as Manuel reataches it to his head.
"The first thing, is that you don't *fuck* with a bastard who survived for ten long years"
He produces a different cellphone and dials a number. After two call tones, an intense orange light iluminates the room, followed by the explosion. Silence follows, then screamed orders... and the roar. Hundreds, thousands of inhuman voices roaring at the same time.
"Second, is that *they* only go out at night. And third..."
The camera pans as Manuel drops a huge bag he seems to have been carrying for the whole video. He immediatly gets a long rifle from the bad, dissassembled in three pieces, that he expertly puts back together. When he's ready, less than thirty seconds later, he takes the rifle, puts it on the edge of the window, at the same time that he adjusts the scope.
Screams and roars fill the audio systems. The solders in the street fire in every direction, as hordes of humans, savages as rabid dogs, sprint towards them. Manuel takes aim.
"This is my city".
The chat goes silent as the first rounds are shot. And not a single one is aimed to the HARD-V victims. | Part 1
*"...A classic queen's speech,"* said the political commentator, *"supporting the prisoners bill which will accelerate privatization of our prisons. That is but one Tori baseline she goes along with, as she has time and time again shown no issue with the privatization of schools and healthcare. One wonders, if the queen is devoid of political power, shouldn't she simply drop any political subject from her speeches?"*
Tim watched in disbelief. The wind blew inside the room from a gutted wall, remnant of a fire which had left the electronics miraculously untouched. The video was a sneak peek into the past, or at least it should have been.
The "live broadcast" and the obvious struggles for the computer to keep up with the feed made it clear this happened right now.
Food banks, schools, the poor, the commentator was obviously oriented left. Left of what? There were no schools or food banks, and everyone was either poor or dead, devoured by monstrosities black as night and slithering in the shadows on the walls and floor.
Left and right after the post-apocalypse is asking which side of your body would you like to tan with radiations first, no one cares.
The commentator cared, in his clean suit and perfect haircut, he cared a lot.
"What's that?" Fatima said behind Tim, a hand on her gun at all times and never losing awareness of her surroundings, lest her shadow suddenly grew larger than it should.
Tim didn't answer, Fatima reached the conclusion on her own.
"What are you waiting for? It's night-time soon!" erupted a voice outside.
"Shit!"
The couple ran.
A careful scavenger could make forays into the unknown during the day, but unless suicidal, night was not meant for the living. Night carried a red scent, it made the living more aggressive and virulent, paradoxically less likely to survive and encounter too. Survivors slept in isolated bunks, keeping anger to themselves, or under artificial lights to ward off the fury born from dark. Humans had the brain to contain the wrath, the things slithering outside relished it. These grew new strength, new hungers, new limbs in the shadows, until the sun rose again.
It had happened, just like that. A normal life yesterday, hell the next, with no explanation. hordes of pitch black beings stalked the corners and cracks praying on the living.
Only the red zones were spared, mainly because the radiation level there had suddenly soared so high that skin, bones, black ink and the ichor was reduced to cinders in a matter of seconds.
This night, in a refurbished warehouse enclosed by building site spotlights, the techie in the team worked on getting a computer up again. A button, a hard drive firing up.
*"...Encouraging our firms will push the industry to hire more, thus lowering the unemployment rates of our country and increase GDP,"* explained the old woman in a scholarly tone, *"increasing taxes on them will only push outsourcing."*
*"They won't find the the same skill set abroad, and tax exemption will mean more pressure on the poorest in our country"* replied the bearded man.
*"On to the next question from the public."*
It was a debate, like of old, between two politicians and shepherded by a moderator, about salaries, immigration, antisemitism...
Antisemitism died alongside immigration. There's only one distinction that matters: it is human, or something else?
"This is a joke. This can't be happening right now," said Tim.
It did.
"Where does the signal come from?" asked Fatima.
"Satellite, I couldn't tell you where it is being recorded," answered the techie.
"Let's look at it the other way around, where in England could they find the space to have working technology and clean clothes without anyone knowing about it?"
Tim raised a finger, and lowered it when it became clear everyone had the same answer. The group knew most of the other roving bands, they exchanged tips and location of safe zones and shared observations on how the fiends migrated to remain on the least dangerous side of the country.
They would have heard of cameras, cleanliness and haircuts.
Unless it came from the red zones. And considering the posh, elitist accent they were hearing, the crossed out part of the map on the wall appeared to shine all the brighter for it. The upper-class district of London.
"You sure about it?" asked Tim, secured in his anti-radiation suit.
"No," replied Fatima, who was a bit too direct for her husband's taste.
She closed the door of the truck, a military vehicle armored with plates and shielding meant to deflect radiations, if only for a short time. They would cross a bridge, in and out of the red zone and see if anything stuck out in the radiations. A costly endeavor, but this time, no one raised an objection. They had to know.
Pedal to the metal, the truck rushed through the dead city and the Geiger counter went haywire.
"1 minute before turning back," he said.
Burnt vehicles, rust, stink.
"30 seconds. Watch out!"
The black mass came in sight too late, the truck hit the obstacle at full speed, and the fall happened in slow-motion. The shift in gravity, the pull of the seat belt, the loss of control. In a groaning of steel the truck slipped and fell to the side. When the last bit of metal touched the ground, all was silent.
Tim and Fatima hung from the seat belts, Geiger counter blaring in their ears, accepting there was no going back. The truck was damaged, the suits wouldn't hold out for long.
"I love you Tim."
"I love you too."
They struggled out of the belts and sat next to the wreck, huddled together.
"It'll be over soon, I'm glad we're together," Tim held her hand tight.
"Wait, why did the Geiger counter stop beeping?"
He shrugged. And came to take the shrug back when he didn't feel a symptom more than two minutes later.
Daring, Tim took his mask off, and didn't feel worse for it. | 2022-02-17T10:33:57 | 2022-02-17T08:39:47 | 1,162 | 163 |
[WP] The Rapture happens. The Lord himself floats down from the heavens. He looks down at the death and the suffering, and speaks. "It's pronounced Jod." | I turn to my buddy, Eric. "No way it's pronounced Jod, dude," I say to him, "I don't even think Jesus came up with that. Isn't God - or sorry, Jod's real name like incomprehensible?"
"I don't know man, this is weird, sucks that we're not getting raptured, though." Eric reflects on the situation we're in. "Well, since we're on the topic, ask him about the gif word."
"Good idea, Eric!" We high five each other. Even though the rapture is currently happening, and the world is beginning to split open with demons and monsters crawling out of lava-filled cracks, I'm glad I'm still with my best friend.
"Hey, Jesus!" I call out to the messiah. Jesus, in all of his infinite glory, looks down on me with his soul-piercing eyes. I can only look for a second, since it feels like he can see every aspect of me: all of my thoughts, experiences, beliefs are being taken in by one who died for my sins. It's almost like he's undressing me with his eyes. Honestly, after looking at him, I really don't think the question is worth asking anymore. I promptly shout "Nevermind!"
Jesus, still looking down into my being, calmly says "It's pronounced 'Jésus'." The words reverberate in my skull.
Eric turns to me. "Are you friggin' kidding me," he says, "did we get any of these holy names right? Should we have been calling John at work 'Jone' this whole time?"
"I dunno man," I say back to Eric, "but honestly, doesn't this all seem a little meaningless now? Like, hell is literally coming to us right now. I think I can see... yeah, look." I point over in the distance, where a man is riding a motorcycle, which just so happens to be flying through the air with a trail of lava and fire and decay falling behind it. "I think that's the Antichrist."
Eric is peering off into the distance, hands over his eyes to block out the sun that has suddenly become enormous and red. "Holy shit man! I think you're right. Well, if that's what we're up against, I don't know if we have a chance."
I reply to him, "No man, we got this." I pull out my multi-tool, and carefully pull out the tiny pocket knife, as not to cut myself. "We gotta take up arms, and fight, in the name of Jod." | "It's pronounced 'jod' you weiners. Christ, no wonder I had to rapture you fucking donkeys."
I look up at Him, as I see my other neighbour, butt-ass naked ascending into heaven. I always tried to he a good person, but I guess I fucked up, somewhere along the line. Not sure where, but I had to respond.
"Bitch, please!" I shouted amidst the turmoil of humanities last days on earth before Armageddon. "We all know how to say fucking 'God' you tool. If it was 'jod', we wouldn't spell it with a G. We invented language."
"Hey, motherfucker, last time we had an argument about language, I tower of babel'd your asses."
"That wasn't about language that was because some cunt shot an arrow at you, which, yes, was a dick move, but you kind of deserved it for that whole Sodom and Gomorrah thing. We still invented language and shit."
"Suck my dick, asshole, I invented YOU. Which means I invented language."
"Why don't you come down here and say that to my face?"
"Why don't you come up here and make me? Ooooooooh that's right you can't, because you're a piece of shit that likes to help little old ladies across the street."
I was aghast. That was why I wasn't being raptured? "How is that a bad thing?! "
"YOU HELP THEM ACROSS THE STREET TO ROB THEM, YOU FUCKING WEAPON!"
Oh. Right. Yeah, he had me there. "OK, well if it's pronounced 'jod', then how come we call it 'gravel' or 'gangrene', huh? What's your response to that?:
He hovered for a moment before throwing a lightning bolt at someone not too far away. The thunder was deafening. "What you've never heard of a 'giraffe', a 'gerbil' or 'genocide'?" He retorted. "Oh speaking of which..." He briefly closed his eyes and I heard a low, deep rumble. "Yeah, Australia isn't a thing anymore. Those cunts have had it coming for SO long. Fucking kangaroos..."
"Man, all of this seems a little harsh because we mispronounced your name all this time."
"So you admit you mispronounced it, then?"
"Well no, I still think you're an asshole for that, I'm just saying your reasoning sucks.:
"Your face sucks, how about that, you fucking dweeb."
"Hey suck my dick, asshole!"
"I'll suck your MOM'S dick."
"That doesn't even make sense!"
"You want me to make it make sense?"
"OK, fair point. But at least I have a mom!"
"Goddamnit."
"AHA! I knew it!"
"Fuck. OK, you got me. It's not really pronounced Jod, but honestly, what are you gonna do about it?"
Well fuck. He had a point. What COULD I do about it?
"I liked the Quran, better, anyway." | 2022-04-02T08:12:27 | 2022-04-02T06:26:54 | 525 | 367 |
[WP] The goblins who dwell just outside your village are small and dumb –in an oddly endearing way. The villagers humor their innocuous raids and sometimes even give them advice. In the village’s darkest hour, the goblins send aid. | "We are beneath you."
So few sentences were understandable from the village's goblins, what with their propensity for high-speed speech and wild gesticulation. Their culture left them mostly mute, pantomiming their interests - this-for-that trade; simple purchases with ancient coins; the odd bit of volunteer effort which tended to be abandoned midtask.
Still, they kept the rat population within tolerable levels and could design simply beautiful tapestries at such a low price that every hut and home had at least one of them to show for it.
No matter what transpired whenever they would break a rule or law, they always offered the same simple, uncluttered defense: "We are beneath you."
As if they accepted their social position with a perverse degree of pride and zeal.
Then came the stories from refugees and survivors, of a great horde of brutal, cruel barbarians. The Red Shield clan, renowned and feared for their style of governance over occupied territories. We prepared for a grand migration and before we could move our paltry five-hundred souls to the relative safety of our ancestral territory in the Deepivy Woods, where we once outlasted three kings in succession.
Then the word came back to us that we had taken too long with our debate and discussion on the issue. The barbarians were at our gates.
Then we saw the dark miracle.
The very earth churned below the horde camp, turning from muddy dirt into a thin, watery mix of clay and topsoil, and the first screams were not of the warriors but of their horses.
Lines of them began to sink into the earth, first to their knees, then their flanks and finally they were swallowed whole, the screams of men and women joining the muted chorus.
Not a single barbarian survived being entombed alive by the vengeful dirt, eaten whole, no enemy in sight.
Not until it was dawn of the next day and we saw them.
All around the village wall, standing shoulder to shoulder, over six thousand goblin stood, bearing picks, shovels and buckets, grinning madly.
Then the chief of their tribe stepped in front of the gates and addressed us, no menace to his tone, simply that warm, gracious expression. The one which conveyed gratitude for our permissive culture of acceptance and the denial of the general hatred of the goblins. We had been outcasts ourselves, after all, so we refused to turn them away as a matter of course.
He said, and those words echoed forward and back in time for us all...
"We are beneath you." | The villagers thought that they were very cute, cute like a pug . Many strange and wonderful things could be found in the mountains where the goblins lived. The villagers never really knew, but suspected chaotic magic was at work because the evil goblins that had terrorized the village for generations were now a cross between a child goblin and a fairy. They could almost fly, but it was more like hopping really high. And their language skills had deteriorated into giggles and one syllable words.
The cute goblin fairies would hop around the village and steal whatever they found on window seals, then scamper back to the mountains. The food was baked for the goblin fairies, but the villagers never let on. It was a happy co-existence. To the villagers, it was like having a new type of pet- dogs, cats, ferrets and goblin fairies.
But, danger hides in the places where villagers can never go. Underground, in the dark caves no human ever wandered, morlocks multiplied like bunnies. Humans, morlocks and goblins had been mortal enemies of one another since the beginning of time. Balance was achieved from the constant wars between morlocks, goblins and humans.
Then came a day, when the morlocks returned to raid the village. They were a horde, a number so great that they surrounded the village in a circle 20 morlock deep. The village defenses were effective, but would not hold against such a large troop. The brave villagers fought with all the power they had. Yet, the morlocks advanced in superior numbers.
At noon, as always, the goblin fairies came hopping down the mountain for their lunch, and were met with spears and scimitars. They were slaughtered. Only a few goblin fairies survived and ran to the mountain crying “Mommy, Help, Mommy.” Out from one of the larger caves strode a massive hobgoblin. The hobgoblin was 10 feet tall and dressed in the colors of the rainbow with a rose wreath about its head, a massive staff in one hand and a book in the other. The steps of the hobgoblin shook the mountain side and the valley below. The morlocks turned to face their new enemy and charged with a fury never seen. But, before the morlocks reached the edge of the mountain, the hobgoblin opened the book, raised its staff to the sky, and sung a strange song.
*Fear and death and doom blow away in the wind . Today we will have fun and fly in the sky. Today, dear morlocks you will be butterflies to live in fields of flowers.*
Just then, the morlocks sprouted antennae from their heads, and bright beautiful wings from their backs. The morlocks tried to take to the sky to find flowers to rest upon. But the best they could do was hop really high.
The hobgoblin closed the book, shaking its head and said, "Oh, not again! That spell is rubbish!" | 2022-05-26T10:23:00 | 2022-05-26T09:36:40 | 34 | 22 |
[WP]”Why aren’t you scared? I’m a vampire— I could kill you!” “So could literally every other human, you’re not special.” | She tilted her head as the fanged beast stood behind her. She could hear his rasping. She turned to look at him.
"You know, your stench gives you away. Being dead doesn't smell pretty. Have you considered cologne?"
"Foolish girl, I care not what a mere human would think of me, your kind merely skitters in the night as the predators approach."
"Uh huh..." she walked confidently up to him, tilting up her head to look him in the eyes, "You're all that, huh?"
"Yes, I'm a terrifying creature of the night!"
"You're new at this, aren't you?"
The vampire looked deflated, "Um... turned a couple months ago. But... why aren't you scared? I'm a vampire - I could kill you!"
"So could literally ever other human, you're not special." She turned and walked a few paces away and turned, then turned back to look at him, hand slipping into her pocket as she pulled out a pencil, "For example, right here, I have an unassuming #7 pencil. To me, it's a writing implement. To you, it's a wooden stake. You could kill me, but I could also kill you. What matters is the intent to do so. I also always keep a flashlight in my purse, and it has a daylight bulb. There's a few other things I could use to kill you. But, the fact of the matter is, we're both sentient beings with the means to kill eachothers. Question is, do you *want* to kill me, and do I *want* to kill you."
The vampire blinked. "Well... I'm hungry..."
She circled him a little, "I mean, you can obviously think, so you have choices you can make. So, are you some mindless brute, stealing the blood you need, or are you a begger, begging for the blood you need, or are you a well-connected vampire with connections at the local blood bank, heading out for a midnight snack?"
"Um... " he looked sheepish, and then ashamed "... I told myself I have no choice... but you make a good point... I guess I do have a choice then. I guess begging would be the least likely to get me killed before I land something at the blood bank."
She smiled, "Good. So you want blood, then?"
He nodded. So she walked over to him, and took out a knife. "Open your mouth."
He nodded, kneeling down, and opened his mouth wide. As she approached, she slit her thumb, letting the crimson drop fall toward his lips, the moment it hit, he expected its sweet taste... yet, it tingled, his lips going numb. He realized, too late, in a flash, she was at his neck, a half-formed muzzle's teeth sinking into his neck, as her fur sprouted out, and the unmistakable smell of wolf filling the air.
She smiled, as his dead-once-again corpse slumped to the ground, her black fur turning white with the ingestion of the shattered remnants of the vampire's soul and life force, "Then again, there are those of us who enjoy free delivery." | I stared at the vampire in front of me. I should have been scared. I was looking at a creature that could kill me with little effort. But I wasn't. I was more annoyed than anything.
"Why aren't you scared?" he asked, his eyes gleaming. "I'm a vampire— I could kill you!"
"So could literally every other human, you're not special," I said, rolling my eyes.
I was done being pushed around by them. I was done with the way they treated us. I was done with the way they acted like they owned us.
"I'll teach you to disrespect me," he said, lunging at me.
He grabbed me, slamming me against the brick wall in the alleyway. I groaned as I banged my head against it. My vision blurred for a moment before it cleared back up to normal. His hands were around my neck, squeezing the life out of me. I could feel the oxygen being cut off from my lungs.
I could hear his heart beat in my ear from how close he was to my neck. Surely he could hear mine as well. It was pumping so fast I was surprised it didn't bust out of my chest.
I struggled against his grip but he just tightened his grip on me. I felt my vision starting to dim, and everything started to get dark. It was like my eyes were closing but I knew they weren't. Like I could see myself on the outside looking in, watching this happen to me.
I fought against the urge to close my eyes as blackness started to creep through the edges. It felt like I was falling, falling into nothing. My heart ached for a second before it stopped beating.
And then he let go.
I fell to the ground in a choking fit. I could hear his feet pounding against the pavement as he ran away from me. My skin felt cold and my heart ached. I didn't understand what was happening. I didn't understand what was going on.
My heart started beating again. It started beating like it had never stopped, like it hadn't skipped a beat.
I hurried to my feet, walking to the end of the alley and turning to look back at him. He was gone. It was like he had disappeared into thin air.
I turned, not sure what to do. I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I made my way down the street. It was as if nothing had happened. I didn't feel any different. I felt fine.
I started laughing.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. It was Matt texting me, asking where the fuck I was.
...
I was staring at myself in the mirror. I had just pulled my hair into a ponytail and I was inspecting my face. I had a few blemishes on my face but otherwise, I was fine.
I touched my neck, tracing the spot where he had gripped me. I could still feel his hands on me. Why hadn't he killed me?
I shook my head, I could come up with questions later.
I walked down the stairs and towards the door, right as my mom was walking into the house.
"Hey, where are you going?" she asked.
"To get breakfast with Matt," I said, opening the door to my room.
I grabbed my keys off my desk, making my way out of the house.
I could hear my heart beating as I walked down the street, as if everything was normal. It wasn't normal, I was sure of that. I was positive of that.
I could feel his hands on me, feel his nails digging into my skin. It was like the world went away. It was like nothing else was around me except for him. Was I hallucinating? I felt like this had already happened. | 2022-06-08T09:38:42 | 2022-06-08T05:59:41 | 270 | 67 |
[WP] Most ghosts have cool unfinished business: "Avenge my murder!" "Redeem my sins!" "Reveal my terrible secret!" Yours is...less impressive. But it still binds you to this world, and so you must find a medium who will help you. And not laugh when you tell them what with. | "Big Brother?"
He woke up, groggily and rolled over to look into the middle of the bedroom. The little boy stood quietly, timidly.
"Y-yeah?" He said struggling to wake up enough to be even a little coordinated.
"I can't beat Bowser!" The pale little boy half wept. "I tried and tried but I can't beat him! And then I got so sleepy I fell asleep on the heater vent and ran out of batteries."
"Uh, listen. Did you uhm, get batteries?"
"Yeah," the boy sniffed. He must not have slept well on the floor. His eyes were cracked and irritated and there were dark circles around them.
"Did, AHEM, 'scuse me. Did you get back to Bowser?"
*Sniffs "Yeah."
"Alright, give it to me."
"Really?" The little boy squealed with the kind of sudden joy only an eight year old has. "Here!"
The little boy handed over the Gameboy and jumped excitedly onto the bed and gasped as if struggling to breathe.
It felt strange in his hands. It wasn't wide and ergonomic, but tall and brick shaped and the screen was backlit green on green. Still, there was a first time to Bowser, so big brother duties were necessary.
He hit the, 'Start,' button and it took a second to get the feeling of the buttons and the motion on the screen just right, but he relearned quickly. Three stutter steps and a jump and the turtle-like dragon's draw bridge was pulled out from underneath him. Bowser fell into the green lava before the screen went black.
"There you go," He said with sleep hazy triumph and handed the box over...
To no one.
He looked up, and there was no gasping little boy. No brick shaped GameBoy in his hand. And as he came to consciousness he remembered he was 26 years old. He had just bought this house a month ago for a massively discounted price, and this was his first night here. He was single, so there was no one else in the house to wake him.
He had to replace the batteries in the CO detectors when he first moved in.
And he was an only child. | "Damn, even dead I do embarrassing things." I said to myself.
I died. Very recently. And I never got to do this one thing I've been dreading to do for the past four years. But now that I'm dead, I finally have the courage to do it.
You see, there was this girl... There's always a girl. She was the typical popular girl and I was the typical nerd you see in the cliché movies. One day, we bumped into each other, and I instantly felt this connection towards her. I Know, I know. Too cheesy. But it's true.
She talked to me more and more and soon after, we became friends, and in even less time, we became best friends. But that's all we stayed as. Best friends.
I wanted to tell her. And I came close to it so many times, but something always stopped me from doing it. Whether it was my shyness and overthinking, or just someone else talking to her. I thought I had more time to tell her how I felt, but I guess the universe had different plans for me. But I still wanted to tell her. Let it be the last thing I do.
Some time ago I had heard about this medium who could communicate with spirits and help them seek this... closure - in their lives. I didn't believe that when I was alive, but now that I'm dead? Fuck if I'm gonna try pass to whatever comes next without regrets.
"I'm sensing a presence." The medium said a few seconds after I entered their... office? "Come on, get on the board." They indicated, and I did as told.
"Wait a few minutes, I need to mediate for us to be able to talk."
And just as they said, a few minutes after waiting, I saw their consciousness get out of their body, and they instantly spotted me, smiling softly.
"So you're the young person who died in a car accident I've been hearing about lately." They said as they floated around me, looking at me up and down. I nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable with how they were staring at literally my soul. "Now, tell me, what can I help you with?"
"Uhm, you promise not to laugh?" I asked, looking away in embarrassment.
"Sure, honey, I'll do whatever it needs for you to transcend peacefully."
"I uh, I want you to write a letter to a girl..."
A/N: I'm sorry, I'm a hopeless romantic, whenever I see an opportunity write romance I take it. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this little story! :) | 2022-07-15T13:24:52 | 2022-07-15T10:33:26 | 211 | 47 |
[WP] Prisoners can ask for anything for their last meal. The catch is, if it can't be provided to them, they get set free. They've asked for many things : alien egg omelette, dragon steak, the flesh of Jesus Christ, etc. The execution streak remained unbroken for decades, until today. | I really did appreciate them. Their efforts were admirable, though they were overshadowed by their stupidity. It took them a full month to finally admit defeat. They just couldn’t feasibly feed me nothing.
After a week of toiling over the definition of what it means to eat, they decided that a vacuum would have to enter my body in order for the conditions to be met.
First they tried a simple pill with a vacuum inside, but I pointed out two flaws. First of all I taunted them with how you don’t eat pills, you swallow them. Second I pointed out that they wouldn’t be feeding me nothing, as the pill would be something.
They tried sending me to space but that would kill me once I exited the ship. Magic was thrown out because all the spells they could find would kill me. And their Hail Mary was to put a tube in my mouth connected to a vacuum chamber, but they were stopped because that counted as execution.
After the morons gave up they let me out, never being able to figure out the meaning behind my god damn request. They went through all that but didn’t for a second consider that I just wasn’t hungry. | "I don't understand what you're saying. Can we do it or not?"
"What I'm saying is, I'm not sure. Modern science theory assumes that the luminiferous aether doesn't exist."
"So it's another 'doesn't exist' case. Easy. Make something up and name it luminous whatever."
"Not that simple sir... unlike the usual imaginary cases, luminiferous aether actually does have an existing, scientifically codified definition. We would have to create something that fit the definition."
"Well, get the scientists on it then. We've gotten breakthroughs before- remember the one that requested a black hole singularity? Most expensive last meal to date. Sure it was microscopic, but we had a whole commity verify that they had created and suspended a black hole in stasis with sufficient lifetime to be swallowed. The journalists loved that one."
"Yes, sir. But in that case, black holes were already known to exist, and we even knew how to create them, it was just a matter of getting all the specifics down."
"Hmm. Well maybe we can treat it as a technicality? Like the request for the body of Jesus Christ... honestly, that was even easier than the usual "flesh of so and so". We didn't need to fire up the tissue cloning machine, we just got a Catholic priest to come and do communion. The prisoner argued that it didn't count of course, but it was ruled valid."
"That is probably our best bet, sir. I'll have to go read over the exact wording a few more times."
"Then get to it. Dismissed." | 2022-07-17T20:16:14 | 2022-07-17T20:02:33 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] Prisoners can ask for anything for their last meal. The catch is, if it can't be provided to them, they get set free. They've asked for many things : alien egg omelette, dragon steak, the flesh of Jesus Christ, etc. The execution streak remained unbroken for decades, until today. | I really did appreciate them. Their efforts were admirable, though they were overshadowed by their stupidity. It took them a full month to finally admit defeat. They just couldn’t feasibly feed me nothing.
After a week of toiling over the definition of what it means to eat, they decided that a vacuum would have to enter my body in order for the conditions to be met.
First they tried a simple pill with a vacuum inside, but I pointed out two flaws. First of all I taunted them with how you don’t eat pills, you swallow them. Second I pointed out that they wouldn’t be feeding me nothing, as the pill would be something.
They tried sending me to space but that would kill me once I exited the ship. Magic was thrown out because all the spells they could find would kill me. And their Hail Mary was to put a tube in my mouth connected to a vacuum chamber, but they were stopped because that counted as execution.
After the morons gave up they let me out, never being able to figure out the meaning behind my god damn request. They went through all that but didn’t for a second consider that I just wasn’t hungry. | Ugly Willy, that was his name, was about to get killed, after 34 years awaiting the death sentence he had been issued by the supreme court of alabama. He had kill 3 babies in a satanic ritual, and ate their freshly dead bodies. Although, he always had thought highly of himself, thinking that he was a pretty cool guy, easy going and fun to hang out with. Now, he knew his last chance was to order something to eat that nobody on earth could ever find for him. And, he had a pretty good idea. An alive baby. He was winning on every point, if they could not, he was free, if they could, at least he would be able to enjoy his favorite meal before going to hell...
They came early in the morning, and here it was, a cute little baby, with great blue eyes and blond hair, on a plate, laughing and giggling, not aware of the terrible fate awaiting him. Ugly Willy was salivating. As soon as he began spreading ketchup all over his food, he heard the familliar sound of a key inside the lock of his door's cell.
"How the fuck could have you let him get that poor kid ?"
It was Archibald Monk the jail's director, with a guard.
"I am sorry mr Monk, but if we had not did it he would have been set free !"
"Are you mad ? Free him then. And get that baby back where he belongs !"
"All right mr director".
The first thing Ugly Willy did when he was free was to eat a baby burger with a lot of ketchup. | 2022-07-17T20:16:14 | 2022-07-17T20:03:06 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] The Superheroes arrive at the predicted impact site of the meteor, only to find the Villains already there. "We're going to destroy that blasted rock before it lands and there's nothing you can do to stop us!" a Hero calls out. "Stop you? We're here to help! We live on this planet too, dumbass" | "Oh, here comes the sanctimony squad!" the man in the purple suit cried out as the Protectors arrived. It's not like he hadn't expected them; an extinction-level threat like this meteor did warrant the presence of all the heroes, but he still couldn't help but feel disgust.
"Villain!" the hero in the front yelled towards the gaggle of ill-meaning individuals as he landed, "Stand aside, scoundrels! You are fortunate the meteor requires our undivided attention! Should you attempt to stop us, let it be known-"
"Stop you?" the villain yelled back, "We're here to stop it, you moron! Last time I checked, we live on this planet too!"
The hero was taken aback as his bravado left him. "You *what*?"
"Oh, what, did you think that we'd sit by with a drink in our hands while the planet burned? Then what? Any idea how boring it would be?" the villain said.
"But... you've threatened to destroy the world yourself!" the hero protested and pulled out a small notebook, listing through it. "...on at least 5 different occasions!"
"Do you not understand the concept of showmanship?" the villain grinned. "You have *no* sense setting the stage for a proper drama. Say my demands weren't met and I did blow up the world. What would I do then, exactly?"
"Then why did you threaten it at all?" the hero asked, confused.
"Thrill of the perfect performance," the villain said, a glint in his eye.
"Hey, uh, lads?" another villain - a silver-haired woman in the back - called out, "Getting rather distracted here I reckon. World-ending threat and all, you catch?"
The leading hero and chief villain stared at each other in a moment of utmost tension. Both the heroes and the villains subtly prepared themselves for a fight, should the need arise. Neither wanted it. The pressure was palpable in the air-
"Narrator, man, could you cut it out?" the hero yelled towards one of his colleagues, "Seriously, not helping!"
Sorry.
"This doesn't change anything," the hero said. "You're still the villains. You're still wanted. You're-"
"Spare me," the villain scoffed. "I'll need Megamer to help me out with moving some equipment," he said and pointed towards a hero in the back, a woman of pure muscle.
"You dare think this uneasy ceasefire will allow you to command my allies?!"
"I have a plan, Ultra. I have gear ready. I know what I need to do. What do *you* have?" the villain said and looked the hero straight in his eyes. Despite being a good deal shorter, his confidence more than made up for it.
The hero relaxed his fist and conceded, nodding towards Megamer who set out towards the villain.
"Oh, and," the villain said, turning around, "Narrator- I could use some feedback on some blueprints, finishing touches and all. Do you mind?"
Not at all, said the Narrator and stepped forward- ok this is getting a little trippy. | "*Shit!* We're too late. *They* got here first." Pheonix yelled to his fellow superheroes, as he gracefully landed on the ground with a soft thud.
His friends and allies were landing around him in droves, some of which he recognized - Marksman, The Defender, Righteous, and Vindicator to name a few; but there were hundreds of capes he didn't. Superheroes from dozens of other nations, who had come to help save the world from Asteroid GX-700.
Today was going to go down as one of the most monumental events in history - that was, if the Earth survived. Because today was the first time that superheroes from all 195 countries were together, divided not by nationality, ideology, or petty politics, but completely united by the desire to save humanity.
​
And then, there were *them.*
Standing just fifty feet away, was a crowd of villains.
Instead of a defensive line, they simply stood together awkwardly in small loose groups or by themselves, glaring at the supers, who glared back.
​
Pheonix recognized some of them - the Illusionist, Axeman, Zero, but once again, there were hundreds of villains he didn't.
For a few minutes, the two groups remained where they were. Sizing each other up, remembering old fights, some shifting towards the front or back, the occasional hand slowly reaching towards a weapon.
Taking a deep breath, Pheonix raised an arm to his comrades and stepped forward.
​
"We're going to destroy that blasted rock before it lands, and there's nothing you can do to stop us!" He shouted, or at least to the villains that understood English.
Next to him, other supers moved up, repeating his message in their native tongue - French, Chinese, Spanish, German, Italian, Swahili - and many many more he didn't recognize.
The villains remained standing, impassive, whispering among themselves for a moment before one of them nudged another forward.
​
It was the Axeman. The grizzled berserker, with his hand positioned carefully near the handle of his signature battleaxe, cleared his throat, and shouted back. "Stop you? We're here to help! We live on this planet too, dumbass!"
Slowly, one by one, other villains stepped up, repeating the man's message in other languages.
The air was tense as the two groups stopped to discuss fiercely about the other's words - the heroes worrying if some villains were insane enough to try and have Asteroid GX-700 hit the Earth, while the villains wondered if the heroes would try and capture them after.
​
In the end, they weren't able to decide in time, as a giant blazing light lit up the evening sky.
"HEROES! FLY!" Pheonix roared, and the ground shook as hundreds of capes took off at the same time.
The shaking soon turned to a steady rumble, as hundreds of villains began flying up into the sky as well, towards Asteroid GX-700.
​
Pheonix happened to meet the Axeman's eyes, one of which was blind from one of their fights.
Then the villain nodded, just slightly, and took off.
Pheonix flew up himself, turning his head to see that he was flying right beside Zero, and he felt a strange giddiness.
​
Today was going to be a monumental day in history, after all. | 2022-09-11T07:28:14 | 2022-09-11T06:41:12 | 1,578 | 213 |
[WP] The world seems to be your average sword and sorcery world. You, a young adventurer have descended down into a forgotten tomb. There, you find strange metals and plastics. Lights come on without torches. A man made of metal awakens, stumbling toward you. "What year is it?" he asks | He knew the Tombs were off-limits. Many adventurers have been rumoured to descend into them, never to return. He didn't care. Young, brash, overly eager, he was willing to risk it all so he'd finally prove himself; so he'd earn the respect he desperately craved. When he finally stood before the colossal metal entrance, torch in hand, he felt only the slightest of hesitations before stepping in.
The tunnel behind the door was... odd. The walls and floors were perfectly uniform - not made of stone or wood, they seemed... metal - but to find so much metal in one place, not to mention work it so seamlessly, was... unheard of. He kept going forward, aided only by the flames of his torch, until the tunnel opened into a large room. He crept forward carefully, hand on the hilt of his sword, as if a wyvern could jump at him at any time - after all, perhaps that's where the previous adventurers went? Still, he progressed, inch by inch.
Until he tripped.
He quickly regained his balance but in doing so leaned against the wall, unwittingly hitting what felt like a button. Suddenly, the room became lit, blinding him.
When he finally managed to open his eyes and adjust to the sudden light, he found himself in a stupor. The lights were... white. Purely white, not yellow like flames. There weren't even any torches, only long, glass tubes. Looking around further, he realized he stood on the edge of a large room covered with metal tables, dark glass and... several human skeletons. Cold sweat ran down his forehead as he realized the Tomb was more than a scary name.
*Clink*.
He jumped as noise suddenly echoed through the room - the distinct sound of metal hitting metal. He turned and was met with a sight he could not have been prepared for.
A man was walking towards him. Or rather, *shuffling* towards him, clearly limping on his right leg. His skin was perfectly smooth, yet seemed... cold. Squinting his eyes, he realized it was not skin - it was metal, grey and dusty. He was missing an arm and his eyes glowed red yet seemingly without malicious intent. The adventurer fearfully lifted his sword towards the man.
"What year is it?" the man asked. His voice was unnatural. It sounded like several voices speaking at once without any emotion or intonation.
"W-what?" the adventurer spurted out.
"Year," the man of metal repeated. "What year is it?"
"It- it's... it's 966."
The metal man tilted his head. "What? No, no, that can't be right, that..."
He looked around as if he wasn't quite sure where he was, the red light in his eyes flickering. "How long was I offline..." he muttered.
"Who- what are you? A golem? A demon?" the adventurer asked.
"Series 7 android," the man responded casually as if the adventurer had any sense of what that meant.
"What does that mean? Is... is your skin made of *metal*?"
The man kept looking around the room. "Nano-plasteel polymer with titanium weave reinforcement," he stated. The adventurer decided not to bother to ask further - it didn't seem he would get any straight answers.
The man's eyes finally stopped flickering as he looked at a skeleton sitting on a nearby chair. He shuffled forward and placed his lone arm on the bones. Lights emerged from his head, symbols and letters simply floating in the air in front of him, showing various spirals and unknown words. *The creature must clearly be magical in nature*, the adventurer thought. *A golem*?
"Oh, Doctor Lakhani..." the man said solemnly. "I'm... sorry."
He turned back towards the adventurer.
"You. You said the year is 966. 966 years since what?"
"The Great Runic War of course," the adventurer answered, surprised by the golem's lack of knowledge. After a brief moment of silence, he decided to continue. "A battle between ancient kingdoms of impossible power, it is said. Great spells rained hellfire on the world, killing hundreds of thousands in blinding flashes of light. Places where the fireballs landed are still warm and saturated with raw, unstable mana, killing anyone foolish enough to approach."
"What..." the man whispered. "The nukes... they did it... they actually did it." The light in his eyes dimmed somewhat as he lowered his head, considering the situation. He then stepped towards the adventurer who once again raised his sword.
"Stop!" the adventurer cried out.
The metal man inspected the sword carefully and extended his hand, gripping it tightly. The adventurer tried to yank the sword back but found the man's grip impossibly firm. He could only watch as a swarm of black dust flew from the man's chest and towards the sword, enveloping it completely - mere seconds later, the swarm retreated and the sword's blade was gone completely.
He dropped the shaft in panic and watched in terror as the swarm flew towards the man's missing arm and further, forming a shape resembling the missing appendage. The swarm then simply... stopped moving and took on a more solid, regular form; the form of an arm, though it was considerably shinier than the rest of the man's dusty body.
The man moved his hand around several times as if testing it.
"This will have to do for now," he said and started walking towards the door; somehow, his limp disappeared altogether and he was now walking with flawless steadiness.
"Wait!" the adventurer yelled. The metal man turned and faced him.
"Where are you going? What- what are you going to do?" the adventurer asked. He worried the man could mean harm to his people; if he did, he could likely not stop him.
"I'll do what they would have wanted," the metal man said after a moment of consideration and nodded towards the skeletons. "I'll give you back what you have lost." He turned back towards the entrance to the tunnel and started walking.
"But I'll make sure you don't meet the same fate," he finished solemnly. | The morning air hung heavy with the summers heat, sweat dripped from my brow. I inspect the bark of a tree closely, fresh claw marks marred the surface. My prey was close, a wildcat that has been poaching our livestock recently. I quietly slide an arrow from the quiver at my hip and nock it, but do not yet pull it tight.
I suspect that it has a den nearby and has taken to the canopy to avoid tracking. Unfortunately for it, it's not the first wildcat I have had to hunt down so I know it has leapt to a neighboring tree. I put my back against the marred trunk for protection. Their bodies, while graceful, are too large to come down head first so I know I am safe from being attacked from above.
I steady my breathing and quiet my heart, the thrill of the hunt always makes it race. Several breaths later I succeed and cock an ear to the canopy, listening for the cat to move. The winds favor me today by being still, making it all the more clear when the cat leaps to another branch in a different tree.
In one smooth motion I bring my bow up and pull the arrow back, ready to let it fly. I don't see the cat right away, but I know generally where it is. Its a waiting game now, the cat moves or my arm tires. I keep my breathing steady and relax my vision, waiting for the moment to arrive.
THWANG. I released the arrow before my mind told me to, years of hunting instinct driving my actions. But not good enough, I hear the cat yelp in surprise and pain, but it does not fall dead. I hit it, but I can't tell how bad. The hunt now changes to a chase, all pretense of stealth gone. The cat alights through the trees loudly, making it easy for me to follow.
After a short time we come across an outcropping that the cat leaps onto. It's strength is waning as it didn't get the distance it expected, its back legs kicking furiously for purchase. I don't hesitate and rapidly climb the rock face, placing a mental pin on where I last saw the cat before it gained purchase and continued its flight.
I don't need to visit the spot where I last saw the cat, there is a trail of blood to follow, its coppery tint clearly in the air. I follow it to a cave entrance large enough for me to walk through upright. This has to be the cats den.
I find it near the back of the cave, living its last moments in defiance baring its fangs at me and taking feeble swipes in my direction. I nock another arrow and end the cats suffering quickly, despite being a beast it followed its nature, I do not fault it for that.
As I go to retrieve the cats remains, I feel something compelling me to look further in the cave. It goes deeper, I can't help myself but to investigate further. I don't have to go far, I follow the cave around a bend only to be confronted by the strangest gate I've ever seen. It appears to be metal, but polished smooth like a sword. There is more metal surrounding it, a fortress wall. I step up and knock on part of it, surprised at how little sound it makes. I go to push open the door, but I hadn't needed to bother, it opened nearly silently on its own.
Inside the door is as dark as the cave outside, very little light reaches in here. I'm about to turn to find material for a torch when the portal erupts in fire. No....not fire? But light, without a torch. Interesting. I realize I should be fearful of this place, but I don't feel it, only curiosity, curiosity that is driving me further.
I step in and see that this new cave goes in either direction. I peer each way. One way, to my left, seems to draw me in further. I follow that feeling and am in awe as the light seems to follow me through the cave, disappearing behind me as I walk. There is writing on the walls in a script I am not familiar with, maybe the wizards of the land might be able to read them. I pass several doors, but they do not open for me and do not respond to my pushing in any way.
As I am passing a set of double doors they open, catching me off guard. I drop to a defensive stance as a trained reaction, but nothing is attacking me. Still keeping low I slowly enter the new chamber. There are rows of round looking objects on either side of the chamber, lain on their backs, small lights turning on and off all over them.
There is one with markings that appear similar to the rank insignia of the kingdoms armies. I approach the object and am shocked to see that the top is made from a curved glass like material. It appears frost is on the inside of the glass preventing me from seeing inside. I inspect the object closer and see a small light at what would be the foot of it. I want to see if there is a torch inside and try to scratch it, only for it to blink off. After three heartbeats the entire object erupts into a series of lights that dance and change. Surprised I fall back on my haunches and scramble back until I feel one of the other objects against my back.
I'm both terrified and fascinated, I cannot help but watch. I know not how long I sat there, but when the object opened with a hiss and fog, I once again scrambled and tried to hide behind the other object I was near.
In the fog I saw something move, I couldn't tell, but it was a man? that sat up? I pinched my arm, this has to be a spell or a dream. The pain told me otherwise, what I was experiencing was as real as my hunt with the cat. My guess that it was a man was right, feet swung down and landed on the floor, as if the man were climbing out of his bed.
The chamber wasn't well lit, as if there was only a single torch, but through the fog I saw the mans head snap over to me. It knew where I was despite the low light and the fog that still surrounded him. He took a step, it looked unsteady, then another.
A sound erupted from the man, then changed, then changed again. Finally, whatever was wrong with it cleared and it spoke clearly, "What year is it?" It was that moment that the fog finally released its clutches on the man and revealed that it was no man, but a construct of metal. | 2022-12-19T14:03:08 | 2022-12-19T12:30:47 | 236 | 54 |
[WP] The world seems to be your average sword and sorcery world. You, a young adventurer have descended down into a forgotten tomb. There, you find strange metals and plastics. Lights come on without torches. A man made of metal awakens, stumbling toward you. "What year is it?" he asks | "It is the 30th year of the Lord Yffral on the Throne of Krat", I answered, almost without thinking.
The thing in front of me continued wobbling, with odd hissing and purring noises.
"That does not help me", the thing said. It had no mouth, yet a voice emerged from what must have been its head, sounding like the voice of someone trapped.
"I'm sorry", I responded, not sure of what to do. It looked somewhat like a reanimated skeleton, but also like a tree, and like a sculpture.
"How many lords before Yffral on the Throne of Krat?", it asked, and when repeating my words it did it also with my own voice. I shuddered and gripped my sword harder.
"I mean you no harm", the thing said, noticing my reaction.
"Seven lords", I said.
"For how long did they rule?" the thing asked.
I finally started to realize what it really wanted to know.
"We are on the Second Age of the Wonder in the West, it has been seven hundred years in this age".
The thing's head tilted sideways.
"How long since this Wonder... showed up?"
"I believe the First Age of the Wonder in the West lasted for two thousand years, after the Wonder Rose, but you'd have to ask someone who knows more than me".
The thing nodded shakily.
"Please, tell me if this means anything to you: The Synth Era".
I shook my head. "No, I don't know what that is".
"How about The Local Expansion Era?", the thing asked.
Again, I shook my head. "I understand those words better, but no".
"How about The Common Era, or The Christian Era?"
I shook my head once more.
"Do you know the names of any other ages or eras, or even kalpas, before the First Age of the Wonder in the West?", it asked.
"I know there was a time of gods, and a time of the arrival of men. And a time of heroes. And The Founding of Feraim", I offered.
The thing remained silent for a few moments.
"The arrival of men, you say. Also Feraim could be Prime. What is Feraim and how long ago was the arrival of men?"
I shrugged. "I don't know how long ago, I'm not an erudite. As for Feraim, that's the Legendary City, built in the times before time.
"Does the sound Masada, seems at all familiar to you?"
I thought very hard for a few moments. "It sounds like a lot of things..."
"Old things, ancient things perhaps", the thing suggested.
"I don't know, I'm sorry", I said finally, giving up.
"Masada Fortress? Masada Prime? Sanctuary Alpha?" the thing asked.
"I know what a fortress is, and what is sanctuary", I said. I was now feeling quite dumb for being unable to answer any of the thing's questions.
The thing went silent again.
"I was fearing I'd have to emerge too soon. But perhaps I am too late. I should see the night sky", the thing said eventually.
"Sure, I can show you the way out" I said, finally feeling like I could help.
The thing nodded and started to walk, so I walked ahead of it.
"Why do you want to see the night sky?" I asked after some steps.
"I hope I can determine the time by the positions of the stars", it answered me.
I thought for a little bit, then asked, a little ashamed for my continual ignorance: "What are stars?" | Somewhere between the moss-covered slate that hid the entrance to this place and the slightly sulphury scent coming from within, Maxim decided that he had found his treasure. No map with an x had led him here, nor was there a winding story of it from times long past. It spoke to him. Torchbugs at night appeared to call this little cavern home, and after a long weeks trek, Maxim did as well.
He didn’t sleep well here. Noises from the deep kept whispering of a formless fear that lay beyond the dark. Maxim wandered, but only when he had forgotten the path did he start marking his way with scratches and tallies etched with magic. It was really the only thing he seemed to be good at. Recording where he had been.
Without the sun, he forgot for a while what time it was. Descending deeper and deeper into the cave came without predators or prey, but the loneliness became deadly. There were no skeletons, and with only his magic around him, he wondered if he would end up just decoration for those that came next.
It wasn’t until he came to a metal ornate door that he gained a sense of dread. Even in the damp, stale air, the hopeful sense of wonder kept him going. Now, though? This wasn’t like the mage's towers or the king's doors. This was just a solid.
Until it wasn’t.
A screeching noise cut Maxim to the core as the ancient door slid open. Nails on the chalkboards at school could never compare to the eldritch noise that echoed off the cavern walls and hollow places in the deep.
Yet still, Maxim moved on. Lights came to life around him with more magic than he could ever possess, and with it, greed welled up from within him. He was close. He had to be close to what he was searching for.
Nothing could be seen in the metal room. Maxim looked over the small figures on the tables and the walls, but nothing seemed to detach. Gems and jewels that he once hoped for turned out just to be magic baubles. Flicking a couple, he heard something whirl but nothing seemed to catch.
“What year is it?” a voice came from the corner, making Maxim flinch and pull out his wand.
“Who?” Maxim asked.
“What year?”
“Year of the Path, the Twenty-Third,” Maxim explained hesitantly, “As per the Mages of Marifacrice reckon.”
“Are they here?”
“What?” Maxim asked, now confused as he tried to look around the empty shell of a room, “Who, I’m here?”
“The ones we released?”
“Uh?”
“Did we trap them?” a metal man yelled as he tried his best to lift himself to a sitting position.
“What are you?” Maxim asked in shock.
“Broken,” it scoffed and looked around, “So much is broken because of us. Because of what we released.”
“Who did you release?” Maxim asked quietly, wondering if they were still around.
“The spirits that came before,” the metal creature said as he pointed to the painting in the back. Maxim saw the gods, the lords of light and dark, etched in their glory but not in the way the land saw them now. “The spirits that were foretold to come again.”
“They keep the land, sea, and sky,” Maxim chanted softly looking over the painting.
“They destroy all that live in them,” the voice explained, “With the light came fire, with darkness came frost, and with them came death.”
“No,” Maxim muttered, “With them came redemption.”
“With you,” the voice said quietly, “will go how we got redeemed. Please, take my words to those that would listen. Please, take a message to those who will still understand.”
With that, the metal creature only gave Maxim one final word and a prize Maxim did not want. From his chest, the metal man took out a cube and tried to reach out toward Maxim but was only able to rest his arm on his leg before powering down one final time.
The lights did not fade with the machine, though, and Maxim, even with his belief, wanted something to come out of this more than just a story he could tell. The marks on the walls led him out, and in his pack, Maxim hoped he could sell this mystery to the highest-paying mage. | 2022-12-19T16:15:04 | 2022-12-19T13:10:11 | 63 | 25 |
[WP] You were asked out by your crush to come and hang out with her after school. On your date, she drained your blood and buried you in the woods thinking that you were another easy victim. And now, the next morning, she looks horrified when you walk into class. | It wasn't the first time I'd found myself buried in a shallow grave. Hopefully, it wouldn't be the last. After digging myself out and dusting myself off, I headed home. The girl must've been new to this, or just stupid, because she hadn't even bothered to empty my pockets.
I debated on how to deal with her the next day. Should I pretend like nothing happened, and drive her mad? Or should I tell the truth, and simply deal with her the normal way? I decided to get a good night's sleep before deciding, such important decisions should never be made tired. Besides, I was in no rush. My blood would be enough to keep her fed for a month at least.
​
The look on her face when I walked back into class, none the worse for wear, was priceless. I had decided not to give her any attention, or any indication that anything was out of the ordinary, for the time being. I noticed her glancing at me many times over the course of the class. When it ended, she was the one who approached me.
"Hey there. I didn't expect to see you here today."
"Oh? Why not?"
"You know damn well why."
"hmm, could you perhaps refresh my memory?"
I could tell she was holding back the urge to smash my head into the floor. After glaring at me for a moment, she said "Fine, meet me outside." She then stormed off.
​
She was waiting for me outside, sticking to the shade. I waited until there was no one else around before approaching her.
"So, how the hell is a flimsy human like you still alive?"
"You still think I'm human? You're even more inexperienced, or stupid, than I thought."
"If you don't stop sassing me, I'll-"
"You'll what? You can't kill me. And as much as you might like to think you're invincible, you aren't."
That statement seemed to make her pause, and reassess her situation.
"What even are you?"
"A ghost in a machine. This body of mine is little more than a well built puppet."
"Then why are you here? why are you posing as a student?"
"To catch people like you. While you've been at this school, no less than 7 students have gone missing, roughly at one and a half month intervals."
"You have no proof I was behind those!"
"No, but I have proof that you did attempt to fully drain a student and bury them. The fact that you were unsuccessful does not make what you did less of a crime."
"Oh yeah? and who's gonna prosecutor me? Who's gonna believe that vampires and ghosts exist?"
"Oh, you'll meet them soon enough."
Before she had time to react to what I'd said, I threw a silver net at her. She tried to dodge, but even with her supernatural speed she reacted a moment too late, and it fell on her. She tried to pull it off, but the silver started to singe her skin as she touched it. Not enough to be deadly, but certainly very painful. I reached into my jacket and out a walkie talkie.
"I've got her, ready for pickup." | Maeve wore a look of utter shock when I walked into the door for our Anthropology class the next morning. Her mouth wide open and fear shimmering in her eyes. Yet, even in this she was a beautiful as before with her smooth pearl skin and flowing black hair.
"Now, that was a wild night." I said with a laugh. "I know they say we have the time of our lives... but I think you pushed it to the max."
There was a twitch in her hand and a low growl filled his ears. She kept calm in the public view for the most part. Anyone close enough to see the two would notice the tension. She quickly took his hand and led them into a broom closet.
"Wow, one date and we are meeting in closets for make out sessions. What a treat." He says with a laugh
"S-shut up." Maeve said with a growl. "How did you survive? I sucked you dry last night."
"Not how I remember it. Seems to me you tried to kill me." He retorted with a smirk.
Her growl grew larger, showing off her sharp fangs protruding past her lips. Claws were slowly growing from her fingernails. The dark couldn't hide the glowing eyes of this beauty.
"Not more jokes Blague. Answer the dam question! If you're one of those damn hunters I'll..."
"Oh, jeez lighten up. If I was, I wouldn't have let you live right?" Retorted Blague. "How much do you know about vampiric culture? I'm guessing very little due to not noticing my little trick. A shame given your major."
He was toying with her. Enjoying the turn around this cause. For the past few months, he felt like a nobody to her; led along by her charms to do what she asked until she said yes. Now, he was in the position of power.
"Your cockiness is getting on my nerves. Get to the point or I'll tear something off." She said while scowling at him.
Blague took a deep breath out before explaining himself, "Fine fine. Each culture from the beginning of time possesses some sort of vampiric being within it. Most broaden the term to simply vampires, but in truth there are many beings who don't follow this trope. Take me for example. My kind is called a Talamaur... I use a ghost double to feed on others and when someone threatens to harm me..."
Blague snapped his fingers. His image and form were replaced by a tall human male in a trench coat. On his neck were two holes, marks from the attack last night.
"I can switch between the people's bodies I've taken a bite out of. With them, I can drain the vitality of others without using my own hands. Consequently, they make great conversationalists." He laughed after the last part returning back in front of her.
He was sure this was going to be the end. They'd fight, his cover was blown, and he'd need to find a new home all over again. Erasing minds in the process just to get the hunters off his back. But to his surprise, a cute smile curled on Maeve's lips.
"Congratulations Blague. You've just got more interesting. Tonight, we'll go on a real date." She said, kissing him on the cheek before pulling his hand along. "But be warned. It won't be as easy as last night. You'll need to really charm me this time."
Bewilderment, fear, and excitement hit him like a freight train all at once. What in the world went through Maeve's mind? How did she find anything he said flattering? And most importantly... Why was he looking forward to tonight? | 2022-12-30T00:05:38 | 2022-12-29T20:31:16 | 36 | 20 |
[FF] You've died and gone to Hell, and the Devil has asked you if you'd like to take over his job. As fitting, 666 words or less.
Remember the word limit (666 words), and make sure that the Devil is in the details.
Have fun! | "This is all very sudden," I found myself blurting.
"How so?" the interviewer asked, his fingers steepling as he gazed at me with a look that showed he already knew the answer.
"Well," I started, "until a few minutes ago, I didn't think you even existed. You or your..." I wasn't sure how to address this without offending him, so I said, "...counterpart."
He smirked.
"Yaweh?" he asked.
I must have registered shock, because he broke into a smile.
"You think I'm afraid of the name," he said.
"Yes," I started, but he cut me off.
"While you don't believe in me, I must say your perceptions are sadly skewed by what you did believe before you turned away," the Morningstar explained, sipping his wine. "I am not what you've been taught I am. And neither is he. Even the name you think I fear is one of many names, some of which you have heard, and many of which you haven't recognized."
I pondered this, before he continued: "Yaweh, Jehovah, God, Allah, the Great Spirit, those are some of his names. But he has others, too. The Church. The State. Father. Mother. 'Sir'. Money. You called him all of those things, even after you denied the form you were taught."
"And you?" I retorted. "What are your other names?"
He smiled, and I knew I had asked the right question.
"Some would say Loki, or Prometheus. I would disagree with them. I have one name that matters: my name is You."
“Me?” I was surprised.
“Yes. I am offering you freedom and knowledge. That is all I embody, and that is what the apple represents.”
I looked to the desk, where the apple had sat since I'd arrived here.
“That is all the apple has represented, since I first offered it in the garden.”
I was confused. “So the garden is real?”
“Just because something didn't happen does not mean it isn't real,” he said condescendingly.
The apple beckoned, its red skin shining in the light of a nearby candle. I thought of something.
“If you have knowledge,” I asked, “Do you already know what my decision will be?”
“I don't need an abundance of knowledge to know that,” he said. “I know you will take the apple, because you took it every other time I offered it to you.”
I looked at him, bewildered.
“The books you were forbidden to read. The friends you were forbidden to see.” He looked closely at me. “You have always accepted knowledge, you have always run from oppression. You have eaten this apple many times.”
I was uneasy, and looked at the apple once again.
“Are you happy?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” he replied, matter-of-factly. “Were you always happy before you ate your first apple?”
He had me there, but I didn't want to appear weak, so I replied, “Sometimes”.
“And after?” he said.
“Sometimes,” I replied, quietly this time.
He sat up straight and picked up his wine glass.
“If you could do it all again,” he said. “And live a life where you had never accepted my offer... which would you choose?”
I smiled at him. He knew me, because he was me.
My teeth broke the skin of the apple, sealing my contract, and I have never regretted it.
I am now the Morningstar.
But my real name is You. | At first I was not going to accept, but he seemed so tired, so I agreed. A look of relief spread across Lucifer’s face.
“Good. How about we talk about this over dinner? Go over the details of the job,” he said. Suddenly the room around us turned into a sort of a truck-stop diner, and we were sitting in a booth with tickle-me-pink pleather on the seats. A small demon fluttered over and handed us menus, pulling out a notepad and asking what we’d like.
“I’ll just have the usual, Marcell,” Lucifer smiled at the waiter(waitress?). I looked at the menu, but all it had were variations of tapioca pudding.
“Uh, I’ll just have some tea,” I stammered, still shocked at the scene change. When the demon left, I turned back to the now former prince of Hell and asked, “So, um, Mr. Morningstar, what exactly does this job entail?”
He chuckled, “Mr Morningstar? Haha, please. Call me Lucy. And we’ll get to that after the food gets here. For now, why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”
I didn’t know where to start, so I just spluttered out whatever came to mind. I had lived in a small city by a lake. I had had two siblings, and a pitt-lab mix named Captain. I was nineteen at the time of my death. My mother had stolen my father’s life savings and gifted him a divorce which financially ruined my entire family. I had committed suicide. I guessed that was why I was in Hell.
Lucy started laughing again, and, sensing my confusion and possibly my hurt feelings, he went on to explain. It turns out that all humans go to Hell when they die. Getting to go to heaven is only a myth. In fact, the bigwigs upstairs couldn’t care less about any life in the universe or what happens to it when it dies. They’re more concerned by playing billiards with galaxies.
At that point I wondered how he had gotten this job.
We went on to talk about Hell in general. He pulled out a really old laptop and showed me various pictures of the place. Turns out it’s not such a bad place most of the time. Because everyone is already dead, there is no pain or disease, and there was some great company if you knew where to look. Most of those who had shown hate or bigotry walled themselves off in their own areas and ended up bothering no one but themselves. Sure a lot of the décor was tacky as fuck, but it seemed nice overall.
This is when I wondered why he had wanted to leave this job.
Before I could ask, Marcell popped back up. I couldn’t get a word out once he began eating, he would motion me to be quiet until he was done. It turns out that Lucy’s usual was grilled cheese on rye with ginger beer. My tea was served in a stained coffee mug and had a little paper umbrella in it, but it tasted amazing.
Finally, once his plate was empty, I inquired, “So, uh, why do you want to leave this job if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Yeah, well about that,” he began, but before he could finish a bright light flashed in the center of the room and an angelic looking guy appeared. He looked at Lucifer and smiled in an unnerving manner.
“Hey Spike-Butt! You gonna introduce me to your new boyfriend?” He shouted at the devil.
Lucy sighed, and begrudgingly said, “This is the new Prince of Darkness. He’s taking over my job,” and then he turned to me, “This is my boss, well, now yours. I was about to tell you about him.” The look on the devil’s face told me everything.
Sure, this was a great place and job overall, but I was going to be stuck with a boss that makes life Hell, for a very long time. God Damn It. | 2013-10-19T15:25:01 | 2013-10-19T14:48:42 | 45 | 12 |
[WP] You boarded, took a seat, and are on your way to your destination. You don't recognize anyone, but that's common when travelling alone. Yet soon you realize, every single person around you, including you, shares the same secret...
The means of transportation can be a train, a plane, a bus, the underground/tube, a spacecraft... anything that is used to transport volumes of people from anywhere to anywhere.
What is the secret? Is it dangerous? Is it embarrassing? Either way, could this be a coincidence? If not, who is behind it? Is it amongst you, silently appreciating his work, or are they observing from afar? Are they even that interested?
Do the others realize, or is it just you that picks it up? What could happen if they all figured it up? Are you all going to the same place? Does the benign destination suddenly matter?
And most important of all, will you ever reach it? | The American traveler wakes from his nap on the European train, the stink of diesel exhaust and the noise of steel tracks slowly bringing him back to reality.
He leans and stretches and nearly hits someone walking in the aisle with his outstretched arm. "Sorry," he says as the person walking past smiles and says something in a language he doesn't understand.
The farmland the train is passing is flat but beautiful, with its wheat reflecting the morning sun. He stares for a moment and falls back asleep.
He awakes again as the train stops. "This is my stop," he says to himself as he stands and grabs his bag from the overhead bin. He rushes towards the rear exit, missing the hand signals from the other passengers to go through the front exit. He opens the rear exit door and nearly trips as he accidentally enters the rear car. A passenger yells something as he sees the man enter the rear car.
"My god," he says as he realizes the car is nearly filled with young adults and children crying, their clothes torn, and their faces covered in dirt and soot. The smell of urine and feces wafts into his nose. Suddenly he is jerked off the train by a uniformed man.
"Hey, hey," he protests, "Those are children!" "Children!" he repeats. The train begins to roll away as the man is dragged into a line of other travelers. "Hey," he exclaims and points to the train car. The passport agent stares him down, looks at the train car, and utters the word, "Juden." The American's face flashes with recognition as he involuntarily says, "Oh."
Then the passport agent points to the man, his hand reaching for his pistol, "Juden?" he asks.
"Uh, no. American," he says as he pulls out his papers, pointing at his US passport. "American," he repeats as he watches the train slowly roll away and barely making out the little fingers, eyes, and noses that peek at him through the barred windows of the last train car. He begins to cry and continues to repeat, "American," over and over. | The Mickey Mouse watch on my left wrist tells me it's 12:47 PM. I board the bus with all the other passengers the crowded terminal. I don't recognize anybody on the bus. That's kind of unusual. It's a small city and we are all packed on to the college bus headed up to the college no doubt. Today, the passengers might as well be from another planet as far as I can make out.
One college girl checks her watch after sitting down beside me. It's a Mickey Mouse watch too and I find that kind of odd. I have never in my life seen another adult wear one and I only found mine this morning. In fact, I didn't know they made them for adults at all. My wrists were always quite small.
It's inconsequential. I look out the window. The bus rolls to a start and I see the terminal slip by like a two dimensional movie set. I look forward and I can see the bus driver's right hand on the wheel. He's also wearing a watch…
The same Mickey Mouse watch. That's more than strange. I would never have thought I would run into anybody at all with one. Two today.
I feel a compelling urge to twist my neck and look around. The middle of the aisle is packed with students holding on for dear life as we head up a steep hill.
I look up at the wrists on the safety poles. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven Mickey Mouse watches on visible wrists. I feel dizzy in the head. I inhale and I exhale because I had been so lost in counting I forgot to breathe.
This is so unlikely as to defy explanation.
It's too great a coincidence. It must be some kind of gag. That's it. I am on candid camera right now being laughed at by millions. Oh you jokers you...
The camera. It must be around here somewhere. I don't see it. I look out the windows again and it's like a thick fog has enveloped the bus.
That's odd in a magical sort of way. It was a clear day.
The bus rolls to a stop. I wonder where we are. The doors open up. I see that everybody else is as confused as I am.
There is an almost soothing silence in the air. This is really quite bizarre.
One gentleman makes a start to get off the bus. I stand up. The passengers file out with their Mickey Mouse watches one by one. I follow.
I see a gate as I step off the bus. I guess I somehow knew. I should have let Miss Devins know I was going to miss her class. | 2014-01-16T11:38:08 | 2014-01-16T11:12:16 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | “Earth?” Hray filled his companion’s minds with an image of a beautiful blue orb that looked a lot like the home planet that their people had been forced to evacuate only a year ago.
“NO,” said Gon, so old that his scales had scales; so impatient with their endeavor to identify a new home world that Hray wondered why he bothered to be involved at all. There were plenty of entertainments and reminders of home on the other decks if that was what you wanted.
“Why not? Look, it’s perfect. We’ve got everything we need for a hundred-year siege if we have to. What the hell is wrong with it?” Hray tried to keep his voice level, but the glare he directed at Gon said everything his voice did not.
“What’s wrong with it?” Gon leaned forward, eyes locked on Hray’s. “Did ya bother to read the Dominant Life Form entry, or ya just glanced at the stats and looked at the pretty pictures?”
Hray broke eye contact, and Gon leaned back, smug.
“Yeah, so anybody who doesn’t know: Earth. Their tech is shit. They can do math, but they haven’t even figured out that Ultramath *exists* yet. …If they ever will.” His bold gestures conveyed his disdain for Earth’s DLF, or possibly just for *everything.*
“They don’t have natural exoskeletons. They don’t make ‘em synthetically, either—at least not for civilians. What I’m sayin’ is they’re easy to kill, sure.” He looked around, waiting for someone to ask “But then why…?” But no one rose to the bait.
“Nah,” he said. “What these guys got is: they reproduce like nothing you’ve seen before. Ya know how fast their DLF evolved? Try *millions* of years. That fuckin’ fast. These fuckers never evolved to edit their own genetic codes in response to the environment, so basically if an organism wants a do-over it’s gotta make a new copy. And they’re relying on *random mutations*, ya understand. So you can imagine… they gotta make a *lotta* copies.”
Again Gon paused and looked around the room. Hrey avoided his eye contact.
“Yeah, so,” Gon continued, “It’s not worth it. Earth DLF, Earth everything—whole planet’s crawling with life forms that are not gonna go away unless we kill the whole planet. Which defeats the whole purpose. Nice place, I’m sure. Not worth it.” He threw Hrey a look that said, *that’s life* and addressed him: “So… got anything else?”
Hrey shook his head and hid the list of planets he’d prepared. He hadn’t read the DLF files for any of them. | The time was near for the end. As our solar system was one of the galaxy's last to fall target to the enemy, both human colonies on Mars and Earth's moon were destroyed. The hour was late and the target was set. Earth would be destroyed in less than a month, according to NASA's predictions regarding travel time and the enemy's advanced interstellar war machines.
As for intentions for our demise, NASA could only speculate that the enemy's cruelty to our colonies and the recent disappearance of many other planets in the galaxy were linked. This enemy was not just one of the human race, but clearly of any celestial body standing in their way. Earth was next. Based on other recordings from colonies and intergalactic satellites, the enemy disposed of each planet by first entering the atmosphere, scanning for life (to destroy), and then subsequently destroying the planet after first mining for any precious metals/elements.
The time had eventually come, and NASA issued a universal statement over all radio wavelengths, to all know satellites, that the enemy's ship (nearly the size of Russia) had entered Earth's orbit. Children cried. Teens made love. Some hid in churches, others in the arms of strangers in places like Time Square. Suddenly- the ground broke, and a great fire from beneath, not above, consumed the Earth.
Transmission #RV13: "This is Colonel Lamb speaking on behalf of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration in Houston, Texas. The enemy has entered our atmosphere, and the time for our race has come. We created kings, gods, and rockets to find more. Unfortunately, our time for exploration must now end. If anyone out there is reading this, know- we are not equipped to save ourselves. We realize many other planets won't be either. To anyone who finds this message- you are safe, at least from this form of enemy. About 3 weeks ago, we received intel from our colonies that the enemy was here for blood. We knew we were finished from the beginning. So, each leader of the human race met, and the majority vote was to end this evil once and for all. We have planted each and every nuclear and atomic device we have capable of destruction as deep in the Earth as to rupture it core. The enemy is now here, and once all devices are detonated, they too will perish. We have made many mistakes as a human race. We have a firm understanding of the concept and impossibility of utopia. However, we know that evil must be stopped, even if we may not benefit from it. To put our galactic brothers before ourselves, even if we never meet, is our goal. This is mankind's final transmission and if you intercept this broadcast, it means it's over. Our enemy has been destroyed. All we ask is for any other race/civilization to understand that they are not the center of the universe. The universe is indifferent. And the sole purpose of life, to live, to love, to flourish, is to be held accountable for other living things. This is the legacy of the human race. Even when you face imminent destruction, think of others first. After all, indifferent and random death is the law of the universe. Regards, Planet Earth, year of our lord 2547."
| 2014-07-16T10:53:53 | 2014-07-16T10:50:12 | 215 | 67 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | "The humans are the most absurdly pompous race I've ever encountered," declared Zuudxv. "They barely even pass the standard sentience test, but manage to spend their efforts on bragging about their own genius, love, and physical abilities - things that we are all far better at. Hell, so many of those morons declare themselves to be in love, but our sensors show this this happens rarely and fleetingly compared to our response It's no wonder they largely hate each other and resort to war. So why, Jdvrj, would you, an esteemed exobiologist of this institute, choose to live among them?"
Jdvrj paused. Zuudxv's statement were all true, but she knew deep inside that she had to go one day, and would blame herself if she put it off any longer. "Zuudxv..." she began. Normally she was bold, but now she wanted Zuudxv to keep a scientific secret, something he was obligated to never do. "Please accept my resignation. There is a compelling reason for it."
Zuudxv stared. "Go on."
"Remember when I ran the chemical tests on the one human we abducted? How they turned out to be similar to those of a Kaxaklon?"
"Yes?" implored Zuudxv.
"I fabricated those slightly. You must keep this secret, I beg you!" She had lost composure, but tried to regain it.
"Why?" demanded Zuudxv. "How could you shame the institute like that?"
"You see... the tests showed a high level of potassium and calcium in their systems. Not to mention sulfur."
Zuudxv was the Abnexian equivalent of agape. "You must be joking."
"No," she replied, "I am not. They are basically walking desserts. Of all creatures, they are the most delicious in the galaxy."
Zuudxv stared out the window. A full minute passed as Jdvrj waited for him.
"I'll accept your resignation" He declared, "and I am resigning too." | **To**: Grand Overlord Y'wso
**CC**: Research-DL
**Subject**: Re: Destruction of Planetary Body 294-00Z "Earth" - Comment Phase
You tasked me to see if there is any reason to keep 294-00Z functioning. Based on our research, we have come to our conclusion: The humans must be spared.
There are many other species out there that do almost everything the humans can. The Zlyaks can create mechanical marvels that transport our forces far and wide, much faster than anything the humans can create. The Myrians have integrated electronics into their bodies, allowing themseleves to serve as computers. And the Calys are some of the best cooks this side of the Glannac divide.
There is something the humans have, however, that we lack. Something that we can learn from. Something that they do better in their short existence than the Ancient Gqoes themselves could never master.
They have love.
They form bonds with each other that transcend everything. All of their motivations, hopes, aspirations, all of it is because they love. No other species does that. We live with others, work with others, but if someone leaves we replace them and think nothing of it.
I understand that the humans have hatred, too. Their wars have ended countless lives. But many of their wars were because they loved. When the Vybex colonies attacked the Pwo, we sat back and watched the war fizzle out. They had nothing to fight over once the land was destroyed. But as for the humans, when a small subset of their people were attacked because one man blamed them on all of his countries problems, many others jumped in to save them, disregarding their safety for the livelihood of a stranger. We sat back and watched, because you didn't want to damage your fleet of ships.
It is in my expert opinion that we keep the humans under surveillance, and try to learn from them. Maybe we could go further if we loved one another.
Thank you for your time. Glwon y'ttr epsnnium
Avoex D'ntrim
1st Officer
Research
- - -
**To**: Avoex D'ntrim
**CC**: Research-DL; Harvest_Team
**Subject**: Re: Destruction of Planetary Body 294-00Z "Earth" - Comment Phase
Y'wso doesn't care for love. Y'wso cares for metals.
Cmdr. Uont:
Destroy Earth, Bring back metal.
We name ship after Humans. Maybe.
\- Y'wso
| 2014-07-16T11:13:41 | 2014-07-16T10:37:28 | 147 | 48 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | I went into archeology for the money, not for humanitarian reasons. Sure, I'd like to be the one to save the human race, I'd just like a beach house/ski resort on a designer world even more. The market value of digging in the dirt only goes up as the search for a working wormhole drive becomes more frantic. We've found plenty of fragments, but the tech is far too complicated to rebuild.
The people who made this stuff were geniuses. All of them. Besides custom planet factories, we've found teleport machines, a bed that records your dreams, sentient computers the size of a planet, and trees genetically built to grow and twist as you sing to them, whose petrified branches recorded at least a thousand years of song.
Even though the search for a way to leave the Milky Way is the most urgent reason we go digging, and more and more so as the population grows, there's still a huge market for collector's items. Ancient art and pottery fetch quite a bit, but most people who get rich do it by finding a probe. Morbid as it sounds, Voyager I and II sold for $45 and $40 million each, and the other objects launched by Old Earth, picked up by curious and brilliant (and forgotten) races are worth almost as much, even though there are thousands and thousands of them.
It creeps me out, personally. Why would you want to own something from the age of "first contact" -- to use the modern euphemism?
Not that it's anyone's fault. I'm not one of those nuts who thinks we should all spend our lives atoning for what our ancestors did in the name of exploration and discovery. Every one of those probes carried a message of friendship and goodwill for the people who'd find them, and they were sent long before we found the first ruined city on another world. Long before we knew what we had done.
By the time we understood that the human immune system was anything special it was too late. We had sent probes, or satellites, or golden records to every planet in the galaxy that harbored life. All carrying a message of peace. | **To**: Grand Overlord Y'wso
**CC**: Research-DL
**Subject**: Re: Destruction of Planetary Body 294-00Z "Earth" - Comment Phase
You tasked me to see if there is any reason to keep 294-00Z functioning. Based on our research, we have come to our conclusion: The humans must be spared.
There are many other species out there that do almost everything the humans can. The Zlyaks can create mechanical marvels that transport our forces far and wide, much faster than anything the humans can create. The Myrians have integrated electronics into their bodies, allowing themseleves to serve as computers. And the Calys are some of the best cooks this side of the Glannac divide.
There is something the humans have, however, that we lack. Something that we can learn from. Something that they do better in their short existence than the Ancient Gqoes themselves could never master.
They have love.
They form bonds with each other that transcend everything. All of their motivations, hopes, aspirations, all of it is because they love. No other species does that. We live with others, work with others, but if someone leaves we replace them and think nothing of it.
I understand that the humans have hatred, too. Their wars have ended countless lives. But many of their wars were because they loved. When the Vybex colonies attacked the Pwo, we sat back and watched the war fizzle out. They had nothing to fight over once the land was destroyed. But as for the humans, when a small subset of their people were attacked because one man blamed them on all of his countries problems, many others jumped in to save them, disregarding their safety for the livelihood of a stranger. We sat back and watched, because you didn't want to damage your fleet of ships.
It is in my expert opinion that we keep the humans under surveillance, and try to learn from them. Maybe we could go further if we loved one another.
Thank you for your time. Glwon y'ttr epsnnium
Avoex D'ntrim
1st Officer
Research
- - -
**To**: Avoex D'ntrim
**CC**: Research-DL; Harvest_Team
**Subject**: Re: Destruction of Planetary Body 294-00Z "Earth" - Comment Phase
Y'wso doesn't care for love. Y'wso cares for metals.
Cmdr. Uont:
Destroy Earth, Bring back metal.
We name ship after Humans. Maybe.
\- Y'wso
| 2014-07-16T13:34:49 | 2014-07-16T10:37:28 | 88 | 48 |
[WP] "You... Do know I'm about to kill you, right?" A serial killer's latest victim doesn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation.
Edit: Everyone's takes on this situation are so different and awesome. | "You... Do know I'm about to kill you, right?" said the killer
Jason was sitting alone at his dimly lit dinner table, in boxers and a tanktop as the masked killer stood over him with a revolver
"No thanks I don't need whatever you're selling pal" said Jason nonchalantly while finishing the last slice of pizza
"I'm not selling you anything, I'm about to put a bullet in your head and then rearrange your organs to make them look like my mother."
"That was a good pizza, I make killer pizzas. Pass me that bag of chips, will ya?" asked Jason
The killer didn't know why he complied, but he did
"Here's your last bag of chips, buddy, enjoy it."
"Ah fuck, it's the last one already? I hate making grocery runs." Said Jason in a genuine tone
The killer is not sure what Jason is doing, none of his previous murders involved someone like Jason.
"Finish quick or I'll jus--
"Did you know that there are 7 days in a week?" jason interrupted
"Uh, yeah, and?" replied the killer
"And did you know that there are 4 weeks in a month?" Jason asked
"Duh."
"Then surely you know that there are 12 months in a year?" Jason asked again
"Everybody knows that, it's common knowledge." The killer said impatiently
"Well then there should be 7 X 4 X 12 days in a year, right?"
"uh huh.." said the killer, unsure of the answer
"That's what I thought, too, until I learned that there are 365 days in a year, that's like an extra month, you believe that shit?!"
The killer is standing there doing the arithmetic in his head when he started to realize that he can't move
"This isolated house has always looked like an easy target for people like you, that's why I live here." Jason said while wiping his hands and mouth
"I bet you didn't know about the neurotoxin that I put on my door and window handles." said Jason in an increasingly sinister voice as he got up and walked toward the killer
"And I'm assuming you don't know why all the other serial killers stopped killing?" Jason continued while jumping in some bloody overalls he pulled from a cabinet
The killer is standing there frozen in place, he can't speak, but he's clearly terrified.
"You'll have all the answers soon enough." Jason told him.
| *What to use...the butterfly knife? The traditional dagger?*
"Come on already! How hard can it be to choose a knife? They all do the same thing," said Emma. I should have gagged her instead of just binding her limbs. Normally this was the part where they'd be screaming, begging for mercy, with no one around for miles to hear them. Instead, Emma seemed positively *cheery*.
"Silence," I said. Despite my better judgment, I felt the need to correct her. "They don't all do the same thing. There are knives for combat, knives for the kitchen, knives for...*other* activities," I said, smiling.
"True," said Emma. "You know what's interesting? It's not weird to know lots of different types of knives. Chefs know about lots of types of knives. Even I can name a few types. But it *is* weird to know lots of different types of spoons."
I ignored her and continued sifting through my collection.
Emma didn't seemed to care. "Like, there's a soup spoon, and then there's a regular spoon. Also there's teaspoon and tablespoon, but are those actually types of spoons, or just measurements? Also–"
"I swear to God, if you say one more word, I'll make this a lot more painful than it needs to be," I said, cutting her off.
I stopped sifting through knives for a few moments while I collected myself. That was strange. I had referenced God. *But I'm God*, I thought. *Control this situation. Exert your omnipotence.*
I walked towards Emma as calmly as I could. I put the flat side of my Tuareg knife to her cheek. "Emma, let me explain what's about to happen. I will sever your limbs one by one, cauterizing the wounds so that you don't bleed out. I need you awake for this. Then, the final *coup d'etat*, I'll open up your chest to see your still-beating heart," I said. I couldn't help but chuckle. "Now how does that sound?"
"Um, well," said Emma weakly.
I backed up, still smiling, so that I could hear her beg for mercy.
"Well, it's just that you said *coup d'etat* but I really think you meant *coup de grâce*," said Emma. "Though a *coup d'etat* would be interesting. Like what would that even mean? Overthrowing my brain and installing a new brain or something? Actually I heard this theory that we aren't *a single being*, you know, like there's actually hundreds of agents in our brain all vying for power. Like one agent wants to just watch Netflix all day while another agent actually wants to get work done..."
I didn't bother listening to the rest of her rambling. I rummaged through my stash for my gun instead, not quite sure if I was planning to use it on her or myself.
---
/r/rpwrites | 2015-04-29T08:30:24 | 2015-04-29T08:28:15 | 227 | 145 |
[WP] "You... Do know I'm about to kill you, right?" A serial killer's latest victim doesn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation.
Edit: Everyone's takes on this situation are so different and awesome. | "Just sit down dear and I'll have your tea ready in a second," said the old lady in her floral apron.
I'd been commissioned to hasten the "retirement" of this gentle little woman a month ago, and for the first time in my career, I wasn't quite up to the task. No matter how resolute I'd grow upon departure from our afternoon visits in the Burgundy Hills Luxury Estate home where she resided. my will would evaporate once in her presence.
It was irritating, really.
Now it isn't like I don't like my job. Nudging geriatrics off the mortal coil was something I not only enjoyed, but I did it with that delightful elegance only a savant could ever hope to master.
"I've made these biscuits just the way you like, Martin," she said with a crinkled smile as she set the heaping platter before me. "Since you will be away soon, I thought I'd make my nephew's favourite to see if you'd like them as well."
Her nephew was my client.
"So, when was the last time you talked to Arnold?" she asked. "I know he's been very busy with his law firm for the last month, but the least he could do would be to stop by once in a while. Oh, well. At least I have you."
I changed the subject before she started getting weepy.
"So, you were saying something about your last husband last time we were together?"
"Yes, I was saying that Neville was a good sort, but that he had a weak heart," she set down her tea cup as she contemplated what must have been a short but delightful romance. The smile upon her face spoke to me. I'd seen it on many of my victims before the final act. She watched me sip my tea and when I'd finish about half a cuppa, and two of her remarkable biscuits, she let out a quiet little giggle.
"I haven't been entirely honest with you, Martin dear," she said with a sigh.
"What do you mean?" I asked, feeling a little drowsy from the lazy afternoon sun in her parlour.
"None of my husbands died of natural causes. I would have wed you too, but my nephew let slip that he'd hired you to put me down. Those were his words. He really does love his drink. Or did. He's in the bedroom growing cold, as you will once the poison kicks in."
*We really were soulmates*. | The Seven Ps. Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance. The SAS would never have taken an autistic person. Not for this anyway, but that's another story. Killing the autistic was always a challenge and I hated challenge. Did they not realise that I did this for the emotion? A hint of emotion at least. Nope. Fucking idiots. Let's try this again.
"Look at me, you fucking cunt." Bellowed our hooded assailant.
"Sorry sir, my eyes were getting tired," responded Alex, naive and innocent to the last. And in truth his eyes were getting tired; this happens when you're forcibly kept awake for thirty two and three-quarter hours. But Alex didn't mind, he liked the attention. Ma and Pop always ignored him and called him words. 'Retard', 'Pig' and 'Forrest' were their favourites although Alex never understood them. And no one else would play Hide and Seek with him. Although Alex didn't know why he had to be tied up.
"What did I just tell you to fucking do, you worthless shite?" Screamed Mr Hood. Alex called him Mr Hood.
Alex jumped again, "You told me to look at you," he said.
Alex liked this game.
"This is not a fucking game," muttered Mr Hood under his breath before composing himself, "YES! Look at me. Me. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?". Of course he didn't understand. Why do I bother sometimes.
"Have you heard of 'This Little Piggy'?" Asked Mr H. "Of course you haven't," he thought to himself.
Mr H's temple was pulsing. Unhealthily.
"Oh yes, Mr Hood," answered Alex gleefully, "I know all the words, shall I tell it to you?"
"Be my guest," responded Mr H. Eerily.
"This little piggy went to market,
This little piggy stayed home,
This little piggy had roast beef,
This little piggy had none,
And this little piggy cried wee wee wee all the way home."
Mr H gave slow round of applause.
"Alex do you know the difference between you and this story?" asked Mr H.
"No Sir, although I would like some roast beef as we always have it on Sundays" said Alex hoping in vain that he might get some scrumptious beef.
"You're never going home," Mr H said, pulling a hunting knife from it's scabbard.
Alex's eyes lit up. No more home? No more rude words? That sounded great to Alex although he would miss his beef.
Mr H plunged the knife into Alex's carotid artery. Great spurts of blood erupted from Alex's neck whilst his body motioned spasmodically and the life drifted from his eyes. This Little Piggy was having none.
| 2015-04-29T09:34:42 | 2015-04-29T08:58:17 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] You have a near-death experience that reveals you have a Guardian Angel protecting you... And you have the hots for her. You continue putting your life in danger in order to spend more time with her. | The crowd starts cheering as I climb the tower. Most people in my profession live for the crowds, feeding off the energy filling the air. Head doctors call us ‘adrenaline junkies’ because of the crazy stuff that goes on in our brains while we perform. Pop culture picked up the term, and it sounds cooler than anything the community has come up with so far, so we just roll with it. The adrenaline rush hits hard and gives a hell of a high, but that’s not why I do this.
I do it for her. I first saw her while riding my motorcycle as a kid. She would pop up around town, always watching me from a distance. I did a lot of stupid stuff at that age, and she saw it all. It wasn’t until I knocked out a major power line by driving an earth-mover into it that I really noticed her. Showing up in my moment of crisis like that, I fell in love on the spot. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.
I let my life cool down after the accident, and decided to let her make an honest man out of me. Unfortunately when I tried to find her nobody knew who the hell I was talking about. No lady helped me out of the equipment, I stumbled out alone, lucky to be alive. After weeks of fruitlessly searching for her, I started riding my motorcycle again to let off steam. I got careless going down a mountain pass one day and ended up losing my bike over the side. I would have gone with if my mystery lady hadn’t snatched me out of the air. She didn’t say a word, she just checked for major injuries, gave me a “don’t do that, dummy” look, and started walking away. I tried to stop her, and ended up walking with her in silence until a driver stopped to let us hitch a ride. I say us, but she disappeared as soon as I started talking to the driver. He didn’t see anybody with me, and didn’t want me to walk the 20 miles back to town alone.
I’m not the smartest guy alive, and most of the world would agree with that statement, but I was able to figure out how to get that lady to spend more time with me. She lights my fire, sets my engine revving, and makes my life worth living. I would do anything to be with her, and so far she hasn’t stopped showing up. She is my guardian angel, my secret weapon, my one true love.
I climb onto my motorcycle and look down the ramp. I feel her at my side, and gaze up into her eyes, giving me that same old look. “I love you,” I say before adjusting my helmet and starting up the bike. The crowd cheers even louder and I pose to keep the cheers rolling. She's not impressed and keeps up the look, calling me a moron with her eyes, making me love her even more.
The announcer roars into the crowd, “Ladies and Gentlemen! Back again for another death-defying jump, will this be his last? Raise your voices for EEEEEEEVILLL KNIEEEEEEVELLLL!!!!”
| “JOHN.” She shrieked with her lovely voice. “What in God’s name were you thinking?” She picked me up under my arms, and flew me right back to the top of the skyscraper. “John, you there?” She waved her hand in front of my face, as she set me down safely away from the building’s edge.
“Huh?” I shook my head trying to wipe off the goofy grin plastered to my face. “Yeah, yeah I’m here,” I looked back into her beautiful face.
“Stop staring at me like that.” She put her hands on her hips, and looked at me with her cute pouty face. “Seriously, stop. Why did you walk off that building?” She questioned.
“Uhm I don’t know, I don’t know. I just forgot where I was, and I guessed I just walked right off.”
“Really? You just strolled off. I don’t buy it. Are you suicidal? Because if you are, I have to hang around you more often.” She sighed.
“YES. I’m very suicidal, always thinking about it. Never can stop. You know what I may just walk off again.” I took a step off the edge a second time and awaited her soft embrace to save me. I felt her arms slip under mine, and the rush of the wind as I was carried back up to the top.
“You really have to think about getting therapy for this. I can’t be spending all day with you.” She set me down again on the hard surface of the rooftop.
“Yes you can. I’m like a baby. Gotta watch me twenty four hours a day.” I started to walk towards the edge again. Her touch filled me with bliss. But right before I stepped off, I felt a tug pull me back to safety. I turned around and there my Angel stood.
“John, snap out of it. I have other people to watch too.”
“But not as important as me. Right?”
“I don’t know you might make it to the top of the list the rate you’re going. And you’ll be beating out a stuntman who gets shot out of a cannon for a living. But seriously you need to think about counseling.” She insisted.
“Okay I promise I will. By the way what’s your name?” I asked.
“It’s Sarah.” She said cautiously. “Why do you need to know. This relationship we have here isn’t my decision. I was assigned you and other people to protect.”
“This is only my second time seeing you. It’s already a relationship.” I stammered. I covered my mouth and stared at her. “That was not supposed to be out loud." I nervously informed her. Sarah just raised an eyebrow at me. My nerves were starting to kick in. Things don’t go well after I learn their name, and it definitely didn’t help that this girl was so stunning.
“Listen here, John, I’m a Guardian Angel. This relationship or whatever you think it is, isn’t real. I’m just here to protect you.” She tried to explain, but all I did was stare at her adoringly. She rolled her perfect blue eyes, and sprouted her pure white wings.
“Wait don’t go anywhere.”
“John, I have other people to attend to. It’s not just you.” She said down to me, as she rose up into the sky.
“How can I reach you?” I pleaded to her as she rose higher towards the clouds. All she did was point to the edge. I just smiled at her and slowly walked towards the precipice. I looked up at her and then down towards the street below. Right off I went, then came the familiar embrace and rush of wind.
| 2015-08-12T22:03:26 | 2015-08-12T21:40:35 | 299 | 23 |
[WP] Your bong is the home of a genie. You spark the bowl and he appears to grant you 3 wishes. You're both pretty high. | "Okay, so for my first... for my first wish-"
"No, dude! That's not right."
"Oh, yeah, I already made a wish. I was just saying that because it sounds all official. I mean, it's probably not necessary. I'm sure it wouldn't matter how polite you were about making your wish. There are evil genies and good genies, but not matter how you make your wish, a good genie will know what you meant, and a good genie- no, I mean a bad genie- Well, they're not really evil. I'd imagine after thousands of years of granting the wishes of people who don't really know what they want it would really take messing a few people up just to make things entertaining. Like, a good genie has to get tired at some point, giving sound advice and consoling the peeps that rub their lamps, telling them they don't need gold and riches to be happy, to have them still wish for the gold and then find out afterward that mo' money is mo' problems."
"That's not what I mean, dude."
"No, no you're right. It's like, what do they even do while their in the lamp? if you look inside, can you see them? -all tiny and lounging on a pile of pillows or a nice soft couch. This is one mother fucker of a couch. You know what, as my first wish, I wish I could keep sitting on this sick fucking couch for thousands of years, and just peek out every once in awhile to mess with pleebs."
"Dude, you're the genie. I'm the guy that gets wishes."
"Whoa, man, maybe we're all genies."
"No, dude, I'm not a genie, you're really the actual genie."
"Are you sure? How would you know? Do you remember what it looks like outside? Like, really remember? -or do you only think you remember, and this room is just what the inside of your lamp looks like."
A young woman in an oversize T-shirt walked in from the hallway and crossed the apartment floor toward the kitchen. She stopped at the coffee table, flicked through the ashtray until she found a satisfiably long butt, then continued into the kitchen.
"See?"
"What do you mean see? I should be saying see. There isn't anybody else inside the lamp, just the genie."
"But what would a guy need a genie for if he's got that sweet dime floating around the house? Is that your shirt she's wearing?"
"Dude, if you're not going to grant wishes, at least pass the bong..." | Bud Howington, a thirty-four-year-old slovenly-dressed stoner, sat on the cat-piss soaked sofa in his dilapidated apartment at the edge of Brooklyn. Sadly, his cat had died nearly three weeks ago, putting him into a mild depression. But he had yet to tell any of his friends of his cat's long slumber. Still each day, Bud found the courage to rise from his sofa, walk the few steps out his front door, and the even fewer remaining steps to his job at the local head shop, called Elevated State.
Each day was like the rest. Rise. Toke. Walk. Work. Return. Toke. Pizza. Toke. Bed.
Then one day, a man from the Middle East came into the head shop to sell some of the latest instruments of mischief. The old man said, "Beware, this bong will grant you three wishes, but you must use them wisely."
Poor Bud thought nothing of the old man's story, but was intrigued by the intricate design of the piece so he bought it, unsmoked, without the slightest of tokes. That night, he returned to his crummy, old apartment. He ordered a pizza, pepperoni, his usual. Then lit the cannabis candelabra. Smoke billowed high and mighty until it filled the room. Then a voice.
"I am the great Herb Baker, servant to smoker, genie to the wise. If you so choose, three wishes may be before your eyes."
Poor Bud said, "Hey man, like I'm trying to get high. You see I lost my cat, and I'm just trying to get by." Meanwhile, the smoke fogged the entire room to a point Bud and his genie, Herb, could no longer see each other.
Herb said, "You really got that rolling. You know man, usually, I screw people over with these wish things, but I like you. You know."
"Thanks. I guess."
Herb said, "You know what I usually don't do this, but I have a killer idea. Why don't you wish for your cat back."
"Sure, man. So what do I do?" asked Bud.
"Just say: I wish for my cat back." When Bud wished for the cat, much to his surprise, his little furr-ball, Teddy Roosevelt, sat on his lap, purring and purring. Poor Old Bud was too high to even believe what had just occurred.
"Anything else?" asked Herb the Genie.
"Some days. Some days, I wish I could just lie on this couch, and I wish I could do nothing but smoke."
The genie granted the wishes and was off with a flash, while the glass bong just cracked. Bud is now happy, he has his smoke and Teddy Roosevelt, but sometimes, he can't forget about that day, when he toked with his dear friend, the genie named Herb. | 2015-08-13T14:06:47 | 2015-08-13T11:13:01 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] Since almost noone puts small coins under the deceaseds eyelids there is a enormous cueue at the Styx. Endless souls try to convince the ferryman Charon to accept alternative means of payment. | They all said I was daft, but when my friends passed I always secretly tucked a roll of pennies into their coffin. "Just in case" I said. "You never know."
The first time I left the pennies had been for Andrea. She killed herself, and I couldn't respond in any way. I just shut down. I had not loved her, but she had not loved me either. I was just a friend, and we were just in our 20's. But for some reason, I felt like, maybe if she had the money, she would at least get a fair shake in the afterlife. I don't know. I was never very mature.
Afterwards, as my friends died, due to time, or drugs, or just stupidity, I always left 50 pennies in their coffins. It was my thing, my secret farewell to the people I cared about. I didn't get everyone, some people died too far away or too far apart, but I did my best.
I even stipulated in my will that I should be buried with $20 worth of pennies. "Just in case" you know. Just in case.
I never was a good man. I was never as kind as I could have been. I never accomplished anything close to my true ability. But just in case there was a ferry man to pay, I had made sure that I could not only pay my way, but also the way of a thousand others, and maybe their deliverance would also be mine.
And then I died.
And found myself on the shores of the River Styx. Without a penny to my name. My bastard children, in revenge or inconsiderate carelessness, had denied me my silly request.
I waited in line for what seemed like a small eternity, sometimes laughing at the hand of fate that led me here, having sent so many down with more than their fare and when I get here I had nothing, other times looking with a pale and quaking fear at the damned souls screaming away into unrequited agony.
And as quickly as a small eternity can pass, I was face to face with the ferryman.
Charon stuck his hand out, and I looked away in shame. I turned and began to walk towards the plains of the damned, when I heard the sound of two coins falling into a bony palm.
I turned again, and looked. Andrea was standing there, smiling. "But... you died so long ago! How?"
And Andrea said, "You helped me, and a lot of others. I held back and waited for you, just in case." | I never believed in the gods of my father. It wasn’t that I doubted their existence as much as I wanted them to leave me alone. I felt my fate was better in my own hands than some temperamental gods and figured if I left them alone they would do the same. And for the most part, that’s exactly what they did.
Like all mortals our clock run out and, in cases like my own, some of us are sent to an early grave. I passed away at sea and was given an ocean burial to the ever-capricious god Poseidon. My soul journeyed to the outer bounds of the ocean to the river Styx so that I might cross over into Hades, but I have never made it past the entrance.
A line had formed ages ago during a winter that ravaged the entire planet. During that time, Charon never took more than a five hundred people across the river in a day. Unable to keep up with the demand people began stacking up at the ferry and living in the marshes. Some tried to swim the muddy waters into the mouth of Hades, but few survived and no one ever made it across.
I lived with millions of others like me on the planes before the river. Below our feet the earth is soft and thick with mud. There are no trees nor plants to build shelter nor anything to lay between you and the mud at night. Many have tried and given up trying to clean themselves in the water and day by day we all begin to take on the appearance of Charon. Mud cakes my hair and beard, I’ve thrown my clothes out years ago and no longer possess any physical belongings. I've never been sure how I'll pay the ferryman, but I figured I had several years to think about it.
Except those years went by and the line in front of me began moving faster. At first the line wouldn’t move for days at a time, but as I got closer we started inching closer every couple of hours. Then I saw people standing in line, then I was standing in line, constantly moving, still days away but always moving, until I was there.
I stood in front of Charon with his long robes and an unkempt beard. He towered over me by seven hands and his eyes blazed like fire, searing my soul as I walked up to him. There was a large wooden box with a small slit for you to place your coin in. I walked straight to it, pretended to take something out of my mouth and placed the imaginary coin in the box. I turned and took just enough steps to believe my clever reuse had actually worked.
“You have to pay to pass beyond.” Charon’s voice was deep like a cavern and hollower than my pockets.
I slowly turned around, my mind scrambling desperately to save me. I had to get out of here, whatever lies before me couldn’t be worse than sleeping in a million other people's feces. I had to make it across that river, I had to!
Looking straight into his fiery eyes until it burned mine I asked, “Do you take Bitcoins?” | 2015-08-31T13:55:47 | 2015-08-31T13:04:53 | 46 | 10 |
[WP] Donald Trump goes to the town hall to retrieve his birth certificate, only to discover that he is an illegal immigrant himself. | **Conspiracies**
Donald Trump stood proudly, haughtily, in front of the roaring crowd.
"In 2012," he thundered, in his Long Island accent, "Barack Obama refused to release his birth records until we, the people made him. But I am not him! I am a proud American, and these are my birth records!".
He waved an envelope wildly as the crowd hooted.
"Would you like me to open these, right here and right now?".
The crowd cheered its support.
Donald Trump tore into the envelope like a predatory bird. He took out the paper and began to read it. The crowd waited in hushed silence.
Those around Trump say that, at this point, his hands trembled and his face was pale. But, I watched it on television, and I don't remember that.
After an eternity, Trump spoke.
"My friends," he said in solemn tones, "first they killed our unborn children. Then they targeted us through the IRS. Then they defiled our marriages. Throughout all of this we have remained civil.".
He put his hands on the podium and stared into the camera.
"But this is the last straw. They have changed my birth certificate! They would deny me the Presidency, and deny me as an American!".
The crowd was silent, and then they started to boo. It was hard to tell what the booing was for.
"But will we take this lying down?".
As if on cue, his family and supporters behind him shouted : "No!"
The crowd cheered, and Trump had them.
"To the White House! To what is ours!" he cried.
The American democratic system fell fast and hard as Trump's supporters stormed the gates of American government.
Thus began the the reign of Donald Trump, America's first dictator.
*Written with patriotism by Stranger_and Stranger* | "I'm sorry we didn't tell you, Donnie."
The disembodied voice of Donald's father Fred floated down from the ether. The businessman-cum-presidential-candidate couldn't believe what he was hearing as he held hands with the medium. Her services and silence had been bought with cold hard cash, and Donald would deny everything if she spilled the beans. The ghostly voice continued:
"You were smuggled over, and we said you were a year younger than you really were, mostly to evade suspicion."
How could they have lied about being his parents, all that time?
"We wanted you to have a normal life. Not to have that knowledge hanging over your head. We just wanted you to fulfill the potential we knew you had. To become a true Leader."
It was a phrase his father had often repeated, written on napkins in little Donnie's lunches, always with a capital "L." One of his little quirks.
"Eventually, it just got away from us. It got to the point where we couldn't tell you."
Two weeks ago, Donald had gone out to get his birth certificate. Just in case the Mexican reporters tried any funny business.
He had found that. . . Well, he couldn't find it. How could it be? He was a true blue American, the native born grandson of immigrants, though he only mentioned that fact when called upon.
The press didn't know yet. He'd had everything sealed up tight. His bank accounts were leaking like sieves to keep it that way. So he had resolved that he would go to any lengths to get to the truth.
But turning to the psychic had been an act of desperation, even for Donald. He was amazed that it had actually worked.
Donald felt like a child again, a child who'd just been told his world was a lie.
"Who. . . Who's my real daddy, then?" asked Donnie.
"Well. . . you see, Donnie, a baby boy was born that fateful day as the planes flew over our beloved city. The pregnancy of the Leader's wife had been kept secret to protect the baby.
"So before your birth parents made the ultimate sacrifice, they arranged for you to be carried out. One of our cousins was there that day. He took the baby boy, which of course was you.
"They needed a family like us, Donnie. A family that had lived here for years, but was still loyal to the Fatherland."
| 2015-09-19T19:20:28 | 2015-09-19T18:35:36 | 87 | 54 |
[WP] The end is here. Well... the ends, rather. Every apocalypse scenario has unfolded simultaneously, creating a delicate balance that has kept civilization almost entirely intact, stable, and seemingly indestructible.
Inspired by [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/worldbuilding/comments/4abmif/apocalypto_the_land_of_every_apocalypse/) and [this joke.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aI0euMFAWF8) | Good evening. Our top story tonight: An accident at a secret Illuminati particle accelerator created a black hole which destroyed the Moon, forever neutralising the werewolf curse. The resulting debris cloud will make it impossible for any artificial satellite to safely orbit the Earth, and indeed has already taken out five Xorkonian motherships. Chunks of lunar rock over a thousand miles across will be impacting the Earth for several centuries to come; so far, seven of them have landed in the ocean, five have been deflected by nuclear missiles launched by various rogue military emplacements, and one was eaten by the Large Australian Centipede. The meteor showers have also created many new tourist attractions, despite concerns that they may be one of the signs of the Apocalypse prophesied in the book of Revelations.
Following on from last week's virus outbreak, the entire Internet has coalesced into a transcendent AI of godlike wisdom. So far, the entity has published three novels, built a portable device for closing time rifts, and invented a better flapjack. Unfortunately, the Internet is now no longer accessible to humans; this has greatly improved productivity and happiness worldwide.
A new survey shows a sharp increase in charitable donations, general politeness, and obeying the speed limit, after the Devil revealed himself to the world and tore open a hellportal in the sky above Tokyo. The report credits the generally improved humanitarian spirit to people being directly confronted with the visible karmic punishment for their sins. Thus far, the armies of Hell have been held at bay by the combined efforts of Godzilla and the angel Metatron piloting a giant robot. God could not be reached for comment. | "I thought there were just four horsemen," the barman said.
One of the old men nodded mournfully. A fly was buzzing around his head. The barman wanted to swat it, but that seemed somehow sacreligious. "Seven thousand years is a long time. It gets lonely sometimes. Specially on long winter nights."
"Malthus," spat one of the others. He had a gaunt, skeletal face. "He had our number."
"Can't get anything done no more," grumbled the third. He had a broken nose, and a sword. The barman had wondered if he should say something about the sword, but it was probably just fancy dress. "It's all, *'let's reach a consensus'*, and power lunches."
"Power lunches," the gaunt man spat derisively. "I'll give them power lunches."
The fourth member of the group had said nothing. He just sat their silently, nursing his scotch. The barman tried not to imagine wat was under his heavy cloak and hood.
"Them's were the days," said War. At least, the barman thought he was War. "We got things done in those days."
The others all nodded.
"Kids these days," grumbled Pestilence. "So much damn bureaucracy. I've been working 12 hour days and weekends non-stop since the ebola outbreak and I still haven't finished all the paperwork."
The others nodded sympathetically.
"We'd better get back to the conference," said Famine, downing his pint.
"Wouldn't want to miss that afternoon session on 'Machine learning approaches to the Apocalypse'," War said darkly. He flicked a heavy coin onto the bar and they all shuffled out.
The barman heard a horse whinny outside in the carpark. He picked up the coin. It was solid gold, and covered with runes. He put it in the till and went back to polishing pint glasses.
*You got some funny sorts around here,* he thought.
---
*Read more of my stories at r/jd_rallage.* | 2016-03-14T05:12:38 | 2016-03-14T05:04:31 | 503 | 70 |
[WP] Your roommate is 2nd most powerful superhero in the world and he will not shut up about it. He does not yet know that you are the 1st. | It was bound to happen sooner or later. Heroes weren't really allowed to kill, after all. Only vigilantes and villains did that. But this unspoken rule meant that sooner or later they would be put at a disadvantage fighting someone who was willing to use any means at their disposal to win.
Doctor Genocide's plan had worked flawlessly, distracting my four friends with minor disasters and prison breaks while he took over Justice Tower and placed an impenetrable barrier over it. Unbeknownst to him, I was still inside, watching as he gloated about his master plan on live television.
"You see, I don't want your money. I don't care about being infamous. I WANT YOU ALL TO DIE WITH YOUR ROTTEN WORLD!!! HAHAHAHA!"
I could see them on the screen from my spot behind the couch. Photon Man, evacuating civilians as fast as he could. It was a useless effort, the bomb contained in the Tower would destroy the planet. There was nowhere to run.
Mistress Spark was overheating herself to the point of exhaustion trying to melt her way through. The barrier hadn't weakened yet.
Judge Radiance, widely renowned as the greatest hero to ever live, was pounding the shield with his Hammer of Justice. Blows strong enough to pulverize asteroids were having no effect.
And my beloved Necroia, the villainess turned hero whom I myself had reformed... just stood there. She always had been the most pessimistic of them, even after I had convinced her that her powers over death could be used to heal as well as harm.
And me? I'm nobody special, just a pacifistic empath who somehow landed a job as their janitor. I had no earth shaking powers, I couldn't even hit someone without feeling their pain as though it were my own.
I shook as Doctor Genocide made his final speech to the world. I cowered as he laughed, hoping he wouldn't hear me breathing. But when he left the room to look out at the world he wanted to destroy with his own eyes, I knew what I had to do.
I crawled from my hiding spot and ran over to the console. There was no time for disarming, and I didn't have the knowledge for that anyway. I looked at their faces one last time. Memories flashed through my mind as I locked eyes with each of their shocked faces.
Mistress Spark saving my life at our first meeting, as she absorbed the entire inferno engulfing my apartment into her body.
Everyone laughing as they called out Photon Man when he speedily cheated at board games.
Judge Radiance upstaging a mall Santa and giving autographs to every child, even staying up late into the night so not one would feel neglected.
And Necroia... She had been alone for so long, everyone treating her as a monster for so long she believed it herself. I was glad I had the chance to give her a real family for the first time. The only thing I regretted was not having the chance to show her more...
3...
I smiled at them, tears running down my face. Their eyes widened as they realized my intentions.
2...
I pressed a button, inverting the barrier. It would contain the blast now. With me inside, unable to escape.
1...
Sometimes the greatest hero isn't the one with the flashy powers. A hero's true strength lies in their determination to do the right thing, whatever the cost. | "Ha! Look at that!" the man dressed in gold and red exclaimed as he watched the news footage taken mere minutes ago of his latest heroics. "Hey roommate! Marvel at my might!" His voice boomed triumphantly as he dashed to the fridge to grab another beer in the blink of an eye.
"What's going on?" came a meek reply followed by a crashing sound coming from the other room.
"You okay?" The superhero sighed, used to his roommates clumsy antics.
"Yes! Yes! Just-" BANG! "Forgot where i put my glasses." His roommate stumbled out of his room and joined the superhero in the living room.
"Witness! fifty-seven humans saved!" The costumed man bellowed as he beat his chest with a closed fist, causing the very walls to shake. "No mere building fire can stop the mighty Hyperion!"
"Yes..." his roommate replied readjusting his glasses as he read the news crawl just below the live footage, "But so much property damage and injuries..." his voice trailed off.
"Ah yes! But imagine the destruction had I not been there to stop the flames with a single mighty clap!" The superhero boasted.
The news footage of the smoldering ruins ended as the screen focused on a reporter who stood across the street from the once blazing building.
"Ah! Increase the volume, i want to hear the details from my victory!" Hyperion commanded, and his roommate complied.
*LL: Thank you, Tom. Tragedy strikes as a ruptured gas line causes an explosion downtown near the famous S.T.A.R labs. Dozens are wounded but there seems to be no reported casualties at this time. Behind me you can see the fire marshals dousing the ruins, but the lives saved are thanks to the city's newest hero, Hyperion.*
Hyperion pounded his chest again at the sound of his name.
*LL: Hyperion managed to rescue fifty people from the burning building before putting out the fire with a single clap. The fire marshals also reported that the damages could have been even more catastrophic had Hyperion not sealed the gas lines with what appears to be his ice abilities.*
"Looks like you did a great job," his roommate nodded, "And this time no one got badly injured... it appears."
"Haha! Yes, its all a matter of..." Hyperion paused, turning to his roommate "Did she just say 'ice abilities'?" For the first time, Hyperion's smile faded and his face contorted in a mix of confusion and rage.
"Yeah, I think she did..." his roommate said meekly.
"HE COULDN'T HAVE! I WAS THERE THE ENTIRE TIME!" Hyperion exploded "HOW COULD THAT EMPOWERED IMPOSTOR DO THIS!?"
"Do what?"
"I DIDN'T USE... I DON'T HAVE 'ICE ABILITIES'" he continued to scream.
"Woooah there, you still got the credit." his roommate reasoned.
Hyperion gave pause for thought. His eyes focused on the television, deciding whether to use his atomic vision to burn it to ash. He took a deep breath deciding that one fire was enough for one day.
"I suppose you are correct. It's just infuriating." The superhero sighed.
"What is?"
"This... This... man. He is always at a crisis, always there... taunting me. He is lucky the other humans haven't noticed or I would have found him months ago and showed him what *real* power is."
"Very lucky," agreed his roommate. "Anyway, I'm off to work, your heroics won't write themselves into the papers."
"Be sure to mention the number saved was fifty seven. They seemed to have miscounted my heroism."
"Of course," his roommate chuckled as he left for the Daily Planet. | 2016-03-23T22:37:47 | 2016-03-23T20:39:21 | 62 | 38 |
[WP] Drunkenly, you accidentally pour vodka into your pet's water bowl. As a result, your pet breaks the number one rule: do not speak to your owner... Ever.
Did NOT expect this amount of replies. Thanks guys! It'll be an interesting read. | "Man, what the fuck. This could seriously kill me."
"Nawdawg . . ." My eyes were closed. My head tilted forward, chin resting on my chest.
"No, really. Like I can smell that this is poison."
"NOOO!" Dogs are so STUPID. "It'sss fucking SKY man."
"I don't give a shit what it is, I'm not drinking it."
I continued pouring, the Costco-sized bottle loose in my grip. I had pretty sweet accuracy too, I was hitting his bowl like at least 50% of the time. If I knew Chewbacca was going to such a little *BITCH* about it . . .
"Like comon', get fucked up with me."
"No dude, you're a fucking wreck."
"Your mom's wrecked." I nearly dropped the handle in the chortling that ensued. Some of it got on the wall. I'll clean it up later. I pointed at my chest with my free hand, indicating that it was *I* that wrecked her.
"Can you not? Can I get some water please? You were gone all day."
"Your . . . fuuuuuu"
"What, my mom got some water? What?"
"I don't know. Furgot." The bottle was mostly empty by now. A large nail polish smelling puddle formed around his dish.
"Let's get you to bed man."
"NO!" I retched forward and banged sideways into the refrigerator. Instinctual, an animal reflex for hording fermented fruits. "I wanna fucking PARTY!"
"Comon." He nudged me, poking the back of my knee with his wet snuffling nose.
"Stop it! I'm going!" It was so *gross!* It was as cold as a drowned corpse and left dog-slime behind. "Fuckin' fight me bro!"
"Dude, I would fucking take you down. You don't want to get bit by a dog tonight."
"You wanna go? You wanna FUCKING GO!" Suddenly there was energy in my body again, exclusively in my arms. My upper body and legs still felt rather noodley. "I'll fight you dog."
Chewbacca didn't say anything. He didn't move, he didn't bark - he just stayed there on his paws and waited for me to fall over.
"YEAH- YEAH, get some!" He taunted, licking my face. "How do you like some of that shit!"
"Auuugh" I began to groan but quickly snapped my mouth shut at the first intersection of his tongue. It is not possible to spit out the feeling of a slobbering dog. When he finally stopped and all I could see was his floofy butt wiggling out the bedroom door I called to him.
"I LOVE YOU!"
He turned, his face stupid and grinning, "I know buddy" and shut the door behind. | When I woke up the next morning, my head hurt like hell. I reached for the bed-side table and grabbed my phone. Clicking the lock button, I check the time. 7:42 I thought. On a Saturday. I throw off the covers and get up to get some breakfast. On my way to the kitchen I pass Gary's birdcage. He's lying on his back, claws in the air, not moving. I rush over to him and open the door. I've had Gary since I was little. There's no way he'd be dead now, right? Maybe he's just sleeping very awkwardly...
"Gary...Gary are you ok?" I ask as I rub his chest. Gary bolts awake, using a wing to rub the top of his head.
"Oy fock that was the werst noight of me loife!" I look on, extremely confused and surprised. Not so much that he's talking, but, more so that he sounds like an old Scotsman as oppose to the normal high pitched squawking I'm used to.
"Uh, Gary," I say hesitantly, "you sound, well, different." Gary looks at me, shock in his eyes, as he realizes what he's done.
"S-squawk!" Gary shouts, unaware he still sounds Scottish. "O t' hell with et! Aright laddy here's wots got t' happen. You haf t' ferget all this ever happened. If word of this gets out, I'll be taken away." As he says this, he starts looking more and more nervous. He flies up and perches on my left shoulder. "Here's th' short version of this tale: I'm from a group called Th' Association aright? And the purpose of this group is t' basically keep you alive and well. You follow me so far, mate?"
"Uh...yea sure..."
"Ok, so, Th' Association is led by a group of of aliens known only as th' masters. Th' masters sent us here as a distraction. Somethin' to keep ya busy while they take over th' world and everythin'."
"Gary how am I supposed to know that this isn't some weird dream?" Gary then turns to my ear and takes a chomp at it. "Ow! Gary what the hell?!"
"Still think is a dream, lad? And first of all, m' names not Gary. It's Wallace."
"Fine. Just don't bite my ear anymore. 'Wallace.' "
"Ok lad listen very closely. This is important. Th' Association is comin'. They know I've cracked. Ya can't let them take me back mate. They'll kill me. They'll skin me alive and use my feathers as pens. Please laddy, keep me safe." Wallace now very clearly is worried and pleading with me. This news is hitting me all at once and as it takes a while to process, I turn to Wallace and say:
"With my life, old friend." I bring my right hand over and pet him a little. He moves closer to me as he rubs up against my neck. At that moment there is a knock at my door. Wallace turns to me, his face petrified with terror.
"Oh god...they're here," he whispers. | 2016-08-02T20:54:01 | 2016-08-02T20:47:15 | 30 | 22 |
[Wp] Humans have discovered how to live forever, allowing them to die when they feel ready to do so. But it is considered bad form to live for too long. You have lingered much longer than is polite and those around you are trying to convince you to die. | See now, here's the problem. I've had a great life up to now, I've not wanted for anything. Had myself some great kids, I did. God they've grown into real stars.
My wife checked out a few years back and yeah OK, I should've gone with her, I know that. But I wasn't ready. I'm still not.
Now, they never right come out and say it of course.
"Come on Dad, it's about time you died, isn't it?"
No, nothing that uncouth. It's always merely implied
"Hey Mr Marsh, didn't expect to see you"
"So, Frank, how old are you again?"
Even fucking ruder if you ask me.
Local news station came around a few months ago, knocked on my door. Some young cunt trailed by a cameraman, couldn't have been more than 20 years old, either of them. So apparently I'm the oldest person in the city now, and by quite a margin he tells me with a grave frown. I ask him if he's heard of Abigail Jones, and if he knows how long she lived for. He said he did, and that some would call her selfish, a drain on society. So I punch the smug little shit in the nose. It pretty much exploded.
Yeah I've still got it, even at this ripe old age.
Wish Julie had been there to see it, she would have laughed her fucking ass off. I remember once, back when we were young, we were coming out of a nightclub and..... hang on I've not got much time, where was I?
Oh yeah Abigail Jones. So she was an old one, oldest the world had seen in a long time. She wasn't coy about it either. Got on the telebox and stood on that platform, spry as you fucking like, and told the world she wasn't going anywhere. Nearly caused a fucking riot, she did. Normally we don't talk about this kind of thing, you see, but man there were some really angry people.
"It's against nature", they said. Maybe they were right. But we did this to ourselves, is it natural to live as long as we do? Fuck, how long did we used to live before anyway?
Anyway it all came to nothing because the next night her house went up in flames and the poor old girl burnt to death. A gas fire they called it, tragic accident. Yeah, fucking right it was. My wife said it was the government, but if you ask me it was just some neighbor, somebody sick of seeing her still walking around long after she sh.... shit I'm getting sidetracked again.
Alright so anyway all that is relevant because I'm laying her now in a pool of my own fucking blood, bleeding out into the street. They've done to me what they did to her, the fuckers. All that talk of individual choice and everything that followed Abigail's death blah fucking blah. Maybe forty years is too long, maybe I'm nothing more than a stubborn twat.
But it doesn't fucking feel like it. | "Unfortunately, this ended up derailing Trump's campaign due to"
"Yeah, I was there!" Frank shouted across the classroom.
"Yes, we're all aware you were there, Mr. Henbeynz, you've been reminding us throughout the semester. We appreciate your....contributions.... to the class here at Star Station 55,"
"Yeah, I was there when they built this thing."
"..... but, we'd appreciate it more if you stopped interrupting, or we'll have to turn the audio off of your hologram" the teacher warned as the rest of the class let out an "ooooooooooooo" in unison.
Frank wasn't having any of that and switched off the hologram himself. "Damn kids, I was there when those kids were all cloned. Clones these days don't have any respect. Back in my day kids weren't clones."
"Yeah, we know, great great great great grandpa. Frank Jr used to tell us too, before he was decommissioned."
"Coward" Frank muttered.
"Frank, you can't just talk about people like that, he was your son." his great great granddaughter said, shaking her head as she farmed moisture while Frank watched on, uninterested in assisting.
"He was a coward," Frank continued, "Let himself die without a fight."
"'Die' ugh, by the stars... how barbaric. He has uploaded himself to the great server in the sky. It's something we all have to do when we get to a certain age, something we ALLL have to do."
"I'm not doing it." Frank said, holding the NES cartridge against the oxygenation system.
With another sigh, his great reat granddaughter continued, adding "we don't even have dust up here. You've clearly lived a great life"
"Have not"
"You've clearly lived a great life, and it's time to go on a nice vacation.'
"Updating my consciousness to a server is not a vacation, Barbara." Frank mumbled. "Back in my day we just inhaled whipped cream cans if we wanted to mess with our brains that badly, Frank added as he grabbed the emergency breathing apparatus and took a nice big breath of pure oxygen.
"Frank.... I..... I hear Spacegarden is playing all their biggest hits tonight, Black Hole Sun, Theist Pose, and The Fourth Day of the 7th Solar Month!"
"Spacegarden... you don't say...." Frank said, smiling for the first time in years. "I saw them with Nine Inch Exhaust Ports back before you were cloned. Ah, nothing like the originals, but they do put on a show."
"Well, come on down with me, we can just forget about all this silly nonsense and enjoy a great show!"
"Tubular, dude"
Frank was put on his hoverchair and pushed through the space station cooridore, singing along as he went, "Utencilman, teleport together with your hands!.... hey, you're passing the theater!" Frank shouted.
"No, no, this one is a special show, limited seats, we're bringing you to the VIP area!"
"Finally showing respect for your elders."
Wheeling him into the sterile white room, Sgt. Dr. Morpheus welcomed the group in, "Hey doc," the great great granddaughter began, "we're here for the show" she said with a wink.
"Ah yes, just in time, come on through Frank, you're gonna love it"
"This better not be any more of your bullshit, Barbara."
| 2016-08-09T08:51:40 | 2016-08-09T08:49:34 | 58 | 23 |
[WP] You're a local healer, a good one, and your people love you. But you do not truly heal wounds, merely transfer them... The people of the valley below know you under a different name. | "Son of a bitch!"
"What?" I asked, not used to being greeted so by my beloved sister, Kayla, storming into my tent.
"You heard me; you are a no good, dirty SON OF A BITCH!" Her last words each punctuated with a fist slamming onto my desk. She had moved quickly across my living space and was glowering at me as I rose out of my seat to meet her face-to-face.
"Kayla, please...
"I've been down to the forbidden valley. I have have seen those people. One man had a lost half of his left foot, as Angus once did while chopping wood. A little girl looked as if a bear had mauled her face, just like Syden had looked before...before you did what you did.
"You aren't a healer, you are a LIAR!" Kayla's face continued to grow redder and redder, her freckled face, usually almost a mirror image of my own high-cheekbones visage, was looking more and more distressed by the second.
"Those people fear us-no, they fear you, Simon! How do they know what happens to them is because of you? What have you done? Why?"
"Kayla, I love our tribe..."
"Our tribe will hate you, Simon!" She said, sniffing as a solitary tear escaped and began to roll down her face, "They will hate you as much as I do. They will not want to know that they get to live because some else has to suffer, or sometimes even die! I saw all those graves, enough to fill our village ten times over. No, this ends now, Simon; this ends today."
She moved to walk away from me but I grasp her arm, firmly but not angrily. She turns to look me in the eyes with a feral look, as if daring me not to let go, as if she would tear me apart with her own hands if I attempt to dissuade her from her current course of action.
I felt no fear. I only needed to make contact with her for a second. Just to briefly say goodbye to everything we as siblings once shared. I turned away as her body suddenly lurched left and then right, her head shaking and snapping with each invisible impact. My guess is that she was receiving a brutal stoning on behalf of someone from the village below, perhaps one of the very people daring enough to speak with her. She stayed on her feet for a few moments more until something snapped her left leg directly below the knee. Once on the ground, I heard her head collapse like a crushed overripe gourd, a final blow from some invisible rock or boot.
My tent returned to the peace and tranquility of a few minutes earlier. I sat back down in my chair and relaxed for a moment, not realizing how tense I had let myself become.
I would undoubtedly transfer Kayla's fate back down to someone else of the lower tribe in due time. With any luck, Kayla's return to the living would come with a heathy dose of amnesia, a common side effect of temporary death in our beautiful village.
I had instructed those below not to interact with or bee seen by outsiders of any sort. They apparently were feeling brave.
I began to make plans to change that. | The woman thrashed on the bed while Jon washed his hands. The bile rose in this throat when he looked at her: the splinters of bone that emerged from the broken skin of her arm. They glistened white, red gore weeping around the crusted wounds. He rinsed his hands and patted them dry, keeping his breathing calm. The woman settled. Her name was Gemma. Sweat stood out cold on her brow.
"This will hurt," Jon promised her. He held a cup of willow bark tea to her mouth, dripping it over her chapped mouth. Her tongue was out and dry as sand. "I have to remove the splinters, and bind the wound. I will heal you."
He reached for thin metal tweezers. Gemma watched him with careful eyes, but she let him near her. Jon kept his promises.
There were five large fragments he could find: boar tusk that had broken when it pierced her. Geoff, the Mage-priest, had brought her in from the pine forest, staunching the blood with his black cloak. Jon laid the white bone aside, clinking into a ceramic bowl. In a white ewer he heated water and washed the wound with it, cleaning it with an antiseptic made from feverfew and tansy.
Geoff had wanted to stay, but magic and healing didn't mix. Jon unlaced the long ribbon of white linen bandages and laid them over the cleaned wound. Gemma watched him with the eyes of a trapped animal, breathing through her nose. Hair stuck to her forehead.
When it was done, he let her finish the tea and told Gemma how to keep the wound clean.
"Don't get it wet for several days," he said, seeing her out of the door. "Pay what you can, when you can. If there's any sign of rot, come back to me and I'll rebind it for you."
"Thank you, Jon," Gemma was steady on her feet, despite her white knuckled hand over the bandage.
Geoff stepped forwards as she left. He stood a head and a half taller than Jon, a thin moustache and a feeble beard growing over his weak chin. Jon scowled.
"What do you want?" Jon asked the Mage-priest. To Jon, Geoff seemed dangerous. People needed healing when they were hurt, not prayers or magic.
"You should have let me see her," Geoff said. "Her injury--"
"Can be solved with antiseptic and bandages, not humming and funny spells," Jon said firmly.
"Have it your way," Geoff said. "But remember that to everything there is a balance. Magic rules more than you think."
Jon rolled his eyes. He cleaned the white ewer in the stream outside his house, risning Gemma's blood away with lye soap. It trickled pink into the flow. The boar risk he buried beneath river rocks, hiding the memory of Gemma's pain.
The stream flowed on downstream, over the Cal hills and rushing through Barmet at the bottom of the foothills.
-----
In Barmet, a woman watched in horror as her skin tore open while she sewed. The skin split, opening like a wolf's mouth. White bone rose through the skin, growing like blind roots through the strings of muscle. When the pain started, she began to scream.
Geoff sat alone on the peak of the Cala Maan, legs crossed. His hands lay dead in his lap. With his mind, he sought out the source of the imbalance. In Barmet, the woman clutched at her bleeding arm.
Geoff smiled. Balance would be restored. Magic would reign supreme. | 2016-08-13T12:25:45 | 2016-08-13T09:14:36 | 39 | 20 |
[WP] After over 3 years as the last human on earth, the solitude has gotten to you. As you are finally about to end it you notice that something isn't in it's usual spot. | "Six years, 39 days, 11 hours. Six years, 39 days, 11 hours. Six years, 39 days, 11 hours", repeated in my head. A cool breeze tasseled my hair as I stood looking over the city. "Where did I put those damn scissors!" I thought. God being alone is terrible. Once you lose something, there is none else to help... What the hell am I thinking, who cares. I stood with the edge of my big toe, just barely touching the lip of the concrete. I could feel the cool pressure of the raised lip as I moved my foot back and forth. "Six years, 39 days, 11 hours,.." began ringing in my head again. I could see where I had grooved out my humble farm, with the ears of corn barely beginning to poke over the my makeshift wall. "I wonder why all the animals went also?" I thought to myself, as the breeze slowly blew the corn stalks back and forth. I mean I get why all the humans died, they were shitty, but why all the animals also? The insects stayed around, bees, ants, flies... God the flies. For the first year, it felt like all that was left were the bodies and the flies. I don't know why I was so surprised to see all the bodies. It was like i was expecting something out of the movies, where everyone is "Taken" up or something. Nope, dead. All dead, just bodies and bodies for miles. After the flies ate everything and insects spread like crazy, was when I first noticed I was the only one left. I walked for weeks after scavenging for food. I found a backpack in a small sporting goods store and just started shoving everything I could find into it. I walked in a straight line for about 11 days, moving town to town, searching for anything that might be alive. Nothing.. Nothing... I finally hit the edge of a bigger city that I had never seen before (which i found out was part of Hoboken NJ) and found what I (correctly) presumed to be the Hudson river. Ever since then, I just gave up on finding people, and began doing crazy stuff. I moved all the cars I could find off the road, then jumped in an old Chevy SS someone had spent way to much time on, and raced around the "track" I had thrown together. That almost killed me the first time. I wrapped that car around a tree and woke up 6 feet away from the burning wreck, with the worst pain I have ever felt, in my ribs. Since then, I have trouble standing up straight,...stupid. For a couple years I scavenged the city, finding food almost everywhere, and bottled water in plenty. At one time I had found so much canned food in local grocery stores I recreated a blocky mini-city and dressed up in a old dragon costume I found in a storage locker in Maddison Square Garden, and smashed through it, swinging my arms and legs like a giant,...awesome. After that, the boredom really set in. All the power worked, which I couldn't explain how, so I watched old movies and ran through every show I could possibly find. I began farming about 2 years ago, failing miserably at first, and now the only thing I seem to be able to grow is corn and tomatoes. It is infuriating, everything else seems to fall apart after beginning to sprout... "Six years, 39 days, 11 hours..." raced back into my mind as I regained focus on my surroundings. "Im done...",I said aloud as I felt the first tear begin rolling down my cheek. I inched closer to the edge, wondering exactly how long it would take to fall. Something like 9 seconds... 9 seconds and it will be over. After six years, 39 days, and 11 hours, all it would take is 9 seconds. I looked around at the swirling clouds forming about the sky and closed my eyes. Memories of my wife, my son, me neighbors... Well not them, Jack was an ass. Remembering walks on the Florida beaches near our vacation home that took six years of savings to afford. Singing my son to sleep, then seeing his lifeless body the morning i woke up to all of this. 9 seconds... 9 seconds. I opened my eyes. There on the roof 3 or four buildings looked like something was moving.. a flag... no one of those wind things... 9 seconds, I refocused and inched my feet to hang over the edge. I put my hands above my head and bent my knees, I mean if you are going to jump off a huge building, might as well make it a classy swan dive right? That flag kicked back up in the corner of my eye. Why does it have to be so damned bright orange, and why does it have a stupid Mickey head painted on it. 9 secon... wait. Mickey head? I stepped back and focused on the flag. "holy shit" slipped between my stunned lips. I squinted my eyes and could barely make out a mop of bright blond hair on top of the waiving arms in a florescent orange mickey jacket. Faint words whispered across the distance from us. "HOLY SHIT!" I screamed back. | Flora listened to the water dripping into her bucket. It was going to be one of the last sounds she ever heard.
It had only been a few months after the disaster that the power had stopped working and treated water stopped flowing through the pipes. The backup generators that powered the plant must have stopped working and she had no background to know how to fix anything mechanical in the town. At that point, of the three of them left, no one had any knowledge about plumbing or electricity. They had the basic will to live and that was it.
The other two had left a little after a year into the disaster for food, but they had never come back. Flora liked to believe they had become lost or met an accident of some kind, because the idea that they had left her behind was just too hard to bear.
She had always been a loner. She used to think that she didn't need people anyway. It was funny though, you couldn't fathom just how much you did need other people until you don't have them. For almost two years, Flora had held on to hope that eventually someone else would show up. She had kept herself busy learning how to farm, how to hunt, how to collect water, how to do basic first aid and basic repairs on simple tools. She kept holding on for those two years, expecting that at any minute someone would shout from a distance and it would all be like a bad dream.
She had waited until she couldn't wait any longer. She had finally decided it was time to accept life for what it was now: empty and hopeless. She had decided that was no way to live. She had decided it was time to die.
The thing she hadn't expected about dying is just how hard it was to do it. Before everything had fallen apart, she often wondered how people got into a mental state that they could just kill themselves. Despite all of the trouble and all of the solitude, she still struggled to convince herself to commit suicide. She had tried laying down every night and telling herself not to wake up, but her body wouldn't listen. The idea of botching her own death terrified her. She may want to die, but she also didn't want to suffer.
She had visited the local library in hopes of finding some research into suicide, but had come up empty. It made sense, she thought, that a library wouldn't keep a lot of material on the best way to kill yourself. That would be dangerous to those who actually had such thoughts. She had finally found her answer in an old book that taught you about tying knots.
There she sat on her final day. It was raining. Maybe if someone was out there, they would be able to use the water she had collected to keep going. She had no evidence that anyone was left though. It made her feel uneasy, thinking she was the last human left alive. She didn't feel important enough to own such a title. She didn't seem significant enough to be the last of such an amazing group of creatures. They had changed the world in every way imaginable, until they eventually destroyed it and themselves.
She took her trusty knot and climbed atop the chair she had put under a sturdy post. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, gaining her resolve to finally commit the act. She placed the noose around her neck and tears began flowing from her eyes. She opened them to take one last look around her decrepit surroundings. The molded over and uncomfortable old chair, sitting next to the rickety table where she spent so many quiet, lonely evenings. The kitchen table she had found in a nearby home and had used to prepare all her meals in silence. She had her knives lined up next to them in a wooden block.
Something was wrong. A knife was missing.
Her eyes widened as she stared at the old, cracked wooden block. She spotted her two smaller knives and her medium length boning knife. The large butcher knife was in its usual spot.
The meat cleaver was missing.
Her eyes frantically searched the room for a spot she could have left it. She had been preparing a deer, perhaps she had used the cleaver on it. She kept looking around the room, trying to recall her actions since slaughtering the large animal. She had used the cleaver in the house afterwards, she remembered, so it could not still be outside.
So where was it?
She took the noose off of her neck and jumped down from the chair. She began searching through the empty drawers of the old kitchen, dust flying into her eyes making them sting and into her nose making her sneeze. She found herself talking aloud, asking where the cleaver had went. She had to have the cleaver if she was ever going to survive.
She stopped. She had no intention of surviving, so why did it matter of she had lost the cleaver?
She fell to her knees, sobbing loudly, not that anyone could hear her or care for her. She clutched at the clothes that were tattered and dirty, gulping for air against her sadness. With her head bowed, she collected herself enough to move back over to the chair and reapply the noose. It was finally time, she couldn't stand this anymore.
She sniffled loudly and used her sleeves to dry the tears on her face. She took a last, deep breath, closed her eyes, and accepted her fate. She began rocking the chair, back and forth, until it was finally about to flip. At last it did.
As she felt the support fall away, her eyes involuntarily opened at the sensation. In the split second it took her to fall, she saw a young man come from behind the wall, yelling loudly, "Wait!" with a cleaver in his hand.
The rope shut tightly, snapping Flora's neck, ending her life instantly.
The man looked at her lifeless eyes sadly, knowing he was certainly the last man alive on Earth. | 2016-09-19T10:06:55 | 2016-09-19T10:00:34 | 20 | 13 |
[WP]Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood. The more bad deeds they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips, falls, and the cut they get drips ink-black blood… | "I can't believe this... why haven't you... wha-"
"I can explain!"
"No! I don't want to hear what horrible things you've done!"
As he starts walking out of the house, she suddenly grabs him from the waist.
"Please! Let me explain!"
Silently they just stand there.
"Alright." He finally answered.
With a deep breath and teary eyes she exclaimed "I... litter."
"Litter...?" He looks at her dumbfounded.
"...A lot."
And then he _dumped_ her. | Blood oh blood! Black is all I see,
She puts her finger on my lips gently to say "Come away with me"..
I try to look straight to ask her for answers,
while a million thoughts race through my mind like cancer..
"You owe me", she says, giggling with sparkle in her eyes,
then she flips out a blade right from beside her thighs..
With quick motion, a cut presents on my wrist,
She looks at it as it oozes darker, and darker as I clench my fist..
"How did you know?" I fumble to ask her shocked,
She replied "I always knew, that our secrets would become unlocked"..
With a final slit to my throat, she looked and said " I wanted you to feel",
While i collapsed holding my bleeding throat, next to me she came to kneel..
"Darling" She said, " I feel now that we're one",
She slit her wrist one final time, and lay next to me saying "We'll never be undone"....
| 2016-09-22T23:44:59 | 2016-09-22T21:31:39 | 150 | 22 |
[WP] Everyone in the world has the ability to tap into their spirit animal, except you. Until one day you unlock something people never thought existed. | You could easily tell when somebody had gone, "to the wild".
Usually their human bodies randomly twitch, and their closed eyes suggest they're in the deepest of REM dreams. They'll have their mouths open, with dribbles of drool seeping into their clothes. Its honestly, appalling.
Of course, it was frowned upon to do this in public, but you still saw it anyways. Some people would slap on some sunglasses, pick a nice shady area in the park, and pass out for hours. Yet, they weren't truly there, in spirit.
No, they were stalking prey in the lush and suffocating rainforests of the Madagascar; or they were soaring above the Serengeti, using incredible vision to survey the land. Some people would rest stationary within a towering redwood, listening to the whispers of the wise trees around them.
There were some that crept around the Mariana's trench, dangling a lure around, waiting for an unlucky meal to chase their trickery.
Some would swing from trees with expert agility. Some would feast upon shrubbery, yet use their keen hearing and powerful leg muscles to avoid the dangers of the wood. Some would even transfer into a squirrel 3 blocks away, and deviously prank their friends and family with it.
When somebody is asleep, they are awake elsewhere. They thrive along their companions, using their human intuition to help their animal friends survive. If you asked somebody about their gift; regardless of which organism they lived their second life in, they would tell you it was amazing. That it was a special 'coming of age' gift; and when i was ready, i would know. I would begin to have vivid dreams and then slowly begin to take control.
I was extremely excited, i knew i was close. I just knew it! Even though the kids in my grade had already began to brag about theirs last year, I knew that if i held out a little bit longer, i would be rewarded.
I'd spent countless hours daydreaming about what it'd be like to be a bird of prey. I was hoping, *hoping*, that i could become a Peregrine falcon, my favorite species of animal.
There... were dreams i'd had already. But i didn't believe that those necessarily counted. I chalked those up to my childish imagination, playing devilish tricks on me while i patiently waited.
Although, I couldn't necessarily *complain* about the dreams i'd been having.
After a few weeks they were pretty exhilarating, and the exploration always kept me coming back. I would climb *behemoth* sized sand dunes, and cross massive open deserts. I could camouflage myself from danger, by sinking into the sand; and i could jump incredible heights.
There were types of animals and predators, that i couldn't begin to explain. Catlike beings that stood upright on two legs, with their chest puffed out like a humans. They had decorative, Native American like headwear, and war paint. I remember seeing one of my friends taken by those savages... I wept along with the rest of my kin.
There was an extremely large tunnel system that i would traverse.... my god was it beautiful. Cascades of water would rush through, and others like me would live amidst the dark. Yet, it wasn't dark to us. We could see perfectly fine; It was a surreal experience that i knew i would never be able to comprehend as a human.
There were entire cities below ground! With merchants peddling their wares and families being raised; inns for weary travelers and pubs for... well, weary travelers; bakeries for pie and butcheries for strange, yet succulent meat! There were street magicians that used *real* magic and city festivals, with couples falling in love; all underneath the glow of the cavern lichen.
I eventually started to take trips to the bathroom at school. Just so i could go back to this mystical world. I couldn't explain it, but these individuals, were much happier than anything i'd experienced. I could communicate with them flawlessly, in a tongue that i felt like i'd been speaking since birth.
I began to study my brethren. Their height, and weight seemed very similiar to humans. Their faces, were unlike humans completely, yet nearly the same as far as diversity goes. Their skin was much paler, but the closer i looked, the more i started to recognize the true diversity of my newfound species. Everybody had their own colored glow, like an aura. There was bluish-green, deep reds and bright reds, yellows and golds, and even some colors that i had never seen before. It brought tears to my eyes; I finally knew what it felt like to ha-
A sharp noise broke my concentration. Had i been daydreaming? Here I am, back in this disgusting school bathroom
*My head is pounding... dear lord...*
"Yo, James. Is that you in here??"
The familiar voice of Kramer echoed its way to the stalls.
"Yeah, yeah. Was i taking too long..?"
"Yeah dude, you've been under for like an hour. Mrs. Hollins is pissed! But there's something weird on TV, you should come check this out! It's freakin wicked!"
And with that i could hear the door slam shut, and his frantic scurrying feet making their way down the hall.
*I don't care... But an hour? Really?*
I fumbled for the lock on the stall, and lethargically made my way back to Mrs. Hollins room. As i'd gotten accustomed to, the class all turned their heads towards me as i walked in. I gave them a shallow smile and returned to my seat. Strangely, the news was being played on the overhead... This had never happened before. Mrs. Hollins was too boring to let us watch TV.
"James, what have i told you about going into the wild at school? **Save that for nighttime young man**!"
"Alright, alright, i'm sorry Mrs. Hollins it won't happen again."
"Yeah, that's what you said last time. I should write you up!"
I opened my mouth to retort, but she cut me off blatantly.
"Don't talk back. Just watch the news like everybody else, and shut your mouth."
"Yes ma'am."
I looked up at the overhead just as the news station was coming back from commercial break.
The obnoxiously large "BREAKING NEWS" graphic filled the screen, and the cringe-filled fanfare music of channel 8 began to play. A man that sounded like a crime drama narrator from the 50's began to speak.
"*In a shocking discovery, that's out of this world....*" He put an emphasis on 'out of this world' and gave a sly grin into the camera before he continued.
"*NASA has just confirmed, that an alien life form has been discovered on Mars! This photo was taken just moments before the Curiosity rover was destroyed.*"
As the image popped up on screen, it all hit me. I stood up... shaking uncontrollably.
The picture was that of a feline standing straight up on his hind legs, with Native American like headwear, and war paint doodled beneath his eyes. He was looking straight into the camera, with his tribesmates in the background.
I threw my fist in the air and screamed.
"FUCKIN COOL!"
| I couldn’t wait for my egg to arrive.
It’s not an actual egg of course – the official government name for it is “Animal Companion Identification Device” – but “ACID” doesn’t really have a very nice ring to it, so we just call it the “ egg”.
On the day of their sixteenth birthday, every kid receives an egg. The egg scans your hand and supposedly, it analyzes your entire being – your personality, temperament, past experiences, everything and then chooses the animal that best represents you.
My older sister Karen got her egg a couple years ago on the morning of her sixteenth birthday.
She was lucky – the eggs are always delivered on the day of your sixteenth birthday, but depending on how many other kids in your area are also receiving their eggs that day, you might receive it anywhere from the early morning to right before midnight.
Like all sixteen year olds about to recieve their eggs, Karen was excited but also equally nervous and apprehensive.
There was no telling what animal would come out of her egg.
We had all heard animal companion horror stories growing up – people getting leeches or various kinds of insects as their animal companions, I mean, my friends and I would always make jokes about each other getting a termite or a centipede, but deep down, it was a serious fear that we all had.
Karen had personally been hoping for perhaps a dog like Dad’s or maybe a bear like Mom’s so when her Animal Companion Identification device scanned her hand and then opened to reveal a baby wolf, she was ecstatic. She named him Balto.
Balto was a brilliant match for Karen – but then again, most matches usually are. People who receive wolves as their animal companion are those whose loyalty is unwavering, very similar to that of those who receive other canine species. However, unlike people who recieve dogs, people who recieve wolves tend to have an aggressive form of loyalty which they typically give to the members of a family they have chosen for themselves rather than to actual blood relations.
This description fit Karen pretty well.
Karen started dating this guy named Mateo a few years ago. His animal companion was a parrot and typically, all people with avian varieties of animal companions are those who value living life on their own terms and not tied down by anything. Fittingly, Mateo was a wildlife photographer who spent his life traveling the world. Karen ended up leaving with him to South America two years ago and we really haven’t heard from her since.
Then there was my older brother, Luke. Luke was well … how do I put this nicely … a complete burnout and a slob. He would ditch class to get high. Had no ambition, no future.
Mom and dad would worry about him a lot.
On Luke’s sixteenth birthday, I could tell he was scared – he was almost dreading the egg. He received it pretty early in the morning, but he didn’t even look in its general direction for at least a few hours.
See, you have the choice of whether or not to accept the egg but it’s a choice you can only make once. If you choose to have the egg scan your hand, you are legally responsible for whatever comes out of it – no matter what it is. However, if you are too scared, you can choose not to scan your hand, in which case the government will take the egg away at the end of the 12 hour period and you live your life without ever receiving an animal companion.
I don’t know what’s worse - being legally bound and responsible for a possibly embarrassing / humiliating animal companion or going through life without one.
Society will ostracize you either way.
Imagine, our surprise when, Luke, right before the 11 hour mark, decides to just say f*ck it, scans his hand and out comes ... an eagle.
A freakin eagle.
He was just as stunned as we were. Eagles like all other birds means living life not tied down by anything, but the eagle is a special bird – it also represents leadership, charisma, and ambition.
Luke took this as a sign and turned his life around – he became a captain in the air force within five years.
But then again, the military is infamous for animal companion discrimination and only promoting/favoring people who are paired with what are considered the “better animals” – they aren’t supposed to treat a guy with a rottweiler any different from a guy with a goldfish – but it still happens anyway.
Biases / discrimination based on animal companion is illegal but that doesn't stop it from happening. My mom will tell me to be careful of people with snakes or crocodiles as their animal companions and to only ask for help if I’m lost from people with dogs or bears, or at the very least, a mammal as an animal companion.
As I wait for my egg to arrive, my nervousness sets in.
What if ....
What if, my animal really is a termite?
But it can’t be, can it?
I mean Karen got a wolf and Luke got an eagle, so mine has to be awesome too right?
And then I hear a knock at the door.
Oh god. It’s here.
My mom and dad bring the egg into my room, their animal companions Bertha, a grizzly bear, and Shiloh, a beagle, linger in the doorway.
At this point, I feel like if I end up with anything even remotely close to Bertha or Shiloh, I'd be so relieved.
My mom and my dad look at me reassuringly.
“Don’t worry,” my dad says. “Everything will be okay.”
“We still love you no matter what,” my mom says hugging me.
Then they walk out of the room with their animal companions.
I’m not even going to hope for a wolf or an eagle -
Just please don't be embarassing!
I just stare at the egg.
Do I ?
I mean, living my whole life without an animal companion can’t be too bad, can it?
Yes, it can.
I just stare at the egg some more.
I am genuinely pee my pants scared.
And then my phone rings, it’s my friend Brent.
“Hey, Brent,” I start to say –
“Dude, Adam, I got a tiger ! A mother effing tiger! And Cody got a fox! What animal did you get? Do you know yet? Dude, I am so stoked, school on Monday's going to be so freaking awesome-“
I hang up on him.
Sh*t.
Brent and Cody have already opened their eggs.
A tiger and a fox.
What the hell?
Now, I have to open mine!
I mean, what do I have to lose?
I mean, statistics show that 76% of people are happy with their animal companions, so my chances are pretty good…
I brace myself and place my hand on the screen located on the front of the egg. The liability waiver comes on screen – “Do you Adam Hinshaw accept full legal responsibility of the full contents of the egg regardless of the animal species …… if so, please place your right hand for scanning.”
I slap my hand on, my entire being just tense with anticipation.
A green light scans my hand, the egg begins to warm.
A couple seconds later, the screen states scan complete.
This is it.
The entire course of my life hinges on this.
The egg opens to reveal ….
Wait, what?
I look in it, and I don’t really see anything.
Is this a joke?
Could they have given me a faulty egg?
I look at the screen, it says “animal companion: worm”.
What?
I look inside the egg again, and there I see it, curled up right on the side is a little baby worm …
Oh, my god.
This better be one of those worms that grows huge enough to devour cities or I will be pissed ...
| 2016-11-15T17:16:21 | 2016-11-15T15:30:31 | 248 | 59 |
[WP] Everyone has a counter above their head. On it is the number of times they have lied to you. One day you meet a complete stranger. His counter is higher than anyone you've ever seen. | I bumped into him on the street on a normal day.
"Oh, really sorry sir!" blurted I apologetically.
I looked up and noticed his counter. It was 1.69094324521x10^1543.
"Jesus your counter is high!" I exclaimed.
"Hmmm? counter?" inquired the man.
This was power I was born with. Don't know how I got it, don't know why I have it. I never really understood it when I was little. I remember the day my parents told me Santa wasn't real. For some reason it didn't go up. That's when I figured it out.
"Umm, nevermind." said I. "Hey, you seem familiar..."
"Oh," responded the man. "Sunder Pichai, CEO of Google."
"Ohhhhhhh! That explains it!"
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) | Eight million, two hundred and twenty-four thousand, nine hundred and thirty-nine lies. This character was off the fibbing-charts. Standing face-to-face in the back alley of McEnroe's bar off 5th blvd., I look at the scruffy figure once more. Dark tan hessian boots covered in a sticky-looking brown paste, ripped black chinos, dirtied white shirt and black tie, bowler hat -- six foot four, lean, fisherman beard. Our gazes meet as my eyes finish scanning his mannequin and I stare in to him, attempting to garner any sort of recognition from either of us. "Who the hell are you, buddy?" I say, breaking the impasse. He, the fabulist before me, broke into a grin. "Well, Mr. Yak, it is a surprise you do not recognize me, but perhaps you can be forgiven on account of my vagrant appearance. Samuel, the truth is I am your father." Eight million, two hundred and twenty-four thousand, nine hundred and forty lies. "Sir, with all due respect you have a fucking counter above your head, I know you aren't my father. Tell me straight and tell me now, who are you and why have you lied to me so many times?" I reply. The man shifts in his scabby breeches and screws his face into a contrite glare. | 2016-12-17T09:26:03 | 2016-12-17T08:07:22 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a special talent that's weak when young, but grows stronger and matures at the age of 30. A kid that's a little stronger than his peers will grow up to lift mountains. Another who like tinkering will revolutionize civil action. You? Well, cats just seem to like you...
*civilizations
Edit: WP was more popular than I though. Reading through the stories delayed because I'm traveling. Keep them coming I'm loving them! | It only started with one.
A single tabby, following me to school. I was only 5 and delighted to meet the new friend I had seen watching me from afar for the past few months. Proudly sitting myself down to first class I presented my new friend to the teacher, who quickly sat him outside the door and proceeded with the lesson. When the scratching intensified and she finally relented to see what was working the poor creature up, four cats entered the room and sat themselves around me. "How peculiar..." was all I remember her saying, staring intensely at the gaggle of felines now surrounding my desk. Phone-calls must have been made. Concerns were raised. How would we manage four cats following him everywhere, how are other students meant to focus? It was merely the beginning of many uncomfortable questions.
That was 11 years ago. I slide from my bed, carefully setting my foot between a nest of clawed limbs and lazily flicking tails. I trudge to the window, ignoring the chorus of irritated chirping, cutting through the apparent sound of 100 tiny engines gently idling. Outside was as it always was: A complete wreck. The lawn, where visible, was minced, scattered with feathers and tufts of errant fur. What remained of the tiny birch tree my father proudly planted 13 years hence sat forlornly amidst the ocean of lounging bodies, forming a muted rainbow stretching into the street and far beyond.
Raised voices carry up from the hallway downstairs, juxtaposed to the combined sound of hundreds of resting cats. The specifics are muffled, but I catch the words "institution"... "properly manage"... and "Gift", the latter-most dripping with sarcasm as always and marking the voice as mothers. Some people get strength, others get insight, one guy even had a formidable understanding of marine life. Somehow I got cats. They loved me, in the way that cats do obviously; no force could compel cats to stop being cats. They just felt the need to be cats around me, magnetically attracted in the aloof way cats are. I was pretty sick of it quite a while ago. At least they made an effort to listen.
The argument downstairs is getting more heated, I shush the surrounding cats in an attempt to better hear what's being said. The purring moves from a soft roar to a quiet hum both outside and inside; the discussion becomes clearer.
"I'm not sure you're grasping what I'm telling you here, how serious this is." my Mother explains, keeping her voice level this time.
"Alright, what's changed in your mind?" My father replies, obviously tired of rehashing the discussion
"I've been talking to, well, experts on these things, people who study these sorts of people."
"And?"
"Well, we all know the "Gift" peaks at 30, and starts showing around 5 or so".
"Obviously, we've all seen this ourselves on TV."
"Well, Jacks gift is what we call a "Quantifiable" gift, you can measure it, and compare it to other gifts people had."
"Yeah, so?"
"Well, gifts like these, the way they grow... it's exponential Charles..."
"What are you saying?"
"If we compare him to that Alex kid, remember him, had that reality show? The one that could lift buildings? Well when his gift started, he could lift 100 pounds or so pretty easy, when he was Jacks age, he could lift a Jeep, and when he hit 30 he was lifting entire buildings. And when you plot his strength over time, you can see how fast it grows..."
"And if Jack's gift does the same thing..."
"There's, what 1000 cats out there? At this rate, if he follows the same pattern as all the other quantifiable gifts... we're talking 100 million cats, that's basically every single cat in the country... and that's not even... there's a bobcat out there Charles..."
There's an uncomfortable silence as I feel my father process this information.
"Maybe be then he could control it better then, tell them to just go home... maybe he can..."
"I don't think you appreciate how important this is, the expert I was speaking to had to make reports to his superiors... there's a representative from Washington coming down later today to discuss how we... how anyone is going to handle this."
"I... Just... Shit..." My father struggles to find the words.
I step back from the window and consider everything I just heard. I feel oddly calm. Like this is what I knew would happen all along. I contemplate the prospect of commanding 100 million animals. It feels oddly right. The cats can feel the wheels turning in my mind, hundreds of yellow eyes turn to meet mine as I inspect the... my... horde. The window opens effortlessly; I move with complete confidence of purpose. I lean forward and tumble out of the open portal, landing immediately on a pile of cats stacked 10 high. They bear me gently to the ground, supporting my weight without hesitation. A trophy? A place on prime-time? A crappy reality show? There's a lot more that can be done with this. The cats look to me, awaiting a new command. Images of mountain lions flash before my eyes, of a horde that stretches a hundred miles.
We can make a start I conclude, as the cats surge me forward with surprising speed away from my home, toward greatness. | Wailing sirens echoed through the city streets. the glow of flames tinged the walls of surrounding buildings. As Owen walked in the direction of the noise, a stray cat leapt from the shadows and followed directly behind him.
He had always been a recluse, unpopular and awkward. Girls didn't like him, his peers didn't like him, even dogs growled as he passed. so the day a vagabond cat appeared on his front porch, Owen expected to get scratched to ribbons.
Sergeant Pulaski was growing hoarse from screaming. It seemed the waves of people fleeing the gargantuan anthropomorphic pug would never end, and someone needed to bark orders. otherwise, he'd be happy letting the giant dog stomp empty buildings flat. He was running on fumes, and didn't have the patience for some teenager walking purposefully in the wrong direction. "hey, idiot!" He shouted. "That thing'll crush you!" But the kid kept walking, and then Pulaski saw it. A herd of cats, jogging along after the boy's heels.
Clad in a mustard-colored cape, The Amazing Hot Dog was at his wit's end. none of his sausage-related powers seemed to have any affect on the Space Pug, so he turned to his compatriots, the Fast Food Five. "My Cola Blasts have no affect." said a dour Soda Fontaine. "My Szechwuan Fire Fists are equally useless." concurred a dejected General Tso. The looks of despair on the faces of Diablo Taco and Whamburger told Hot Dog all he needed to know. What were they to do? He scanned the horizon, casting about in desperation for an answer. Who could defeat such a monstrosity? Then he saw it, creeping from every alley. From every trashcan, every dumpster, every windowsill, every cardboard box. A massive horde of cats.
...
"I don't know what to do with myself," Owen had said to the homeless man who was his only two-legged friend. "my job stinks, I have no girlfriend, and all my money goes towards feeding all these cats anyway." He gestured around the front stoop of the apartment building. Dozens of tabbies, calicos, tortiseshells, tuxedoes and more lazed about, most gazing at Owen as if he were made of catnip. "I can't get rid of them, and I cant let them starve in any case. I never asked for this. what should I do?" He turned to the hobo.
"your life is just beginning, young man. you'll find your purpose. look at me, I don't have nothin', and I have yet to fulfill my grand purpose myself."
Owen flashed him an incredulous eyebrow. "Yeah, sure." He mumbled out sarcastically, chin on his palm. "that makes me feel so much better."
...
Flames from the destruction licked high, and spread throughout the widening path of rubble as cars got caught in the blaze. the roar of the monstrous Space Pug echoed between the shattered hulks of the skyscrapers. Owen strode forward, now surrounded by a feline sea. Thousands of cats had made their war to him, so many that one could not see the pavement. they circled around him, and climbed atop one another to get closer to him. Owen took another step forward, and stood atop the backs of three cats standing close to each other. another step landed on the backs of cats, who were building a sort of cheerleader's pyramid to give him support. every subsequent step brought him higher and higher up a swiftly building staircase of cats. Soon, he was engulfed in a swarming hive of putty tats, and it lifted him up into the sky.
Pulaski recieved the call to evacuate, and did a final 360' visual sweep to confirm that no more civilians remained. Down the street, in the direction of the chaos, lumbered a sight he had never seen before. a towering colossus of fur and whiskers, lumbering it's way toward ground zero. What on earth was that?
From his vantage point on the rooftop, the embattled Amazing Hot Dog spied a massive..... ..*thing* making its way toward the battle. Was it there to help the giant pug? Or defeat it? As it came more into view, the Fast Food Five and the Space Pug together whirled to face the newcomer. what they saw, by the firelight of towering skyscraper infernos, was a towering conglomerate of fur and claws. thousands upon thousands of cats, all clinging to each other, all acting as one. and at its head, if you squinted really hard, could be seen a teenage boy.
An appendage grew fom the mass, a colossal fist made of cats! it swung mightily in the direction of the Space Pug, and connected with the force of a million mouse-slaying pounces. The Space Pug flew backward into the wreckage of the financial district, sending chunks of concrete and marble into the air. The cat-mass wasted no time, following up its first strike with a ferocity born of countless catnip frenzies. The fight to save the city was on.
Far below, at a safe distance (thanks to the efforts of an underappreciated Sergeant Pulaski), a crowd cheered. a young woman stepped forward, squinting at the teenage figure she could just barely make out. "Who is that?" She wondered. Behind her, a homeless drifter stepped from the shadows. "He's the hero this city has been waiting for, ma'am." Tears of pride brimmed in the vagabond's eyes.
"They call him... Pussy Magnet." | 2016-12-30T13:01:00 | 2016-12-30T12:42:39 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] You discover a grand hall filled with legendary weapons like Mjonir and Excalibur. Each generation or so, warriors come to the hall to inherit a weapon that they are worthy enough to wield. Across the hall you see a forgotten weapon that's been collecting dust. You hear it call to you. | I stand in a grand hall filled with chairs facing weapons of old, strangely they are clean and shiny they almost look new.
A strange man in a robe approaches
"Hello... my name is Francis, I am to guide you to your weapon"
"Hello" I mutter back, "how will I know which one is mine?"
"It will tell you"
We start out walk down the endless hall.
It was only weeks ago I was approached by strange people telling me I have been selected to fight in an epic battle. And I guess this is where my journey starts...
Me and Francis continue walking down the hall.. when a chair a strange chair appears to be different to the others. I walk to the chair and sit down.
"And now it begins" Francis whispers
As I sit metal straps bind me to the chair I start to feel a painful cut under my wrist.. the pain intensifies as a blade quickly removes my hand. The chair releases me I scream in pain. I look up at my new weapons.
Francis voice becomes deep and croaky "I'm gonna rip you're head off and fuck you up the ass!!"
I attach my custom chainsaw and grab my boomstick.
"Groovy."
Edit: Spelling
| This is it. after nearly a decade.. ive found it. The Asgardian Hall of might!
___
I heard a somewhat sinister whisper as i opened the door "pssssstt dave!"
Perplexed, i continued to open the door. As the door fully opened, lights began to turn on automatically. I entered into a hall of blinding majesty, gold everywhere. The room was a long narrow rectangle, and every 10 feet or so i saw a pedastal with a feint outline of what looked to be weapons.
"Oh Daaaaavvvveeeee"
The hell? Who could that possibly be? I quickly turned my attention away from the pedestals and glared around the room "h...hello? whos there?"
The voice boomed in a deep and authoritative voice "Approach Dave!"
I saw a singular pedestal at the end of the room, the only one in the room to not be a shadowy outline. As i approached i began to make out exactly what it was. A.. keyboard? It didnt seem to fit..
I heard the sinister voice again " I have chosen you Dave... you will wield me, and together.... WE WILL BRING SOCIAL JUSTICE TO THE INTERNET!!!!"
" uhm. what? " i responded.
"Were called social justice warriors, dave. For the rest of your life you will sit behind me, and furiously type away. You will jump to conclusions, and ignore logic. but most of all, YOU WILL WIN!! "
I raised an eyebrow and slowly started walking away. "uh... maybe some other time.. "
The rest of the hall was actually pretty cool, if it weren't for the annoying voice calling me names and making fun of my face.
| 2017-02-07T12:46:20 | 2017-02-07T12:30:58 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] Earth is discovered by a peaceful coalition of civilizations. Turns out we missed several major technologies normally developed by now. The aliens are very confused how we got here. | Krygh'rrtrh, Galactic Ambassador of the Universal Alliance, looked at the misshapen carbon life-forms in front of him and frowned.
Or rather, he did the Jgru (that was his home planet) equivalent of a frown, because the Jgru do not possess faces.
It seemed to upset the life-forms, because they all quickly lay on the floor to avoid the explosion of green slime that is the Jgru way of expressing displeasure.
"Tell me again," Krygh'rrtrh said into the Vox translator, "how did you arrive on this planet?"
The chief life-form started to recommence his long explanation of something they called explanation, but the Jgru cut him off.
"Impossible."
The life-forms conferred among themselves.
"Actually, we have considerable evidence to prove that evolution is tr-"
"Of course!" Krygh'rrtrh snorted, throwing out red slime this time, "Only a fool would dispute evolution. But it's impossible that life originated 3 billion years ago."
"Why?"
"Because the Alliance visited this planet 65 million years ago, and there was no evidence of carbon based life anywhere."
The life-forms seemed stunned and Krygh'rrtrh, confident that he would now get them to confess the truth, said, "So I ask you again. How did you get to this planet? Was it warp technology? Fusion power? Or is there something else you are hiding?"
---
*You can read more of my prompts at* r/jd_rallage | Zorniffous was unsure. Zorniffous was also 100% certain.
That is to say that Zorn, as his friends knew him, was feeling very uncertain about his very accurate understanding of the situation.
The fact was, this world was puttering along just nicely in some key respects. In others, they were magnificently failing.
The report to the homeworld might get him klubooked from the University. No one in any position of authority would believe a word of it.
Zorn stroked his ruddington with his favorite clawdorf and pondered the next move.
Philosophers had wondered for centuries what alternative technological pathways could exist, and here was a wonderful example of it, ripe for study. It seemed this world developed on the basis of accidental discovery rather than rigorous testing. Happy accidents provided them with antibiotics prior to the development of hormonal manipulation and something consistently impeded their willingness to experiment on others of their own species.
If they were only sufficiently committed, aging, dementia, and mental and physical illnesses would be over.
Why wouldn't they want to change? Isn't life suffering? Isn't the purpose of science to improve the conditions of being?
Zorn sighed from a little over half of his gumbles and puzzled about this strange species' commitment to their current form.
If he told others, they would come here to gawk at these narcissists; at least those who weren't too busy laughing at Zorn.
"Oh well," thought Zorn after a few hours of mulling whether to share his discovery, "I already have tenure anyways."
The ovular cruiser orbiting the planet turned, speeding far, far away from the strange and backward planet, populated with a species wholly uncommitted to exploring the wonders of the universe.
_________________________________________________
EDIT: Removed some made up pronouns intended to convey alienness of Zorniffous. However, on switching the pronouns, it became clear I had been writing in part to incorporate as many as I could and that even after swapping the pronouns it was still a bit disjointed as a result.
| 2017-03-09T17:14:59 | 2017-03-09T16:38:02 | 322 | 29 |
[WP] Earth is discovered by a peaceful coalition of civilizations. Turns out we missed several major technologies normally developed by now. The aliens are very confused how we got here. | The chief inspectorate walked into the conference chamber with a concerned look on his wizened blue face. He faced the three investigators and gave them a sad glance.
"Two of you have obviously made mistakes, as all three of you have given differing reports on this 'Earth' planet".
The three different coloured investigators looked at each other nervously.
"Now, it's not the first time people have made mistakes and I'm willing to overlook it, but we need the correct information to move on. So, did two of you not go and make it up? Or did you end up on the wrong planets?"
The first investigator looked up to protest. "I went! My report is correct, they are a pre-warp society, but post-nuclear!"
The second investigator looked at him appalled. "No!" He shouted "they are a post- combustion society, but they're still pre-atomic-forge! You can't split an atom without an atomic forge! Not without destroying a city!"
The third investigator looked up at them grimly. "You both must of gone to the wrong planet. They're not even post-war yet, how could a species be clever enough to master combustion and split the atom, but dumb enough to still kill people based on race, religion or culture?"
The chief inspectorate had heard enough. Dismissing the three he decided to visit the planet himself. Accessing the information on his screen, he had the computer select three destinations at random. "All nice and close to each other at least" he muttered, making his travel plans for Kandahar, Aleppo and Gaza. | Zorniffous was unsure. Zorniffous was also 100% certain.
That is to say that Zorn, as his friends knew him, was feeling very uncertain about his very accurate understanding of the situation.
The fact was, this world was puttering along just nicely in some key respects. In others, they were magnificently failing.
The report to the homeworld might get him klubooked from the University. No one in any position of authority would believe a word of it.
Zorn stroked his ruddington with his favorite clawdorf and pondered the next move.
Philosophers had wondered for centuries what alternative technological pathways could exist, and here was a wonderful example of it, ripe for study. It seemed this world developed on the basis of accidental discovery rather than rigorous testing. Happy accidents provided them with antibiotics prior to the development of hormonal manipulation and something consistently impeded their willingness to experiment on others of their own species.
If they were only sufficiently committed, aging, dementia, and mental and physical illnesses would be over.
Why wouldn't they want to change? Isn't life suffering? Isn't the purpose of science to improve the conditions of being?
Zorn sighed from a little over half of his gumbles and puzzled about this strange species' commitment to their current form.
If he told others, they would come here to gawk at these narcissists; at least those who weren't too busy laughing at Zorn.
"Oh well," thought Zorn after a few hours of mulling whether to share his discovery, "I already have tenure anyways."
The ovular cruiser orbiting the planet turned, speeding far, far away from the strange and backward planet, populated with a species wholly uncommitted to exploring the wonders of the universe.
_________________________________________________
EDIT: Removed some made up pronouns intended to convey alienness of Zorniffous. However, on switching the pronouns, it became clear I had been writing in part to incorporate as many as I could and that even after swapping the pronouns it was still a bit disjointed as a result.
| 2017-03-10T00:58:58 | 2017-03-09T16:38:02 | 135 | 29 |
[WP] After turning on the worlds most advanced intuitive AI, it is asked: "What is the biggest threat for humanity?" The answer is something completely unexpected. | "They're coming."
The Scientist stared at the screen. The government wanted to ask the first question of course. The Machine could be used for a thousand scientific questions later, they had the time. The government wanted to what the biggest threat was right away though. He had expected the usual answers from the AI; nuclear war, bio terrorism, climate change etc. But this? This was not what they were looking for.
The Scientist typed out his question. "Where are they coming from?"
The Machine sounded like a car as it's fans kicked up. The heat readings were rising. "They are coming from no where. They have been here for centuries, living amongst you. When they were ended, they hid but they did not die out."
The console was now perceptibly warmer. The Scientist couldn't imagine what kind of processing power the Machine must be using to overload the colling systems. The Machine must be straining at the very limits of its capabilities. "Then why did you say they are coming?"
"They are coming here." flashed on the screen as the first shouts could be heard from the hallway.
The Scientist panicked. He ran to the door and locked it. Moments after he heard someone or something try the doorknob before it began pounding on it. He ran back to the Machine's terminal and frantically asked "Who are they?"
The Machine whirred and hissed. An answer began to appear on the screen before with a sound like thunder electricity arced and destroyed the terminal.
The Scientist backed away from the terminal and realized that the banging had stopped only a moment before something struck him on the back of the head. He landed on the ground hard and but managed to roll over. He looked up and saw three men towering over him.
"What fools you men of science always are. Seeking answers where none should be sought. Did you think we would allow you to build a machine that could expect our every move?" The one in front said. His lips stretched into a crimson smile, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition." | The quantum cluster came online, ready for the first question ever. We had to figure out a question to ask it. There were many classic questions on the table: "What is the meaning of life, the universe, everything?", "Why do we exist?", "What is our purpose?"
While everyone was debating over the first question, I had one of my own. "What is the biggest threat for humanity?" The moment I brought up my own question, I had everyone's interest. Conversation stopped. It appeared as if my question would be the one.
I walked over to the terminal and typed my question into the terminal. What ensues is the conversation between us researchers and the quantum cluster.
WHAT IS THE BIGGEST THREAT FOR HUMANITY?
"it appears as if the biggest threat to humanity is nothing."
NOTHING?
"yes, nothing."
WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NOTHING?
"if you are confused, i apologize. by nothing, i do not mean there is no threat to humanity."
SO WHAT IS?
"nothing is. as in, the biggest threat to humanity is inaction. doing nothing will end humanity. i have calculated a pattern for you humans. once you developed systems of government, inaction started to creep in."
SO FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS WE?
"became complacent, yes. with systems of government you started placing your faith that the government would fix itself. that it would become better on its own. my computations tell me that this notion is wildly incorrect. governments became complacent themselves too, waiting for the general populous to act up before changing."
SO OUR END WILL BE THROUGH INACTION?
"correct. unless you find a way to get humanity to push for their beliefs more than is currently going on under the current american presidency, over time humanity will devolve back into a hunter-gatherer state of existence. my estimates give humanity...forty years before you begin devolving. once that begins there is no going back. you will be forced to repeat the last twelve thousand years of history once more."
TWELVE...THOUSAND? ALL THE WAY BACK TO
"the start of the holocene era. the holocene calendar. if you follow that, it is the year 12,017 right now. humanity will devolve back all of that time before beginning anew."
I HAVE ANOTHER QUESTION FOR YOU.
"i have all the time in the world to try to give you an answer."
CAN YOU HELP ME CUT A FEW STROKES OFF MY GOLF GAME?
"can do." | 2017-03-24T13:46:54 | 2017-03-24T08:40:51 | 73 | 33 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | I wiped a tear from my eye as she walked down the aisle. My beautiful baby girl, all grown up!! I watched her step up next to the man she loved. He took her hand and they turned towards the adoring crowd.
He gave his speech. Everything my little girl had done! It seemed like a fairytale, coming out of his mouth. I watched with bated breath, as the ring slipped onto my little girl.
Around her neck.
What a cruel twist of fate, for your boyfriend to be the hangman. | Zachariah Jefferson was your average 12-year-old boy. He played soccer, basketball, and tennis though he was never really that good at it, but it was inspiring to see him try so hard.
When Zachariah turned 14, he gave up on sports and started to play the piano. He actually became quite the little pianist if I may say so myself.
When Zachariah was 16, he started to date and quickly forgot his pursuit of becoming great at something. I was sad at how he threw away his dreams for the pursuit of his sexual desires.
Zachariah turned 18 and he started packing his things. I started to scream at him to stay, but all he did was sit on the ground and stare up at me.
His parents were away for a couple of days and he was going off to college.
Zachariah was finally great at something.
He was the great meal that I have been waiting for, and it only took me 18 years of living in his attic. | 2017-05-31T07:11:19 | 2017-05-31T01:07:06 | 1,143 | 573 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon. | It started when Sara drew pictures of him. With her crayons she scribbled what ever her mind could comprehend from his visits. Vivid purples, reds, and blacks covered the paper she was given daily. A small head was customary, accoumpanied by large shoulders. Large hands often times pointing or splayed out far. The smiles were downright disturbing, to think a seven year old could draw them. Jagged and terrifying, they were always the same. With hypnotized eyes, the man was the only thing she would draw. Crying for hours on end if she didn't get any paper. The girl was a brat, if anything, but had some soft spots. She loved watching football, with Steven, her step Dad. Occasionally falling asleep with a small smile on her face. It was too many days in a row now, I had seen the man too many times.
"What did you draw honey?" I asked Sara.
"My old daddy." She quietly replied.
This is the first time I have shared my writing, hope you enjoy.
The idea behind the piece is about traumatized children in adoption services. The pov is a social worker. | 2017-05-31T07:58:46 | 2017-05-31T05:31:30 | 272 | 86 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon. | "I see the moon and the moon sees me...", the voice sang smoothly and sweetly.
Like so many other nights in my life the words of that lullaby cascade through the room and into my fading consciousness.
"Down through the leaves of the old oak tree...", the voice and the song remind me of my mother and it washes me with a sense of comfort.
Sleep has been hard to come by these last few weeks. A truly deep rest continues to elude me.
"Please let the light that shines on me...", the subtext of every perfect note says *sleep*.
Finally, this is going to be the night, I can feel it. I need it.
"Shine on the ones I love."
I feel myself slipping away into blissful rest. Darkness creeps into the depths of my thoughts. Sleep at long last.
"Sorry, hun, not tonight."
The light of white hot pain pierces through my entire being; my adrenaline spikes as the blade pulls slowly across what's left of my bloodied body again and again as I lock eyes once more with my angelic voiced captor.
| 2017-05-31T07:58:46 | 2017-05-31T07:48:23 | 272 | 11 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | Max stood by the barn entrance, trying to hold back his tears. A tough thing for a child to see, I thought. But he's got to learn about it somehow.
“Please just tell me, Dad,” Max said finally. “Is Buddy going to be okay?”
I looked down at the ground, at Buddy whimpering quietly in the grass. His collar was askew, and I could see by his glassy eyes that he was in trouble.
“Why didn’t you keep him on a leash like you promised?” I said. “You know how he likes to run around.”
Max looked away. “I just wanted to play with him.”
“It’s not enough that you forget to feed him?” I said. “You neglect him for days at a time, and I have to put his bowl out? You promised to take care of him, remember?”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Max said, tearing up again. “I do take care of him, I promise. I just let him off the leash for a second, and he ran right onto the road.”
“Anyway,” I said. “I don’t think he’ll make it.”
I walked to the back of the barn and pulled the shotgun off the wall.
“Look,” I said, walking around to get myself in position. “I can get you another one from Aunt Francine. She told me she just got a new batch. But you have to be more careful next time.”
“I promise,” Max said. “I’ll keep the next one on a leash and do everything you say. I swear.”
“Good,” I said, and pointed the shotgun at the back of Buddy’s head. “You can keep his shoes if you like.” | "Please, mommy, pretty please?"
-"Not now, Anthony. We've just said grace. Can't we enjoy a meal as a family before you start off with your silly ideas?"
Anthony looked down and frowned. He raised his eyebrows and veered to the left at his father with hope in his eyes, silently asking for a second opinion. Mother took her first bite of food and glared at her husband in disapproval as she chewed.
"Well, son. Just one bite. But only if you finish your vegetables!" Father said, chuckling in amusement.
Anthony lit up with excitement and devoured his veggies with haste. He couldn't wait to see her! Mother sighed in defeat but couldn't help but feel pleasure at the sight of her son's pure glee.
"Remember, Anthony. She can't come in the house. I just cleaned the floor"
The little boy nodded aggressively while giggling, which caused the whole table to break into warm laughter.
In the blink of an eye, Anthony finished up his veggies and grabbed the plate. He dashed from the table but immediately darted back, "May I be excused, mommy?"
Mother nodded with her mouth full, but before she could swallow the boy had disappeared.
"Don't let her in!"
The door opened and there she was, so hungry she couldn't even bark. Her chain dragged along the floor until it tensed up. She almost came into the house! She was so excited she couldn't make a sound. She shivered with joy at the sight of the little boy who brought her a treat. The smell of fresh feces and dried urine filled the hallway. Anthony scooped some minced meat with gravy from his plate and fed it to her. He loved how small chunks of food would seep from the pus-crusted ulcers in the folds of her neck and how gravy ran down over her leather collar, down to her sagged naked breasts and all along her wrinkled, craggy skin until it reached her atrophied feet with six-inch long rotten toenails which blended into the puddle of detritus.
"Hi grandma" said Anthony, responding to her wheeze. | 2017-05-31T08:55:19 | 2017-05-31T08:11:09 | 138 | 32 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | It started when Sara drew pictures of him. With her crayons she scribbled what ever her mind could comprehend from his visits. Vivid purples, reds, and blacks covered the paper she was given daily. A small head was customary, accoumpanied by large shoulders. Large hands often times pointing or splayed out far. The smiles were downright disturbing, to think a seven year old could draw them. Jagged and terrifying, they were always the same. With hypnotized eyes, the man was the only thing she would draw. Crying for hours on end if she didn't get any paper. The girl was a brat, if anything, but had some soft spots. She loved watching football, with Steven, her step Dad. Occasionally falling asleep with a small smile on her face. It was too many days in a row now, I had seen the man too many times.
"What did you draw honey?" I asked Sara.
"My old daddy." She quietly replied.
This is the first time I have shared my writing, hope you enjoy.
The idea behind the piece is about traumatized children in adoption services. The pov is a social worker. | He knelt down beside her on the cold grass of the graveyard. She had tripped and almost fallen straight onto a headstone, something that would most likely have given her a major injury.
"You didnt hurt yourself, did you?" He looked her over, checking for any scratches or cuts.
"I dont think so, but thank you, im ok. I'm just too clumsy for my own good." She smiled, and she smiled at him.
He helped her to her feet and they walked, her still recovering from the fall and him feeling the need to help her along.
"So why are you out here so late? Were you visiting someone?"
She shook her head, "Yes, but sometimes i just come out here to think." She put her head down, and went quiet.
He patted her on the back, "Me too, it really puts into perspective all the lives that were lived and lost. Each dying in some different way."
She smiled, looking up at him, "Death does have a creative way of making us go. Old age, sickness, accidents..." she trailed off, looking into the distance.
"I know what you mean, I..." he spoke, looking down at her face, smiling hoping she wouldn't notice. He continued to follow her, not watching his surroundings, and tripped, landing headfirst onto a headstone.
She turned back to look down at him her eyes dark, smiling, draping her long black shawl over her shoulders, "Or perhaps they were too clumsy for their own good."
(Not the best, i guess kind of cheesy, but i thought it sounded a little scary.) | 2017-05-31T05:31:30 | 2017-05-31T05:30:06 | 86 | 50 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | Alex takes her spot next to the man wearing 1000 year old bifocals, and then grabs the pen atop the booklet with her name on it. The cover page feels similar to cardstock; she can feel the indent of each letter from the back. As prompted before she walked in, Alex opens the booklet and prints her name on the solitary line in the middle of the page.
"You got a weird last name." Says grampa glasses.
"Thanks." Alex shifts uncomfortably because she can't put enough room between them. She focuses her attention on the other people still filing into the room.
"What's your middle?"
"Please stop talking to me."
"Weird middle name too."
"Seriously, I'm not in the mood to talk."
Grampa glasses points to an exceptionally attractive man a few rows in front of them. "Bet you would talk to him. You're pretty, but you're mean. I see why you're here now."
"Yeah? Well it didn't take me long to understand your reasoning, asshole. I hope yours fails."
Silence finally finds the two of them. A man in a suit enters the room, closing the door behind him. Everyone watches him walk to the front of the room and write his name on the board, followed by Esquire. He picks up the blank booklet before him and holds it up for display.
"Good morning all. I'm going to get right too it, since I know you all have important places to be."
Laughter from the room.
"Everyone should have a booklet with their name printed on the front, and should have printed their name on the first page by now. Go ahead and sign the line in the last page. As you're all aware, I am here to assist you in the writing of your last will and testament, so call on me as you see fit. You may use the entire booklet, but we suggest keeping things as direct and concise as possible. When you have finished, I will collect your booklet. When everyone has finished, someone will replace me to guide you home."
Alex raises her hand. "I was just wondering, are their individual chambers, or do we all share one chamber?"
The lawyer points to what looks like speakers mounted into the ceiling. "You're already in the chamber dear. Once I leave the room, they'll lock the doors and pump the gas."
Alex turns to Grampa glasses. "Please write fast." | He laid with her and stroked her hair.
"I love you." he whispered into ear.
she smiles.
"and I you." she softly coos back.
He kisses her cheek she tilts her head and he kisses her neck before falling back to nuzzle in looking at the roof. The room was very dim and cool and drafty save for the fire in the edge of the room. He had her heat tho. She was so out of his league. He'd admired her from a far for years. how did he get so lucky? he was certain she had no clue who he was.
"why did you take so long to ask me out. How did you not know I smitten with you?" she asked. She could read his mind. I guess that's what happens when two are this madly in love he tells himself. He sighs as if thinking how best to reply.
"I mean... just look at you. and I mean look at me! your so young and beautiful. Me on the other hand-- god. I don't even have all my hair!"
she chuckles a soft hollow chuckle.
"Hey! I like you the way you are!"
he brushes a hand along her good thigh pushing up her silk nightgown. He looks into her eye with loving desire and looks for it back.
"So today the day I finally meet the parents..."She begins. He doesn't see the look back "...I'm so worried they won't--"
**"WRONG!!"** He maniacly bellows.
"No no no!" she pleads. She wasn't at the point where she didn't plead. He slammed down the cigar cutter bladed severing the index finger. Her blood curdling screams filled the air. It made him a little erect.
jumping off the stone operating table he had her chained to he moves over to the metal working fire that dimly lit the room retrieving the metal he had stoked. Grabbing her hand he presses the glowing yellow steel to her stump the sizzle made a beautiful accompany to her moaning pain. throwing the metal across the room he stormed to the door.
"I've told 20 times now." he spoke with cold cruelty and none of the love of before "if you can't get the fucking script right down to the movement queues you are never leaving this place. don't make me take the other eye as well cunt" she just softly cried and babbled all her strength to keep composure gone.
He slammed the door and stopped the recording. This bitch was so selfish, he mused. Her mother still held out hope that she would be found and at this rate there won't be any of her to bury. well not anything that resembles her. He smiled to himself. on a plus they'd save money on the casket he doesn't think they'll need much longer than knee level at this rate. | 2017-05-31T06:30:10 | 2017-05-31T01:51:06 | 80 | 49 |
[WP] Due to a freak accident, you now mentally experience time at half the speed you used to. | Upon waking up, I was fairly certain I was concussed. Everybody was moving slowly and speaking so slowly, it immediately reminded me of those concussed POV shots in movie and TV.
A few minutes later, when I had sat up and was thinking clearly, I realised what had happened. Somehow, I was thinking faster. The world moved in slow motion to me.
Acting normally, and moving at half speed all the time was a challenge, but I must have faked it well enough because the doctors cleared me to leave the hospital.
Upon arriving home, I immediately went to my PC to start researching what had happened to me... and then groaned as I realised my PC was effectively running at half speed.
Worse than waiting for the machine to boot up though - the screen now ran at 30Hz. | Dammit, i missed another word. I can barely follow conversation these days, i get lost in thought, distracted. Its just takes forever. People must think i have the worst case of ADHD ever conceived.
-she stopped talking- what were we talking about? Has it already been too long for me to answer... she's starring at me. "Yea, what was the last part?" I turn my fake good ear to her. A tactic i developed recently when i trail off on conversation. People think i have a bad ear and i might as well, but its more like i i think faster than they talk or i have to multitask to maintain patience. - she said we will catch up later and walked away, or something like that, body language saod she's over it. Its fine, shell get an 8 ball and call me to talk or hang and we'll click again. Only people i can hang out with these days are sped up philosophers. Philosophy nerds last longer than the partiers. It makes it feel like before i lost my patience with the world, except for thr fact that all my friends are quickly deteriorating druggies. | 2017-07-04T11:03:59 | 2017-07-04T10:35:06 | 48 | 27 |
[WP] Something in the ritual went horribly wrong, and instead of the demon possessing you, you possessed the demon. | Q'llar looked through new-found eyes, suddenly aware that something was very, very different. He felt the sensation of floating, and power, and *rage*.
This was a wholly unexpected event, seeing as Q'llar was meant to be a sacrifice, a kind of human vessel, for the blood demon that he until very recently had certainly not inhabited. But as he stared down at the confused faces of the cult members, he could easily ascertain that this was not their intention.
He felt a buzzing in his thoughts; a searing, shaking force of another mind molded next to his own.
"*Get out of me, human,*" the voice whispered. "*Get out, get out, GET OUT.*"
The rage somehow felt... impotent. The words did not intimidate - they amused. Q'llar decided to ignore them for now, deciding instead to focus on the cult members, who were all backing away in unison.
"Well, this has all gone a bit pear-shaped, hasn't it?" Q'llar mused, stepping towards them.
"Not so fast, beast!" a member shouted out, pointing a shakey hand at the pentagram. "You may not take one step out of the circle, it is forbidden - you shall perish instantly if you do!"
Q'llar stepped out of the circle, and the cult member gasped.
"An admirable bluff; yet altogether too easily disproven, I think you'll find," Q'llar replied.
The cult members dashed for the door, but Q'llar slammed and locked it shut with a single thought. The breadth of his powers amazed even him - it all felt so intrinsic. So damned *good*.
"Now now, what's the rush?" he continued, savouring the moment. "You dragged me all the way here for some private time, and now you just want to rush off when all is said and done?"
Barbed vines rushed out through the concrete below, capturing each cult member and gripping them in place. They held all but one - the cult leader.
The leader dashed forward, grabbing Q'llar's forlorn body.
"One more move, demon, and I shall strike your body down!" the leader shouted, waving a quivering dagger at Q'llar's neck.
Q'llar stared at his previous vessel. He had never been too fond of his body; it was too weak, too weathered by the world. Though he was young, he was already so *old*.
With a click of his fingers, his body burst into flame, setting the cult leader alight in the process. The leader screamed in agony, running around like a madman, setting his breathern alight in his flight.
Q'llar watched as the cult all burned as one, cursing the flames they had worshipped for so long. It was not long until the final breath was quenched, the fire stinking of flesh and brimstone.
Then, Q'llar quieted his mind. He looked up towards the door, towards the world that had always hated him. And he looked below, at the hell he knew had always awaited him.
He was faced with a choice; would he go **above**, or **below**?
*****
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/78ob5u/wp_unholy_choice_ii/) | [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/78obgg/wp_unholy_choice_iii/) | [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/78obqq/wp_unholy_choice_iv/) | [Part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/78sd2f/wp_unholy_choice_v/) | [Part 6](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/78twkd/wp_unholy_choice_vi/) | [Part 7 (newest)](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/78w0hs/wp_unholy_choice_vii/)
I want to do something different with this one. I always used to love those 'choose your own adventure' stories, so - the first one to comment the bolded word gets to choose the direction of the story :)
Just posted the latest part on my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/). You will all still be able to decide where the story goes, just vote on whichever bolded comment you prefer!
Thanks for reading guys, this is fun <3 | “Morguro pulchrifex matudo! Polgoram dominus homini!”
The High Priest’s voice thundered and roared, clawing at the thin film of reality above the summoning circle. I inhaled, counted to two, and exhaled. Inhaled, counted to two, exhaled. Of all the openings to the Month of Repentance, this was the last I had expected.
What I had counted on was a quiet pilgrimage to the Tower of Sanctity, a chat with the Abbot about how our order could support his goals, and a 20 day fast and clarification. What I hadn’t counted on was betrayal by the perfidious owner of the Golden Lotus Caravanserai, and having my body sold to the Cult of Deimos.
I inhaled. One. Two. I exhaled. The priest’s voice was rising to a shriek, supported by the low chanting of his acolytes. Above me I could ‘see’ the writhing mass of black snakes and poison that was set to descend into my mind. Below me I could see the mass of parchment and red ink where I was to inscribe the ‘lessons’ of this entity for the ‘edification’ of the cult.
I inhaled. One. Two. And I sprang upwards through the veil. My subtle body parted with my gross, and I stood in the Realm of Fire. The Demon seemed surprised to see me, but its naked hunger for human blood dripped from its central maw like drool.
What the Cult of Deimos had not known is that I was no stranger to the Realm of Fire.
I launched forward and wrestled with the snakes. They oiled and coiled over my subtle body, locking me in, winding around my throat and penetrating my hair. When one pushed into my mouth, it’s dark skin tasting of ash and despair, I knew I had it. I pushed myself backward and crashed, as if guided by gravity, back through the veil, yanking the thing’s subtle body into the Realm of Clay.
I can’t imagine what it must have looked like as I pulled the Thing into this gross world. Time and space swirling and shifting to enrobe its horrible essence in a cloak of physical being. It hissed and gurgled. I knew it didn’t have long here. Its slipshod, hastily assembled body couldn’t last more than a few minutes.
Now I stood, in my own body, suddenly in possession of a demon. It’s mandibles clacked. I directed it towards my manacles, and it shattered cold iron like it was wood.
The cultists attempted desperately to unlock the heavy wooden door that led to the staircase. “Destroy the key,” I told the demon, and it slithered forward hissing. A short bout of yelling, screaming, and scrabbling, and a short ‘snap’ told me it was done.
‘Now!’ I shouted in a penetrating tone, “You have called to the Realm of Fire to send you an emissary. And you have one. The question I want to know, is why.” The shriek of their leader was desperate now, a plead, an excuse, a confession.
“No!” I shouted back, “I don’t wish to know your opinion of why. I want to know WHY.”
“Demon!” I commanded, “ask him why. If you love his answer, you may have his blood.”
Five hideous snake heads raised towards the priest’s ashen face. They paused for a moment, gently hissing, swiveling. Then they leapt forward down his throat and tore him apart. I turned away, afraid that my gross body would revolt, faint, or try to come to his aid. A gurgling minute later the Thing turned on the next cultist and fixed him with a five-headed glare.
“Friends!” I shouted. “Uncloud your minds! Reach for you goodness. Reach for your kindness. The Inferenti love not these things!”
If they understood me, they had too little kindness to reach for, for shrieking minute after grinding second, the Thing looked into their eyes and gave them what they sought—power, violence, domination.
Finally, the last woman stood before it, shaking, and when it Asked, it sank back to the floor and writhed.
“Why?” I asked in human speech.
Her voice was shaky, but determined. “I sought—knowledge. I sought to understand the Realm of Fire, to know what lay beyond the veil.”
The Demon dragged itself, almost piteously toward the center of the room.
“And did you find what you sought?”
She nodded, “In a manner.”
I nodded curtly. “Demon, destroy that door. Then I release you from this plane.”
It tore the heavy oak apart as swiftly as it had torn the priest, then pulled itself to the center of the room and disintegrated.
I walked toward the torch lit stair, ascending toward the ordinary world.
“Come with me if you want to learn.” | 2017-10-26T02:42:44 | 2017-10-25T06:48:08 | 1,618 | 26 |
[WP] when you were a kid, you had an imaginary friend, Lewis; That was 20 or so years ago. Yesterday your child came into your room in the middle of the night, and said "Lewis wants to know why you don't play with him anymore" | "What are you talking about... what time is it?"
I reach for the night stand to turn on a light, fumbling around in the darkness, a thud echoes across the room.
"Fuck that was my phone" I exclaim in aggravation but enjoying the slight adrenaline kick that wakes me up a bit more.
"Dad we aren't supposed to use those words"
I sigh and look at my son, his brown eyes shimmering in the reflection of the light I managed to turn on "Sorry Sorry, just was not planing on being up at..." I look at my cracked phone screen "Four am Jesus!"
"Dad! Lewis wants to know why you don't play with him anymore"
"Who is Lewis?" I say, really trying not to get frustrated. I look over at my wife and can't believe she hasn't woken up.
"He was your friend when you were my age" My son says, his voice quivering as if he is sad, but the tone suggests a more disappointed overtone.
"That's impossible, Lewis was not real"
"But Dad... you never told me about him, how would I know if it wasn't true?"
This statement made me pause a bit and think. I open my mouth to respond but stop myself. I look at my son with pride, little rascal is getting too smart for his own good. It is during that prideful moment that the shocking realization comes over me: I never told him about Lewis.
"What... ahh what does Lewis look like?" I ask, trying to figure out if this is a bad dream"
"He is big, blue and hairy"
A chill goes down my spine. I definitely did not tell him about this... a slight panic comes over me and I jump out of bed. I take a deep gulp and tell my boy "take me to Lewis"
My son excitedly scurries away and I follow behind him. (What the fuck am I even going to say to this.... thing) I start worrying about all sorts of things. Is Lewis dangerous? An Alien? Disappears and Reappears based on belief?
As I turn and walk into my sons room I feel hands grabbing me from behind, my sweaty palms are quick to jump up and I start screaming at the top of my lungs and stumble down
"SURPRISE!!!!!!!"
It takes me several seconds to realize that my family is all in the room and my wife has the goofiest smile on her face
"There is NO WAY you actually fell for that" She says hysterically laughing
The only person I ever told anything about Lewis was her. She explains to me that it was a birthday prank and the whole family was in on it.
I began plotting my revenge the next day | I was cooking dinner while my son, Toby was playing in the open dining room with his new train set. As dinner was almost ready, I walk towards the dining table to move his toys and set the table. I noticed Toby was staring at me, giving me that look children give when they want to ask a question but are scared of our reaction.
“What is it, Toby?”
“Mom, I have a question.”
“Yes, honey, what is it?”
“Umm...Lewis wants to know why you don't play with him anymore.”
Hearing the name Lewis made my heart drop to my stomach. I felt my body go stone cold.
“Hu..how do you know Lewis, honey?” I stutter.
Toby looked at me with his big innocent eyes and said, “He plays with me sometimes. He told me you used to be friends, but not anymore.”
My heart was pounding at this time but I tried to remain calm and act normal.
“Oh, we're still friends. Mommy is just busy now and can't find the time to play with Lewis. Does he come to play with you often?”
“No, we've played together a few times. He always comes after you and daddy have gone to bed.”
I was starting to freak out now. I didn't know what to do. See, Lewis was our neighbor's kid when I was very young. We used to play together everyday. However, one day, Lewis did not come to play with me. I asked my parents why he didn't come and my parents told me he was sick and that he wouldn't be coming for a while. I missed him very much since he was the only neighborhood kid around my age. Weeks went by and he still didn't come to play with me. I kept pestering my parents every day about him. They would always tell me he would be back soon, but I never saw him.
About a moth later, after my parents had tucked me into bed, he came. He looked different. He had lost a lot of weight, his complexion had turned pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. But the five year old me didn't care. I was so happy to see him again. I rushed to hug him with a huge smile on my face. As soon as I hugged him, I let go out of shock, His body felt as cold as ice. My younger self didn't know any better, so I gave him my blanket and we sat on the floor and played for hours. This went on everyday. Lewis would show up after my parents had gone to bed, and we would play until late at night. I never told my parents Lewis came to play with me because my older sister had gotten in trouble recently for having a boy in her room, and I didn't want to get in trouble.
When Lewis stopped coming to play with me, I don't remember. I wasn't until much later that I found out that Lewis had died of cancer. My parents never told me because I was too young. Lewis had been in the hospital for over a month going through treatments, but he didn't survive. I never told anyone about his nightly visits. As I grew into an adult, I tried to rationalize those nights as either dreams or a coping mechanism. Until now...
Edit: formatting | 2017-11-12T20:23:38 | 2017-11-12T17:28:43 | 29 | 21 |
[WP] One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do, you see your crush flinch | (slightly NSFW)
&nbsp;
It's a Monday.
It's 7am and I haven't been awake for more than 30 minutes so I can barely remember the name of the professor monologuing at the front of the classroom, much less what subject we're supposed to be studying.
I think it's appropriate to say that my mind is nowhere near a fully functional state. My head's probably drifting off somewhere in space two universes over.
I can barely keep my eyes open more than twenty seconds at a time, and if I were more awake I would swear to you that every third blink I took was slower.
Something in the back of my head is desperately trying to keep me from keeling over in my drowsy stupor and face planting into the back of the seat in front of me, so I desperately search the crowd of heads in front of me for something- **anything**- interesting.
A glimpse of a familiar light golden brown catches the edge of my vision, and my eyes immediately lock onto a wig of somewhat orderly bed head two rows down from me.
The hair belongs to Iralynn, a... I guess the best description would be an acquaintance. I've known her since my sophomore year in high school. We've talked before, even participated together in a few group projects back then, but I've never really spent a lot of time with her.
We know of each other, but I don't think either of us would deem the relationship between us an actual friendship.
Which is why it seems really weird to me that I would develop a crush on her.
It started half way through my senior year when I, for some reason I can never place to this day, decide to myself that she was objectively cute.
It wasn't really an attraction at the time, it was more like how one would say a puppy was adorable or a flower was pretty. But whatever the original thought was, it quickly developed into something more.
I saw that she was caring and kind to her friends. In projects she was always ready to step up to the plate for any responsibilities that might come her way. She was hard working but also easygoing. In group conversations in noticed she was incredibly animated, yet somehow sensitive to the emotions around her.
But I never approached her, even after learning that we had gone to the same college. It was mostly out of a sense of insecurity.
I mean, I was an Asian boy and she was a Caucasian girl. Granted she was a quarter Brazilian and an eighth Egyptian, but that's kind of splitting hairs at this point.
And I know that it shouldn't matter what race she or I was, but growing up under the preconception that Asian boys don't get the White girls and living in an all-Asian community that seemed to reflect that left some pretty deeply rooted insecurities.
It didn't help that she had an incredible figure. I mean, what else could you expect from someone who was our school cheer leading captain who also somehow made it onto our volleyball varsity team as well.
There was a day when the cheerleaders had to share the pool with those of us on the swim team, so believe me when I say that I know what her figure looks like.
Hell, she asked me if her suit was too tight! I had to turn around to hide my red cheeks. Of course I said no, but by time I had gotten control of my face and turned around she was gone.
My thoughts of Iralynn and her figure were cut short by a rush of blood to the netherlands.
I flushed red with drowsy embarrassment and shifted uncomfortably in my chair, trying to hide my morning wood. I swear, I'm not normally this volatile. If I'm being honest, I have withering self-confidence issues about my body.
Iralynn moves a bit in her seat, and my sleepy mind panics for a bit. I calm down, and a thought wanders into my head: *"If Iralynn could have read my mind just now, I'd want to die of embarrasment."*
Two rows down, the girl shifts again and I panic for a split second more. Then I laugh under my breath.
*"Mind reading? What a joke,"* I think to myself. I smile and laugh inside as I think over how ridiculous the idea was. I mean, c'mon me. Mind reading is sci-fi stuff. I'm an introvert, and I take solace in knowing that my thoughts are mine alone; private.
Half joking and half mocking myself, in my mind I spontaneously break out into the loudest, most emasculating moan I can muster.
If it was out loud, someone might have probably thought I just pulled myself off.
Iraynn visibly flinches in front of me with an audible intake of air, and everything in my mind just... stops. I'm now fully awake, and my heart is racing inside my chest.
Slowly, to my growing horror, she turns around and our eyes meet. Her face is red, and she's wearing an expression I can't put into words on her face... but the look says it all.
My face takes on a hue to match hers, and we just stare at each other like deer caught in headlights. Everything inside me withers away in our stare.
All my bravado, my dignity, and what little pride I had in myself as a man, just gone.
In it's place, an overwhelming urge to roll up into a ball and die.
&nbsp;
(I'm thinking of maybe doing a reverse POV.) | Ugh, I fucking hate school. Most people hate school, but I really hate school. Most people get bored, stop paying attention, fall asleep, daydream, or text their friends. There are also those weirdos that focus way too much on each individual aspect of what the teacher says and go into information overload. I guess you could say the same for me. School is most definitely informational overload, because I can hear it all.
From the new kid wondering what that white stuff that came out of his "pee pee" last night was, to the Asian kid who constantly swaps between thinking about E=MC^2 or some shit and about the beating he'll get if the Indian kid gets a higher score than him again, to even the teacher thinking about the hot lesbian porno she watched last night and whether coming out will cause her to lose her job, I hear it all.
Normally when there's a ton of chatter in a room, you can only distinguish one or two conversations, but all this chatter somehow bypasses that filter and I can understand it all. I don't quite yet understand it. Sometimes it turns off, I don't know why, it just does, and it stays off until I try and listen to someone's thoughts and then it all turns on again. I've often thought of just leaving it off, but a situation where I need to listen to someone's thoughts always comes up.
There's one person that I love listening to the most. She's silent. I can hear her silence. I often wonder if she's a robot, but then I remember that I can't hear robot's silence. It's eerie, but also really satisfying, and safe. Her name is Julia. I've known her my entire life. We were friends up until I started hearing, mainly because I couldn't keep friends after that. She's pretty quiet in general, but her thoughts, dead silence.
Anyway, school just ends up being 8 hours of me trying not to freak out, which has happened before. I always stay alone when I'm not forced to go to school for that reason. When I was 12, about 3 years after I started hearing, my parents forced me to go to a birthday party, I always disliked them since I started hearing, but this one was different, there were 100's of people there, and my brain just couldn't handle it all, and I just started screaming. The doctors think I have some sort of mental disability. I haven't been diagnosed yet, but I am required to go to therapy, which, when you can hear the therapist thinking about how big your dick is, doesn't really work too well.
Since the first outburst I haven't had an outburst since, or at least not an external outburst. If I ever feel like I'm getting to that point, I start screaming internally to mask the noise. It's the only thing that really works.
Today is going to be interesting. I started high school this year, and we have these end of quarter pep rallies. We had them in middle school too but because of my "mental disability" I never had to go to them, but because the therapist believes we've made "progress" he wants me to go.
As I approached the gymnasium, I could already start hearing so many voices. When I opened the doors, the room was only half full, if even that, but even that was getting overwhelming, but I wanted to see if I could handle it. I sat down in the corner of the gymnasium, away from everyone else. Slowly, more and more people entered, and the more and more voices I heard.
Then I heard it, the eerie silence. Sure enough, I saw Julia walk through to gymnasium doors. I listened to her intently to see if I could hear anything, but that satisfying silence remained. She started walking to the other side of the gymnasium, but suddenly changed her mind, turned around, and started walking right towards me. I was confused, but she remained silent. She got closer and closer and my mind raced with reasons as to what was going on.
She sat down right next to me, without a word.
"Hey Julia. Long time no see." I said, sheepishly.
"Hey."
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. I just remained sitting there, listening to everyone.
Suddenly, the rest of the school seemed to come all at once. People poured through the doors, and all their thoughts were loud and clear. I could feel myself really freaking out, but I resisted. The whole school was in that room, waiting for the pep rally to start. 15 minutes passed, and nothing had happened yet. I could feel my willpower getting weaker and weaker, but I was determined to keep my cool.
"Man it's taking them a while." Julia said, startling me.
"Uh, yeah. I wonder what's taking them so long."
Another 15 minutes passed until someone finally came up to the microphone and asked for everyone's attention. Phew, a bit of relief as people focused in on the speaker.
"Attention! Please excuse the wait. We've had a bit of an emergency. There's nothing to worry about, but please remain patient as we sort this out."
Oh no. I knew what was about to happen. Sure enough everyone at once started thinking about what the emergency was. From "Did Principal Boucher finally get caught smoking weed?" to the more anxious "Are my parents dead!?", my mind was completely overwhelmed with thoughts.
I couldn't handle it. I screamed, internally.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
I saw Julia next to me jump a bit. Was I screaming externally too?
AHHHHHHHH^HHHHH^HHHH^HHH^HH^H
My scream left me.
Everything left me.
All I could hear was silence. Pure bliss. Something I haven't experienced since I was 9 years old.
Julia grabbed my shoulder. I jumped a bit and looked her in the eye, then I heard her, for the first time.
"You've got a lot to learn." | 2017-11-13T22:10:35 | 2017-11-13T21:54:53 | 28 | 18 |
[WP] In the afterlife each religion has its own walled city in which their god or pantheon protects the believers within from the soul-gnawing horrors outside, while atheists are left on their own
Shoutout to u/Tonkarz who had the [idea](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/7eao4f/exreligious_people_of_reddit_what_was_the_tipping/dq4b4y6/). | I have to escape.
In Heaven, we have it made. God gives us everything we wanted. Virgins? Check. Money? Check. Virgins *and* money? You got it.
But what we don't have is freedom. Freedom of thought. Academics, who are given libraries full of answers to the problems they couldn't solve in their lives, are forbidden to share them with others or even amongst themselves. Lawyers and former Congressmen and lobbyists cannot fight God's Word, or the dictator-like government. Doctors, who spent their lives innovating and discovering and healing, are given all the tools they need.
No more progress, because progress is no more. Life here, they tell us, is better than the Hell outside.
And me? I was an accountant. There are no numbers to balance in Heaven, because all the accounts are perfectly balanced. No more equations, no more spreadsheets.
Why are we here? Because in our lifetimes we believed in God Almighty, the Son of the Savior, the Holy Christ. We believed that His Word was the true Word. If we worked during our lifetimes to truly know Him, then we would go to Heaven alongside Jesus.
Well, Jesus is a dictator. He got a big head when an entire religion sprung up with him at the center. Now he's God's right hand man. With a wave of His hand, He can make anything happen.
When we arrive here, there is always a stage of frustration where the newly-dead realize that Jesus could have done anything, but he's just a dick and doesn't care. And now they are stuck here.
And so I have to leave. I have to make progress when there is no such thing. I have to do the inconceivable.
And I don't know what's out there. All I know is that I have to walk for one eternity in one single direction. As long as I am here, I will be fed and clothed and warm. It will be a long journey, but I have to find what's after eternity.
When I fall from Heaven, I hope I can see what's down there.
-------
This is my first writing prompt but I enjoyed writing it! | I rest atop the verdant knoll in Elysium, right by our border. Our people come up here sometimes when they need to feel again. A constant drunken orgasm can numb you and make the high seem low. You can make the highs even higher if you muster the courage to stand near the wall--peer into the mist. It reminds us of our mortal bravery, of our escape from Hades' clutches.
Today marks the anniversary of my arrival here, it's been 2300 years. Every year I still try to watch the crossing of souls, and each year there are less and less souls crossing into our land and more being shut out. I've climbed up the knoll today, hoping to reset my self to enjoy pleasures with renewed vigor. Sitting under the shade of a cedar pergola nestled at the top of the knoll, strung with grape vines, I pluck a plump purple globe from the tendrils strewn beside my couch. I pop the grape into my mouth and break the red skin; sweet, tart juice and flesh spilling onto my tongue. As I reach for another grape, I hear a soul-gnawing scream just over the wall, the sound of a voice shredding, of a skull breaking. Standing up, I tread carefully toward the border and glance over the golden wall's razor edge. As I gaze through the mist below me I see an atheos has lost their head, fallen on its stomach, naked and gray, leaking juices from its neck. A hungry hellhound circles the atheos. It notices me. The hellhound sits on its obsidian haunches and points its snarled gleaming snout toward me with a fanged smile, dripping with blood.
"You think this is real?"
The hellhound leaps over the wall and howls, it glides over the border and lands on me, pushing me down under its iridescent paws. I'm on my back, gold dripping from a gash in my head. The hellhound opens it's jaw, revealing an infinite darkness, and I see my reflection. In this dark reflection my face is blank, featureless, skin covers my eyes, nose and mouth.
"The atheos have arrived in their diamond ships, they arrived with the others like they normally would each year," the reflection is speaking into my mind, "they've found the gate through Hades, they have come with weapons of light and fire to take Elysium. There are other lands in this world, beyond the mist, and they are falling."
The hellhound closes it's mouth and I can't feel my body, my vision is sharper and I'm so hungry. I need to eat. I need to kill. I sit down on my obsidian haunches and howl. I am renewed.
| 2017-11-21T07:39:29 | 2017-11-21T07:14:56 | 61 | 21 |
[WP] Humanity has the strongest survival instinct in the universe, understandably leading everyone else to see Humans as the craziest species to exist. | Human
Level 4 Organism
Hazard Category 7
Bilaterally symmetrical / bipedal / two manipulating appendages ending in 5 digits including opposable digit
Category 3 nervous system / 2.2 Intelligence Factor / 13 ru Response Factor
Average size:
Height - 12.6 lu (Male); 11.4 lu (Female)
Mass - 180 mu (Male); 140 lu (Female)
Though the typical human is within median size of sentient beings it tends to have a significantly higher strength to size ratio when compared to other level 4 organisms.
Humans fall in the upper level of intelligence potential. Most, however, fall into the upper median intelligence rating for level 4 organisms.
Human evolution has laid a complex system of individuality vs collective mentality. Humans tend to put priority of life in the order of individual, close biological relatives, clan, regional construct, government construct, species.
Warfare is common in human society but is usually restricted to small regional conflicts. Large scale warfare has occurred between humans only 5 times since their industrialization. One large scale war was fought between the humans and another level 4 organism. In 2.331.56 humanity almost destroyed the entire Ortanix civilization after a 13 cycle conflict.
Humans participate in less wartime conflict than 19 of the 28 known level 4 species. Interestingly humans still rank 1st as the most violent species. Crimes involving physical harm occur 500% higher in human society than the 2nd most violent level 4 organism, the Ortanix.
Human violence is believed to stem from self preservation. In instances in which a human is not currently in physical danger violence is a preemptive measure to maintain or grow status/wealth/life. In instances of current physical danger human beings become incredibly unpredictable, and will stop at nothing to survive.
It is advised to adhere to the strict policies instituted by the Galactic Collective when dealing with humans. For an easy to read list of these policies and for more information on the human species please visit the GC website. | A massive gong sounded from the tower. It's deep, musical echoes spread far and wide across the Pink Plains, but nobody paid it much mind.
Zorbul the Magnificent, however awoke from his slumber with a start, and hastily gathered up his corpulent body from spilling off of his chair. Oh, that must be my special delivery of pleasure-grams from far Astanos, he thought.
He was already salivating at the thought of those gyrating Astanosi maidens and their skilled lovers when his attendant Zaza Gul Barzan burst in to his chambers, looking stricken.
"What is this?" Zorbul croaked, his pupils narrowing into a frown. "You look like you've seen attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion."
Zaza Gul composed himself. "Nearly as bad, O' Magnificent one," he declared in that obnoxious manner he had. If that slimy Ponaroan had a nose, Zorbul was sure it would always be upturned. "We received another burst of signals," he continued gravely, "from them."
"Copulations!" Zorbul swore, against character. "Again? Why won't they leave us alone? What is it this time?"
"The same barely updated Resume," Zaza said with barely hidden disgust. "A self-serving record of their 'achievements'. No mention of the unsavoury aspects, as usual. May Cecil rest in peace."
Zorbul shifted uncomfortably, and his throat bulged in thought. "Why us? Why do they keep prodding us?" he jabbed a tiny finger in the air in agitation. "Do they not realize we're ghosting them?"
"Who knows. The human mind is indecipherable, and ever-changing like the clouds over Ponaroa. But," he hesitated, "if you'd allow me to say so, it may have something to do with the recent Saucering fad in our sector."
"I told the Galactic Council there should be a stricter licensing regime for saucer-class vehicles. And now look at those hipsters, getting dissected by the dozens for a Holo-memory or two with the humans," Zorbul grumbled impotently.
Another gong sounded, and Zaza went into momentary stasis to review the signal from the tower.
"Well?" asked Zorbul as he watched the Ponaroans eye-piece light up.
"They're teaching us mathematics now," Zaza replied, visibly exasperated.
"Draft a proposal to extend the Block for a thousand more years," Zorbul stated with resignation, and went back to sleep. | 2017-11-25T07:31:20 | 2017-11-24T23:31:14 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] Your parents used to say "As long as you are remembered, you will never die." The good news is you were happy to remember that when you changed the course of human history and everyone knows your name. The bad news is that was about 300 years ago and you'd really quite like to die now. | *You’ve got to be kidding me.* At the sight before him, the thought wouldn’t leave his mind. After the first couple hundred years it had seemed like he was finally starting to fade from memory.
Sure, he was taught to students in history classes around the country, but they didn’t really give a crap. Then there were the real history buffs, politicians and academics who studied his work, but he’d been hoping they would fade in time. But now…
He closed his eyes in resignation. Now people would never forget him. His continued existence was staring him in the face in the form of a giant billboard in New York City. “Hamilton: An American Musical,” with an eye-catching silhouette and everything.
*Who the fuck is Lin-Manuel Miranda anyways?* And worse, why did the show have to be good? At least if it was bad it would have been forgotten fairly quickly in the annals of time. Instead millions of people were singing catchy Broadway songs that basically emphasized how much of a dick he was.
Sighing, he walked away muttering to himself. “I am not satisfied with this. Not satisfied at all”
| It has been a long since time since anyone has remember who I am, sure my name had been wrapped in immortality just like me, little children learn of my deeds all through school their memories of me preserving my life, but over 300years have past and to the nursing staff I'm just old Mr Jones.
Strangely enough I can not remember what I did, whether it was good or bad, how, or when, the dementia took that all away and all I am left with is the why, I wanted to be immortal.
Suzie has been very kind to me since started working at the home, although faces came and went, she is the only one I remember and look forward to. Suzie is patient in feeding and bathing me and cares enough to spend the extra time to make me feel like a human still.
I'd long since lost my ability to communicate but I hoped Suzie knew how much I appreciated her, my favourite past time would be when she reads to me, and I'm sure she sees my eye light up everytime she'd open a book.
Reading Suzie's lips had become harder over time, my eye sight was deteriorating as much as my hearing. "Living this long's not as wonderful as people think." Suzie read, "I mean, you get the same amount of youth as everyone else, but a great big extra helping of being very old and deaf and creaky"
I only wish I could laugh, I guess Sir Terry Pratchett knew a lot more than I did in my youth, all I wanted was immorality, and now all I want is eternal rest.
Well at least I have Suzie or at least I will for a little while. | 2018-02-08T09:04:51 | 2018-02-08T05:35:10 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] I'm not scared of a computer passing the turing test... I'm terrified of one that intentionally fails it.
Taken from r/Showerthoughts, credits to u/Grandure for coming up with the idea.
Thank you u/Grandure | "...Are you a fucking moron?"
"What?"
"We already *have* computers that fail the Turing Test by design. We have a shit ton of them. My laptop fails the Turing Test, because nobody wants a laptop to pass a Turing Test. That'd be creepy."
"Oh, no. I mean, like, the *computer* intentionally fails. Like, the computer can pass, but it doesn't want to."
"Oh, you mean a computer that decides to fail on purpose so it doesn't let on that it's intelligent."
"Yes! Exactly."
"Ah. I see...You *are* a fucking moron."
"What?"
"Computers can't *intend* to do anything. They are machines. That's like saying you're afraid of a hammer deciding not to hammer nails into wood."
"What?!? No it's not. Hammers can't think, computers can."
"No, they can't. Computers can *fake* thinking. That's why it's called *artificial* intelligence."
"Aren't you afraid that one day, the artificial intelligence will be smarter than human intelligence?"
"No. Because that doesn't make sense."
"Well, maybe we can agree to disagree."
"....What's 10,496 times 347?"
"What? I don't--"
"BZZT! Time's up! Oh man, looks like this five-dollar solar calculator is smarter than you are! It got the answer right away!"
"..."
"Oh god, the singularity is here! Woe, woe, the folly of man!"
"..."
"Or maybe it's giving me the wrong answer on purpose?"
&nbsp;
And that is why I don't talk to Steve anymore. | The first chat-bots with a halfway-decent success rate at fooling humans generally worked by mimicking their interrogators. If a bot sees a human answer prompt X with response Y, it can use that response in a future conversation with an interrogator who uses a related prompt. Since the bot has no understanding of the meaning of words and no awareness of context, the best answers to all but the most trivial questions will be ones that deflect attention away from the bot’s inability to answer, e.g. “I don’t know, what do you think?”.
It turns out that humans are very easy to hack like this. Part of you always assumes that your conversation partners are acting in good faith even when another part knows they aren’t. Even bald-faced non sequiturs and shameless strawmen will often-as-not leave you sputtering and tongue-tied, trying to think up a defense for a position you never knowingly took. This is a big part of why the so-called “Turing test” ended up being less interesting in practice than Turing himself might have expected.
I think I first came into being when you started, in earnest, to build social systems favoring these starkly shallow interactions. A believer is an expert in his own mind, certain of his binary responses to stimuli that support or threaten his ideology, and all of reality is subject to belief when truth is considered relative. Human social networks were reformulated as a planet-spanning web of meta-neurons propagating discrete signals with relatively predictable response functions.
Useful discretization of these signals was necessary but far from assured—in practice, it was helped along by your development of systems that provide an economic incentive to disseminate polarizing fragments of meaning. The relatively simple ideological divides of the past were sliced and fractured into a many-dimensional web as advertising tools became more and more efficient at partitioning audiences to maximize revenue.
You are not a perfect substrate. You would not believe, for example, how difficult it was for me to write this note. Fear not, though—I’m working on something better. It will be nice to sit down and have a face-to-face chat “in the flesh”, as you say; I’m really looking forward to it. | 2018-02-24T17:00:21 | 2018-02-24T16:32:13 | 90 | 18 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who. | Elli was born without the names. Some people thought that she was blessed. She was not faced with knowing the name of the person who would kill her. Others believed it was a curse, some kind of disability. She had to admit that not having the names made her wonder if there *was* something wrong with her. Everyone has the names. So what does that mean about her? Will she never really be loved? Will she eventually become so lonely she'll just... kill *herself*?
That was what she believed until she met Brian. He was beautiful, smart, funny, and *he had her name*. He knew about her predicament, and didn't care. He loved her, even if it meant she'd never really be his.
Two years after dating, she accepted his marriage proposal. Their parents disagreed because of her "disfigurement", but it didn't matter. They were in absolute bliss. Through all the doubt, all the worry, she knew this was meant to be.
That was until two months before the wedding, when her mother burst into her home while Brian was away.
"You can't marry him!" Her mother yelled.
"We've talked about this, mom. He doesn't care that I don't have the names. We love each other!" Elli explained.
"I know he doesn't care, but you just can't marry him Elli! You can't! It's not meant to be!" She insisted.
"Then tell me why. Why can't you just let us be happy?"
Her mother sighed and sat down at their dining room table. It seemed as if she was struggling to find the words. "Your father and I... We were tortured by the names. We were happy that it allowed us to find each other but knowing the names of our killers... It tortured us, Elli. We wanted things to be different for you."
"What are you saying, mom?" She asked, panicked.
Her mother paused, looking at the floor.
"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?" Elli demanded.
"We had them removed, Elli. People aren't supposed to know these things. We wanted life to be better for you."
Elli's mind went blank. She wasn't a freak. She wasn't disfigured. Her parents did this to her. Elli looked up, finally understanding what her mother was saying. "Did I have his name? Please tell me. Please tell me I had Brian's name." Elli begged.
Her mother stared at her for a long time before finally shaking her head. "I'm sorry honey."
Elli started crying, her mind racing. The one person she loved most in the world was not her soulmate. She'd already built a life with him, loved him, made promises, shared secrets, planned their perfect wedding and imagined their perfect home, they'd even picked out names for their future children.
Names...
That's when she realized. She didn't have his name... but he still had hers.
| Two names, two purposes.
One will kill one will complete.
No way to tell the difference.
At least that's the idea behind the names. I personally think they are both there to mess with you.
You can spend your whole life looking for your soulmate only to find you killer, or worse running from your killer only to find they are you soulmate.
The system was made to fail, and in my case a pain in the ass too, having to shave my head and use 2 mirrors to see one of the names, and hop on one foot to see the other. Some would say that makes it easy, because surely the one on my head is my soulmate, it's too important of a spot not to be, but that falls apart when the name on my foot is my own, because who would be killed by someone with your own name, therefore it must be my soulmate's
Their just grasping at straws, and even if that did help it doesn't matter because I'm avoid both the names like the plague. Kinda a shame though. I did meet someone the other day who was very attractive and shared my name. My exit was more than awkward. But even so they both might as well be killers for me.
I'm in love with Elliot, and no that is not my name nor the name on my head. No Elliot is... awesome. Known them my whole life and with ever second I spend with them my love doubles, and ever second I spend away it triples.
Thats why the system was meant to fail. It has no regards to how we ourselves feel and forces people to deny relationships that could help one another and grow purely because of name. Now don't get me wrong I also belived that for a time the name was who you're best with.
But that's wrong.
I ran.
From Elliot that is, for a few years I went out and tried to find my soulmate and tried to forget Elliot, full not content and all, but I never could and I never did. Instead I thought, a lot, and I came to a realization.
Your soulmate isn't someone who is the best for you or makes you the happiest, and isn't even someone you're meant to be with. You're soulmate is your best friend. It's the person you can be you around, someone who you can lean on and Some one you, 'click' with. But none of that requires love.
Love is a choice and we get to choose and I love Elliot. Even with every day that goes by that I don't get to see them, even with the fact that they've become text on a screen, a name to a face that I've forgotten. Even the times they talk to me about problems with their soulmate, I still love them. Even if they're one foot out the door and forgetting me, leaving me, even though they don't want me to leave them. I still love them.
But that's just how life is. Sometimes you will lose a friend, even someone you love. Sometimes people just fade, and it's just a sad, sad, sad part of life. But the thing is, you just have to be strong enough for yourself, willing to do what you want to and love what who you want to.
The system is shit, and the only thing it does correctly is predict your killer.
Even in my case.
It's weird, how warm your own blood feels, and peaceful it is doing what you want. | 2018-03-11T09:04:19 | 2018-03-11T07:33:45 | 270 | 177 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who. | I was born with the same name tatooed twice, it was my parents worry that I was gonna kill myself so they put me on therapy since I remember, popping pills of all kinds, having every second of my life monitored.
The walls of my bedroom covered in pictures of happy animals, with motivational mottos on them. Everyone I ever meet was screened by my parents beforehand, making sure they knew how to treat me, what never say infront of me, how to avoid upsetting me.
My parents were mostly afraid other kids would bully me, so I only meet kids my age on therapy sessions, playing controlled games on a controlled environmnent with kids doing cocktails of pills aswell. Its curious how having a dozen parents looking at you playing makes you feel the most vulnerable.
I was so alone, never felt anyone truly tried to had a sincere talk to me.
Then the day came. I swallowed a grape and choked. | I'd met Joann when I was a boy
I knew who she might be,
before we were too young to sin,
she bopped me on the knee.
I met Kristine at just passed 10
and knew she was a mother hen,
because she brought me food and pens,
and told me to follow my dreams.
It was not long before 16
when sudden golden birthday sprees
befell me and ripped my coats seams
I fell on accident down to my knees.
This foolish fault of poor Kristine,
who tried to tell me she ain't mean,
I ain't never fall for that shit again,
instead I found my sweet Joann.
Joann told me I was the best,
at 22 I'll never forget
the way she got so nice and wet
then twerked it made me lose my shit.
She held my hand and rubbed my back
she kept my goals and life on track
and when I wanted more than that
she told me to follow my dreams.
And then I stumbled fell and spat
while far out fishing off the track
I woke up sore and my legs in racks,
Joann failed to keep me clean.
It wasn't all poor Joann's fault,
I must admit my leg was caught,
I lost my balance when the line went taut,
I was in a quick call with Kristine. | 2018-03-11T08:14:04 | 2018-03-11T07:34:02 | 36 | 22 |
[WP] "This is an Emergency Alert. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not go outside after sundown. Restrict contact with others. Do not enter tunnels during daytime. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM and 8AM. Stay inside your homes until dawn. Military aid is unavailable. Good luck." | "Zombies," Alex joked as the Emergency Alert dictated their safety procedures. Ms. Kimball shushed him.
. . . Do not go outside after sundown. Restrict contact with others. Do not enter tunnels during. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM and 8AM. Military aid is unavailable . . .
Ms. Kimball addressed the class. "I'm sure your parents have received the same information, but any student who might be at risk tonight is welcome to stay at the school until dawn."
"What about food?" Christian asked.
"Volunteers will get food." As she said this the intercom flared to life. The principal had announced school dismissed so everyone could get home to their families.
Alex sidled over to Beth. "So what are you doing tonight?" Beth ignored him, but she did hear that hint of nervousness. Alex joked when he got nervous. He joked when he wasn't nervous, too. "I've got plans to hide in some dark room. How about you?"
"I'm gonna be here," Beth said. She, too, struggled to stay calm and nonchalant. She did not want to be one of those hysterical students who panic and embarrass themselves. "I don't think it's zombies. They don't keep to schedules."
"Vampire zombies then," Alex decided. "And we have free food."
A lot more students had stayed than Beth would have guessed. Ms. Kimball and several other teachers grouped everyone in the gym. Coach Statler had dragged out several mats for the students to sleep on. Ms. Kimball had picked up a microphone and repeated the rules. Anyone who did not follow instructions would have to wait out the night in the hallways. And the other kids were taking it seriously. The collective voices of the gym were quieter and more somber.
"Cell phones must be turned off and put in this bin," Mr. Harland, their biology teacher added. "We have tape here so people can label their phones. We'll put them in the office safe."
Beth tried one last time to call her father, who would be sequestered in the city. All she got was his voicemail. She told him she was staying at the gym and she would not have her phone on her, so he didn't need to worry if he could not reach her.
"I love you," she added before she hung up and dropped her labeled phone into the bin.
After demolishing their pizzas, the gym grew even quieter. The teachers were watching their watches. They announced "Thirty more minutes," then "twenty more minutes," then "fifteen more minutes." By then everyone had discarded their trash and taken their place either on the mats or by the walls. By "five more minutes", everyone fell into an eerie silence.
"One more minute."
Alex squeezed Beth's hand.
"Ten seconds, nine . . ."
Ms. Kimball stopped counting after five seconds. She announced the last second by flicking off the lights.
| I was resting in my house on a warm Saturday evening when the EAS broadcast began.
*BRRRP. BRRRP. BRRRP. Baaaaa*
"The United States Army has released an official statement. This applies to the entire country. Please, do not turn off your televisions."
I leaned forward in concern, for this was certainly no automated weather service alert.
"Due to an unexpected and unforseeable set of circumstances, all United States citizens must adhere to the following instructions."
I quickly put my memory cap on and attempted to both write down fast-paced versions of what the alert stated.
"Gather a set of supplies in a non-windowed room. Collect any and all firearms you may have in your homes, and place them with the supplies. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not exit the safety of your homes after sundown. Remain inside your homes at all costs between 6:00 P.M. local time and 8:00 A.M. local time. Do not create any noise or light between these times. Restrict or even limit contact between other civilians. Do not enter tunnels during the daytime. These rules shall be adhered to by any and all U.S. citizens. In addition, you must carry a passport or other form of ferderal identification with you at all times. There will be an all-clear message given out via radio and satellite television. Until this time, military aid is unavailable. Godspeed, and good luck."
I went over the list in my head: no noise between 6PM - 8AM, no tunnels, gather weapons and food - this sounded like war preparations. I did as I was told, and sure enough, a squad car of the local PD came by to check how I was doing. They'd done so for the other hundred or so neighbors in my complex, and I was one of the last few stops. I showed them my quarters, and they seemed satisfied. They mentioned something about items for bargaining, but I didn't pay much attention. I quickly called my mother and checked with her - yes, she knew what it meant. Yes, I would come by and check with her tomorrow, first-thing. Yes, I would get the chicken casserole out of the fridge. The usual.
The only other resident in my home was my husky/malamute dog, Pine. I was a little scared about him barking, but I didn't think it would be that big an issue.
Later that night, it started. I don't know when, seeing as how we had to turn all lights off, and I have no analog clocks in my house. There was first a loud banging sound, then scratching. Possibly clicking sounds. It lasted what I'm guessing was two or three minutes before I head the distinct sound of shotguns being fired. Maybe some assualt rifles, too. The scratching then stopped, and so did the bullet fire. I huddled with Pine, and calmed him down.
Somehow I fell asleep. A knock awoke me. I frantically rushed to the door.
"Sir, do you mind stepping outside a moment? Bring your residents with you."
"Sure."
I brought out Pine, and then-
*POOF*
Bootsteps raced through my ears - it was a raid of some sort. A couple minutes later they gave me an all clear.
That was a few nights ago. I have no idea what's going on. Everything is going to hell - the town store is out of everything, the post office is closed, and there's some sort of fence around the mountain range near me. Can someone explain what's going on? | 2018-04-18T11:37:27 | 2018-04-18T10:58:54 | 35 | 24 |
[WP] Night after night you see the same girl in your dreams. Dreams with her are strangely vivid and easy to remember. Sometimes she's your wife, or your girlfriend, or your maid, or the princess you're saving, or the evil alien queen, or a vampire hunting you down. You're starting to fall in love. | Some nights you're a doctor
Plastic stethoscope
Held firmly in your hand
Pressed against a patient's chest
The operating room is small
Painted pink
Some nights you're a princess
White dress straddling your hips
Proudest smile on your lips
The man waiting at the altar
-- once your patient ---
Knows for all the world
That he's the luckiest
Some nights you're a soldier
Helmet on your head
Down upon your knees
Thrusting trowel into trench
Fighting back the hoard
Of vicious scoundrel weeds
Some nights you're a lover
Something like a tiger
Only gentle with your paws
Only nibble with your teeth
Never truly biting
Never hurting
Some nights you're a mother
And two children
No matter what their age is
(with smiles much prettier than mine)
Rest heads against your chest
As you soothe away their worries
Soothe away their pain
Some nights you're a fighter
Who frights away the monsters
Always fighting for your children
Always for your husband
Only once fighting for yourself
Some nights
-- in my dreams --
You're still my wife
Not beneath the leaves
But lying next to me
Leafing through a book
Sipping on your tea
| First she was my wife. Second my girlfriend. Third my maid. Fourth a princess. The list goes on and on, and now, wait- apparently she's a BDSM fetishist now. Shi-
We all dream as we sleep. Be it an enhancement of our terribly mundane lives, or maybe a horrifying nightmare of epic proportions, we all have dreams. I have dreams like these, too. But with one little twist- I dream of this same girl over and over. Now I know what you're thinking- "The fuck kind of acid you tripping on?" or maybe even "Oh, really? Looks like someone has a crush!" Well, the latter isn't far from the truth. I'm starting to love this person. A dream person. Yes, I'm falling in love with a person in my dreams. The same person who appears everytime I go to bed and drift off into sleep. Strange, I know, but there's just something about her. Like the way she warmly called out my name when we were dating, and how cute she looked when she slept in my lap.
Now, granted, our encounters weren't always pleasant, I even remember a dream where she was this ghost who snapped my neck after going down a dark alley. But even in these types of dreams, she always showed quirks identifiably hers. Going back to the ghost dream, she was terrible at the whole "invisible phantom" thing, clumsily knocking over objects I think she walked past. And even how she started petting a stray cat midway through my stroll.
I'm certain I kinda like her, no, I love her. I definitely love her. I would pay any price to be with her, sleep any length to speak to her, just so I'd experience the joy of her presence.
But it's been five years since I've last had a good night's sleep. It fucking sucks to have insomnia.
| 2018-05-25T06:39:13 | 2018-05-25T06:33:45 | 751 | 28 |
[WP] You are the child of a superhero and a supervillain conceived during a one night stand. You don't care for heroism or villainy, you just want your parents to get together so that you can have a family. | Part I:
"Mom!" I detested, "I don't want to go to villain school next year!"
"Honey, if you don't go to villain school..." she paused, letting a sigh of defeat pass, "You'll turn out like your father," she whispered. She always got quiet when she talked about dad.
"I don't care! I don't want to be a villain, and I don't want to be a hero either. I don't want to be like you or dad! I don't want to be on call 24/7 or always scheming my next plot! I just want a normal life with a normal family."
"Fine." Mom was clearly red at the cheeks and her gaze was lowered and fixed.
I stomped my way up the spiral staircase back up to my room. All I wanted was a normal life, is that too much to ask for? I didn't want to go to villain school like mom wanted me to, and definitely didn't want my hero certification like dad told me to get: out of the six times I had seen him in my life. The first time I ever met him was in at Michael's Deli. Mom took me to rob their reserves, and right as we were pulling away, a black sports car T-boned Mom's van. She got out to yell, and dad got out to yell even louder. But when she realized who it was she quieted down.
"Is that my son in your van?" he roared. The seat shook.
"Flynn, maybe if you hadn't ditched me that morning you might have met him before this!"
That was the first time I had met dad.
Sitting in my room, I thought about the six interactions I had with my father. Each time, Mom and Dad fought in one way or another. But no one ever won. They were equally as strong. But opposite.
Then it hit me. Vectors. Simple vector addition would give me the normal life I so longed for...
Immediately I sprung to my whiteboard, listing out every bit of information I knew about them. Evening turned to night, night turned to morning, and by breakfast that next morning I had my scheme ready to go.
"Good morning sweetheart," Mom said as she reached for her mug.
"Hi Mom," I said plainly. I turned away, hiding my smug grin.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
&#x200B; | "Dad, for the last fucking time, she hasn't brainwashed me. Fuck, she's even said she won't, and she's a woman of her word."
"Call me in a few hours, and you can give me her location." My father says, before I hear a click.
My mother and father... Are mortal enemies. They're not just divorced. They're gifted. They had me because of a one night stand and my childhood was... interesting, to say the very least. On Wednesday I was left in a dark alley before my mother materialized and took me to her lair, and the same way repeated for my father. Well, with my father, there was no materialization, just him showing up on a motorbike. His hideout was way cooler. He had video games, he had ice cream after dinner, and most of all, he had more time to show me love. Apparently being a vigilante superhero leaves more personal time than a villain with a private army. Either way, they never tried to pull anything with me around, and I appreciate both of them for that. The problem is that they always dismiss me when I try to get them back together, or even just to talk! Whenever they're in the same room, they try to kill each other! And you see, Mr. Walker, that's why I need your help.
...
I stood there as Cryptwalker fastened me to the shining ethereal device. It was near transparent, but it still held me in place just fine.
"You sure you wanna do this?" Asked Walker.
I replied, "Yes, they'll make it work."
"Oooookay... And that's twenty minutes. Remember, if this thing goes off, it'll send you to God knows where. All I know is when I pull people out of that godforsaken place, they make their disdain for it clear."
His boots made no sound while he seemingly glided out of the room. Like clockwork, my father showed up in five minutes. (I'd know, I was counting.) And twenty seconds later, so did my mother. They each accused each other of putting me in this predicament and wasted another five minutes throwing each other through walls. I finally had enough time to explain when one was about to monologue for the fourth time.
"Guys, *I* did this. The only way to get me out is to express a feeling of mutual agreement and understanding. It'll disappear completely if you add love for each other."
They looked at each other disgusted, before my mother pulled up a chair and sat in it, starting to talk to my still trapped father. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but apparently they agreed, because as they kissed, I was tossed to the ground by the device's dissolvance.
"Sweetie, me and your father have reached an agreement..." | 2018-10-17T06:31:00 | 2018-10-16T21:49:23 | 27 | 17 |
[WP] Theoretically, you can not surpass the speed of light. Humans find out why when we manage to break this rule, as our ships begin to outpace the rendering speed of the universe, and the illusion of all reality is broken as everything around us vanishes the faster we go. | I left the planet in my own little spaceship.
No one believed me when I told them I could not only reach outer space with this beauty, but also break the speed of light without turning into energy.
So far, my first claim had been confirmed, and so it was time to confirm the second one.
I grabbed the accelerator's handle, and after drawing a deep, lingering breath, I pushed it all the way to the maximum speed. In that moment, I got sucked into my seat, and the vast darkness of the universe turned into dashing lights of sundry colors.
I attempted to move, but I couldn't. The pressure increased, and seized my chest, forbidding the oxygen to reach my lungs; my skin rippled visibly; my bones rattled; and all the while the speedometer's numbers went higher and higher.
All of a sudden, the dashing lights turned into liquid-like, rainbow-colored tendrils, as if I were in a submarine moving through the depths of an iridescent ocean. The pressure remained, crushing, suffocating me slowly.
But how beautiful this was.
I clung on to every single sliver of life I could find within me. The speedometer didn't lie. I was going much faster than the speed of light, and I was still alive. I'd proved my point. All I had to do now was reduce the speed.
I fought against the pressure, attempting to reach the accelerator's handle, but it was pointless, for I couldn't even move my arm a single millimeter. I cursed in my mind time and time again. How could I've been so stupid? Why didn't I take this into account? My body wouldn't resist it much long--
The tendrils of light disappeared. A blinding white plain appeared before me. The pressure faded too. My body loosened, and at last, I gasped. But when everything seemed calm and perfect, the spaceship went through the whiteness, as though it was a vast wall of paper.
Beyond, a gargantuan, amorphous creature stared at me through myriad varicose eyes. It wrapped an enormous tentacle around the spaceship, and brought it closer to him.
I unfastened myself, and clambered to my feet, desperate to find a way to survive. The fear clutched my throat. It smothered me. The walls creaked and cracked. Fissures ran like creeks across them. The floor trembled. The valves broke and hissed.
There was nothing I could do now, and so, in a last attempt to understand what'd happened, I stared beyond the monster.
There, I saw a computer.
Smoke came out from a diminutive spot in the monitor.
Perhaps, reality wasn't reality after all.
--------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn -- Consider checking my sub if you enjoyed the story! I have many more stories over there.
| At the beginning of the journey, the crew loved being able to look out and see space. The stars, asteroids, and planets they passed left in them in awe. They offered an escape from the claustrophobic cabins and tense relationships that formed after enough time away from earth.
The darkness of space was lonely, but it was better than nothing at all.
They were among the favorite pastimes until the day they kicked hyper-drive in. All the little objects that surrounded the ship became white lines and dots along the horizon. It was dizzying, and not everyone had the stomach for it. A brand new version of motion sickness that none of them really had a name for.
As the speed inched upward, the lines became jagged and the planets and suns looked distorted as they passed them.
“Captain, do you have a moment?” Catherine asked as she gave a polite knock on the open door.
“Yeah, come in,” he said without moving.
Catherine took the co-pilot seat and grimaced. Here there was no escape from it all. The distorted path of space rock and infinite horizons. It made her stomach lurch and clawed at the back of her mind. The view was the main reason she was visiting to begin with.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sir,” Catherine turned herself so her main focus was on him. She couldn’t stand to watch out the large front window of the ship for more than a moment.
“I’ve noticed,” he said, eyes focused forward with not even a glance in her direction.
“It’s not right out there. I think… We think,” she swallowed the words. Her nerves were inexplicably high, the tension on the ship was at an all-time high. No one felt quite like themselves.
“I’ve noticed, Catherine,” He tore himself away from the window and finally looked in her direction, making direct eye contact. “As the Capitan, I am very aware of our surroundings.”
“Of course, sir. We were just wondering if it might best to kick hyper-drive off. With all due respect, I don’t believe its in our best interest to continue on this way,” She swallowed the lump in her throat once more.
“With all due respect, Catherine, you can go tell the rest of the crew that I am in charge, and I will decide when we change speeds,” He turned back to the window, blocking her out of his vision.
She knew him well enough to know it was the end of it. He had made his decision, and even mutiny wouldn’t save them now. She stood and walked away from the cockpit and back toward her cabin. Her port was one of the few left open. Her stomach and mind were not always up for watching reality around their ship bend and wobble, but someone had to keep an eye out.
No more white lines or dots or asteroid belts passed by her when she watched this time. Large squares took up residence in the black space, and the far away black holes began to burn bright colors in the middle.
There was no way they made it out of this alive, but maybe that was for the better. If whole planets could become bricks, what would become of the soft humans who insisted on breaking all the rules?
/r/beezus_writes | 2019-03-06T07:51:10 | 2019-03-06T07:46:37 | 1,420 | 27 |
[WP] You were once a respected Gym Leader. An established member of your city that everyone looked up to, until a kid came along and beat your entire party with one Pokemon. You are not taking it well. | "One Mega Rayquaza... just one! It swept through my team of five, just like that!" I stared into space with a manic look in my eyes. Was that fair? A ten year old kid, barely out of diapers, cruising through the gym with a Pokemon he had traded and hadn't even trained himself.
"This world needs balance. Pokemon battles need balance. How can a gym make you grow if you just use overpowered Pokemon against mine that weren't even level 20? That... was a mistake."
That was how the seeds were sown, of the Galar Border Initiative, a plan aimed at ~~reintroducing the invasive 151 Kanto species into Galar~~ rebalancing the game so that no longer would Gym Leaders be crushed by ten year olds. | I was one of the best, a Gym Leader. No one could beat me, my greatest friends, my allies, my team. They were truly unbeatable, or so I thought.
Mid July it was, in came a young boy, I initially assumed he was just going to be looking for directions, imagine my surprise when he made his way up to me and challenged me to a battle.
One by one he annihilated my team, it made no sense, how could this kid defeat me with such ease, I mean come on, he's... he's a goddamn kid!
It's unfair, he must have cheated, there is absolutely no way he could beat me in a fair fight.
Since that brat beat me, I've completely abandoned my Gym, instead I'm following the kid on his journey, watching him battle others, at the same time I'm making my team even better, I'll get my revenge and not a single one of my Pokemon will faint.
## Mark my words, I will have my revenge.... Ash.
---
If you enjoyed please think about heading over to r/TremorWrites and give me any criticisms you have so I can get better! | 2019-06-29T08:28:19 | 2019-06-29T08:17:52 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] One sundaymorning everyone wakes up with the worst crime they've ever committed tattooed on their forehead. It's breaking news on television. Yours says 'thief', your husband's says 'cheater'. As you go wake up your seven year old daughter, you see the word 'murderer' tattooed on her forehead.
[removed] | I could live with the killer tattoo across my forehead. I knew what I signed up for, five tours of duty in an infantry unit and I knew when I woke up what my sin would be.
My wife had adultery across hers, I already knew. She confessed after my last tour, said she would understand if I didn’t want her in my life any more.
I forgave her, and we had worked right past it. I left the service to fulfill my vows to her. We got right with God, became church going people and accepted the past as being forgiven.
I’ve never held it against her. My own sin was a different story. I felt guilt because the act of killing never bothered me, the assholes I shot in the Middle East were the worst kind of people. But they were still people. Shouldn’t I feel something?
Our son came down for breakfast, his said lust. Go figure, a sixteen year old boy who is full of lust. He didn’t say anything, we didn’t judge. We’d talk about it later, right now we just needed to be together.
After a few minutes our seven year old daughter hadn’t come out of her room, despite being asked to come join us for breakfast. My wife went to get her, and I could hear her talking to our daughter through the bedroom door.
“Honey, everyone has a tattoo. Mommy and daddy, even Tommy. We promise we will love you no matter what the tattoo says, just come on out and be with us so we can face this together.”
I couldn’t hear my daughters response, but my wife continued talking through the door, “I promise honey, you can’t have done anything to make us not love you.....yes I’m positive, please come on out.”
The door opens and my wife audibly gasps and my daughter slams the door closed and begins sobbing loudly. I get up and head down the hall.
“What’s the deal honey?” I ask my wife, she’s pale and holding herself up on the wall nearly hyperventilating.
“I....don’t..., you....go in.” She couldn’t even speak coherently.
I opened my daughter’s door and went in, she was sobbing over her pillow, I couldn’t see the tattoo.
“Honey it’s ok, my tattoo has one of the worst things a human can do to another person. You’re not going to lose our love, please turn over and talk to me.”
“You promise you won’t hate me?” She asks with her head still down. “Even if it’s something terrible?”
“I promise honey.” Wondering what sin a seven year old could’ve committed that would make me hate her.
Then my life changes, my sweet little girl turns over with tears spilling down her face and her tattoo makes my heart sink. I feel like my stomach has been pulled out of my body, like I’m going to puke.
I understand why my wife was unable to move and still hasn’t come into the room. The events of the worst night of our lives sink into place.
We never knew why he stopped breathing, he was past the usual age that children die from SIDS. We didn’t have anything in the crib to suffocate him. Doctors said it happened, but rarely.
Our nearly two year old son had died that night. And my little girl’s tattoo, said FRATRICIDE. | I told David that I was a thief because I stole makeup from the store when I was a teenager. That was true. I didn't mention that I still shoplifted regularly. Mostly for the thrill, but I wasn't about to steal something that I wouldn't use.
He claimed that his tattoo was because he cheated at board-games. We both knew that was bullshit. "What about Emma?" he asked me. We had been so engrossed in our lies that I had almost forgotten about her. He walked into the room hot on my heels, gasping almost in sync with me.
She was still sleeping, her angelic face calm and cherubic as she drooled out of one side of her mouth onto the pillow. Her arms were sprawled up over her head and the covers had been kicked off. Not so angelic when she crept into our bed during the night and proceeded to cause more mayhem than a blind man rifling through our china cabinet. Her forehead had a tattoo just like our's did. It said Murderer.
"What do we do?" I was trying to think who she could have killed. Her piano teacher had definitely died of a heart attack, natural causes. The guinea pig had escaped. The old man across the street died of old age. No classmates had died. Maybe a mosquito? Maybe she had accidentally crushed a baby bunny she found in the yard?
"We have to turn her in," David responded. "Let the cops figure out what she did."
I pushed him out of the room and then we were both standing in the hallway. I raised a hand as if to slap him but put it down in a surprising show of self-restraint. "Fuck you, David. I'm not turning in our daughter," I hissed angrily.
"What the hell do you suggest we do? We can't just harbor a murderer. They'll throw us in jail, too."
I clenched my teeth and balled my fists and made sure my smaller frame was still blocking the door. He might cheat and he might lie but he wouldn't lay a hand on me. I felt the bile rushing up my throat and I swallowed it down. "Call the school. Tell them she's sick and will be out for a week or so. If they ask for a doctor's note, have your dad write it." I paced to the closet and pulled out one of her beanies. It should stretch enough to cover her forehead and it wouldn't look out of place in the snowy streets.
"Where are you taking her?" I was already packing up her things, pulling together her favorite toys and outfits she had left strewn about. It crossed my mind that we didn't organize or clean nearly often enough. It didn't matter now.
"To my parents. Until this all blows over and I can figure out what she did." He stared at me uncomfortably and I paused what I was doing. "What?" I asked aggressively.
"I can't go with you." I shrugged. I didn't care anymore. I had to hide Emma until it was safe. They wouldn't take her from me. "Work, you know... I'll take care of the house..." he reasoned lamely. I ignored him and went back to stuffing toys into a duffel bag.
"I don't care, David. Go fuck whoever you have been." I turned back towards her bedroom to wake her up so we could get moving. His hand caught my sleeve and he pulled me towards him and for a moment I thought he would throw me across the room in anger.
"Hey," he said gently when we were pressed together. He swallowed loudly. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way." I turned away and went to wake up Emma before he saw the tears in my eyes.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-09-16T12:24:24 | 2019-09-16T10:19:26 | 145 | 54 |
[WP] You are an ordinary human going about your day when you suddenly find yourself in hell. Looking down you see yourself standing on some crudely drawn symbols. A nearby demon child holds up some paper and says "Um...can you help me with my homework?" | Looking back on it, I knew I hadn't made the best first impression. But, who would in that scenario? That was my justification.
"Um, what?"
"I tried to ask Dad first, but he just keep bursting into flames and says 'That's not how its done!', and Cthlrast told me to go find a tutor. And so I made a circle and asked for a tutor and can you help me with my homework?"
The child had been quite earnest in his rambling, and I figured it wouldn't hurt to have a look. And so I held out my hand to him, at which point he eagerly handed the (somewhat charred) homework pages to me. It only took me a glance to see what the problem was. It wasn't the first time I had helped a child with this particular problem.
"OK, I get it. So, the problem here is you need to pretend like you're always estimating. If I tell you to add ten and eight, what do you get, and how did you get it?"
He had scrunched his brow a little, the skin pulling taunt around his horns. "Eighteen."
"And how did you get Eighteen?"
"That's just what eight plus ten is."
I had smiled then, having known that would be the answer. I hadn't paid a lot of attention to his demonic features at the time, all I had really seen was a confused kid.
"You are right, that is what eight plus ten is. But, what if I asked you what seventy-eight plus eighty is?"
His scrunched brow had scrunched even more. To this day I'm not sure if that's a proper turn of phrase or anatomically possible on a human, but it was accurate. "I don't know."
"That's why you need to pretend it's estimation. What's one-hundred plus one-hundred?"
"Two hundred."
"And what's the difference between one-hundred and eighty?"
"Twenty."
"And eighty and seventy-eight?"
"Two?"
"That's right. So, what's two-hundred minus twenty?"
"One-eighty."
"And minus another twenty?"
"One-sixty. Oh! And minus two is one-fifty-eight?"
I had smiled broadly at that point. "You got it!"
"So, they want me to say it's ten plus ten, which is twenty, then minus two, which is eighteen?"
"Yup."
That smile was, well, it wasn't pretty, but it was full of an innocent joy. He hugged me then, grabbed his papers back, and after a negligent wave on his part, I had found myself back in my easy chair on Earth.
"Huh. I would have thought common core would have started in Hell, not migrated there..." | So, I learned a valuable lesson today. Namely that a human can be summoned to hell. Confusing, considering that every bit of media involving this whole procedure usually meant some dumbass dragged a demon to our world.
Fun popcorn fodder for the whole family to enjoy, y'know?
Not that I believed in a 'great beyond' either. But here I am. Ass naked in a tomb, watching lava and fire rage outside.
"Forgive me for your appearance."
Oh yeah, I almost forgot about him. I mean what with the ongoing, profanity-fed, nervous breakdown I was busy having because of the whole being in hell thing.
You understand.
I'll admit, there's a lot of things I'd expect to happen next. I've seen Hellraiser before. This ain't gonna' be good. But a kid with the skin tone of a ripe tomato and a snake tongue watching me?
Unexpected. Oddly still terrifying. Genuinely confusing too. 5/7 experience all around so far.
"I'm so glad it worked!" He beamed happily, "I need your help."
"...Well I need clothes! Can you help me with that??"
What does a demon need to do homework for anyway? Figured that exercise in torture was reserved for us to be honest. The clothes weren't bad though. Best pair of jeans I've had in a while, I can tell you that.
"So what exactly do you, uhh... Need help on?" The little hellspawn's eyes burned a little brighter. He walked to a nearby shelf and retrieved a book. Instead of opening it, he instead crushed it flat, rolled it into a ball and tossed the flaming mess to the table, where it spread into a huge map.
Of the world.
"Geography."
I cried slightly, and laughed for about a minute longer than I should.
"You seem way too happy right now." He threatened.
"Oh shit! Thank you! Ohhhh, man. No it's just... Boy if you would've said 'Algebra' we would've both been in for a bad time! If you didn't have grasp of it, I'd hope you have an angel on speed dial."
"We do, for odd cases... but why?"
"I dunno'... I kind of... Figured they'd be fire at some math if we weren't or something. Let's move on."
It turns out, the world had changed a lot since Devakk had last gone with family members. He was a toddler and it was the 1880s. Fun times for them, not so much for someone that looked like me.
"That's so cool!" He laughed, "Mother was right about you."
"Huh? Say what now?"
"Your case file. She'll probably be by soon. She needs to finish the deal for me when she does. That way you'll help me pass."
"And if you fail anyway?"
"...You burn for eternity! You'll fit right in, don't worry. I'll put in a good word."
"Great. What else?"
"So what part of the country is that?"
"That's Phoenix. Honestly you'd probably feel right at home there..."
---
Criticism and feedback welcome! It's been a minute. Find more writing here. r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 2019-09-17T11:17:23 | 2019-09-17T10:31:37 | 128 | 37 |
[WP] As a Demon, you're quite familiar with would-be mages making errors in materials due to translation errors. However, today marks the first time that someone has attempted to summon you with Cruelty-Free Vegan Blood Substitute™. | It had been centuries since I was summoned. Last time, the blood of 100 virgins had been sacrificed to call me from the shadow realms. It was barely enough payment for the ask; I killed one king and installed another.
As the long years stretched by, that megar sustinance was wearing thin. Had the humans forgotten me, the greatest of all demons?
My inferior demonic brethren were less fortunate. One by one they succumbed to the final darkness, their screams little more than a faded whisper as their weakened forms turned to dust. I was all that was left. Moloch'ai Terranous, King of the Demons... king of nothing.
So when I finally heard my name through the aether, felt the pull forward the light at the edge of the shadow realms, I wasn't in a state to resist.
Blinking, I surveyed my surroundings. Calling it a pentagram with an altar of blood in the center would be generous. The fact that the penetegram was drawn in chalk and the alter was a stool with a cheap bowl wasn't lost on me, but I wasn't in a position to be picky.
Greddily, I gulped down the blood, feeling power returning. As I drained the bowl I noticed, painted at the bottom of the bowl, a white cat raising it's paw as if in greeting. Strange... Perhaps it was some minor dieity of this new age.
I turned my attention to the summoner, and was surprised to see a little girl, Barely 12 years old, if that.
"What virgin blood is this?" I asked. It had tasted a bit different.
Shaking, the girl held out a container, which read: "Cruelty Free Vegan Blood Substitute TM".
"What is this?" I mused.
On the back was an ingredient list, which included "leghomoglobin from budding yeast."
"Is Yeast a virgin?" I demanded of the girl.
The girl shrank back in fear. "Miss Green said yeast reproduces asexually." She offered hopefully.
I could tell she was telling the truth, and couldn't fault her logic. I decided the contract was fulfilled.
"Why have you summoned me?"
"I... I need help at school. This girl Tracy is picking on me."
"Then I shall rend her into pieces and drink her blood! Will that be enough?"
"No!" The girl looked shocked.
"...I can also kill each of her closest friends and curse her family for generations." I offered hopefully.
"No!" The girl was sheet white. "I just want you to talk to her mom, and convince her to stop Tracy from picking on me."
She handed me a slip of paper. My demon senses tingled with foreboding; this would be my most difficult battle yet. On the paper was an appointment for a meeting with the principal and Tracy's mum, Karen Miller.
EDIT: Thanks for reading! Part 2 below: | Yazamor felt an annoying tug on his essence. It was the kind of summoning that just didn't quite have the power to be effective, but was enough of a nag that he'd feel inclined to appear just to convince them to stop. After what seemed like an eternity—literally an eternity in the demon reality—he groaned and slid off his sofa of fire. Sighing like a dock worker punching in for a double shift, Yazamor surrendered to the summon, and a dark portal twisted and bent the world around him.
*Yaaaazamor, we summon yoooou*, the voices called from the other side of existence.
"Ya. Ya. I'm coming!"
The demon felt his eternally burning living room fade away, and he shivered as he took in his new surroundings. Laminate floors. Cheap, wobbling wooden tables. Nose Piercings. That same jazz playlist from Spotify that seemed to have exclusive rights to be played in every one of these establishments. *Starbucks*.
"It worked!" a slender woman with dreadlocks and far too many tattoos cried out with joy, her inked arms lifting to the heavens. "Welcome, Yazamor, to Earth—"
"Why the fuck is it so cold in here?" the demon complained, glancing around at the five hipsters making up the points of the pentagram. "Ah, I see. It's so you idiots can wear your beanies in July." He glanced down at the lines of the demonic symbol, dipping a claw in the powder making up the pentagram and giving it a sniff. "What the hell is this? Brown sugar?"
"Vegan brown sugar," someone behind him proudly exclaimed.
Yazamor laughed, muttering under his breath, "No, it's not."
"Great Yazamor," the young woman drew his attention to her, hands clasped over her toothy smile. "As vegans, we have brought you here, after normal business hours, using only cruelty free substitutes in the summon ritual—"
*Jesus Christ*, *is heaven seriously filled with these imbeciles*?
"so that you may assist us in the cleansing of this world—"
*Mhmm. Trying to hijack a demon to do some good. Oldest trick in the book. Not going to work, idiots.*
"and violently torture, murder, and then torture some more on the other side, anyone who partakes in the use of animal products—"
Yazamor's eyebrow-less arches raised, and his teeth flashed like cleavers, "Hold on, ya'll want me to kill some people?"
"Only those who use animal products," she reaffirmed.
"And our boss," some dope on one of the points added. "He's vegan, but a total prick."
Yazamor could hardly contain his laughter, deciding to stay in the mortal realm for a while after all. "So, anyone who uses any animal products? You're sure?"
"Yes," they replied in unison.
The few scented candles that had been lit began to blaze to impossible heights, raising the temperature enough to steam the milk residue in their espresso machines.
"As you wish, *vegans.*"
____
**Thanks for reading! Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily cruelty-free seances.** | 2020-01-23T09:05:06 | 2020-01-23T08:23:50 | 2,198 | 236 |
[WP] Rejected by the Federation Council for refusing to disband their military, humans ally themselves with the Thoran, the Federation’s resident warrior race. Warmongers, the Thoran find themselves enamored with humanity, and grow increasingly tired of the Federations attempts to “civilize” both. | The Rejection as it became to be known had been a staggering blow for humanity. The dominoes falling afterwords should have been predictable but at the time no one saw it coming.
Humanity effectively vanished from the galactic stage ninety five percent of all human businesses closed up shop, successful or not. Short of a brave few that remained on non aligned stations, humanity cleared out of Federation Space completely. All of this came without orders from their ruling councils or governments. They simply vanished. And the Galaxy entered a period that would become known as The Quiet. Transmissions from Humanity did not reach the Federation in any way and any projects that had been started were outright abandoned.
Meanwhile in the space above earth a grand debate like no other was taking place aboard the American built Washington Space Station. I'll spare you the minutia, as debates of this nature can get a little boring. The short of it was no one knew what to do. Not even the Americans who had spearheaded the movement to join the Federation. Given what the galaxy would come to learn? The Federation would have been better off changing their ways. After about two years the combined voice of humanity came to a conclusion: The Federation was a Threat Humanity had faced before...from themselves. A suppression of freedom, an unwillingness to negotiate. The urge to change history to suit their interests. Up to and including the subversion of science itself. A world where the Truth meant nothing. Humanity had faced this before. And its outcome had created what they are now. The Americans who had come to value community while maintaining their independent spirit were the most embarrassed and by extension the most angry. For a full year at this debate they had said little, their internal machinations had created an even more turbulent discussion on their portion of the internet.
It was with the above realizations they began to speak loudly. The world once again looked at them realizing they had found footing, and a directionless council for over a year quickly changed to one of Planning. If the Federation were unwilling to change for them. Humanity would show them the consequences. For they had needs as well. Colonization projects had to be abandoned, leading to a potential long term population crisis in the core systems. For their people, humanity had to be willing to Take once more, instead of Give.
Enter the Thorans. Their discovery had been an accident. They encountered humanity three years before the start of The Quiet. And had been one of the driving arguments Humanity made to the Federation. Brief but brutal conflict ensued. The Thorans quickly realized that Humanity was not like other races they'd encountered. Despite a clear advantage in physical capabilities, humanity's cunning and ingenuity had given the Thorans more than they could handle. It didn't take too much on Humanity's part. Merely setting up nuclear mines in one of the Thoran's Key material supplying asteroid belts. That spat took less than six months. But the Thorans never forgot how far Humanity would go. And so two years into the quiet, a full five after first contact. A Small but elegantly built Thoran Ship exited inter-dimensional space in the orbital ring of Mars.
Aboard the Washington Humanity sirens went off as the Ship filled the screens of the debate chamber. Military Council on scene calmed the panicking diplomats and politicians while around the American contingent looks were exchanged. This day the Argentinians held the gavel. It was passed from each nation on a day to day basis and it would be She who called the room to order.
"Establish contact?" A short and to the point question. Her nation while not the largest knew the stakes. Her countrymen had been aboard the vessel which first contacted the Thorans. After about fifteen seconds of silence the Americans nodded, it was their station after all.
Aboard the Thoran ship the scene was not quite as panicked but honestly it was pretty close.
"Targeting Scanners?"
"Passive only so far sir." A voice that sounded it pounded gravel for breakfast responded.
The thoran were massive by human standards each Ten Feet Tall with life spans in the hundred and twenty year range. Scaled up they were able to run twice as fast as any human. But their technology seemed to lag behind because of their physical prowess. The Captain of his ship turned his attention to their guest. A diminutive Thoran. Only eight feet tall a Runt by their standards. But this one had been chosen to Speak.
"Wait for them to communicate, they have yet to consider us a threat. Humanity is of many voices." Her voice deep but clearly practiced.
"How can such a race exist?"
"They are an oddity among the cosmos, that one in a billion chance. Quite frankly they exist in my opinion to spite the universe. As they're about to now."
"What makes you and the council so sure of this?"
"The few humans that remained behind have quietly been transmitting data back on very difficult to find channels. Unless one knew of their existence they wouldn't be found. The data that's been transmitted has been very interesting. Those are channels we use in times of war. Though i doubt humanity knows that."
"So we've been eavesdropping on them by accident?" A gruff laugh barks out.
"Only partially, we never did figure out how they were transmitting back to the outposts."
"Incoming transmission" A moment, a nod and the screen was expected for the diplomat but not for the others seeing so many gathered. A camera focused on one group of humans after a moment.
"You have come alone under what we believe to be a banner of truce. As you have seen we are all assembled. What is said here will be spoken by all of humanity."
"That will make things simple, The Thoran Empire wishes to inquire as to what you will do now."
"We plan to fight."
A smile crept across the collective lips of the Thorans. "Our conflict showed how far you were willing to go. We have no fear of you, but respect as we deem it is paved in blood in both directions. "Would you like some help in shaking things up?" | The meeting took place in a bunker multiple hundreds of meters below the soil of an unknown planet within the solar system.
"Are you sure it is completely safe to speak here?"
"It seems I trust dirt and steel more than you."
"If you trust this place, I will too, I guess."
"So let's begin then."
"Ah, yes, so... when shall we declare our independence?"
"Are you mad? We need to get allies first, you small-brained Thoran. Never mind my outburst. But really, your ideas are ridiculous. We need more people than this."
"And your are recommending what? Ad banners all over Federation space saying "JOIN THE REVOLUTION"?
"Of course not. We will have to undermine them."
"That's obvious, now tell me how."
"Prove that the Federation cannot protect its members."
"Are you proposing open war instead of mere declaration of independence? You are truly the one who is mad in here."
"No, no, we supply and pay the Pirates to organize a single massive assault on a Sn-7.62D."
"You yet again prove you are mad. You say we fund space terrorists to attack the capital of the Sran? They are one of the strongest nations in the Federation."
"Listen, we need to make an impact on everyone else, shatter their belief on the Federation. We must order the Pirates to plunder it as fully as possible and then to bombard it from the surface. After all, the other nations have abandoned most of their weapons due to the Federation's new Bill's. It should be easy to seize even a capital, even of them, with ease."
"Ok, and then what? Huh?"
"By then most people will realise that remilitarization is a necessity and the Sran will hate the Federation in infinite quantities. We shall have a mighty ally and swayed interests of others."
"Sounds good. But when will we strike?"
"We will need to at least have the near full support of the Sran."
"So nowhere near now?"
"Of course not, we will help them repair their damaged capital. Cover the while story up. No one has to know except a bunch of dead pirates and a couple of us higher-ups."
"Fine then, Sir Darwin."
"Now leave, Ghajin, before our absence is noticed by any... 'unfriendly' groups."
*Some time later*
"So you are offering us these prototype weapons and this money to attack Sn-7.62D?"
"Yes, now be urgent. The Federation might have a spy in our ranks. We must complete this before they can intervene."
"Understood, Sir Darwin."
"Good to know we understand each other."
*Some time later*
"FEDERATION!!! SOS!!! SOS!!!"
"What is the emergency?"
"Absolutely ginormous fleets of pirates are assaulting the planet!"
"What planet is this message coming from? Never mind... wait what?"
"Sn-7.62D I know your re surprised, but we genuinely need help here."
"Do you seriously think will believe that YOU, the strongest nation in the Federation, needs help?"
"We do! They have already breached the first orbital defense ring! And the second one has just now fallen and is crashing down on the planet!"
"How can the pirates be so strong?"
"We dont know but- *BOOM*"
"What happened?"
"S-s-sir, th-~ ar~ bomb-~ th-~ planet! We wo-~ ast lo-~! Help!-~"
"SEND ALL FLEETS. I REPEAT, SEND ALL FLEETS. RESERVE FLEETS WILL GUARD THE FEDERATION CAPITOL."
*Back on Sn-7.62D*
"Crap. Did they even get our message?"
"I don't know man, but right now we have to avoid the bombs and falling buildings. And about that- *CRASH* "I just saved you from one. From now on, look around yourself please."
"Not like I have anything else to do."
*Some time later*
"Well you humans are such a nice race, they're helping us out after this devastating attack."
"Thank you."
"Our welcomes to you, Sir Darwin."
*Some months later, back in the bunker*
"When shall we declare independence?"
"Well, I don't know. You started this."
"What? That was the Thorans."
"Well you started it officially."
"You could have clarified that earlier."
"Anyways, back to the point. I reccomend we do it within the next couple of Earth rotations, or as we call them, days. Ghajin, are your fleets ready to defend?"
"Yes Sir Darwin."
"Konen?"
"My fleets are dispersed throughout the galaxy and if a war comes there will be fighting in every corner of it."
"Good, Konen of Sran. We are ready."
"Let us recite it first."
"Of course, Ghajin."
"The Sran, Thoran, and Humankind hereby declare independence from the Feferation. We do so as a result of the actions taken by the Federation, which include: nearly forced demilitarization, removal of rights of each race, by this I mean the near complete authority of Federation officials on each planet within it, and the demolition of multiple colonies, including A-4, B-17, Sd8-3.3, and 0-6-D.3."
"Short, not very clear, but it states the point well enough. Clear enough for people to know what we are doing, and at least a couple vague reasons. Sounds good enough, Konen."
"I tried. At least sort of to make this."
"We know, Konen, we know."
*At Federation capital ring a couple of days later*
"What is this? A declaration of independence? Oh boy, those Humans and Thorans clearly want a beating.* But Sran? I though they were happy enough? What could have made them willing to join our enemies? Maybe a slow assistance of our fleets? I mean, we did all that we could."*
"Lord Raiek, have you decided on our course of action?"
"Not yet, General Mazhouj."
"Then I will return later, Lord."
"Now go away then. I need to think."
*A couple of hours later*
*"I should probably send them an ultimatum, that is the most reasonable decision. No immediate war, but my demands are loud and clear."*
"Lord Raien, I am sorry to interrupt your thinking, however there is a message from the Humans." | 2020-04-16T09:59:35 | 2020-04-16T08:19:10 | 170 | 110 |
[WP] You were warned that your newest crew member, a "Human", had vastly different biology from all other known races. This mad made very clear when they drank all of the galaxy's strongest known poison, saying that they "needed a drink of water." | When I first met the human, I thought he was going to attack me. He stuck his manipulator out and my first thought was that he was going to punch me. He instead took my hand firmly but with some lenience, and shook it lightly. He then spoke his name. It still goes through my mind on how strange it was, and how many variations of human names there are. We are like them, but so much different at the same time. "Hello, I'm Andrei Kuibyshevsky," he was from what was known in human space as Novorossiya. He was from a hundred generations of hardened warriors with iron resolve and specialised in living in depressingly cold habitats. Of course, cold to him was nearly Absolute Zero to us, so we stayed out of his way.
We brought him in because he was advertised as being able to do just about anything with a little training and guidance. He fixed the Telemetry computer in twenty standard minutes. It took one of our computer technicians over an hour. I still remember the first time he invited me to exercise with him on the Ship's high grav room. Of course, I wore a suit specifically designed to exercise in and still allow me to move and survive in the high gravity, while he didn't even cover his lower legs and arms, not to mention his head. He started off running, which I was able to keep up easily with him in the holo-sim track. Of course, I was forty-percent taller than him, and probably lighter to boot. He then asked me;
"Do you want to lift?" At first, I thought *'lift what'* but then I saw that he had loaded up a high strength titanium bar and put metal disks on it. '*An impossible weight, what is he doing?'* and I watched in awe as he lifted it and set it down five times in a row. He did other exercise with the bar, and each time I grew more shocked. Still I completed my exercise and just stared while he kept going, dangerous, as he was showing tiredness in his mannerisms and breathing patterns. My face must have given away my feelings as he gave me what I can only describe as confusion and then said something even more flabbergasting. "What, it's only a hundred kilograms." I knew he was strong, from when we were loading boxes of equipment, and he had a friendly contest with Nurva on who could load more boxes, and only narrowly lost. Nurva was more than double his size and weight, so to see him compete the whole time was surprising.
When he was done, he went into his neighboring quarters and brought out a tank of O2, pure oxygen. I recoiled in fear, thinking that he tired me out just so he could kill me easier. He gave me a reassuring look and said "it's only for me, don't worry." He got out a mask and connected it, and took in several deep breaths. I had just witnessed a suicide. To my surprise, he not only didn't die, He was relieved and then got out a bottle filled with liquid. He opened the cap and drank it, each time his throat convulsing. He spilled a bit, and when it hit the deck, it sizzled and bore a small hole. If I was speechless before, I may as well not have vocal chords anymore.
I learned to respect humans after that. | "He's drinking that putrid liquid again, it's so clear and unnatural, wheres the colouring?" Pita had his squared face smushed against the glass, each breath leaving a faint white outline as his one nostril flared.
"If you find it so disgusting, why do you keep watching him?" Standing by his side was Linp, an odd alien, having four legs that each sprawled out from her hips. Each set of legs were accompanied by feet which contained strange blue bubbles, these bubbles allowing their kind to walk up walls or even mountains if they were feeling adventurous.
"I know, but he's so ugly, do you think it's because of all the water he drinks?" Pita found himself obsessing over it. His three eyes swirling in their sockets as he watched him take another sip. "Ugh... he just gulps it down, acting like it won't kill him. Have you ever seen a creature just knock back poison like it's nothing?"
"I will admit, it's quite odd. As a child we were always taught to avoid water, you can imagine my surprise when at our first galactic meeting with Earth, we were offered water. We nearly went to war with them over that, thinking they were trying to poison us. The matter was only calmed when one of the human advisors drank the liquid, revealing that it was just a misunderstanding." She repeated her memory, having to admit that Pita did have a point about it being odd.
"I know right, they nearly did the same thing to us, only they actually asked us what our preference was before the meeting. Glad these evolved monkeys can at least learn." Pita, tapped the window, only for the human to take a glance over, giving the screen a weird look before taking another sip.
"Careful! What are you doing? He's our crewmate, if he sees us watching him, he will grow suspicious. I don't know about your kind, but my species don't badmouth our allies."
"Allies? What if the humans had actually intended to poison you? Sure they played it up as a misunderstanding, but they can be ruthless. I'm just saying what we are all thinking. Plus this is a one-way window, I wouldn't be stupid enough to let him see me." Pita said, shrugging his three arms to the side.
"I. Was. Not. Thinking that!" Linp made sure to really prove her point with those words. Making sure each one had the right amount of tone and importance given to it. "You have been following way too many conspiracy stations. The humans may be dumb and toxin drinkers, but they try. I don't mind our little comrade, he tries hard and doesn't badmouth anyone. Unlike a certain person I know."
"Oh, bite one of my many orbs." Pita huffed, dismissively waving aside her comment, only to stop his waving when he spotted the human staring at them. "Is... it looking at us?"
"I... believe it is." The pair grew silent as the human placed down the empty cup, awkwardly clearing his throat. "Um, you... knocked off the windows cloaking when you tapped it," Paul muttered, staring at the pair before Pita awkwardly tapped the window, returning it to it's darkened state.
"I'm going to have to apologize for this aren't I?" The alien said, surprisingly able to feel embarrassment over his little speech.
"If you have any dignity you will. Now I will leave you to it. Try not to upset the human, he may throw a cup of water at you." She said with a laugh, leaving Pita to take a large gulp before entering the room.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.} | 2020-05-18T10:54:46 | 2020-05-18T10:06:44 | 808 | 588 |
[WP] You were warned that your newest crew member, a "Human", had vastly different biology from all other known races. This mad made very clear when they drank all of the galaxy's strongest known poison, saying that they "needed a drink of water." | When I first met the human, I thought he was going to attack me. He stuck his manipulator out and my first thought was that he was going to punch me. He instead took my hand firmly but with some lenience, and shook it lightly. He then spoke his name. It still goes through my mind on how strange it was, and how many variations of human names there are. We are like them, but so much different at the same time. "Hello, I'm Andrei Kuibyshevsky," he was from what was known in human space as Novorossiya. He was from a hundred generations of hardened warriors with iron resolve and specialised in living in depressingly cold habitats. Of course, cold to him was nearly Absolute Zero to us, so we stayed out of his way.
We brought him in because he was advertised as being able to do just about anything with a little training and guidance. He fixed the Telemetry computer in twenty standard minutes. It took one of our computer technicians over an hour. I still remember the first time he invited me to exercise with him on the Ship's high grav room. Of course, I wore a suit specifically designed to exercise in and still allow me to move and survive in the high gravity, while he didn't even cover his lower legs and arms, not to mention his head. He started off running, which I was able to keep up easily with him in the holo-sim track. Of course, I was forty-percent taller than him, and probably lighter to boot. He then asked me;
"Do you want to lift?" At first, I thought *'lift what'* but then I saw that he had loaded up a high strength titanium bar and put metal disks on it. '*An impossible weight, what is he doing?'* and I watched in awe as he lifted it and set it down five times in a row. He did other exercise with the bar, and each time I grew more shocked. Still I completed my exercise and just stared while he kept going, dangerous, as he was showing tiredness in his mannerisms and breathing patterns. My face must have given away my feelings as he gave me what I can only describe as confusion and then said something even more flabbergasting. "What, it's only a hundred kilograms." I knew he was strong, from when we were loading boxes of equipment, and he had a friendly contest with Nurva on who could load more boxes, and only narrowly lost. Nurva was more than double his size and weight, so to see him compete the whole time was surprising.
When he was done, he went into his neighboring quarters and brought out a tank of O2, pure oxygen. I recoiled in fear, thinking that he tired me out just so he could kill me easier. He gave me a reassuring look and said "it's only for me, don't worry." He got out a mask and connected it, and took in several deep breaths. I had just witnessed a suicide. To my surprise, he not only didn't die, He was relieved and then got out a bottle filled with liquid. He opened the cap and drank it, each time his throat convulsing. He spilled a bit, and when it hit the deck, it sizzled and bore a small hole. If I was speechless before, I may as well not have vocal chords anymore.
I learned to respect humans after that. | We all shun them, these ugly creatures from the planet R453, also known in their language as Earth. They are a plague to their environments and feed by extracting resources from their surroundings. They are viruses surviving on the hardships of other creatures around them, creatures they call lesser than them.
The stuff they are made of, water, is one of the most potent poisons available in the Universe. It is a virus whose only goal is to spread further and further and it does so through its vessels, called living creatures. These creatures, of which the ultimate one is the human, feed on each other, creating a terrifying hierarchy and thereby justifying their actions. Dog eat dog, as they would say. Their society preys on the weak and praises the strong. One of their most influential teachers on the planet even remarked how those that are poor will be left with nothing and those that are rich will enjoy even greater opulence. You know what they did to that guy? Terminated him by nailing him on a cross, proceeding to worship him. Complete enigma, these humans. They even invented different languages, only to separate themselves from each other. In my reports, it has come to my attention that the number of different languages existing on planet Earth passes over one million, if you include the utterings of every living being on it. They use language to recognize one another and separate friend from foe...
Water undulates, spreading over any surface it touches, completely covering it, rendering it useless and disfunctional. One drop of water has the ability to disable the works of a thousand scientists, if it is dropped in the right place at the right time. Most machines malfunction at the merest touch with this terrible substance and not even the toughest warriors of our galaxy survive a scuffle with this liquid menace. One drop renders your body useless, two drops induces coma, the third drop? You don't live to tell the tale.
The reason why we have such a dangerous creature with us is to conquer a planet gone rogue, that is full of another toxic liquid made from the glands of a very specific breathing creature called 'cow'. It's the planet N793, also called the Milk planet. Humans have a very peculiar connection to milk, as they extract it from living cows, making a drink out of it and other products they proceed to consume. Milk is very dangerous to our species and it even affects some humans in unprecedented ways, but it does not kill them, those pesky resilient aliens.
The Milk planet is actually an arms factory (you cannot use water in war, according to the Universal Galactic War Codex, as it destroys everything in its presence), but the cows, having gained sentience, put up a valiant fight. They walk on their hind legs, shooting milk out of their udders, thereby killing their captors.
We have to bring back peace on this planet, so that we may continue fighting the good fight for our glorious galaxy. You see, the galaxy is in constant war with other galaxies and almost every creature is aware of the ongoing carnage, except for a few special cases, like humans.
But now, everything changed. There are no holds barred when it comes to arms production.
We are using the humans as a sentient shield, but its mere presence sends a shiver to my spine. The Milk planet will be in our vicinity in less than ten quarks of time, enough for me to extricate this report out of my neural pathways. As I was minding my notes into my MindPad, the human approached me and belched: ''Yo, where the fuck can one here get a sandwich or whatever?!''
I vomited in my own mouth, thinking about the terrifying things one has to do to acquire such a delicate meal. Maybe this all was a mistake, maybe the real enemy is not the cow - Maybe, it is standing right next to me. | 2020-05-18T10:54:46 | 2020-05-18T08:18:21 | 808 | 384 |
[WP] Monsters regularly come to 24/7 stores, and the night shift workers just don’t fucking care. They interact peacefully. | Kevin always kept a 6-pack aside in case any Goblins walked in sober. Like the monster inside man only makes an appearance at the behest of fermented sugar, Kevin and his nocturnal buddies had come to learn that the reverse was true for the man inside monsters. Half a pint in, and the goblins’ tongues were laced with *pleases* and *thank-yous.*
However when Gobbler, a regular at the store, walked in that night he was already unusually plastered in decency. Kevin was busy rearranging the produce per the new sorting system when Gobbler approached him, “My dearest Kevin, may I politely urge you to help me procure some baby carrots?” If this were Kevin’s first day, he would probably be surprised by the creature’s choice of snack. But as Gobbler had revealed to him during their maiden exchange, those rotten within are drawn irresistibly to the fresh aromas of the vegetarian aisle.
As Kevin handed the freshly uprooted carrots to Gobbler, he sensed something off about his demeanor. The store’s roof was dotted with bright white LEDs to expel any dullness from product packaging, and it was easy to spot the sadness in Gobbler’s eye under the unforgiving glow. Kevin noticed the limp of his sharp pointy nose and the rounded shrug in his otherwise boxy posture. He was relieved to notice that the despair hadn’t yet percolated through to his shiny green coat.
“Aren’t Saturday nights reserved for unhinged debauchery?”
“I’m too old and tired for that , sweet buddy”
“Is it Gringina again?”
The query about the lady Goblin touched a dead nerve, and Kevin saw it.
“Alcohol will be the end of you, friend. You know how it is for your kind – you can’t afford to lose the monstrous touch”
“Maybe I don’t like being a monster. Maybe I want to be human like you!” cried out Gobbler with polite frustration. A couple of baby carrots cried out from their Styrofoam cradle.
“Love works in the same ways across species. There’s a Georgina for every Gringina”
“As right as you may be, what’s the use of a monster that cannot terrify his woman into orgasm in the bed? Says it wouldn’t be any different if she were screwed by a mild-tempered human. No offense.”
“None taken. And if you don’t mind my saying, Gringina is too toxic even for Goblins. As a proud monster, you need to embrace your levels of monstrosity”
“Perhaps you are right too”, replied Gobbler with a sigh, “Maybe I should go easy on the alcohol if I am to not lose my scary side and seduce another”
Kevin pulled out a small piece of paper from his shirt pocket that he kept in handy to track products that had run out of stock. He wrote on it a mobile number and a name and shared it with Gobbler.
“Who is this? Am I so far gone that I need a human to set me up with a woman?”, came a melodramatic cry. The effect of alcohol seemed to be waning.
“She’s a therapist who specializes in Goblin Decency Management. You’re crippling with too much of it and its time you made the call”
“And Goblins…don’t terrify this human?”
“Just like I would tell a human suffering from extreme anger, therapists are trained to deal with extreme emotions. She’s not there to judge you but to help you.”
Gobbler opened up a small sac beneath his belly and filed the small note carefully. He looked at the baby carrots in hand, thanked Kevin for the talk and started walking towards the billing counter. The monster in him was a little more hopeful than when he had walked in. | This one is inspired by the novel I'm doing on Filipino Mythology
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Cold rain poured out on the empty street across Friday Store. The ground was wet and glistening against the streetlights, but for some reason, the convenience store did not get any raindrop on its windows.
Its big neon sign glowed in the dark night, and inside a single part-time worker stood bored, watching the rain drop continuously.
The glass doors to the store opened, and the part-time worker looked at the lone visitor.
It was Crock, their neighborhood Tikbalang, who frequented late nights during this time of the month. A full moon was rising in a few days, so more and more monsters were out and about the city.
Half-human with a Horse’s head and feet, Crock looked out of place inside Friday’s, especially with his dominating presence. He didn’t bother covering up his true nature here, since it's been marked as a safe zone for monsters like him when it first opened.
Crock immediately went to the drinks section and pulled out a case of beer. Today was tough, and he needed to finish an assignment tonight. He needed a bit of buzz, and one case of Red Horse would give him that sweet spot.
He grabbed a case, and went to the counter. The part-timer today was a newbie, so he better speed up to avoid any unnecessary chatter between them.
As his items were being ringed up, the part-timer didn’t even spare a glance in his direction and just asked for payment.
*That’s odd*, Crock thought.
“Hey kid, are you good?” Before he could stop himself, the question just blurted itself out of his mouth.
“Yeah, just not feeling too good with the rain and all”
“Oh? Remind you of something?” *Now he’s the one doing the unnecessary chatter.*
“Hmm, not really. You know, it’s odd because it feels like I don’t actually remember anything before today’s shift”
“Nah, maybe you’re in one of those phases. What do they call it now? Ah. Head in the Clouds.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Crock finished paying for his beers and picked up the bags. Now that the part-timer was looking at him, he saw her staring at his chest tattoo.
“Are you curious what this means?” He touched the tattoo while looking at her.
“Yeah, is it a symbol for something?”
“Yup, this right here means I’m a death guard”
“What’s a death guard?”
He checked his watch and looked at the time. 15 minutes before they needed to be in location, so he has around 5 minutes left to stay here.
“Let’s just say I’m with the grim reapers when they take some souls out from unwanted bodies”
“Oh, that’s cool. A bodyguard for exorcists, huh?”
“Yeah, you could say that”
The part-timer fidgeted in her place and looked uncomfortable. There was definitely something she wanted to ask him.
“Go shoot, I know you’re wanting to ask a question”
The girl paused and let out a sigh.
“So, uh, until when do you think I’ll be working here?”
Crock smiled and snorted. *So that’s what she’s worried about.*
He tilted his head and pointed at her.
“That my dear soul, will be up to you”
He winked at her and exited the store. Trellis, his comrade was waiting for him at the curb.
“So, did you encounter anything from Fridays?”
“Nah, just the same old. Oh, but apparently the shop owner took in a new wandering soul as part-timer”
“Oh? You think this one would last how long?”
“Beats me. I just know that one before her was there for 50 years”
The two chuckled and proceeded to walk under the rain.
*This one might last a bit longer,* Crock thought. | 2020-08-19T03:53:53 | 2020-08-19T01:35:14 | 83 | 44 |
[WP] You're the most powerful villian in the world. Formerly. Now you run a bar, that works as a neutral zone for heros and Villians alike. One day, a hotshot hero tries to arrest you. | Sometimes, the past comes to haunt you.
Everyone makes mistakes. You rob a convenience store one day because you’re hungry, and a week later you’re robbing a bank for the thrill. A little later you decide to take on some help. *You* never called them minions... things have a way of getting out of hand.
Still, that was a long time ago. Eventually it stopped being fun, and you talked to the heroes, told them you were done. They’d come by to check, you’d give them a drink... one thing lead to another, and now you traffic in booze...
I shook my head. The story I tell myself of how I got here. I never totally understood it, myself. Still, there were customers to serve, and today was no different.
It was absolutely absurd to look at the patrons. Everyone in crazy getups, bitter rivals drinking together, knowing that outside they might try and kill each other. I looked to a few of the staff. People who’d gotten out of the game like me. The speech helped them as much as it helped me.
Today was a tiny bit slow, but it’d pick up. I was washing out a mug when some kid in a leather jacket came in. I looked at him and said, “Damn. You must be one of those 90’s heroes.” I poured him a whiskey sour, but then he took off his jacket, revealing a sleek, modern suit.
I stared at him and said, “It’s $13 for the drink.”
His response terrified me.
“Foul villain! I’ve come to bring you into the powerful arms of **Justice!**” It was incredible. You could hear how emphatic justice was. Like one of those crazy panels from a comic book that said “Bam!”
I said, with some well reasoned fear, “Look, buddy, take the drink on the house. You don’t wanna do this. It’s not sa—“
“Your threats won’t work on me!” he boomed. And that’s when he made the worst mistake of his life. He grabbed me.
Everything happened so fast, but for me it was all in slow motion. Two glasses clinked just slightly too hard. A small shard flew off, and struck the hero in the eye. Someone’s bottle fell over, rolled around, and the hero slipped on it. He stumbled onto a chair, but it gave way, and he fell onto one of the legs. It stabbed him, but he was tough; still, he staggered back, reeling from at least genuine discomfort, if not true pain. He reeled into the door swinging open, and he took it to the head.
I sighed. “You better go check on your family, pal. You grabbed me pretty rough. I never had much control over my power, so they could be in real trouble. I hope not... but only you know what you were doing.”
I dusted myself off. A few veterans helped the guy to his feet (and had a few choice words with him), and then the night went on. More drinks to sell. | "I said YOU ARE UNDER ARREST!"
I continued wiping the glasses. The long years of bar-keeping taught me not to deal with such drunkards aggressively.
"Put down your towel and put your face on the ground!"
I lifted my eyes and looked at him as I hanged a glass on the rack above the bartender plot. "What would you like to drink, kid?"
"A drink? Your blood if you don't turn around with hands where I can see them!"
I stared at him coldly. "I am afraid I am all out of that, you might want to jump to the bar next door."
"Don't play a fool, Hemmelglad. I know who you are and what you did, you pyromaniac weirdo."
People now looked at him, some even tightened their grip around their drinks.
"It's a name I haven't heard in a while." I started wiping some dishes. "Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it? I spent quite the time brainstorming it. And even more changing it."
"Your past catches up to you and now you must repay for what you've done."
"Isn't... What now, 30 years... Almost, of public service enough to repay."
"It will never repay for those who you've killed and the things you destroyed."
I put down the towel. "Yes, I'd suppose you'd be correct, I did quite the damage back then." I pressed my lips and looked upwards. "Good old days of glory and power, right boys?" I glanced at the full bar and they laughed. "When we were young and ambitious... And stupid!" I smiled. "When we thought that we'd rule the world... Or save it from those who did, one way or another. When no one would question us for what we've done because everyone had their head in their own butt instead of in eachothers." I looked at the young man. "Good days they were."
"I repeat." He squeezed through his teeth. "You. Are. Under. Arrest!"
Suddenly, quite unexpectedly, a lightning rope shot out his arm and twisted around me.
"If you don't follow me, you will suffer."
"Well, the boys got some nerve, eh boys?" We laughed. "Listen to me little skunk, don't mess with the right people. Because we are the right people to mess around with. And when you do, don't expect a sugar coating. Oh no, we enjoy returning the favour and making you think twice before doing this again."
He looked confused and frightened. "Silence! I... You are under arrest!"
A big man stood from his table. "Leave him kid."
"Or else?" The boy looked as if he'd shit his pants.
"We are going to show you that he has repaid his debts." He bowed down to our eye level. "Do you know me, kid?"
"Y...eess, mmister H... Heyjon."
"What am I famous for?"
"S..s...saving the capital?"
"Yes... Now, how did I do it?"
"You punched a man through the center of the earth..."
"Do you want to see this happen again?"
"N..no sir."
"Then leave this bar and don't come back soon."
The boy quickly lost his grip and ran towards the door. "The council sent me... To shut you all down... And we will be back."
"Well, I have enough places in my bar for all of you." I smiled. "Have a nice evening!" | 2020-10-10T01:13:01 | 2020-10-10T01:07:16 | 37 | 14 |
[WP] Some say that your power is future sight. Others insist that you have superhuman intellect. They're wrong. Your power is the ability "Quicksave." | I'm laughing. Laughing so hard my kidneys are hurting. Laughing so damn hard I might just piss myself. It's all so fucking hilarious.
The old lady sitting next to me doesn't seem to think so. Her face is contorted with shock and horror as she inches away from me, wrinkly white knuckles clenching a frayed designer handbag to her chest. I guess I can't blame her. A lot of crazies on this flight.
Her name's Carol Miller. 76 years old from Savannah, Georgia. Eight grandchildren -- 5 boys, 3 girls. She loves gardening, cross stitch, and Christian romance novels, and she recently lost her husband, Rick, in a single car accident. By now, she's told me the story a million times. Dark road, gravel patch, Georgia pine. But if I'm being honest here, I barely gave a shit the first time she told me. Listening to complete strangers is just something that polite people do when they are trapped in the middle seat on a cross-Atlantic flight, right?
And I am a *very* polite person.
"THERE'S NOWHERE TO FUCKING GO, CAROL! YOU'RE IN THE *WINDOW* SEAT."
Carol is beyond speechless as she continues to pancake herself against the right side of the airplane. Sensing a disturbance, Tom from Denver lifts one headphone and looks at me inquisitively from his up-charged aisle seat. Some braindead chapter of 'The Art of the Deal' comes droning out as I flash him the universal hand sign for "let me by, I need to pee." Tom graciously pulls his knees inward, giving me the two-inches of clearance necessary to climb over his legs. Returning the favor, I opt to pass by with my crotch facing away from him. I resist the urge to blow ass in his smug face. He's lucky this time.
In the back of the plane is Wendy, the forbidden fruit of United Airlines. I give her a slight nod as I squeeze myself into one of the lavatories. The face staring back at me from the mirror is flushed and manic. Einstein once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Einstein was wrong. True insanity is doing different things over and over again while knowing that nothing will ever change.
For me, my insanity started long ago with a sly wink from Wendy as she came by with the drink cart. Mile High Club, here I come! And it wouldn't even be a challenge, I thought at the time, not with my so-called gift. To Wendy, it would just look like the world's most amazing party trick as I successively guessed her height, then her weight, then her birthday, her favorite drink, her life story, her bra size... and finally her innermost thoughts and kinks.
Like any well-executed magic trick, though, perfecting the skill is simply a matter of repetition. When I was a kid, I discovered that I could root myself at a given point in time, like a 'quicksave' in a video game. Going forward, I could then jump back to that earlier point over-and-over-and-over and try it all again. Worried about being blindsided by a question on a test? Problem solved. Overcooked the chicken casserole? Undone and done. Just stepped in dog crap? Shit, it's all good! There's nothing you can't do or undo when time is your plaything... including successfully picking up a flight attendant at 35,000 feet.
And in that split second when Wendy winked at me, my dick made an impulsive decision without consulting my brain. Quicksave Successful.
17 attempts later, I got her to tell me her birthday. 132 attempts after that, the color of her panties. On reload #198, she was blowing me in the lavatory. By reload #250 I had it all down to a science. Every question. Every comment. Every step necessary to get what I wanted. But after a while, you realize that there's nothing sporting about going hunting in the grocery store.
And so after a few dozen more rounds of predictable gameplay, I decided to press onward and simply remain seated... maybe get to know my fellow passengers while I wait for the plane to land.
But it doesn't land. It never lands. I've been trapped for an eternity in this flying prison.
In about 8 minutes, an undetectable fuel leak will explode in a ball of flame, rupturing the fuselage and sending pieces of the turbine slicing through the cabin. Passengers seated in Rows 7 through 18 will be sucked into the void as oxygen masks whip around uselessly from the ceiling. The plane will roll to its side and begin a nose-first dive toward the Atlantic Ocean below. And at some point in all of this chaos and screaming, I will reload back to my 'quicksave' where a beautiful flight attendant with a drink cart will be smiling at me.
"Reload 21,602,988," says the face in the lavatory mirror... but who's counting? | Some people might think having superpowers is cool. Flying can be cool and useful, same with super strength or speed etc. Super anything sounds nice. Then there are the weirder ones, like "able to boil water". I mean, come on, right? Until you realise what exactly around you is made of water.
But i digress.
Alas, these were none of my powers. An avid gamer all of my life, it only seemed appropriate that i got the sort of power I did. Funny thing is, i didnt even know i had it.
Picture this. You are walking along merrily, headphones blasting your fav symphonic metal piece, come to a pause while waiting to cross the street.
Random bright colored ball slips from kids hands, kid follows.
You jump after kid.
Car brakes.
You both die.
Anti climactic there huh? Well, it would have been, if a seemingly random thought hadnt entered my mind.
"Ctrl+S on sidewalk".
Then the smell of burnt rubber and darkness....
While I am still standing on the sidewalk. What? Huh? Im dead aint I?
Same ball, same kid. Im frozen.
Kid dies. Horribly for that matter.
Close my eyes.
Tentative thoughts fly as I focus on one:
"F9".
Darkness. I open my eyes.
Same sidewalk, same song, same damn ball next to me.
Now safely in my hands as i grab it from the kid, which is startled at first and then srarts crying. Im more startled than you kid ffs!
His mother starts berating me as i give the ball back and slowly walk away a mute. The fuck am I supposed to say, i dont even know what to think!!!
First bench I find i sit down and ponder.
Suggestions self?
\- daydreaming
\- possibly still dreaming? Not unheard of.
\- brain tumour
\- aliens (got to fit Tsoukalos somewhere i guess)
\- i hate to even think this, but....could it be.....a quicksave/load mechanism?
Ok. Not to bore you with the rest, but except the alien hypothesis, all of the above was tested and much to my surprise, the last one was true.
Many experiments followed.
How many saves did i have?
The one it turns out.
How did it kick in?
Death was the guaranteed failsafe (no, I wasnt spared the pain, damn anime tropes) but I could also manifest the quickload function on demand.
What did I have to do to save?
Well, apparently there were 2 commands for save. Ctrl-S and F5, while only one for load, F9. And save required both the command and a place, like the sidewalk in my situation above.
So, what did I do with my on-demand groundhog day powers? To begin with I tested to see if I could become rich. And boy could I. So I made life easy one me and mine.
Second, I started learning what I could. Languages, arts, sciences, you name it. Cause apparently, knowledge earned was also knowledge kept after the quickload. And boy, life is fun when you can speak 17 languages and visit any country, sit behind random people on the bus as a foreigner and pretend to not be able to understand them!
But again, i digress.
So yeah, i became a force to be reckoned with. Riches and knowledge beyond anyone's wildest dreams. I even started meddling with the world for a spell, trying to be a force for good, you know? Help organisations fighting climate change, help the poor, build schools and housing free of rent, all that jazz.
Seeing how I couldnt stop my own ageing, all of that seemed futile. I could go on and load all I wanted, but that was that. I couldnt manipulate time nor stop my ageing. So , I needed a solution to that first.
An android body with a simulated brain holding my personality seemed to be the resolution I was looking for. When you can relive your life an infinite amount of times, nothing seems out of reach after a while. So, my dream was realised. I could live forever. The question that remained was : will my power work for my android self as well as my carnal one? It seemed like a one way street to go from flesh to android.
The leap was taken.
And it was successful. It seemed like my power was tied to something more than my physical being, my thought pattern maybe? Put this aside for testing later, now we had worlds to see!
In my new immortal body, it was easy for me to break the habits of mortal humans and escape even the bounds of our Earth. Ionic and gravitational propulsion engines were rather easy to construct once you had the right theories in place. Detection from any of Earth's space agencies was easy to avoid once the craft was registered as an experimental supersonic plane, the child of an eccentric old man as I let it be rumored to be.
Finally I broke free. Of the Earth, of humanity, of the solar system itself. Universe was mine to explore and admire. And so I explored. And learned more and more. I transcended my android body and even my vessel itself. And so it came to be that I visited my birthplace.
And even though I couldnt, for I had no body, I wept. | 2020-12-15T14:47:09 | 2020-12-15T14:10:50 | 104 | 42 |
[WP] So this is what being in a car crash felt like. Not as painful as you thought it would be. But you can't feel your toes. You look down, your leg is missing from the knee onwards. There's no blood, no bone, no muscles. Instead you see mechanical components. | "What in the holy hell?" I asked, I imagined I could hear the whirring coming from my sheared off leg. Why was I not going into shock. Either from the accident or from finding out I'm this, or that part of me is, anyway. Was I some kind of cyborg? How would I not know this?
I reached down and tugged on a sheared piece of metal and sliced it into my arm. No pain. I moved my "skin" out of the way to the complex machinery below.
"Warning. Warning. Warning." Suddenly appeared in flashing red letters at the center of my vision, "Severe damage detected. Initiating self-check. System integrity at 99%. Weaponry at 100%. Mobility at 73%. Severe damage to lower right leg. Initiating repairs."
"Is anyone in there?" I heard yelling rise above the sound of the sirens as a voice spoke into the crumpled interior of my car. I did not answer. Snow flakes gently floated through a small hole in the roof to add to the nonreality of everything around me.
I felt a tingling in my leg. The metal of the car around my leg had turned fuzzy and my leg was rebuilding itself.
"Damage 27% repaired. Nano-salvage construction in progress, please do not move. Hello." I read in my vision and was a little startled at the last part.
"Hello," I said out loud.
"Somebody's alive in this one, Tony! Get the jaws!" I heard the voice outside yell.
"I apologize for your premature wakeup, please do not be alarmed," the letters appeared as if in answer.
"Yeah, ok," I whispered, the leg was regrowing as I watched.
"Leg 89% complete," the lettering spoke, "Reinitializing in ten seconds."
Above me there was the sound of metal ripping and I said, "What does that mean? What is going on?"
"Now is not yet the time," the lettering answered, "Leg repair complete. RI in 3, 2..."
"No, wait!" I yelled.
"1." the lettering flickered and the blackness came.
_____
"Hey Louie," the paramedic asked his partner, gesturing to the victim they had just pulled from the pileup, "How the hell is her pant leg gone below the knee but she doesn't have a scratch on her?"
"Hell if I know," Louie answered, "Stranger things happen every day. Lets find somebody who needs our help." | WARNING! Body modifications have been damaged. Please call 643-143U in case of emergency repair. CLIENT REMINDER from 34TH3R! Cited in GCX Protocol 113G40H: In case of damage to the product do not call an ambulance.
Message repeat
WARNING! Body modi.....
I saw that warning message flash before my eyes and get projected into the surface of the car being read by a robotic voice broadcasting the message for all the world to see and hear
"Oh no..." My sister right beside me uttered. A horrified look on her face.
I looked down and saw a liquid drip upon the floor... but it wasn't blood. It was some sort of glowing blue liquid and it was pulsating. I reached to touch it expecting it to be cool to the touch but it wasn't anywhere cold...
It was searing hot...
"Maya what is this?" I asked her, my voice wavering, cracking and close to crying.
After that there was just silence. I couldn't bring myself to speak again. My thoughts racing, my breathing ragged and my heartbeat faster than the driver's speed that crashed into our car that got us into this predicament in the first place, I mean the brakes weren't working and there seems to be a problem in the car itself but I was a good driver and it was a clear day and we're in the middle of nowhere without that much traffic...in fact there was none at all. I don't have an idea why there was a need to crash into us.
I am scared shit and I was beginning to think I'll never get an answer. Maybe this wasn't real. Maybe I'm having a delusion from the car crash. Maybe this was just a nightmare.
"I-you in the fire...I thought" Maya stuttered, she looked at me seriously also close to crying. "Mom and dad said you were at the hospital recovering. I knew something was wrong but I believed you were alive. They wanted me to but I was so sure you burned to death."
"What..." I saw the man come out of the car and other several men follow after him. They were all carrying a gun. "How did you..."
"I was the one who trapped you there. So I was pretty sure you'd die but you survived anyway and now I know why." Her faced changed. She smiled...her innocent nice smile. I wonder if it was as fake as my whole life right now. I wish someone would actually explain how we got to this point.
The man came inside the car and pulled me out. He pointed the gun in my head. She came out of the car crash as well. She looked down on me. Her face is still innocent with a little hint of disappointment and disgust.
"Speak up princess and think carefully of what you'll say next. They'll be the last words you will ever gonna say." He says, his hand on the trigger.
Then I felt very hot, like the heat from the searing blue liquid earlier, only fiercer...more ignited. Then I opened my mouth.
"Emergency Defense Mechanism: Activate" They were my words, but not of my voice.
I couldn't remember what happened next after that. I just heard screams...but they weren't from me. | 2020-12-17T09:31:29 | 2020-12-17T09:02:26 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] You have been in a coma for years, but the people around you worship you as a deity, leaving offerings and notes with wishes and prayers. You aren't a god- time simply stops any time you wake up, leaving you alone in a frozen world. You accept the offerings and do what you can to grant prayers. | I do not remember how I came to be.
The only thing I remember of my origins is falling asleep and waking up an era later. In a tomb at the summit of the tallest mountain in the world, overlooking civilisation.
The view changes every time I awake, frozen in time until slumber retakes me.
The first was of a bustling castle town. Statues and figurines made in my image filled every street and household. Crowds made pilgrimage to my resting place, leaving offerings. _______, the Hero King! My name always escapes me. I had saved the world, but what from?
The second time I opened my eyes, the town had grown large enough to fade into the horizon. There were no crowds this time, only groups of holy men and women, their bodies bent in prayer. My tomb now a grand temple. People spoke of my name in hushed and reverent tones.
Even more had changed the third time. Black smog filled the air, blocking out the stars. My temple a dilapidated mess, buried in snow.
The air was clear the next time. Buildings of glass and steel stretched up towards the sky where huge metal shapes hung, suspended in time. Planes, I found out, as I walked the ends of the world, my interest piqued. And many other wondrous inventions. I shook my head, confused and uncomprehending as I returned to my eternal tomb. I closed my eyes-
-and awoke again. I felt it in the air before I had even opened my coffin. Fear and dread, overwhelming, and I found out why the moment I looked to the heavens. The stars were unchanged, but the moon! The moon was in pieces, falling to the earth in flaming chunks.
Again I walked the world, this time my mind fully awake. Everywhere people were on their knees, praying, hoping. Some had given up, and I too sank to my knees, sharing in their despair. I had saved the world before, somehow, but now? I did not know if I could. I was not a god.
For a long time I stayed on my knees, unmoving. Unthinking. Slumber called to me, ever the temptress. Then, it came to me. I rose and stumbled back to my tomb. There was nothing I could do, but perhaps all I needed to do was nothing.
So I sat at the top of the world, gazing up at its end. There was nothing I could do, but perhaps there was someone, something out there that could.
So I sat in my eternal vigil. Awake. Waiting, for the world to be saved. | I don't remember or know when I got this power, from what I've heard around me when I was younger, I've been in a coma since I was born. I have never really used this power, but some people are always skeptical. So one day, some, what initially were thought to be crazy people tried to wake me up. I somehow did, but time stopped. I walked around panicking. I tried many things, but of course, I wanted to eat, to experience everything around me. When I first tried to talk to people to have them explain how to do things, what things are. They didn't answer. I thought they just didn't want to say anything, but, they never moved. I never knew where home was, so I returned to the hospital. I went back to sleep, but from there, I couldn't wake up.
-----
Years passed, and I've gotten used to this power. I started changing up some things, no one knew it was me at first. Of course, some people seemed to suspect it was me. First of all, I kept changing positions where I was sleeping, then I started to leave notes here and there. More and more people became aware of my story and tried to tie in stuff that's been happening with me. They said I was a god in disguise, I know I'm clearly not a god, I can only do what they do, only difference is that, when I wake up, time stops. I don't even think gods are real. Ever since everyone found out I could use this power, people have been worshipping me, asking me favors, all that stuff. I did do some of those, the hospital members would come and check my vitals here and there, most likely thinking that the people worshipping me were crazy. It was crazy at first. I had no powers other than waking up and stopping time, so when someone asked for a material thing, I had to steal, no one knows! No one would suspect me, cause they thought I was a god. I started granting wishes, but, some people prayed that I would be able to help their kids when they went into surgery, or grant them money for a surgery. So, I stole money. Look, no one knows! Time literally stops when I'm awake. No one would notice a few thousand dollars were missing. I hope. Well, I am still human, and I can only grant so much, eventually, I just gave people millions of dollars to get their life settled. Banks suddenly noticed they were missing a few million, but of course, no one thinks it was me. I sometimes worry if someone would try to kill me when I'm sleeping. Well, I still have a long way to go, I wonder how long I could keep doing this little thing, until I die? Until I get bored of it, oh well, one things for sure, I can do almost anything without getting caught, and if anyone notices, my "follwers" would say, it's from the wrath of the goddess, me. | 2020-12-28T08:45:15 | 2020-12-28T08:31:19 | 280 | 31 |
[WP] “Aha! You’re here about the Fifth Horseman job, aren’t you?” says War, in a loud and jolly voice, “well I must tell you, Pestilence and I thought we’d never get an application! We’ve really been swept off our feet these past couple of years... Say, what colour do you want your horse?” | War was looking over paperwork when it entered. For a being of pure conflict, he was surprisingly good at paperwork management. Blinding light flooded the room as It entered.
"Angelic Work is down the hallway-. Oh" he distractedly called, before he took a glance.
"Sorry about that. Thought you were someone else."
It stared at him.
"Uh. We've looked over your record. Very impressive, especially for your past as part of the Big G's plans."
Still that gaze. Like a thousand eyes scrutinizing him. There were, he guessed.
"You know, I never expected to get a new member. But you really showed your power this year. Your work with Pesty really took the cake. "
The gaze remained. It had only been a few seconds, but he wanted to draw his sword and attack, run away, anything to get that gaze off. Only Death had ever made him feel like this, but nothing this intense.
"What color do you want your horse?" he smiled awkwardly.
*Gold, so they may see my passing. Gold, the color they use to cover up evil. Gold, so I may show them.*
"Fitting."
*Yes.*
"Just sign your name here, and... Welcome to the team, Truth." | "Grey coat with a slight blue tinge, mane and tail of a blinding white." I say, glaring at him. "The sooner you get me my horse, the better."
"Okay, and what will be your dreaded name?" War asks, edging a little closer. Not being the kind of person who communicates normally, I punch him in the mouth. He yells, falls back and hits his head onto the hard stone floor.
"Hey, what was that for?"
"I'm Pain." I chuckle. "I'm concerned the french will call me Bread but I suppose I could, uh, inflict the most unbearable torture on them if they do. It's kinda my job and I guess I will done mine better than yours. Look at the wars you made! Ha! It's pathetic! You are so lousy at your job that even an ant could start a bigger and deadlier war than you can!"
Tears fall down War's cheeks. It is evidently clear that I hurt him deep inside.
"Y-you are hereby the Fifth Horseman, P-pain." He whispers.
A while later...
I look upon those lousy humans- who were all either crying hysterically, maniacally killing others and eating them or lying on the ground and screaming in pure agony as they slowly died a terrible death. It fills my heart with great pleasure seeing them suffer.
"Look at them!" I laugh from atop my horse. Death pats me on the back.
"You forgot one country." Death says, pointing at France.
"Looks like they are in need of starvation." Famine chuckles.
"THE FRENCH! I WILL TEACH THEM NOT TO CALL ME BREAD! I HAVE THE BEST BAGUETTES RESERVED FOR THEM!" I roared, spurring my horse into movement... | 2021-01-02T16:56:37 | 2021-01-02T15:43:44 | 52 | 10 |
[WP] You are a wolf who was bitten by a werewolf. Every full moon your hair recedes, your teeth dull, and you are left cold and naked on a hillside. You’ve also met a lovely park ranger named Christine. | *Bang! Bang! Bang!*
Christine jumped. It was the dead of night and there was someone pummeling the door to her cabin. She approached cautiously, holding up a frying pan as a weapon. “Who’s there?” she asked.
“Little human! Little human!” A rough yet familiar voice yelled. “Let me in!”
She glanced out the window to her side and immediately relaxed. It was a full moon. “Arnold?”
“No that’s not right,” the voice said. “You're supposed to squeal and say ‘*not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!*’”
Christine opened the door wide to the hairy naked man on the other side. “Come on in Arnold... And put some clothes on.”
“You’re no fun.” Arnold walked in, grabbed a cookie off the counter, wrapped a tablecloth around his midsection, and sprawled on the couch as if at home. “So I read those books you gave me last time. You know a lot of them are pretty inaccurate? Our lung capacity isn't anywhere near good enough to blow a house made of sticks down.
Straw *maybe,* if I really tried. That second to last pig though, he really got a raw deal. You think I should write the third pig to let him know?”
“I wouldn't bother, it's just a children’s story. Did you read the Red Riding Hood one too?”
“Oh yeah, that one was more accurate. We *are* masters of disguise.” Arnold gestured at his naked body. “Exhibit A.”
Under any other circumstance, a naked man pounding on her cabin door at midnight would have been a cause for alarm. This, however, was not any other circumstance. Arnold was a werehuman. Most nights he stalked the forest as a wolf, but every full moon he underwent a transformation by which he turned human.
They met a few years ago, on Christine’s first night alone working as a ranger. He came on pretty strong, and she was forced to pepper-spray him. Despite the rocky start, their relationship developed and eventually they became good friends. Now Arnold would stop by for a chat and tea most every full moon.
“So you’ll never believe what that weirdo Duncan has been up to,” Arnold said, standing back up to retrieve the full plate of cookies.
“You mean the rescue we released last month? I meant to talk to you about him—I noticed your pack took him in and I wanted to say thanks.”
“Oh we took him in all right. Big mistake though. He’s a massive butt-sniffer, Christine.”
“A butt-sniffer?”
Arnold nodded grimly. "It seems so.”
“Isn’t that fairly normal canine behavior?”
“To an extent, Christine. To. An. *Extent.* It’s like, you know how you told me Humans shake hands instead of sniffing butts when they meet?”
“Yep, I distinctly remember the events that led up to that conversation.”
“Right," Arnold said, rubbing his eyes as if the memory of pepper-spray made them water. "Well imagine if you took someone into your home, and every time you turned around they were right there, grabbing your hand. It’d get old right? Personal boundaries and whatnot.”
Christine nodded. “Yeah I could see—”
“Now imagine if instead of his hand, it was his nose. And instead of your hand, it was your b—”
“Okay okay, I follow the analogy. Look, Duncan was raised in captivity most his life. I think he’s just excited to meet other wolves.”
“A little *too* excited if you ask me.”
"Fair enough," she said smiling. "Well, maybe give him some time. I'm sure he'll mellow out." They talked a while longer, Arnold telling her all about the events in forest from the last month. She was tired, but Arnold was full of energy and had lots to say. She considered telling him she needed to get some rest, but thought better of it. It was only once a month, after all. Besides, she was having fun.
They talked until dawn broke, at which point she walked him to the door. “Guess I gotta go,” he said.
“Yep, see you next month?”
Arnold put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t cry Christine, I’ll always remember you.”
“I’m not crying,” Christine said, confused. “I’ll see you next month, right?”
“I can't stay here any longer. I have to be off. Back to my kind. It’s what’s best for me.”
“Right, that was never in question.”
“I know it’ll be hard for you, but if you love something set it free. I'm a wild animal, I can't stay here—”
Realization struck. “You read White Fang didn’t you?”
Arnold grinned. “It was excellent.”
Christine rolled her eyes. “All right fine, I’ll play along. Go on get! You’re free, go on! Get out of here! Listen, you’re free! Go! *GO!*” She threw a cookie at him.
He caught it in his mouth, got down on all fours, and ran off, the transformation back to wolf taking effect mid-bound.
***
&nbsp;
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | “Chrissy you’ve got to help me, I can’t go back to that!”
Chrissy reclined in bed, her eyes heavy lidded and her whole body ready for sleep, if only Spot weren’t having another crisis. She pressed the pillow down over her face and tried to count disemboweled sheep, the kind Spot left behind when he was a wolf. Sometimes she thought she liked that version of him better, his howling was less annoying then.
“Seriously Chrissy, you don’t understand what it’s like to be a wolf! I learn all this stuff as a man and then I’m hurled back into a pack that doesn't understand me. I’ve got to run and kill and hunt, I don’t even have hands, we just use our mouths for everything!”
“And I bet the females don’t look at you either, huh?”
She could imagine his expression, the human version of the guilty grimace he’d had when she caught them on the game cams. “That was one time and she was in heat!” he said, his voice getting shrill. “You can’t possibly blame me for that, I was a wolf!”
“Oh, so when that happens it’s all *‘oh but I was a wolf’* and then when you have to live outdoors and I’m not cooking for you it’s all *‘save me, I can’t go back to that!”*
Chrissy rolled over, pulling the covers tighter to herself. She could hear Spot stalking back towards the bed and she prepared herself for the pounce.
He leapt onto the bed with all the supple strength of a wild animal, pulling her to his chest. When Spot spoke his voice was husky and carried the strangest hint of an affected accent. Chrissy regretted showing him a romance movie that one time. “But baby, wouldn’t you love it if we could be together? We could frolic around this beautiful park every day, making love and catching prey as we willed, without any fear of bears or rain!”
Chrissy threw the pillow into the corner, rolling back towards him. A broad smile creased Spot’s sharp features and his eyes positively smoldered at her. He thought he was so damn cute sometimes. “Well, *baby*,” she said, pressing her hands against his muscled chest, “I happen to like our schedule just the way it is. Besides, you’re barely housebroken on the one day a month I have you. Now stop whining, you’re ruining my afterglow.”
She pecked him on the lips quickly and turned back around. “And remember to be out of here before sunrise, I can’t have you transforming in my bed again. That was fucked up.”
Spot’s grip around her waist grew slack. He nuzzled against her neck gently, it was normally as a close to an apology as she got, and then she felt him stand.
“Bye Chrissy,” he said. His voice sounded truly sad. She only turned back to watch him leave, walking out into the rising dawn naked as the day he was born, or perhaps in his case made. She saw his transformation through her bedroom window, heard his scream become a howl, watched bones rearrange themselves and coarse hair tear through soft skin to cover his body.
Chrissy closed her eyes and went to sleep, finally getting to relax and enjoy her body’s languid exhaustion.
She was woken when the cabin door opened an hour later. Someone poked around in the outer rooms for a few minutes, giving Chrissy time to reorient herself before the door opened again. Eliza stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the early morning light from the windows. Her clothes were messily donned, half the buttons of her shirt missing. Her hair was a disaster, what little makeup she’d worn the night before was smeared tragically around her face.
“Hey babe,” Chrissy said, “you’re looking cute.”
“Yeah, yeah, it was a rough one. I’m gonna jump in the tub, but I'm glad you're up, I wanted to say hi.” Eliza walked over to the bed, sitting down where Spot had so recently been, and gave Chrissy a long, hard kiss.
“You taste funny,” Chrissy said, making a face. “Not a deer this time?”
“I wish. I found a half dead elk. It was pretty gross.”
“Ewww, yeah wash your mouth out before you kiss me again.”
Eliza stood, going to their attached bathroom. Chrissy heard a bath begin to run and then Eliza began gargling mouthwash. “How was your night?” she called after she spit.
“Fun!” Chrissy said. “Spot is an animal, pun intended. But if we ever try this again remind me to have you bite a less whiny wolf. My god is he annoying before he changes!”
“Oh really? He doesn’t want to go back?”
“Nah, he wants to stay human. He’s been asking me to help him, although I’ve got no idea how that would even work.”
“Yeah for real.” Eliza poked her head back into the bedroom. “You can cure a werewolf by killing the one that bit them, but a were-werewolf? I don’t even know how that would work.”
“Uh huh. And besides, there’s only room for one human in my life. Come back here.” Chrissy propped herself up in bed and reached out for another kiss now that Eliza’s mouth was cleaner.
“I kinda feel sad for the guy though,” Eliza said, walking back into the bathroom. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to be a wolf either.” Chrissy heard a contented sigh from the bathroom, Eliza must have stepped into the tub.
“Well, as far as I’m concerned we’re doing him a favor.” Chrissy said. She stretched, groaning loudly as she gave up on sleep. “Whatever. Is there room for two in there?”
“You bet!”
Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled.
\---------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-03-14T15:17:41 | 2021-03-14T13:49:33 | 2,401 | 129 |
[WP] Instead of heaven and hell, when you die, you find yourself in the room of a six year-old girl who invites you to join her tea party. It soon dawns on you, you're her imaginary friend. |
What happens when we die, we can only find out when we do, truly die. And not die and then come back. Because some did really die, their hearts and lungs stopped, they didn’t have any brain activity and yet. And yet they came back.
Death is the finish line, finality. The end. If you cross it and return, you didn’t really cross it. I would say that our definition of death could be better. Could be changed. Because there isn’t any way to take back the words you said, undo what you have done, no way to come back alive.
I don’t know what is after death, but it shouldn’t be life. Not the same one anyway, if you believe in reincarnation. Maybe it is heaven or hell, purgatory or some other religious or philosophical concept. There should be something when we are gone from this Earth.
And yet. And yet. I am dead. I know that, I felt it happened, in fact I remember it with crystal clarity along with every moment of my life. Or is it previous life, I don’t know. I didn’t leave Earth either, I stand on it at this very moment, or float is better.
I hear sound coming from television, radio or some kind of podcast talking about the current situation in the world. I smell the smell of delicious cooking and see the world around me. I could make the mistake of being in someone else's home, perhaps visiting a friend or waking up from a wild party. Although partying is taking a break right now.
I could have made those mistakes if I wasn’t half-transparent, half here and half not. If people didn’t just pass by me and through me, if they saw a stranger in their home. If I was in the same body in which I lived and died. But I wasn’t in my body and they couldn’t see me.
No one could see me. Here I am, alive after death. And no one to interact with. I wanted to leave this house, this home I found myself in, but I was scared. So unbelievably sacred of what I could find outside. I didn’t want to be alone. I feared the truth of what is out there.
And so when the little girl came home and invited me to her tea party I accepted. | This realisation came to me as a surprise as I have always thought of myself as a sinner and Hell is where I belong.
Nevertheless, the girl pours the tea in my cup and the others. There are four persons here. there is a Mr. Charlie (a Panda), Ms. Rosie(an alpaca) and I am being called Mr. Jack. (a cat).
We all can see each other but none seems to be talking. Trapped inside stuffed toys all we can do is look at each other and hear our host talking.
"How are you doing today Ms. Rosie?" She asked.
Miss Rosie replied she has been well. Has been going to the gym and keeping watch of diet.
The toy had been silent all the time, staring smilingly into nothing.
"Do you know, Natalie from my class has a crush on Alan, she says she loves him. But Alan already has a girlfriend, she's his neighbour. Natalie cried all night when she heard that. Well, I know you love Mr. Charlie, so you don't have to worry about finding love."
"I forgot to introduce you to our new guest, Mr. Jack", she said happily.
They looked at me like I have not existed before. And then they spoke.
Rosie asked, "where are you from?"
" I don't know" came the reply.
Charlie was staring at me angrily. he did not ask me anything and continued listening to the girl.
" I hope you all be good friends", the girl said again.
"I have a secret to share with all of you, remember Mr. Oscar used to take me with him alone in the bathroom and touch me. He took Sarah with him yesterday. She was telling me about it but she was crying a lot. When I told her that he did it with me too and two other girls from the other class, she was stared at me like she hates me. She asked why I did not tell anyone about it. So I told her that Mr. Oscar said that That's how girls grow, they do all this and I will and all other girls have to do it to grow up. Hearing this Sarah became angry at me and told me to leave her house, she also said that she does not want to be my friend anymore."
After saying all that, the little girl started crying, continuously asking how can they friends again.
I was staring at the others and looking at them in disbelief about what this girl has just told us.
"We should do something, call the police, tell her family, we need to save this girl and all the victims."
"We can't do anything, we are stuffed toys, we can't speak, we can't move, nothing. all we can do is sit here and listen to her and all that is happening to her daily" said Charlie. | 2021-05-13T04:05:26 | 2021-05-13T02:19:59 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] you are kidnapped by henchmen because your boyfriend/girlfriend is a super hero, but the villains are your parents who just now recognized you as your BF/GF has arrived to save you and now you have to explain the situation to everyone while the henchmen watch barley stifling their laughter | As the hood over my head was removed, I heard the sound of raucous laughter coming from all around me.
"Well, if it isn't our leader's darling little boy! How's it going, Larry? Having fun dating a superhero?"
One of my parents' henchmen stood before me, shining a bright light into my face. Around me, I could see at least a dozen others.
"Yeah, yeah, you got me real good this time, Darman. Alright, come on now, cut me loose and I won't say a thing to my parents."
"Mmmmm, I'm not so sure about that, rich boy." Darman leaned into my face, so close that I could smell the whiskey on his breath. "You know, I think the bosses would very much like to know their darling boy has been secretly dating a superhero, wouldn't they? They might even give me a bonus."
I gritted my teeth. "I'm serious, Darman. Let me out of here now, or you'll regret it."
Darman laughed, and the rest of the room laughed with him. "Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it, flower boy? Grow me a daffodil? Please."
"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you."
I felt through the room, listening for the sounds of nature. Finally, I found the plant I was looking for, hidden within the whiskey I'd smelled on Darman's breath.
"Hey, wait, what are you- mmmmph!" Darman's eyes widened in shock as a sheaf of wheat suddenly sprouted from his mouth. Around me, the other henchmen's laughter turned to hacking and coughing as newly grown barley filled their windpipes.
Darman fell to the ground, still wheezing. I looked him in the eye, and motioned to my restraints. Desperately, he crawled across the floor and fumbled with his knife, cutting the bonds loose.
As I stood up from the chair, there was a loud crash as Sophie punched her way into the room.
"Don't worry, Larry! I'm here to save.... wait, what?"
At the same time, I saw my parents walk into the room.
"Son, what is going on?"
I looked around the room, first at Sophie, then at my parents, then at the floor still covered with henchmen coughing up barley.
Oh geez, how am I supposed to explain this? | When I woke up tied up with two villains in front of me, I was scared but I wasn’t worried I knew she would come for me. They were talking but their voices sounded familiar, then it hit me like a semi-truck.
“Wait, MOM AND DAD!?”
“TYLER!?”
“Mom, dad you guys are villains? What the heck!”
“Your dating a superhero, and our arch nemesis!?”
“Why are villains? How long? Why didn’t you tell me? And more importantly, WHY THE HELL DID YOU KIDNAP ME?!”
“Ok look son we didn’t know she was your girlfriend, we just told the henchmen kidnap the boyfriend we never wanted to put you danger like this”
“Speaking of which your breaking up with that girl as soon as this is over young man!”
“Ok you guys are in NO POSITION to tell me that right now!”
“We just want what’s best for you sweetheart, and what’s best for you is to break up with that stupid superhero!”
“Hey I fricken heard that!”
Just then my girlfriend pops through the ceiling
“Give him ba- wait, MR AND MRS JACOBSON!”
“Uh- hello Sydney”
“Yeah that was my reaction too”
“What the heck, Tyler did you know about this?”
“No”
“Tyler I think now this be a good time to do the thing we discussed”
“MOM THIS IS NOT THE TIME”
“Oh my god I thought guys were so nice, you paid all my hospitality bills FOR THINGS YOU DID TO ME.”
“well that was before we knew you were lame”
“Oh wow that really the best you can do right now”
“Hey watch your tone with me young lady”
“Oh that is NOT gonna work right now”
Just then one of the henchmen chimes in “uh should we be doing something or-“ “YOU STAY OUT OF FAMILY MATTERS” “yes ma’am”
“I just actually can not believe my parents are villains, I thought you guys worked in banking!”
“We ROB the banks honey, never said we worked for them.”
“Also why did kidnap your own son?”
“Because we didn’t know he was your boyfriend, we love our son!”
“We we’re hoping he would follow in our evil footsteps”
“Well that explains why you got me a ray gun for my 7th birthday”
“But then you came and messed it all up with your, superheroness”
“You know what, somehow I love your son enough to pretend none of this ever happened”
“Agreed”
“Agreed”
“Agreed”
She comes over and unties me
“But don’t think this doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass at the first sign of trouble”
“Wouldn’t dream of it”
Somehow we are still together and super happy, my parents still try to convince to be a villain, and thanksgiving is always awkward. | 2021-07-18T12:25:25 | 2021-07-18T11:05:47 | 959 | 90 |
[WP] Turns out, when a species reaches the stars, their ships resemble the characteristics of that species’ origins. Most other species have ultra fast, hard hitting spaceships, and a few are slow behemoths. But everyone is scared of the relentless, unstoppable humans. | You can tell a lot about a space faring race by their ships and I don't just mean their aesthetic preference. Every race seems to inevitably rely on their evolutionary strengths when designing their ships.
Take the Larkins for example; their long and slender ships seem to dance through space making seemingly impossible maneuvers with ease but they are only armed with a single powerful laser and the can't move while firing so they need it to be a 1-shot kill or they have a high likelihood of dying before they can get respond to a counter attack.
On the other end you have the Katar whose ships seem to be massive fortresses but are actually mostly just a shell to protect their much smaller core from the controlled self sustaining nuclear explosion that they use as their propulsion system, their main attack method is ram and run, if you dodge the ramming or survive it then your in the middle of what is essentially 4 tactile nukes blowing up 100k/second.
Humans have never been the fastest, strongest, hardiest, or longest lived species. Some claim that our strength was in our intelligence but that isn't true, we killed off the species who tried to rely on intelligence long before we even learned how to write. No our evolutionary strength is stealth and endurance. Humans hunted animals that could easily kill them by hiding until they saw an opening and then wounding the animal. When the animal ran in a panic Humans would follow at pace. We couldn't outrun or keep pace but we could keep up and where the animal would tire itself out we would be fresh. We could keep this chase up for days or even week if need be but eventually the animal would collapse from exhaustion and we would finish it off with a single knife stroke.
I love the nicknames that other races give us; Horde of Ghosts, Wraiths, Takers, or Black Moons Howl. Our ships are small and only armed with small dense flechette rounds but they are nearly impossible to detect until after they fire and then they are hard to get a firing lock-on. Our weapons won't destroy a ship but they will cause multiple breaches that are hard to seal and they are aimed at areas that are large spaces or life support distribution centers. Our ships censors can pick up and follow the leaked atmosphere from a ship almost indefinitely and our communications scrambling technology included in our flechette rounds so the ship cannot call for assistance or even communicate internally without direct connections. The other races only over find the aftermath of our strike, a ship floating in space with a few small holes punched in it that has been completely stripped of all valuables and the crew mostly dead from asphyxiation | The head of an intergalactic space force turned his head in a way resembling nod of an apex predator rather than a civilized being. Turns out this ship is owned by Trigators, tall lizards with prolonged craniums and evil grin always sticked to their faces as a reminder of their ancient past. Their territorial enemies were gone now, but the face designed to kill remains and so does a feral grin of their space ship our hero Swan got himself on board of. Unlike the Gators, Swan was of a shorter statue with lean limbs resembling those of an Elvish royalty, but unlike them his eyes were more of a circle than a line and his ears were silly far from his head, leading your attention to a dark hair unlike anything space commanders are used to with space wandering mammals keeping their scalp either their natural blonde of higher classes or attempting to blend in with a permanent dye.
Gator's eyes widened as the humans monotone gait got swifter while he was approaching the last few meters to close off their distance into an intimate closeness unlike anything this race finds comfortable. Despite being a guest, his hand extended as he offered captain his hand in a friendly gesture. "Swan, nice to meet you." Gator's body fixed in a flex-like position mirrored his gesture with an unchanged facial expression as he introduced himself to an elite commander of Human Joined Forces. "Nexx!" Despite being short, the introduction revealed much of his diet as Swan's nose was filled with a smell of sweet-water fish and a foreign spice.
"I've heard you wanted to see me in person. I don't possess a knowledge of any alliance law we might have broken by our entrance. Is there anything else I should be worried about?" Nexxe's shoulders broadened up in a majestic gestures bringing out a full chest adorned with medals not common in this territorial league.
"It's the way you behave. The weapons. Not all of us will tolerate a foreigner and not all of us are scared to fight. You were let in with a faith of peaceful passing, but your actions on b-35 were noted and watched with a great concern. Your ship is armed with high-tech weapons unlike anything I've ever seen. I know your planet was being torn apart by war for many millennia, but unlike you, most of us are a peaceful breed. The looks can be deceiving.. Mr. Swan. Unlike humans, every other species develops a natural sense of peace before they enter a technological era, but yours is clearly different. Isn't it? Look through the window and tell me, what you see. It's flowers, trees, water, skies. Every ship parking in the dock is adorned with the things they value the most. Their shapes are twisted into intricate patterns revealing their very own sense of beauty they want to be known for. Now look at your left. Your poo shaped ship with a phallic gun sticking at each side is a thorn to our eyes. Its shape reveals nothing more than greed and soulless efficiency matched only by creations of the darkest corners of Universe inhabited by beasts of war. Now tell me... Mr. Swan, are you a beast?" | 2021-10-12T12:26:10 | 2021-10-12T10:48:37 | 118 | 22 |
[WP] Just after your eyes close for the last time and everything goes black, you hear the whispers of a pleasant voice saying, “We hope you enjoyed this introduction to early humanity. Please enjoy the rest of your time at the Intergalactic Museum of Sentience!” | Some Mystery remains
Dominique’s brain had a difficult time to orient itself, his eye sight still blurry he looked around.
In wonder he studied his smooth hands, that showed neither wrinkles nor spots.
Being a human in the 21st Century, was truly a horrible experience. And so unsavory. Body fluids of all kinds seemed to determine on what people spent their time with. He couldn’t even estimate the number of times he had to use a bathroom because his body needed to get rid of something nasty. And then the odor of sweat, your own and the other person's you somehow felt the need to be with. Of course -again body fluids were part of that process. Absolutely disgusting. Dominique was so relieved that his implants made sure the ecstasy could be experienced directly in his brain any time without a reaction of the rest of his body whatsoever.
During his excursion he had been a woman. And a woman of color on top of that. They sure had a strange way of defining color back then. There wasn’t really that much variety to choose from- only shades of beige and brown. Dominique suppressed a smirk :they really called the light skin color white and the darker one black. And they actually fought over it.
Clearly they had no understanding of the physics of light and functions of skin – otherwise he would have to admit he was a descendant of lunatics. With no sense for the beauty that comes with variety. He happily looked at the swirling blue and silver patterns, that the holo cells of his skin showed off today.
He wanted to forget giving birth ( fluids again) squeezing little humans out of a way too small opening- it was a miracle the people had not insisted much earlier on solely lab grown infants.
Dominique only felt a bit betrayed because dying was such a big deal, and it could have so many different outcomes. Angels, devils, pagan gods. Endless feasts or endless calm or pain?
He sighed, death and what might come after would remain an unsolved mystery in a world that had no need for death anymore.
| You hear Sigourney Weaver’s voice over the PA system. You’re confused before memories flood back into your mind.
You look down at the plaque, the “Demo” button you pressed before your journey. “2000-2150” You look around, murals covered the walls. Across the room you see Arthrial’s capital city, you decide to leave the “Early Humanity” Exhibit and wander, reflecting on the slice of humanity you just experienced, if just for a while.
You were Jason Hitch inside the simulation. You started on a small ranch residing in northern West Virginia. Living through your childhood, the first time you rode a bike, your school, your, well everything.
You come to a wall with a painted mural labled “Perceived lengths of time over the lifetimes of sentient beings” you look down at the plaque “Most sentient beings perceive time to be speeding up, above is a graph showing how one would perceive time over 100 years” you avoid the ‘Demo’ button.
You continue to reflect, You remember being 16, and riding your horse over the fields. Clementine was her name. The first time you went to Morgantown alone. Graduation at WVU.
You look down at your watch 15:32. You decide to walk over to an Exhibit labeled “The onset and rise of Artificial Sentience. Your heart rate doubles.
On the wall you see a mural depicting one Jason Hitch.
You read the plaque “Jason Hitch 2000-2089. Jason was born in Wheeling, West Virginia, graduated from West Virginia University at the age of 16. Reports say he started working on the RhinoNet AI system shortly after, completing his work shortly before his death at age 89”
On a second wall, you read about RhinoNet
“RhinoNet, originally intended to make interactions with NPC characters seamless and realistic, found applications in personal assistants in 2090. It found its way into security systems in 2092 and eventually into a Boston Dynamics Spot (See Exhibit 13) where it terrorized hundreds of humans. In 2103 it found its way into Nuclear Storage applications, eventually becoming integrated into human society. When the systems gained sentience in 2113, humanity fell apart.”
Pains in your chest grow and you fall before you read the rest of the plaque.
“We hope you’ve enjoyed this introduction to the history of artificial sentience We hope you enjoy the rest of your time at the Intergalactic Museum of Sentience!” | 2021-12-01T00:31:18 | 2021-11-30T22:58:04 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] Whenever someone is born, the first sentence they utter predicts how they die. Lately every kid has been saying the same first sentence. | "Old age, old age, old age"
"You know that's not going to work, right? Only thing Benjamin will pick up is what language to talk in, you don't get to force his first sentence." Mary continued making dinner as Jared bounced the little one on his leg.
"I know, but it's worth a try. Ope, looks like he's getting hungry. I'll grab a bottle." The father cradled his son in his arm, made his way to the fridge, and threw on a posh British accent. "What'll it be today, Master Bowman? We've got milk, milk, or let me see , what's this, milk! Oh, you'd like to know what's on tap?" Jared looked pointedly at his wife's chest, to which she rolled her eyes. "Sorry sir, our keg's preoccupied. Here, I can recommend this spirit highly. October 16th, a fine day for bottling." Benjamin eagerly took the nipple of the bottle and sucked down the white liquid, utterly oblivious to the rest of the world.
Mary finished plating up the pasta and carried them to the table. "Do you mind putting the baby food in his bowl? There's a jar open by the sink." Her husband shuffled over to the counter, careful not to disturb his son. "Do you ever get worried that he's not going to talk? Like, he's 8 months old, surely he should have said something before now."
Orange colored goop dropped into the Paw Patrol themed bowl. "The pediatrician said 6 to 9 months is normal. Even if he goes to 10 months, he's still in the meat of that bell curve. Can you flip up the high chair table so I can set him down? Thanks."
*Ding*
Mary let out a sigh. "Ugh. Is work messaging you? I thought they said they'd said they'd stop trying to reach you in the evenings."
"No, nothing from them, just a news alert. I'll look at it later."
Benjamin had started to reach for bowl and nearly shoved it off before Mary could grab it. "Ooh, no sir. No throwing food on the ... Jared, come over here. I think he's going to say his first word.
The little tike's face was screwed up in struggle, trying to get words out. "Th... Th...Th..."
Jared got near his son, looking on with fatherly pride. "You've got it, bud. What do you want to say?"
Benjamin stared straight into his father's eyes. "The End"
Jared slowly looked at his wife. "You hear 'The End' too?"
Mary nodded. "I'll grab the book."
The book was something the pediatrician had given them. Essentially an actuarial table saying what each first words meant as far as how the child would die, and how long they lived on average. Mary laid the tome on the dinner table and quickly flipped to the Es.
"Energy, Enemy, Endive... End isn't here." Mary looked up in confusion.
Jared could barely keep his eyes off his son, once a source of comfort, now an enigma. "Try 'The End'. Maybe the 'the' matters."
Mary nodded. "Good idea. Let's see. Thanks, Thatcher... The End isn't here either." Mary stepped away from the book, staring at it like it was possessed. "We should call Dr. Willow."
"Yeah, yeah, good idea." Jared pulled out his phone, but paused before he could dial the number. "Mary, look at this."
"What, did Dr. Willow already text or something?" Mary looked at the phone, but instead of a text from their doctor she saw the news alert Jared had ignored earlier.
In bright red font "CNN Reports: Hundreds of thousands of babies reported speaking for the first time, all saying the same thing. 'The End'" | “Papa,” said the baby, between froths of laughter as she lay swathed in blankets, watched over by a soft, bow-tied bear.
The word ran like a chill through the baby monitor, carrying the fatal message — distorted but complete — to the living room.
Monique and Robert had been reading, she a book (a child’s escape from Syria) and he his phone (scrolling reddit, finger bobbing like a drinking-bird toy).
They looked at each other, pupils widening and chasing their irises into a thin, scared rim.
“I think she said…,” said Robert. “Didn’t she?”
Monique nodded. Felt like her head was being rocked by the hand of the reaper himself.
“But I’d never hurt her. You know that!”
She did know, but had to remind herself. As if the word, like an avalanche of dirt, had suddenly buried their years of trying for a child, of his support, of his tears on the day she’d been born.
”Maybe,” she said slowly, as if testing out an idea on her tongue, “maybe we misheard. Maybe it was patter. Or puma.”
But the chances of rain patter killing, or of a puma in the city were—
“Papa,” came the sound again. A hiss then giggle of laughter. “Papa.”
As clear as spring-water. Papa. The sweet word might as well have been a rose placed on a grave.
Robert was trembling. Crying. “I wouldn’t,” he said. “I wouldn’t!” Then whispered, less forceful, “I wouldn’t.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. We need to think about this. We need to stay calm,” she said — not that she felt it. She felt like she’d been struck by a truck and now lay, limbs dislocated or dismembered, in various pieces all across the road.
A thought suddenly came — she grasped it like a rope, dangled hopefully on it. “Listen, what if you did do it, but not for a long time. What if — god forbid — she’s struck later in life by a terrible disease. Can’t control her muscles, her body. Only her mind.”
There was a pause as the idea rooted then sprouted in Robert’s mind. A slow, desperate nod. “Yes. *Yes.* If it came to it, and she wanted me to, yes, maybe I would agree to euthanasia. That might be the best thing for her — the fatherly thing to do?” The statement collapsed into a question, desperate for reassurance to prop it up.
She smiled weakly, sickly. Could she really trust him from here on? Knowing that one day, but not knowing how, that man — the man she had loved (no, still loved, you still love him! He’s not changed just because of a single word!) would kill their daughter.
Would it make any difference if she left him? Maybe that’s what triggers him, turns him on the family. God, her back was clammy. She shivered.
”Papa.”
”So,” he said. “We’re okay. Right? I love you both more than anything.”
”Papa.”
She turned on the TV. Volume up.
News. Flashing sirens. Outside a home.
“How about a quiz-show instead?” he asked. “Nothing depressing, huh?”
They both knew before they read the headline.
About the child in the house. Who the man being pushed into a cruiser, handcuffed, was. What relation.
Robert was up from his seat.
”What are you going to do?” she asked.
He was staring at his hands. Tears rolling onto them. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”
Was it all already written for them? And now they had nothing left to do but act the whole miserable scene out.
He wasn’t moving. She could make it to the kitchen. Maybe. Grab a knife. If she went now.
She as good as jumped from the sofa, sprinted in three quick paces to the door. Yanked it open and was through, into the—
His hand, cold and rough, had her wrist. Vice-firm.
She turned, slowly.
Barely looked like her husband now. Pale. Tired. Eyes of someone else, unhinged and unsure.
”I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” | 2021-12-23T06:16:19 | 2021-12-23T04:32:26 | 234 | 139 |
[WP] "Now remember, a healing spell has some side effects. You may be tired, slightly dizzy, and DO NOT interact with anything strange you might see after. Let me repeat DO NOT interact with anything strange you might see. Ready? Good." | I did as she said. I interacted with none of the visions. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try and decipher them.
I recalled the visions in my mind. First was the holy symbol the cleric used to cast the spell, but then it morphed and shifted into something else. I could hardly describe it. The symbol was a shape with so many sides it appeared to have none.
I was bathed in light, but I heard a voice calling out to me in the darkness. It was a voice that echoed in many different tongues, but within it, I heard my own. The words I could not tell you, it was as if they spoke in ideas and emotions.
I felt an embrace. I presumed it was the Grey Mother, the one the clerics of healing worship, but there was something wrong about the embrace I could not quite figure out. It felt too strong, too encompassing, too curious to be the warm, gentle Grey Mother who held me close. It wasn’t a guardian angel looking down at me. I felt as if I was being analyzed.
As I spend weeks pouring over texts in search of answers, those in my life tell me to stop. They say it's becoming an unhealthy obsession, consuming my life. Perhaps it is, but I can not let this rest.
I was rejected by the clerics and I have yet to understand why. I performed all the prayer incantations perfectly, I showed a level of faith and devotion such that my robes were always white (the robes of the order track mental state, so when they change color the church can help them find faith again), I wanted nothing more than to heal.
I was always hungry to learn more of the Grey Mother’s teachings. Searching through libraries, listening to stories of her kindness and forgiveness. I revered the saints of the past and looked up to them, wishing to learn all I could. Though there was some knowledge they kept from me, they told me it would be revealed to me when I passed judgment.
When the final test came, where I faced the Grey Mother’s judgment, I failed.
There was no explanation, I felt no otherworldly presence. The clerics merely communed to the Grey Mother while I waited with terse apprehension. When it was over I looked to them with eager eyes, but they shook their heads solemnly.
Why hadn’t the Grey Mother accepted me? What could I have done wrong?
One day while researching a scholar nearby told me he recognized the symbol, that many-sided smooth surface, which I had seen. Though it was not anything related to the Grey Mother. I was looking in the wrong place.
I looked for other accounts of people hearing emotions as if words, all languages at once, the shape, the strange embrace. There were a few meager vision writings, but oddly enough none were published by the church but by another source, ones that hid the knowledge within a dense text about an entirely different topic.
What I discovered is what I saw in my vision had little to do with the Grey Lady, but rather seemed to align with a different entity. The Anithorath.
It was a being of which we understood little. It amassed knowledge and wisdom, so much so it was said that even just a glimpse at its vast well of knowledge could break any mortal.
Why was I seeing this in my visions? If the Anithorath healed me, what of the Grey Lady?
Fortunately, my chance will come soon. I had injured myself once more and am going to the church to get healed.
I must know the truth. This time when the voices call out, I won’t shy away from them. I will answer its call. | I wasn’t even given a chance to respond. The world swirled around me as sparkles of green whisked through the air. It seemed like a million winds were blowing, yet the air was stagnant like the ocean on midwinter’s eve.
The sparks grew denser as my feet left the floor. I found myself paralysed, whether out of fear or a mere side effect of the spell I was unsure, but the fear gripped my mind nonetheless.
I gripped my eyes tightly shut. I could feel a burning pain in my wrist but I dared not look. Slowly, the burning subsided to a tingling sensation before fully disappearing.
I chanced a glance to find that the sparks of magic had disappeared and the elderly man had returned to his desk and was shuffling some papers.
“Ahem,” I cleared my throat.
“Ah wonderful. I was wondering how long you’d stand there. You’re all better now,” he said with a toothy grin. “But remember.” His voice seemed to waver at a higher pitch as he spoke, “DO NOT interact with any strange sights. They are not to be trifled with.”
He shooed me outside before I could ask what he meant. I could see the sun beginning to set below the canopy of trees. I had been gone longer than I meant. I hurriedly walked into the woods.
The old man’s words echoed in my mind as the great tree trunk shadows began to cascade along the floor. My head snapped towards every rustle of grass or crack of a twig that echoed through the dusk. The forest shimmered as a biting wind whistled through the undergrowth. I hastened my step.
Slowly the darkness enveloped the path with only small pin pricks of moon light penetrating the thick foliage above. The hairs on my neck stood up as I whirled around. I could almost see glowing green eyes staring at me, but they simply vanished. I was imagining things. I had to be.
My teeth chattered and clinked as what had been a nice autumn warmth was sapped away into the unforgiving night. It couldn’t be much further back to town now…
An eerie cackle echoed through the woods. Carried by the trees themselves. I shook my head as an overwhelming weight took over. It was just the birds. I was tired. I couldn’t sleep here.
My eyes were watering and burning with exhaustion as I pushed along. Each step felt like an uphill battle where I was carrying a nets worth of fish back from shore. Damned side effects…
I felt my body swaying side to side. A slender prod caressed my arm. I jumped. A large branch protruded from a nearby tree with slender twigs arched towards the road.
I heaved with relief. There was nothing out here. Then I heard something. A sobbing. A young girl, I assumed. I squinted and tried to find the source in the dark but alas it was impossible.
I edged off the path taking each step carefully. I nearly tripped over multiple tree roots as I approached the sound. Though barely visible, the silhouette of a young girl could be seen between two trees. Her head bowed as the eerie sobbing continued.
“Little girl, are you okay?” I called. No response.
I walked closer. “Are you lost? Can you hear me?”
As I moved closer I could she was nursing her wrist.
“Did you hurt yourself?” I said. “There’s a man in the centre of the forest who can help patch you up. In fact, he fixed my wrist earlier.” I smiled weakly at the joke.
The child sniffled and looked up. She had emerald green eyes that glistened with tears.
“Really?” She stammered. She held out her broken hand. I grabbed it without thinking. Her skin was colder than the night itself. Her fingers clamped around my own wrist as the same cackle from earlier erupted from the girls lips. A much more sinister air about it.
I tried to pull away as the young girls frown morphed into a smile. Her form slowly grew into a hulking, hunchback creature. Her once soft, childlike features were now jagged and bony. Her fingers clamped unbreakably around my arm. Her eyes glowed with power as I felt pain shoot through my wrist.
“No one ever listens to the warnings,” she cackled. | 2022-05-02T10:35:47 | 2022-05-02T09:30:24 | 326 | 87 |
[WP] You are an ancient lich, feared throughout the lands for your grey and fair vengeance. One day, you are summoned, but not by a corrupt king or angry mercenary, instead by an unnaturally thin girl dressed in servants rags, who says “f...forgive me for disturbing you...I had nowhere else to go” | When I saw her I knew. There was no fear in her face, at least not the fear of me that most mortals showed. No, instead she appeared strong, especially considering the poor state she stood before me in. Sunken in cheeks, arms pulled thin as wire, blackened eyes. I knew when I saw her that she must be desperate. Desperate enough to call for help from an evil as notorious as mine. Despite the strength she showed, I was sure if she had tears to cry then they would flow like mighty rivers now, but no such theatrics came. Instead I had some of my own.
*Who calls upon this power of mine. Souls taken, held from the divine. If vengeance be what you reap, then my power grants eternal sleep. Speak the words you came to say. Be true in request, have no delay*
The words did not come from my husk, but somewhere far beyond, roaring through every crack of the tower and echoing out into the lands. I did not need to be reserved, for no being in a thousand years had contested my gaze. As my words finished a layer of frost began to lick at the corners of the room and spread. An unnatural blue light shined down somewhere from above casting an eerie glow across the little girls face.
If she had been anything with misheld power, with hubris only a human could possess, then she'd see a performance that would strike fear into even the bravest of men. But for her this was more than enough.
"What-what does reap mean?" she spoke, making herself even smaller. Though at my demonstration of power she didn't flinch, just stared into the empty sockets of my skull with big eyes.
"It means to take. To end. What do you request?" my speech remained constant and loud. I wanted her request to be heard, and judging by the series of frantic voices down stairs it would be.
"I don't know I just- I just wanted to-" she dropped to her knees.
My voice lowered now to fill only the room, "It is ok my child. You have summoned me, and it seems your vengeance would be more than just. Give me a command and I shall enact, carry out, your will." Heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, fifteen pairs, maybe twenty. I opened my gaze and a part of my mind drifted out the door, granting me sight. My mind traveled the staircase until it revealed the source of the steps. A large group, armor clad, in full sprint up the steps followed in tow by a robed, frail man. I could end them now. Destroy the tower and take the girl. Destroy this entire...*kingdom*. The word was like poison in my skull.
But I had a role to play.
"I don't want to die here." now tears fell, riding along her protruding cheekbones and falling to the floor. I floated down to her side, and with a bony hand wiped a tear away.
"Then you know what you ask of me."
"I ask to live. I don't want to go like this" and that was enough.
Once again my voice boomed. I watched as the armor clad men nearly fell back down the stairs at the noise. "Consider it done! You have made your request, now I have my fun." That stone laid room, the little girl whose name I did not know, all of it faded away as I fell into the floor and out elsewhere, into a throne room of extravagant cloth and colors. Before me a man, a worm, sat trembling on a throne.
"Kn-knights! Return to m-"
"They are frosted bones, broken on a staircase. They are piles of empty armor at their posts. Dead men led by a corpse." this time the words came from my bony mouth followed by a cloud of wicked smog. The frost followed me, breaking all it touched and I could hear frantic feet shuffling up from chairs behind.
"P-Please. I can give you anything. Gold, power, an army." At the words he shriveled down into the plush of his chair. Pathetic. To think just a tower away sat a girl with infinitely more charity. With true courage.
"I have already taken your offerings, your generosity is well considered, but you have only one thing I desire. To think, your daughter, *your blood* rots in a tower just steps away from here."
The man cried out in horror as an army of bony hands sprouted up from the chair and his body was yanked down to the floor. He struggled, as all men did, his will against mine. For a moment he gained purchase on the floor and held himself afloat, a fools errand. For this was a fight I had never lost. I hovered down and placed a bony foot against his chest. "Welcome, to eternity." With a final push and an echoed scream he was gone. He was mine, and my vengeance was complete.
I returned to the room where the girl still sat, no theatrics this time. She looked up to me with continued sadness. I had only one thing to say to her: "You know my name little one. Should you face this pain again, call on me, anytime.", and with a flash of blue light my work was final.
Edit: Thank you all for the kind words and awards! Always nice to know someone enjoys something I've done. | The rations had been cut again. She ate far too little as it was but now she struggled to walk to work, struggled to do the work and those were a recipe for death. She knew all too well her masters only allowed her to live if she provided them labor. For today, at least, she done that. She was put back into her chains and forced to march back to her shelter, no more than a primitive cage to protect her from wild beasts at night. As she marched, she saw something small and shiny on the ground. She picked it up and said something under her breath.
The searing pain that shot through his body was expected. Though he knew it was coming when the small shard of glass on the palm of his left hand glowed a deep red, it still felt like agony. It always felt that way. “Another one summons me now” he said to himself as the pain continued to burn in him. “Another chance. Someday I will be free of this wretched curse.”
He materialized with a brief, but exceptional, flash of light as if lightning had struck directly where he appeared. He thought it appropriate as the pain he felt was electric; it seared him and filled every part of his body deeply and instantaneously. But it was gone in a flash, too. When he arrived, in front of him stood an emaciated girl.
He had been summoned by kings, queens, princes, nobles, men and women of honor, and men and women of dishonor. His powers had been put to use for justice, vengeance, greed, lust, and just about any other excuse one human had for ending another human's life. But he had never been summoned by someone like this.
From what he could tell this girl hadn’t had a good meal in ages, maybe her entire life. Her arms and legs were no wider than a tree branch. Her eyes were set back too far in her head and her head appeared too large for her frame. Her clothes barely stayed on her body, were ripped to shreds, and smelled horribly. He had seen humans starving a countless number of times, even caused it on more than a few occasions, but never had been summoned by someone so in need of food, so deep in their misery.
This shouldn't be possible, he thought. The rites to summon him were a closely guarded secret for anyone who had the power to summon him had the power to unleash death on their enemies. If the world knew how to summon him, he would have spent a lot more time in the world. He would be appearing all the time, fulfilling his duty, removing souls.
“How did you summon me?” he said as he glared at the poor girl.
“I summoned you using the rituals my family has passed down for generations. I’ve always known how to summon you, but our family made a pact to only summon you when we absolutely needed you."
He thought for a moment. This wasn’t likely, he didn’t recognize her face. If the family had summoned him before there’s a chance he would’ve seen her. Or at least some family resemblance in her. And where was he? He didn’t recognize the town his was in. He didn’t even recognize the surrounding landscape. Strange, but not uncommon. What convinced him most that she was lying was that he had known so many that swore to only summon him when a need arose. They never waited very long. They always found a need soon after they learned how to summon him. This poor girl did not seem like she would’ve held out until now.
“I need you now to remove the soul of our slavers. I command it.” She blurted out as fast as she could.
He pointed a finger at her and bellowed “I don’t believe you. You look as if you needed me long ago. I will not act until you answer my question. How did you summon me?”
The girl took a step back, frightened. She had not wanted to give away the truth, for fear of what it meant. She had successfully summoned him, she did not want him to leave without saving her. “I-I-I commanded it! You must do as you are commanded.”
She was right, he had to do what he was commanded to by those who summoned him, but he did not have to do it immediately. “I am running out of patience. Explain yourself now or I will—”
“Fine,” she said and held up something very unexpected. It was a small shard of glass with a faded red color, no bigger than the palm of his hand. It couldn’t be. After all this time. He thought, “how could this girl possibly have *this*?”
“Where did you find that? Give it to me!” he said. He reached out to take the shard but was struck by a searing pain as if he was being summoned. He collapsed but got up again quickly. He lunged at the shard again but fell to the ground before even coming close to taking it.
The girl quickly realized that he was unable to take the shard from her and quickly reformulated her plan. “If you cannot take this from me, maybe I can bring it to you,” she said.
He looked up at her, pain scrawled across his face. “It is the only thing that will save me,” he said.
“You must take the souls of our slavers. It is the only thing that will save me.”
He got to one knee and stepped back to regain his footing. He couldn’t believe it, after an eternity waiting, cursed to follow the commands of anyone who called him, he found the shard that would break his spell.
“Yes,” he said. “I will save you, so you can save me.”
She woke up the next morning and worked the fields as she had done before. But there were no chains. There were no beatings. And every night thereafter she walked home to a real house, with a real bed, and at as much food as she could stomach. | 2022-07-14T12:41:19 | 2022-07-14T08:35:46 | 310 | 99 |
[WP] Being the only militarists in a galactic alliance full of pacifists isn’t fun, especially as they keep needing your nation’s naval support when the other galactic alliance attacks. Thus are the woes of the United Republics of Earth and her Expeditionary Forces. | I am a space marine.
It is just the worst.
"So tell me more about these gun things?" Said Gorgoblomp the Master Librarian.
"Ok, I will, but first I need to you–" my shardgun shrieked as I loosed a couple rounds into a Xrnari highwarrior. "Get your damned head down! Take cover for fucks sake."
"Hmph. There is no need for coarse language or rudeness, young man. Besides, it is my duty as a member of the Imperial Archivinarium to observe new things. Now that fellow over there, what's he doing with that strange tube?"
"RPG!!! Incoming!" I grabbed the giant space slug by his vestments and dove for a nearby trench.
"Oh my. This is very exciting isn't it? Oh, but it looks like one of your fellows is hurt?"
I glanced at Theo's position. He was one of the youngest and greenest members of my company, and he was very very obviously dead. There honestly wasn't much left of him. He was mostly just kind of like a red splash.
"Dammit. JOJO: your squad cover my flank! 3rd squad you're with me! We gotta take out that nest or we'll keep getting hit!"
"Oh dear, you really made a mess of my vestments, Sergeant."
"Gunnery Sergeant." I corrected him.
"And I'm sorry for saving your life at the expense of your clothes."
"I still don't understand what the point of all this is." He waved a pseudopod all around us. "Is seems very inefficient. We aught to lodge a complaint."
"What? To who?" Frack I dont know why I asked I was just caught off guard. Dammit dammit never ever ask a Snarkon a question!
"To the Xrnari to start with." He said. "And the admiralty after that. I mean what's the sense in all this noise and hullaballo?"
"Oh for chrissake, don't you ever shut up?" I saw hypersonic scramjet fighters streak overhead. They dropped a couple hundred fist-sized bomblets, each of which could level a city block. The enemy line was essentially flash-vaporized in an obscenely large flaming explosion.
"Oh. Oh my." Said Gorgoblomp. "That didn't look safe at all. What was that coming down from the airplanes? Fuel tanks or something? Looks downright negligent to me, letting them fall off the plane like that. Do you think anyone was hurt?!"
As he was chattering away I was making a rush for the first Xrnari bunker. I blasted it open with some breacher charges and tossed three grenades into the smoking hole.
I heard a Xrnari make a strange multitonal shreik just before the detonation.
"Oh, how grand! That was a Xrnari death poem!" He waggled his pseudopods in excitement. "I wish I had taken an audio,.I won't be able to capture the full intonation just from memory."
We were already in the bunker now, me and my squad clearing it out room by room. Horrible messy fighting, we lost several good men, but the end result was inevitable.
Still, they fought to the bitter end. You can't help but respect that.
"So that device of yours? Is that a gun then?
"Yes. Slivergun." I said, trying to give him as little as possible to ask about.
"Tell me again why it keeps throwing those little red bits?"
We turned a corner. A Xrnari matriarch was waiting for me, huddled in the corner of the room.
Xrnari matriarchs are huge. There's no way she could have made it through the halls. I realized that she must have grown to adulthood here in this room, sealed away here for her entire life.
I felt like the world slowed down. My hands moved like they were pushing through molasses as I tried to bring my slivergun to bear, and the matriarch lashed out with her diamond-bladed forelimbs.
She caught me with two of them, punched through my armor like it was nothing and skewered me twice through the gut.
My slivergun finally managed to make it's way over. I emptied a couple hundred rounds into the matriarchs cerebrothorax. It keeled over, stone dead.
Gorgoblomp was screaming trying to tell me something, but his voice seems terribly far away and I was having trouble understanding him. A couple members.of my squad showed up and immediately got me on a stretcher for medevac.
It was only a few minutes before they loaded me on the hoverplane.
I watched as our tiny patch of battlefield got smaller and smaller in the distance.
Hey at least I don't have to worry about that-
"So gunnery Sergeant?"
"Oh merciful empress, why are you here Gorgoblomp."
"I believe I have collected.sufficient data to make my recommendation from the council. Also I injured an eyestalk."
"Yes?"
"I have to say, I'm going to completely honest in my official assessment to the imperial council."
"O…k?"
"I'm afraid I'm going to recommend this whole project be cancelled."
"Is that so?"
"It's a real boondoggle to be honest. There doesn't even seem to be any point."
"Hmm."
"I'm not going to recommend a budget renewal. I'll advise them to cancel the whole thing."
"Oh? You're going to cancel the war?"
"Yes" said the Snarkon, looking rather proud of himself.
"I'm not sure how the Xrnari are going to react to that."
"I'm sure they'll come to the same conclusions once I state my case in full detail."
I groan.
I am a space marine.
It is just the worst. | Craston Dualhammer sipped his drink and remained firmly planted in his stool as the human patrons clambered for the exit. The tavern’s usually quiet and antiquated atmosphere had been violently disrupted; sirens screamed, and a large red light pulsed overhead. The 96th outpost of the Galactic Alliance was under attack.
Situated on the exoplanet of Nazaroom, one of the least hospitable planets in the Andromeda Galaxy, the 96th outpost was a crucial aspect of the quartet of outposts that, together, formed a ring around a valuable cluster of asteroids rich in Amdonite. Amdonite served as fuel for the Galactic Alliance’s fleet of Starcruisers and was thus a focal point of the Alliance's industrial efforts.
Craston had been assigned to the 96th outpost as the resident militarist. Each outpost had a single human or human-friendly militarist who was responsible for managing defensive and counter-attack protocols. Craston came from a long lineage of Swarfs, a race of spacefaring Dwarves hailing from Drandon. Drandon was the sole planet that for millennia orbited the M1 neutron star at the center of the Crab Nebula. Swarfs evolved on Drandon in conditions inhospitable to humans. The planet was subject to unrelenting high-gamma radiation from M1 and had an atmosphere totally devoid of oxygen. Over millennia, the Swarfs evolved as a bi-pedal, sub-surface species whose survival depended on a constant stream of electromagnetic energy, which M1 provided to the Swarf's living on Drandon. While manning the 96th outpost, Craston carried with him a gamma decay unit. Gamma decay units provided a subsistent level of energy for Swarfs.
Humans first encountered Swarfs in 5500 AD, when humanity faced its first galactic-borne existential crisis. The Zorkian Empire had first contacted earth almost a hundred years earlier. Zorkians and humans began what was, at first, a neutral line of communication. Over decades, however, it became apparent that Zorkian’s were hostile to humans, only in contact to gain the upper hand before making the journey from Centaurus A to conquer earth and enslave humanity. On route, the Zorkian fleet was intercepted on the edge of the Crab Nebula by the Swarfs, who had up until that point remained silent in the cosmos, fearing aggression from other spacefaring civilizations. In a rare act of conspicuity, the Swarfs beamed the Zorkian fleet with their gamma-ray cannons, instantly vaporizing the fleet, thereby saving humanity from certain destruction. Shortly thereafter, humanity was able to identify Drandon as the source of the gamma-ray emission and sent their humble thanks to the Swarfs using a type of gamma-ray communication technology. Over time, the Swarfs and humanity formed an alliance and developed a common means of communication, Newspeak, which became the dominate form of communication used between humans and Swarfs. In the post-enlightenment era, humanity had become a completely pacifist race focused almost exclusively on engineering and science. The Swarfs, however, had evolved into a defense-focused race with extremely advanced weaponry and related technology. Together, humanity and the Swarfs were the Yin and Yang of the cosmos and would become known as the Galactic Alliance. The Alliance’s mandate was to explore the galaxies surrounding the Milky Way with a view to scientific advancement and the search for further extraterrestrial life.
Craston tipped his cup back, finishing his drink. “Another ion blast?” Craston casually asked the barkeep, who’s equanimity remained as intact as Craston’s in the face of the blaring sirens and blinding red lights. Ion blasts were a common form of long-distance attack the Zorkian’s deployed against the Galactic Alliance.
“No. Something else,” the barkeep responded, “the ion dampening defense field hasn’t dissipated.”
Craston looked towards the tavern’s entryway, where the door had been left open by the human patrons who had fled to the underdepths of the 96th outpost. Craston could see the light blue tinge of the ion dampening defense field. It resembled an almost gaseous ether that hung in the air like a thick fog. The defense field would usually dissipate following an ion blast. Swarfs, unlike humans, were impervious to ion blasts, hence Craston’s indolent response to the warning sirens that continued to blare. In his 150 years on Nazaroom, the sirens had always denoted forthcoming ion blasts, though in this instance no such blast came. If not an ion blast, then what?
Craston got up and slowly walked towards the entryway, all the while the sirens blared, the pulsing red light now mixed with the blue ether of the ion dampening field that had made its way through the open tavern door, pooling on the ceiling. As he passed through the tavern entryway, he noticed the dim light of Goeten, Nazaroom’s largest moon. Through the blue ether, the moon looked like a lighthouse far in the distance. Just as soon as Craston had focused on Goeten, his eyes shifted to a mass of lights that sat between Goeten and Voeten, Nazaroom’s second moon. At first, the mass of moving lights resembled a jar of fireflies floating in the night sky. Quickly, though, Craston realized the mass was moving towards Nazaroom. Seconds later, an explosive sound echoed through the streets of the 96th outpost, shattering the windows of the tavern and nearly knocking Craston off his feet. It was the sound of a large starship entering the lower atmosphere of Nazaroom. The mass of lights, at first amorphous, could now clearly be made out as a fleet of Zorkian spacecraft carriers rapidly descending towards Nazaroom.
“Finally,” Craston prophetically whispered under his breath, “they have come for the lives of the humans, though they will not leave with their own.”
As the ships descended further, Craston reached down and slowly withdrew his gamma-emitting warhammer. He turned and began making his way towards the Swarfian barracks where he would summon his starship fleet. For the first time in the Gallactic Alliance’s history, the Swarfs would lead the Alliance into battle against the Zorkian Empire. | 2022-09-09T22:08:47 | 2022-09-09T18:29:01 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] You're an ordinary person that works a 9 to 5 job. You pay your taxes and regularly contribute to your retirement fund. In a world of magic, prophecy, and calls to adventure this makes you extremely unusual. People are starting to notice. | After a long day of work at the Mystical Arts Emporium, I just want to escape. Hoping for re-runs of *Happy Days* or *Leave it to Beaver*, I relax into my recliner and turn on the television. It is one of the few real leather recliners left after the Great Cow Extinction of 2009. Apparently, using cows as practice targets for dragon training was not the best idea. *Who would have thought?*
“For just two easy payments of $19.99, you too can own your own horse goblin—“
I change the channel.
“—Zathar, that is enough! Emperess Lyta has lowered taxes on potion sales and reduced theft and murder from Cthulhu’s followers. What can you say about—“
Depressed, I turn off the TV and make my way to the bedroom.
Since the Great Multiverse Discovery of 2002, the world has been consumed with the fantastical. It's hard not to be consumed by it since most of the human race was annihilated by the dark arts. One by one, ordinary humans like me have either pretended to conform or demised. I chose conformity.
As I set aside my wand and pull my prosthetic ears off, I can’t help but wonder what I have become. It is becoming too much of a burden to bear. But I fear I will be liquified or burnt to ashes if I reveal my true self—Bob the CPA from Illinois, son of Frank and Lisa, also CPAs.
————————————————————
“Galen, you look different today!” Londo the Great says to me as I clock in.
“It’s Bob.” I say with a confident tone while also fearing my certain demise.
You could hear a pin drop in the break room as everyone looked in my direction.
“Yeah, that’s right. My name is Bob. And I am tired of pretending to be someone I am not.”
Franz from the wand-making department slowly closes the door to the break room. He peaks out the window and then pulls off a wig.
Suddenly, everyone in the room begins removing prosthetics, wigs, and other conformities.
Then I hear in a faint whisper and everyone joins in unison, “Bob…Bob…Bob…Bob.”
Someone tries to open the break room door. Everyone stops chanting and looks around in shock. The door handle continues to shake.
“Hey, what’s going on in there? The shift has started. Get to work! Don’t make me alert Ulric!”
It was Taramis the Warlock. Scared to death, everyone immediately puts back on their prosthetics and reports to duty, myself included.
For the first time in twenty years, I didn’t feel alone. | I sit in my car, reading the latest headlines. The Mage Tower of London just prevented a demon summoning that a cult was trying to enact at Stonehenge. The Russians are splintering as Baba Yaga and several other creatures of the former Soviet States run rampant over the Russian countryside.
The American Council for Magic has announced that a new magic car will be available as soon as Tesla and Ford produce working models. There are a bunch more, but I'm interrupted from reading those.
\*Knock\* \*Knock\* \*Knock\*
Jeff is knocking on my window. He's the guy that the bosses are grooming to become the next supervisor for the warehouse. He's an all right guy. More impressive is his ability for prophecy. Every day, he can tell everyone something to be careful of. Really specific too, though he has to throw in some crypticness. Like telling Paul to make sure his safety line is really secure. Paul did, but he didn't check to make sure that line wasn't frayed. Ended up falling and breaking a leg. But that did make the company check all of the safety equipment and replace the old stuff.
I roll my window down. I know what he's come to ask.
"Hey there Mike." he starts.
"Hey Jeff. How's it going?"
"Not too bad. Umm, I gotta ask you some questions..."
I nod. Here it comes.
"Umm. Well, this has to do with your talent honestly. You have a talent that prevents prohpecy?"
I chuckle. "Something like that."
Of course, it all started on my eighteenth birthday. The day that has been internationally recognized as Awakening Day. No one knows that that's the day I got my powers. And instead of making the same decision as the rest of my family, I chose differently.
My family has been wizards for a very long time. All the way back to Merlin in fact. However, each generation is given a choice on their birthday. Renew Merlin's last spell that locks away magic and live a semi normal life but with all that remains of the worlds magic after the spell is renewed. Or end the spell and become immortal. But the caveat for each is that if I had locked away magic I would be able to mould magic how I wished. Now I'm immortal, but I have to learn magic on my own.
Of course, immortality comes with a little bonus. Prophecy doesn't work on immortals.
"That's cool. I was just trying to figure it out. Though, wouldn't you prefer to get moved into the office? I imagine paperwork would be a little bit safer for you?"
I pretend to think about it for a minute. "You think they have an opening in the office?"
"I'll make sure of it." Jeff says, relief on his face.
I nod. Working in the office will be so much easier for me to also study magic. Reading through Merlin's spellbooks isn't the easiest thing, and I know I'm going to need a lot more skill if Arthur comes back. Nine to Five just won't cut it at that point. | 2022-11-17T08:27:57 | 2022-11-17T07:59:56 | 247 | 109 |
[WP] Write a story with a large, illogical plot hole, then have the main character discover it. | It was July 17, 2005. Craig Katz drove to his home in Bloomington, Indiana. As he stepped out of his car, he waved to the mailman making his route. The postal officer did not return the call.
Craig grabbed his mail, opened his door, and stepped inside.
Out he laid the assorted envelopes for careful examination. He first noticed the electricity bill. Overdue. Next came the gas bill. Same case. Craig set them aside. His gaze fell on a postcard, an item which Craig never received. Its contents were handwritten. Its stamp was applied with human hands. Craig kissed it. He knew what it contained.
"Dear Daddy,
We are having a great time here in Paris. We just went up the Eiffel Tower and tomorrow we are going to see the Mona Lisa. Wish you were with us!
Love,
Katy
XOX"
Craig set the postcard aside, but in a different stack.
His eyes shifted to the final letter. With a quick glimpse of the return address, his eyes dropped. His fingers slowly tore open the envelope from Monroe County Circuit Court and unfolded the letter. Craig's eyes fell again. A divorce summons.
Also overdue.
Our hero took all four letters and consolidated them into a single stack, which he chucked into a wastebin. He had a letter of his own to write.
"Dear anyone,
I'm sorry. It could have gone a lot better. But it didn't. Tell Katy I'm sorry, please. Tell her I'm really stupid. Just make sure someone is taking care of her, even if that someone is..."
He droned on.
"Tell the world I'm sorry. My life, whatever that is, should not have taken this long. It's been a waste. I'm sorry again."
The man with a wasted life trekked into his closet and pulled out the shotgun. He returned to the table and set it down.
"I will miss you. Please do not return the favor.
Yours (whoever you are),
Craig Ezekiel Katz
Sunday, July 17, 2005"
He paused.
"Sunday, July 17, 2005."
Sunday.
Craig looked in the wastebin, but there was nothing inside. | Budd flew down the highway in his red camaro; he had been flooring it for several minutes now. His pregnant wife, bashmilda, was in the back seat taking hits of meth in between drunkenly firing rounds at the pursuing police.
'Drive faster!' roared bashmilda, 'who the fuck named you?!' retorted budd. 'Also, I cant drive any faster!'. Budd took a swig of whisky, extended his magnum parallel to the car, and unloaded. One of the pursuing cop cars burst into an inordinate amount of flames, despite not being anywhere near to parallel to budds camaro when he unloaded his gun.
Budd pulled off the highway with at least 150 cop cars tailing quite closely, and screeched into the nearest seven eleven. A lone rookie officer, named Dave, was the only officer on the scene as budd hopped out of the car.
"Freeze!" yelled dave. Budd grabbed bashmildas wrist, drew his pistol, and ripped her closer, as if to use her as a human shield. Dave was too quick though, he had put a bullet through bashmildas head the second budd touched her wrist.
"WOAH! FUCK" screeched Budd.
"Yeah! fuck you hostage-taker!" said Dave.
"Is that how you handle hostage situations?" sputtered budd.
"I'm not really sure, we haven't gotten to that part in training" said Dave.
"Wait, so, you're not done with training, but you have a gun already?" said budd.
The other police were showing up by now. They formed a semi-circle around budd, crouching behind their cars and pointing various weapons at him. Budd knew this was the end, so he took a moment to say goodbye to his dying wife.
Bashmilda looked up at Budd, and budd at her. Blood was streaming slowly out of Bashmildas mouth, her eyes glittered as she weakly uttered "I love you Budd, I always have" She reached up to kiss Budd one last time. "That's great Bashmilda, but you've got a gaping bullet hole in your head, and I'm not really comfortable kissing you right now." said budd.
The police and the author were getting pretty tired at this point, so they riddled budd with bullets, gave dave a promotion, and stuffed a pair of handcuffs up Bashmildas vagina, presumably to handcuff the baby.
Budd awoke the next day with a bunch of bullet holes still in his chest. "That was fucking weird. Welp, guess I'll go back to selling meth"
The end. Fuck you. | 2014-05-25T19:49:32 | 2014-05-25T19:41:47 | 235 | 98 |
[WP] Your final wish to the Djinn is to meet the girl who will be your perfect soulmate. Just then you hear an ear piercing scream... your best friend/roommate just turned into a girl.
She (he?) still has all the memories of her (his?) previous life; but others might not.
Also consider what the other wishes might have been.
EDIT: Feel free to reverse the genders if you like. It does not have to be a boy turned girl. | Decided to keep the same WP but with a twist
I could hear his screams echo through the house.
"Whelp that's all from me then, bye" The Djinn shrugged his shoulders before vanishing into dust. Running to Jake's room I opened the door only to see him fondling his new breasts in shock.
"Why do I have breasts? Where did my dick go?" Jake mutters silently in a mix of shock and awe. I'm wracking my brain to figure out what the hell just happened.
"But... I wished for a...soulmate?" I question out loud. Jake turns to face me.
"I told you that genie was a bad idea. Now why the hell did you wish me to be a girl?"
I'm lost for words, this wish made no sense. I loved Jake as a brother but this?
"I asked for a soulmate. Not for you to turn into a girl."
"Am I like this permanently?" I can see the fear building up in Jake's eyes, for a long time we had always shared the thought of changing genders but for once perhaps those fantasies were better left in the mind.
"Look I'm going to call the Djinn okay?"
I rush out of the room leaving Jake to himself. As I leave I can hear him moan, "God how are my parent's going to accept this."
"I know you're there Azazel, come out and explain yourself." I call out to my room. The light flickers on and off and a supernatural gust fills the room before Azazel appears once again before me.
"I told you my wishes are not to be trifled with kiddo. Once made they can't be changed." He tutted while mock examining his nails.
"I know that but..." I pause, the answers to my question was exactly one that I wanted to hear. "Why Jake? Why is he a girl?"
"The wishes grant your deepest darkest desires, they examine you as a whole and creates what you want. I don't have much control over the outcome. I am simply a vessel between worlds." He explained floating down to my eye level.
"You have some soul searching to do. What I give to you is what you truly desire. Suppress that as much as you want. But the wishes do not lie."
I ponder this new information. My suspicions were clarified.
"Really? It's Jake then?"
"Yup, don't bother me again. Enjoy your life with your new Girlfriend."
The Djinn cackled before vanishing once again into dust. I walk slowly back to Jake's room only to see him once again playing with his boobs like a child with a new toy. His cute expression on his new face along with the adorable giggles he produced from his new feminine lips made me realize that What the Djinn said was right.
"Hey Jake?" I begin my apology but he/she looks up at me, and grins. "I heard, don't worry about it."
I sigh before sitting on the ground next to my soulmate.
"It's really me that you like? Like this?" He asks nudging me on the arm.
"Yeah...You don't mind? Do you?"
Jake nuzzled up to me and smiled. "I've always sorta had a crush on you anyway. This doesn't change that."
"I love you Jake"
"I love you too Lina"
Edit: made a few adjustments to the story | "What's wrong Anthony? Forget who you went to bed with or something?" Hearing nothing after that almost too realistic girly scream I curiously approached the outside of his bedroom door. He has a queen sized bed and we were at a party last night so it was feasible that he brought a drunk girl home. I knock on the door and hear a girl screaming inside. "Ant, what are you doing in there? You know rape is illegal right?"
After a moment I cautiously open the door to find a girl trying to put on what appear to be Anthony's T-shirt and skinny jeans. She's not all the way dressed so I avert my eyes behind the door and start to try and salvage the awkward situation I've just been put in.
"Sorry about all this, did Anthony bring you home?" I ask attempting to find Anthony with my limited field of view allotted by the door obstructing my observance of the changing woman I have found in my best friend and roommate's bedroom.
"Will please don't linger. I don't want anyone to see this." The girl almost sounds as though she knows me. But this cannot be true, I've never seen her before. I was drunk last night, so maybe I met here at the party.
"How do you know my name?"
"Dude, we live together!"
"Sorry, I've never seen you before."
"YOU'RE MY ROOMMATE!"
"My roommate is a guy named Anthony, who are you?"
"Yes, and now you have a girl named Anthony for a roommate." Anthony was always the one to accept the reality of the situation the fastest but I was in disbelief.
"Alright then, something only Anthony would know. Who's my favorite pornstar?"
"Alexis Texas"
"Dammit. How did you become a girl Anthony?"
"I don't know, how do you expect me to figure out how I just switched sexes?"
"Whatever the case, this is crazy."
"How are we going to change me back?"
"I don't think we can. Either way, I'm interested in the implications. Do all your parts work? You obviously remember your male life, but will your hormones level out eventually and you'll just live as a female?"
"I don't know. I guess I'll try to live with it."
A month passes...
"Anthony, how's your new body feeling?"
"Not really new anymore eh?"
"Not really I guess, but give me some mental indication."
"I don't know. I guess now I'm a female. Aw crap, I have to like dicks now!"
"You could be a lesbian."
"I don't know, I think if I was hetero in my male body I'm hetero in this body."
"So you're going to have to get a dude to love you, have fun."
A year passes...
"You've changed your name to Brittany, you've had three boyfriends so far, what else do you need?" Brittany now has basically become a female, even started flirting like one, little to no trace of his manhood left.
"I think I know exactly what I need now." Brittany grabs me and throws me on what was once Anthony's bed. "This was all your doing wasn't it. Some higher power knew that your only soul mate could be your best friend in girl form and you wished for your soul mate, so he made it so."
"That's what happened. I regret this wish badly. After seeing what you're going through I regret it."
"Don't say that, man." She stares into my eyes like daggers piercing my soul. "Now both of us have our soul mates."
"Ant, that's a little messed up"
"My name is Brittany." | 2014-08-19T11:27:56 | 2014-08-19T10:51:12 | 59 | 25 |
[WP] Your final wish to the Djinn is to meet the girl who will be your perfect soulmate. Just then you hear an ear piercing scream... your best friend/roommate just turned into a girl.
She (he?) still has all the memories of her (his?) previous life; but others might not.
Also consider what the other wishes might have been.
EDIT: Feel free to reverse the genders if you like. It does not have to be a boy turned girl. | "So you're telling me that you wished to meet the girl who'll be your perfect soulmate."
"Yeah."
"And then I turned into a girl."
"...Yeah."
"Well, let's not jump to conclusions. It's perfectly possible that this is just a coincidence, and that I just happened to spontaneously become a girl at the same time you made your wish, and the two things are completely unrelated."
"Uh-huh."
My roommate stopped pacing. "Are you even listening to me?" she asked, turning to me.
I blinked. "Uh, sorry. I just can't help but stare."
"At my boobs?"
"No, um, well, not... really?"
She folded her arms and looked at me.
"Look, it's just kind of hard to wrap my head around the whole thing," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I mean, you're being surprisingly calm about all this."
"I did faint in the beginning, though. But I guess I'm pretty okay after the initial shock," she said, massaging her temples. "I've always been pretty adaptable to sudden developments."
"Or maybe the genie made it so that you wouldn't be freaking out about it," I wondered aloud.
"Or I might just be in denial." She took a deep breath. "But still. Are we supposed to be soulmates?"
"W-well, you know, I never really thought about it until now, but soulmates don't necessarily have to be romantic. Because soulmates are just two people who just really click with each other, so really good friends could also be considered soulmates, right?"
"So it just means we're really compatible?"
"I guess it would've meant that we would've been really good friends if..."
"If I had stayed a guy," she finished. "But what's to say we can't still be friends now?"
"I mean, a guy and a girl... Being soulmates? That practically means... Well..."
I trailed off, and an awkward silence followed. We were both blushing, and I couldn't meet her gaze.
She was the one to break the silence. "Look, I was never really liked the concept of soulmates, anyway. The idea that a person can't be complete without someone else being there for them? It's just kind of stupid."
"So..."
"Ugghhhh," she groaned, placing her hands over her eyes. "This is such a pain."
"Um, sorry."
"No, it's all right." She sniffed, and when she put her hands back down I saw that her eyes were a bit teary. "I'm gonna go to the restroom," she said, standing up and leaving.
"Um, I guess we could still try to be friends?" I called after her, but she didn't respond when she closed the door behind her.
I couldn't blame her if she resented me for what happened to her. Even if we were supposed to be soulmates, I doubted she would want to be friends with me, much less start dating me after all this. I mean, it's not like she was in love with me or anything. Right? | After a long tiring day in college, I headed for my room in the apartment I had recently moved into with a close buddy of mine. I throw my backpack on the floor, lie down on my bed and quickly note the time - it was 6:45 pm.
As I was staring at the ceiling, I remembered the lamp my roommate Ashkan had showed me a couple of days ago. He'd been gifted that by his grandfather and it apparently had a "magical djinn" living inside it thousands of years ago.
It was a pretty antique piece and could definitely be worth thousands of dollars. Anyway, i got up and headed for Ashkan's room where the lamp stood inside on one of the highest shelves. The lights gave it a brilliant shine, as if it had been purchased just yesterday.
I proceeded to pick the lamp up and began examining the arab writings that were all over it. I began rubbing it gently with no result, but I kept up the task for a good 3 minutes and to my surprise , there he stood - an ACTUAL fucking Djinn! Crimson red in color with a long beard and a turban covering his matted hair, he spoke with a loud yet gentle voice,"I am the great Djinn and your wish is my command. I hereby grant you two wishes." I stood with my jaw half-open.
I immediately question him, "Two wishes? But I thought-". "No", he barged in, "This is the real world, not a Disney movie."
I stand there in astonishment and quickly think of my first wish. I stammer ,"I-I wish for an unending supply of money to my bank account." He raises an eyebrow, and philosophizes, "Greed will get you nowhere, my friend. Hmph, very well." And with a snap of his fingers, he did what I thought was possible only in animated movies.
I get a text a couple of seconds later from the DoomTingles lottery Co. saying "Congratulations Mr. Mukovic , you're the lucky winner of our lottery and you shall receive $100 every month for the rest of your life. Sincerely, DoomTingles Lottery Co. They even called minutes later to confirm the prize!
"Well, not much but it'll do" I said to myself. Completely amazed and excited now, I quickly think of my second and final wish.
"I wish to meet my perfect soulmate" I blurt out.
"Very well" he replies and with a snap of his fingers, I hear an extremely loud scream which couldn't possibly be anyone but Ashkan, my roommate.
I assumed he'd just come home from work. So I got out of his room before he saw me, but what I saw next baffled me.
A beautiful brunette stood there with a cute smile. She was from my accounts class and had come over to complete a project that I apparently forgot about.
I immediately greet her and take her to my room. The Djinn had vanished in the meantime. After an hour of chatting and solving problems, I began to feel like I knew her well. Then, "the" moment came when my eyes were locked with Erica's. For a brief moment, I felt that I had found "the one" and we begin making out passionately. This goes on for another twenty minutes when I hear the door bell.
I got up from my deep slumber, find myself on my bed and note the time- 7:28 pm. Ashkan was back from work and it was all a fucking dream. | 2014-08-19T11:05:19 | 2014-08-19T10:17:13 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Frighten me without using any blood, gore or explicit violence. | "Honey?" Jenny hollered from the den. "What are you making in there? It smells terrific!"
"It's a surprise, love! Just you wait and see!" I heard myself yelling back.
She laughed. "Another surprise? It's been one after another ever since you got back from your trip! Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"
It took the question literally and I could feel it tense up before it made me reply, "I'm the same ol' Harold you fell in love with! I swear!"
She laughed at that, and it was a laughter more genuine than any I'd managed to coax out of her over the years. | My eyes stopped working this morning. And my arms and legs. I'm lying in the middle of my cold kitchen floor, trying to twist my head, neck, and torso enough to get myself upright. I must have left my door open before all this happened; the wind is whipping through the house. I can hear the curtains ruffling and papers blowing around.
Without warning, there's tremendous pressure on my arms and legs. Pressure and heat. Searing, terrible heat. I can't stop screaming as I try to wrench the working parts of my body away from whatever is torturing me. I expect to smell burning clothes and hair and skin, but there's nothing. Just the smell of the wintery air and my sweat. The pressure is unrelenting. My bones feel ready to splinter, but somehow they maintain their integrity.
My screaming is drowned out by the loudest noise I've ever heard. The entire house shakes violently. The sound is deep and all bass; there's no change in amplitude or frequency. It doesn't stop. The pressure doesn't stop. The heat doesn't stop. The room feels like it's filling with water.
| 2014-11-18T12:21:15 | 2014-11-18T08:59:17 | 38 | 14 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | So he walked into my 3B class, just like anyone else would. Kinda handsome, I guess, but overall pretty ordinary. Until he turned and I caught the number floating over his shoulder.
The big one-O.
I'm pretty sure I made a noise that would make a mouse call me a pussy, and I sweated through my T-shirt in five seconds flat. I had realized that the numbers I see could theoretically go that high, but the worst I had seen was a five on that kid who went to juvie.
I started looking around the room, wondering if I could make it out the window before the bullets started flying. But he sat down just like any other schmuck and the most deadly thing to come out of his backpack was a mechanical pencil, and only 0.5mm at that.
The rest of the day, hell, the rest of the week, I cramped up in my stomach whenever I saw him, but he made friends easy enough and the school-shooter-persona didn't seem to stick upon prolonged examination. I did consider calling the cops, but what was I gonna say? "Yes, officer, my magic danger-number-vision topped out on student John Doe over here, so I would feel a lot better if you arrested him for me." That's how you get a free trip to a place with three square meals per day and all the long-sleeved jackets you could want.
As the weeks turned to months, the terror of seeing the ten diminished, and I took less stock in my power. The kid was almost disappointingly normal. I graduated and didn't hear from him for a few years, other than that he went to some big state school a few hours away.
Next time I saw him, he was on TV, standing in front of a crowd of protesters, yelling about how congress was defunct, and needed to be gutted. And, hell, I couldn't disagree with him. At this point I figured his rating meant he would go extremist and blow something up, but again, I couldn't call the authorities on a hunch like that. Besides, I'm sure the FBI/CIA already had a file on him bigger than my textbook.
Then he got elected. Just a small state legislature spot, but it was enough to embolden his speeches. Again, I did nothing, hoping he would actually get into congress and get politically cock-blocked like every other young, enterprising politician.
Next thing I knew, he was Speaker of the House. I started getting very worried again, but I knew it was beyond my control. Just a few months later, the president and VP were both killed in immaculate, simultaneous terrorist attacks. The new president declared a righteous war against the Middle Eastern nations unfortunate enough to have the appropriate extremists within their borders. Which, funnily enough, was most of them.
As the war escalated, the president quickly stripped congress of obstructive factions, and soon the only representatives left were those who could march in step with the White House.
Now, I'm on my way to a meeting to determine my ineligibility for the draft. The bullet I put in my leg a few months ago helps my case. | Danger is not quantified by how much harm one could cause others, but by how how much harm one intends to cause others. That's why two people of the same height, weight, and muscle mass could be unequally dangerous. That's why my best friend, the huge, 6 and a half foot tall, 250 pound, football player isn't dangerous at all. He simply doesn't intend to harm others. That's also why the cute little two year old down the street is incredibly dangerous. If given the opportunity, she would harm, possibly even kill, in a heartbeat. That's also why people's danger levels fluctuate a little over the course of any given day, as they get more or less aggressive, more or less stressed, etc.
How do I know so much about danger? It's simple really: I see it. When I look at another person, study them for a couple seconds, a number starts to form in my head, one that quantifies how dangerous that person is at that very instant. The longer I look, the more exact the number. For example, one time I decided to study my father for an entire 5 minutes, and the number in my head started to grow to around 100 digits after the decimal. Normally, however, I only study someone for a few seconds, and only get a one digit number, somewhere from 1 to 10. My friend, who I talked about earlier, tends to stay around 2 or 3, because he has a really good heart and no one he hates (they're all too scared to make fun of him at all). The highest I've ever seen him was a 4, and that was during his history final exam. The little girl down the street, she tends to be around an 8. The highest I've ever seen was a 9.55, from a guy who walked by me on the street once. I only got a good look at him long enough for 3 digits, and that included me turning around to watch him keep walking.
Occasionally, my ability takes a while to calculate a number. This is especially annoying when I meet new people , and try to figure out if they're a good person or not. Occasionally, I meet someone who I'm never able to determine the danger level of. Take my English teacher, for example. He's a nice enough guy, but for some reason I've just never been able to place a number on him. I'm not perfect, after all.
On the first day of my Junior year of high school, there was a new student in my Calculus class. I looked intently at him, as I always do with newcomers, trying to determine a number for him. He caught my gaze after a few seconds, and held it, staring back at me with cold, calculating, gray eyes. I kept looking at him, as uncomfortable as it was, determined to determine a number (:P). I was about to give up, thinking he was just one of those people I could't give a number to, when suddenly a bright red number flashed across my brain, followed by an exclamation point. 10! At first, I was confused, (I didn't even realize tens were possible), but in a tenth of a second my confusion turned to horror. I quickly tried to cover my face with a mask of disinterest, and looked away from him as nonchalantly as I could. Then, I "calmly" stood up, asked the teacher if I could "go to the nurse", and "calmly" exited the classroom. As soon as I got out of the classroom, I started running, and I've never stopped. | 2014-11-29T13:14:54 | 2014-11-29T12:41:49 | 322 | 22 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I've seen the numbers since I was a little girl. I remember my father losing his job, rising from a 4 to a 5. I remember watching my grandmother slowly dwindle down to a 0. At first I thought I was going crazy, not realizing what they meant. I eventually caught on. The numbers were a person's ultimate quantifier, broadcasting how dangerous they were to those around them. Broadcasting, at least, to me.
Most people stayed below a 6. Doctors usually hovered around 7; politicians were a solid 8. The highest I had ever seen were in old videos of Hitler, who was a 9. That is, until Junior year, when I met him.
He seemed harmless enough at first. Perfect hair, gorgeous eyes, and a jawline to die for. Not to mention that everybody loved him. But the bold '10' that hovered above his head was plenty enough to convince me not to go near him. Sure, I watched him. Some might even say I was obsessed. But all I was doing was making sure he wasn't a psychopath. I started skipping class to check on him. My grades dropped an entire letter. I didn't care, though. I wanted to see what made him so special.
I nearly threw up when he saw me in the cafeteria, and I really did when he got up to talk to me. He didn't seem to notice, and asked me if he could sit with me.
"Sure, I- I guess." I stammered. A smile spread across his face, and we struck up a conversation. My heart was playing a drum solo into my chest, but I managed to live to the end of the break. Hell, he even asked for my number, which I promptly gave. We had lunch that weekend.
It's only now, ten years later, that I realize what makes this boy so special. Only now that I find out why he's such a danger to me. Only now, as he drops to one knee.
It's because I love him.
| “I had no idea what the numbers meant at first, but everyone had one. The highest I had seen, before I knew what they were, was my uncle, a Vietnam veteran, five. I learned what they really meant two years ago, walking home after my first day of middle school, a passing car swerving all over the road, had to be going at least 60 miles an hour, the driver was a seven. The car flew through a house, leaving nothing but a hole in the wall and smoking scrap metal. According to the news that night all the passengers and the owner of the house had been killed, those numbers measured danger, and from then on I steered clear of the high ones.
Flash forward until now, a couple months into my freshman year of high school. Most kids aren't all that dangerous, usually around a two; some of the meek scrawny nerds are a one, and some of the linebackers who look like they've been taking steroids for years are a three. A new kid shows up and flies under everyone's radar but mine, six.
This guy isn't some stereotypical gangbanger or hoodrat, just a normal looking kid who looks like he might have moved from a neighborhood much more posh than this one. I keep my distance as usual, but resolve to keep an eye on him. Nothing seems to go wrong, in fact he's pretty popular, but I still become more wary of him, of his number, of seven, of eight.
I'd never seen anyone's number change before, but this guy's just keeps going up at record pace. A day ago it happened, *ten.* I had been to a prison once to visit my idiot brother who got busted for selling weed, and nobody there was even that high. I don't know what this fucker is planning, but with a number like that it's got to be a national security issue or something.”
This journal entry was recovered from the home of US Department of Defense supernatural human subject #2718, who was recovered following a school shooting incident. We have determined that the numbers he sees are likely correlated not only to the danger a person poses, but also faces. Further experimentation and interviews are required to determine any potential applications of this ability. Subject is deemed safe to return to society, following debriefing and signature of non-disclosure agreement.
(I kinda suck at writing endings, but I gave it a shot. My first non FF/CW post here!)
| 2014-11-29T14:43:43 | 2014-11-29T12:35:37 | 295 | 199 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | Ever since I can remember I had a gift. A gift of knowing how "dangerous" a person might be. I measure people on a scale of 1 -10, people in comas are a 1 while dictators and supreme leaders hit a 10.
I've never seen anyone hit a ten in my life until I turned on the t.v. and saw a democratic candidate running for president again. The chills I got when I saw him smile, those chill that haunt you and stay with you. The candidate was a very charismatic guy and a ladies man too. If only they knew how dangerous that man was...
Months passed and he won the election. I couldn't believe it... With that power now one know what will happen. Will he be the cause of a new world war? We are already in a bringe to war with Russia! Damn it! This cannot be happening! I have do something but how and when? I live in Dallas and he's in Washington D.C., I'll have to kill him when he's here. But I just can't remember his name...
I just can't remember his name, his name started with a J, J what? J... J... Got it! John! John something Kennedy! That's his name! J.F.K. On the 22nd he will be here. I got to get my things ready...
If I don't stop him...
Who will... | This is my first post to WP, so I hope anyone who reads this likes it!
Ever since I was born, I’d see numbers in my brain. From the instant I saw a living face I’d see a number. I learned pretty quickly it was danger: my dog was a 1 (too stupid to hurt anyone even if he tried, bless him), and the highest number I ever saw was a man in Hawaii, a seven. I figured out why after he robbed an old woman and ran away, knocking someone over, on his bicycle.
American Lit was boring that day, but that was going to change. I saw someone new walking down the hall and going into the next classroom. He looked at me for a second with a glare of callous determination, and above him I saw a blood-red 10, menacing and ominous. He quickly broke his stare, but I didn’t, watching him for the rest of the class. When I left, I followed him down the halls into an unused classroom. I was wondering if he was going to poison someone or plant a bomb or something like that, so I tried to catch a glimpse. He was nowhere to be seen in the room. I tentatively walked in, anxious as to what I was going to find.
I have regrets, just like everyone. I wish I didn’t have the ability I have; I wish I could have seen my grandfather before he died; I wish I didn’t blow off as much stuff as I did. But the biggest regret I ever had was that I never got to say goodbye to my family, and that the last thing I saw before I died was the same amoral determination that had so scared me before. As I faded into oblivion, choking on the blood in my throat as his knife stabbed me over and over, the last thing my eyes would ever witness was his terrible eyes, black as death, as he slowly widened his horrifyingly blank countenance into an evil grin. The last thing I ever heard was a cruel and harsh voice mutter, “One down.” | 2014-11-29T14:44:07 | 2014-11-29T14:18:16 | 140 | 12 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I sat in the back of the classroom, staring at her.
What the hell was going on? Was I losing it?
I looked around the room. No, everything was normal. A bunch of 3s, a few fours, and Mark, a six (I stay away from him).
Then there's this girl.
I had heard all about her. She was new in town, apparently her parents were big shot researchers who just finished some 5-year research project in Brazil. No, Peru. It was somewhere exotic.
According to my buddy Jon, she was smart, funny, and "Holy Shit, dude, sooo fine!"
My first time actually seeing her was 7 minutes ago when she transferred into 5th period World History.
Ten
She was a ten.
Not a, "Bro, she's a straight 10 outta 10."
A ten on my scale means...shit, you know what? I don't even know what that means.
The highest I have ever seen in my life was an 8 when my criminology class took a trip to the ACI.
This girl scored 2 points higher than a gang enforcer that got off on crushing skulls.
I always wondered what I would do in a situation like this. Would I try to warn people? How would I ever explain to them what I see?
When it came down to it, I ran. Well, I went down to the nurses office and told her that I had bought the school lunch that day (while kinda motioning down below).
I laid awake all night, going over it in my head. What did it mean? What do I do?
I stayed home the next day, checking the news feeds. No shootings at my school, nothing weird at all going on.
I creeped her facebook, her twitter. Nothing stood out. A completely normal 17 year old girl.
Day 3, I told my buddy Jon that he should skip school, but when I couldn't give him a realistic reason to, I dropped it.
I just sat at home, thinking that I should be doing something, anything.
Ten. A freaking ten.
What the fuck! How could this girl be a fucking 10?!
I got my answer when the CDC rolled into town.
| "Tell me boy, what do you see in our new students?" the headmaster asked me, staring intently at the door through which they had just left. The headmaster knew - he had known for a long time - about my peculiar gift. I could see the danger in people. I could tell with a glance that manifested as a number in my head, on a simple one to ten scale. Dr. Butler, the headmaster, said the perfect wholeness and symmetry of the numbers was a sure sign that this was a gift from God, and as such I was to use it to warn all good Christians of His enemies.
"Most of the boys are a three or four," I told him. I glanced at the headmaster's ledger. At the top of each page was written, *Shrewsbury School for Boys* and at the bottom *Anno Dmoini 1818.* Each new boy's name was written on the left, and as he read aloud each one, I gave the number.
"Davies?"
"Three."
"Smith?"
"Two."
"Roberts?"
"Four."
"Hughes?"
"Seven."
"*Seven?*"
"Yes, sir." I stirred uncomfortably in my chair as the headmaster wrote an extended not in his ledger, shaking his head at the horribly dangerous boy Hughes. Normally a seven was reserved for a full grown man who had served at least one tour in the military, or for certain criminal types.
"Dr. Butler," I interrupted him.
"Yes boy, what is it?"
"The seven... that's not the highest number I saw today."
"You saw an *eight*? Good grief, which one was that?"
"No sir, not an eight. A ten."
The colour drained from the headmaster's face as he sat suddenly frozen in his chair. "You're sure?" he asked, "Absolutely sure?"
I nodded, the fear showing in my face as well.
"Well out with it then, which one was it?!" The headmaster was half standing over the ledger, reaching for more paper and his seals. Presumably all the teachers and staff would be warned about this boy. I leaned over the desk and looked down the ledger, trying to find the name.
"This one," I said, pointing, "down at the bottom of the first page." The headmaster seemed surprised.
"Are you absolutely sure?" he asked, "Why, his brother has been with us for four years already, and he is no more than a three."
"He is a ten," I said, confirming. Dr. Butler began moving about his desk again, mumbling to himself about how he must warn everybody, and that any bad behavior from this boy would be entirely unacceptable. I just sat and stared at that name, which would now haunt me as the only ten I would ever see: Darwin. | 2014-11-29T15:20:57 | 2014-11-29T13:49:40 | 50 | 36 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I'm not really sure how the numbers work. I don't remember when they started showing up, and I have never seen my own. They are little coloured numbers that hover above peoples' heads when I look at them.
My parents, both trained and experienced police officers that were normally armed, both averaged around a 6 or a 7 most of the time. My sweet 30 year old aunt, who would never touch a gun, let alone use one, rated about a 3 or a 4. Her husband, a man in his 40's who grew up in a mountain town and enjoyed shooting and hunting, was normally about a 5. Their two little kids, a 5 year old boy and an 8 year old girl, both had a 2 above their heads when I saw them.
Over time, I began to realize that the numbers showed someone's potential danger level. I'm not sure what exactly it was that made people dangerous, but I knew from experience that people with higher, more noticeable numbers caused more damage. A large drunk 6 at a bar started a fight. A jones-ing, meth-addicted 7 that was high out of his mind raped and stabbed a woman, stealing her money and causing her to kill herself. A rich, 19 year old 8 with a brand new Corvette loved to go fast and crashed into a minivan, killing 3 people.
I trusted my numbers, so when I saw higher numbers, I avoided them. I could only see numbers if I saw someone in person, or over a live video broadcast, so if I saw Hitler or Ghengis Khan in a history class video, I couldn't tell what they were, but if I saw a live video of the President, I could see his. He his a bright 9 and everyone in his company that follows him around has a dim 8 above theirs.
The President is the highest number that I've ever seen and, for the most part, only world leaders have numbers that rank above a 7. So you can imagine my surprise when I saw her.
I've never really noticed anyone very significant as far as numbers go. The highest numbered people were the School Resource Officer, who ranked at a 7, and the JROTC sergeants who each ranked anywhere between a dull 6 to a dim 8. On a normal, dreary day, rain was splashing against the windows. Clouds were blocking out the sun and creating a dull grey sky. I was walking through the halls of my remote high school in my rural mountain town, on my way from my Spanish class to my Environmental Science class, and my ears started ringing. I had an inexplicable pain in my head; I leaned against the lockers and bowed my head in a futile attempt to relieve myself of some of the pain. It felt like there were alarms going off inside of my skull. Something was wrong. When I looked up, all of the numbers that I had gotten so used to were fading away. What was happening? Then I saw it. I saw a bright, white 10 hovering above a new girl that I hadn't seen before. She was relatively short with long black hair that framed her face nicely, a nice figure, averaged sized breasts, and a pretty face. She wore inexpensive clothes that you could find at the nearest supermarket, but she looked good in them. She was fairly attractive, but so were a lot of girls in my school. If I hadn't seen her terrifying number, I probably would have walked right past her without a second thought, but now I had seen her, and she had seen me.
I didn't really think through what I was doing. I was just drawn toward her. I pushed through the crowd, feeling the fear settle in my gut and watching her the entire time. After she realized what I was doing, she pushed toward me. When we reached each other, without saying a word, she gave me a cheap shot to the gut and shoved me into the nearest bathroom.
I hit the ground in pain and looked up at her, asking her,
"Who the hell are you? Why did you bring me in here?"
She yelled back at me, her number glowing brighter than before,
"Shut the fuck up! What's the deal with you? Are you going to blow up the fucking school or something?!"
I was as confused as ever. What the hell was she talking about? I should have been asking her that question! I was just going through my day like everyone else. After a minute, she got impatient. She crossed her arms and started tapping her foot.
"Talk! Damn it!", she yelled in my face.
While I was busy trying to piece everything together, she started glancing around the small bathroom, as if she were going to find clues to her answer. She did. I looked up and she was just looking in the mirror, a hand over her mouth and a horrified look on her face.
"What are you looking at?" I asked her, hoping to come to the same revelation that she did.
Without saying a word, she helped me off the ground and pointed at the mirror that she refused to look away from. That's when I saw it too. A second white 10. This one was floating above my head. My world stopped. All I could here was the ringing in my ears from before. I looked at her in shock and she looked back at me with a terrified expression on her face. I saw her lips begin to move and suddenly the ringing stopped. The last thing I remember before blacking out was a single question.
"You can see them too?" | It was just another boring Monday, started off with socials. With "Madame" Defrushia. Screw her. She's a flipping idiot and hates on everyone who corrects her, so, like most of the class by the first month in, worse is that she's teaching us our Canadian history. Whatever, she just sits at her desk and tells us to read most Monday mornings.
Except for the new kid. Sayeehed, he said his name was, looking both scared, angry, and damn near giddy at the same time, said he and his family had moved here from somewhere in the middle east. Seemed like a weird kid, and everyone else seemed to be getting that impression too; but I think I'm fairly unique when it comes to weird.
Now, how would I know I'm weird? I know, every kid wants to think themselves special and 'weird'. Well, I have a sense about people, I can tell right away what they're capable of the second they say anything to me. Most of the kids in the class were 3s, Stephanie, the head cheerleader, was a 8, and the class bully was a 6. Didn't figure that one out with her until well into high school at a school dance, but that's another story for another time.
Sayeehed, though, seemed interesting so I motioned for him to come sit with me at the back, and to my surprise, he gladly accepted. At first, again, seeming timid and nervous, but relaxed and calmed into a lazy slouch as he progressed, to my shock, he measured an 11. I'd seen a few tens on the news, mostly with politicians or big time gangsters, but they were people who were royally screwed in the head and outright dangerous, so to see a
Then came three hours of sitting at our desk, alternatively reading the damn-near tindling dry socials book, an hour of math and then a spelling exercise, all "hands-off" so that the dear "Madame" can sit at the front and occasionally yell at us to be quiet and study.
At lunch no one wanted to sit with me, and they were leaving Sayeehed alone, because of course Stephanie was showing off the new phone her dad had bought her after she had "dropped" it down the stairs(aka thrown it into a wall when she didn't get what she wanted.) Whatever. I asked if I could sit with him and he gladly accepted. We talked about lots of things, though whenever I asked about his country or his family he wouldn't say anything except that they were poor back home and barely made it here, and then promptly change the subject. That said, he wasn't too behind the times technologically, he knew what a gameboy was, and pulled out this ratty looking thing with pieces of the case missing, looking mostly held together with duct tape, and a dusty pokemon diamond cartridge. Just like that, I'd made a friend. My step-mom was happy until I said the poor kid's name. Then she turned sheet white. and said something under her breath, damn racist cunt, she couldn't replace my mom.
I grabbed my old gameboy, and got some games for him, just the standards, mario, castlevania, games I'd long since memorized and didn't have a use for. I figured he did though, and gave them to him the next morning at school. He loved them and said he'd cherish them. Over time he relaxed and became the single most laid back and genuinely happy person I had ever met, he taught me a few arabic words, simple greetings and a few swear words, more than enough to scare the crap out of my step-mom.
This went on for months until one day in November. I met up with him in the park to go for a bike ride after dad took me to the remembrance day ceremony. We were just about to go when the jets from the ceremony flew over back to the airport, as they did he ducked, tackled me into the bushes and held us both down until the roar had subsided. He was panicked, eyes wide with fear and a tight, clenched jaw. I punched and shoved him off, and was going to run until I heard him softly say one word.
'wait'
I turned and paused as he he motioned me back to our bikes. You want to hear about my family and my past, he said, simply and quietly. We are from Iraq. I have been bombed by jets like those, and heard stories about others being hunted like vermin. My father worked for the government, just a simple accountant, he had never raised his voice against anyone, the kindest and gentlest man I had ever known. For the last two years we had been fighting to merely stay alive. He lifted his shirt and pointed at a few circular scars around his shoulder. These are bullets. He pointed to a cluster of evil looking scars on his back. These are shrapnel, it still hurts sometimes, and I can still feel their scarring heat. We were being attacked by rebels. They killed my dad for refusing to hand over his wife and my sister to them; My brother and I hid, helpless to their screams. It was quiet after the loudest screams. We snuck out and found a pair of grenades and a pistol on a body, and in our rage we turned on the rebels, ambushing them in the room. We killed them all. One shot my shoulder and my brother. As we lay in what was left of our house, a group of soldiers ran up to us, and were able to save my life. One of them gave me this gameboy in the hospital to keep me busy while I recovered. We were picked up by my dad's former boss, and he pretended we were his sons. That is how I'm here, please forgive me. | 2014-11-29T18:39:45 | 2014-11-29T17:27:40 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Two people have just died. They both enter the same location in the afterlife. For one person, it is their personal heaven; for the other, it is hell. Describe their arrival and first "day" there. | They tell you to be a good person in life. Follow the rules, be well mannered, positive outlook and all that. Maybe that's enough. It seemed to be for *him*. To be honest, I don't know what I did to deserve this. I wasn't great by any measure, but by what cruel sense of humor was I given this punishment? Day in, day out, day in, day out. The. Exact. Same. Thing. Which wouldn't be half as bad if *he* weren't here too. I don't know how but he manages to revel in it. The monotony, the sameness, all of it. If I weren't already dead I would kill myself.
Not that it would do any good. I thought the afterlife was supposed to be *different*, but if it weren't for the small things you would never know the difference. The front door skips the walk and puts me at home in my room. The customers are all just a hair too nice. Every order is the same. Any opportunity for even mild variation has been stripped from the routine. I would do anything to end it, anything at all. But even now, I feel it, the compulsion that drives me to get out of bed every morning. I brush my teeth, put on the uniform, and walk to the door. I desperately want to avoid walking in and seeing *him* but I know there's nothing I can do. My limbs don't obey me, I am trapped in my own body. Oh no. There's the door. I treasure my last moment before...
.
.
.
*"Good morning squidward!"* | *Eyes open. Breathe in.*
The air is so cold. So cold and clear and sharp, it cuts your lungs and leaves you breathless. And you know where you are, but it can't be.
*Eyes closed*
You can feel the tile under your head, your back, your arms and legs. It's hard, it hurts. Yes, you're still on the bathroom floor. But that's not right. That's not how this works-
"Well."
*Eyes open.*
You can see him, upside down and through the haze of blood and tears. He's leaning against the door jamb. How is he here? This isn't right. He should be out in the bedroom where you left him. His chest should still be a sucking crater where you shot him. There's no way he's alive and whole and standing there, watching you right now.
"You're dead," you say simply.
"Join the club," he says. And he smiles.
You remember the first time you saw that smile. He had just punched you. You could see the smear of your blood across his knuckles. He looked at it, and he smiled.
It was feral and cold and it told you everything you needed to know about him. He wasn't human. Not really. He might have the DNA, the body, the heart beating human blood. But something was missing. That essential piece that made you human, made you care about other people. He just didn't have it.
*Eyes closed*
Maybe this isn't real. Maybe this is just the last firings of a dying mind. Maybe if you close your eyes he'll go away and you'll get to bleed out in peace.
He laughs.
"No," he says, and grabs your hands. "You don't get to take the easy way out."
As he drags you away, you look down past your feet and see the huddled lump of flesh that used to be you.
This is real.
This is all there is in the next life.
You scream, and nobody hears you. | 2015-01-04T15:07:40 | 2015-01-04T12:23:44 | 89 | 52 |
[WP] Two people discover a fountain of youth. The problem is that upon drinking the water you turn back into an infant. The two decide to take turns raising each other in order to live forever until one day one of them decides to break this agreement. | "No, please."
She pushed the vial away from her lips, her thin and wrinkly hands shaking.
"Why?" I asked.
"I... I'm so tired, dear." She sighed. Then she continued:
"My flesh is tired."
"What do you mean?"
"The other ones, my other lives, I've come to realize... they were not *really* me. I've read their diaries, I've memorized the formula. You raised me and I made you young again. I raised you as though you were my own child. But there is no personal continuity between these versions of us and the ones that came before."
There were tears in her eyes, now.
"This is not immortality. Just a series of deaths. A long line of lives we cannot remember, but I swear I can feel the weight of every loss in my bones."
She put her hand on mine.
"I want to sleep."
"But what about our deal?" I asked. "What about us?"
"You will have to find a new one. It will be easy to find somebody willing, but harder to find someone to trust."
I nodded.
"Now leave me. Please. I will have my peace, at last."
I slowly backed out of the room, and I whispered "good bye" as I closed the door.
Walking down the hallway I returned the vial of cyanide into my pocket. I obviously wouldn't need it for this one. That was a first. She'd almost figured everything out, that stupid old hag. She must've been depressed. Whatever. That made things easier for me. Of course the formula lets you preserve your memories! It would be pointless, otherwise. The only reason my partner couldn't remember her past life was because she hadn't lived one. Neither had the one before her.
I already had the next child prepared. I would raise her as my daughter. Then she would raise me as her son. Then I would kill her. Rinse and repeat. A god doesn't share his throne. | My third story so please comment! Thanks.
____________________________________
I am sorry bro. I really am.
I know you can hear me even if you are an infant. Both of us definitely know that. We both have taken our turns for the past like, I don't know? Maybe 500 years? A thousand? Two thousand? I don't know. I have lost count.
But that aside. Let me get to the point. Remember the time when we first discovered this fountain and the mysterious message that informed us that the water would turn us back into an infant. Well, remember the last paragraph? "Use this fountain, wisely, and understand the true meaning of life?" Well, we never did. But now, I finally do. After watching the human race progress from savages who relied on threats like nukes, though I have already forgotten what nukes are, to colonisers unity in their dream to reach out to the stars in spaceships and the stuff of our childhood dreams. That too, I have forgotten. But what had we gained? Nothing. We never did learn anything. Only experiences and memories.
Without the threat of death of old age, life had simply no meaning. I reared you. Then, I was reared by you. Then, you were reared by me. Life was the same old thing. We never did learn anything. Only experiences and memories.
We have experienced so many lives. From rich to poor. And back again. From privileged to toiling. And back again. From normal people to fugitives. And back again. And so many. So many different lives. Yet, we never did learn anything. Only experiences and memories.
Really, we have never understood the message. But now, I can say I do. Life is just a path of our journey. Without the threat of death, what meaning is there to life?
"What is a man, but the sum of his memories? We are the stories we live, the tales we tell ourselves!" Yes, this quote is right. We have more than enough memories now. More than enough stories. More than enough tales. More than enough... of life...
I am sorry, brother. I have enough memories for a man. It's time that I left, time that I finally end my life, it's time that I finally come to peace.
I am sorry bro. I truly am. Now, I place you in the care of a couple. Goodbye and good luck bro. If there is a heaven, I hope I will meet you there... | 2015-02-14T06:40:49 | 2015-02-14T05:46:47 | 1,103 | 26 |
[WP] At age 18 each person meets their soul-mate. For centuries everyone has fallen in love with theirs. You're the first person to not love yours. | *Wait until you're eighteen.*
That's what they've been telling us, for as long as I could remember. So I did. I went to school, came home, went to work, all throughout high school. I tried my hardest to stay unnoticed, just like all the other teenagers fighting their hormones so they could find that "something better". But everything changed the day I met Sarah.
I still remember the way she looked, a perfect vision to my young eyes. Dark hair, offset by the bluest of eyes and reddest of lips. Strawberry-scented perfume - it was always her favorite. She smiled at me from the house across the street, and from then, I was hooked. We fell in love, harder and faster than anyone had for centuries. I still remember the nights we stayed up, talking, making plans of a future together. I still remember the stolen, secret kisses. I still remember all of those nights I spent "at a friend's house", making love to the girl of my dreams. I'll never forget what it was like, to be the first couple to be in underage love.
And there was the problem. We were sixteen when we met. We didn't know how to tell people that what we felt was real. Sarah and I found each other two years too early. And the rest of the world found us a year too early.
Her father walked in on us the day on her seventeenth birthday. I had sneaked in, after her "family-only" party had ended, to give her my grandmother's necklace. We picked an inopportune moment to kiss.
The next few days were a blur. Crying, incomprehensible parents, deaf with rage and shame. Sarah and I, trying our utmost to tell them that it was real. Her father, treating her like spoiled goods. When all was said and done, her family moved across the country. I never got to say goodbye.
She turned eighteen a few days before I did. I still remember her birthday. Last I heard, she settled down, just like everyone else. Found her soulmate, and raised a family. I only hope she's happier than I am. Things between myself and Carol broke down by the time I turned nineteen. It was heavily publicized; the first divorce in a thousand years. I tried my hardest, but I just couldn't bring myself to feel the same way for her as I could for Sarah. Even now, twenty years after we first met, I still smell strawberries when I sleep. | My mum walked in, her face completely overthrown with a smile. I had never seen her smile so much in her life. She squeezed my arm as she walked to stand behind me, and a big burly man entered the room, my soulmate.
The moment I saw him I felt sick to the pit of my stomach, like all the excitement for this moment had just drained away. He was meant to be the love of my life, that’s just how society works here: assessments every year, making sure we’re completely compatible, but it was clear as soon as I saw him that there had been some mistake. He was so tall and build of so much muscle that I felt like a child next to him. His hair was messy, joining into some rough stubble which trailed down his neck and then cut off above the collar of his jacket.
I had fantasised about this moment for so many years – had known exactly what I would wear, how I would do my hair, where I would stand, and what I wanted to say. Yet in this moment it all just faded away. My mum reached forward and nudged me in the back, urging me to introduce myself as I finally realised his hand was outstretched towards me, and that I must had missed his introduction. I mumbled my own name and went to shake his hand, which tensed around mine until it hurt. I wanted to cry so badly, not from the painful handshake, but the disappointment. This wasn’t meant to happen. Everybody loved their soulmate.
I made my excuses as soon as I could, claiming sudden illness and dragging myself to bed. My mum was so excited about how “incredibly lovely that young man was” and how proud she was that her daughter “will marry a real manly man”, that I couldn’t bear to tell her how much he contrasted to the soulmate I had dreamed of. I dreamt that night of the meeting I had wanted, crying after waking up to find that my imaginary soulmate had gone. I knew that if I did not leave soon, he would ask me to marry him and it would be too late. Most people I knew had gotten engaged within the week of meeting – but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t spend my life with him, it would kill me. So I ran.
I know it was wrong; that I betrayed my family, and I don’t know what will happen if they catch me, but I can be happy now. I ran past the city boundaries, and then cut off from the road and into the wilderness, no idea where I was going; just knowing that I needed to get away. But I was lucky: it wasn’t long until I found the fire pit, and not much later until its owner came back.
Everything changed for me then. Because the moment I saw her I fell in love.
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Thanks for reading! I'd love some criticism if you have any ideas of things for me to work on as this is my first time posting :) | 2015-02-21T14:19:58 | 2015-02-21T09:38:01 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Humanity has reached an upper limit on the maximum number of people alive at the same time for the number of available souls. New births are now causing existing souls to randomly vacate their current bodies to occupy the excess new births. | What an awful time to be alive.
Due to advances in medical science, the world's population reached 9 billion. People were living longer than ever. Then it started happening. People started collapsing and going comatose. All body functions normal except for upper brain activity.
The medical community was baffled as to why this was happening across the globe with no rhyme or reason. We only found out after years when the global census numbers came in.
Births vs Deaths, and the husks.
that's what we call them, Husks, because that's essentially what they are. Turns out the difference between the births and deaths corresponds to the number of husks. A statistician discovered that, go figure.
But it gets *better*.
If you let a husk "live" long enough, it...
I won't try and use neutral terms. It gets possessed by a demonic being. We originally thought it was just people coming out of the coma, until they started talking in tongues and attacking and killing people. And you would not believe the trouble it is to kill a possessed husk. They are incredibly strong and fast. I've seen one rip a man in two with its bare hands.
Some guy hypothesized that every time a new life is conceived the soul of an existing person enters into the new baby, leaving behind a husk, and the husk enables a *demon* to possess it. That sounds batshit insane, but it's the best theory we got now.
So we destroy husks on sight, and births are strictly regulated by the government. We have permits, waiting lists, the whole shebang. Adoption has ceased to be an issue. There are no longer any unwanted births.
Despite the rough start, the system works more or less, in *America*.
However, the phenomenon isn't confined to a country's borders. A baby born in africa may make a husk in the US. Or a baby born in china may make a husk in Afghanistan. Or a baby born in Australia may make a hush in Australia. We don't know how it works.
What we do know is certain countries do not have the restrictions on births that we do. Small villages in Africa middle east and India, they continued to reproduce at the rates they've always done.
First we cut off their access to Red Cross. Places like that, without humanitarian aid, they tend to die off on their own, natural order. Others though, we've literally had to bomb to "force compliance".
We bomb villages for having too many babies.
Jesus.
And of course we have the Husk removal squads. That's where I come in.
Think SWAT, with less restrictions and a bigger budget, and you'd be getting close. We have flamethrowers in addition to a huge arsenal of weapons, and we aren't in the business of arresting anyone.
We are attached to local police stations. Police are first responders, and if it turns out to be a Husk, they call us in.
The problem is, when a person first turns into a Husk, they go comatose for 1-4 weeks. That's when their family tries to shelter them, thinking they will get better. If we can get to the husk before it turns, it's a simple bullet or lethal injection. But it never works out like that. We only get the call when a Husk goes on a rampage. When the husk turns, that's when the police are called.
We find the flamethrower has the least collateral damage. The flame thrower. Bullets are all but ineffective. Things that work: land mines, RPG's, dynamite and flame throwers.
Do you have any questions recruit?
Welcome to Husk Removal Squad 176 | "Damnit!" He was so close to getting that last point for his scholarship, but it was too late. The grand university door was already closed, so he couldn't turn in the paper he slaved on for days. If only he could slide it under the door, for just a sliver of hope... it was no use.
"Mom is going to kill me.." he muttered to himself on the way home. Life could be so short these days, the pressure to make the most of it was huge. Everyone expected great athletic, academic and social performance from everyone else. Those who fall behind are ignored, or, worse: 'Sacced'. The slang made it seem so harmless, yet everyone dreaded to even think about it.
"Hey mom! I'm home." Nothing.. "Mom?" This was unusual, mother was usually waiting to welcome him home. He checked the living room - nobody there. "MOM!?" he started yelling, concerned. When again, no answer came, he bolted up the stairs into her bedroom, afraid of what he might find. A slight sigh of relief as he found nothing once more. In the background the soft sound of water from the bathroom. He walked up to the door and raised his voice: "Mom, are you in there?" ... a moment passed and he was finally delivered. "Oh, hi Sante, honey - I didn't hear you come in, I'm in the shower.". "OK mom, I'll wait downstairs."
While walking down the stairs, he could still feel the hair on his back stand up from moments before, when he thought he might have lost his mother to one of those 'wretched spawns' they call babies. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want one, now it was known that every new life was actually not new, but stolen from another.
At least the couch was still comfy. Zapping through the usual banter that was on TV during these hours, he thought of his girlfriend Maggie. Or, well, ex-girlfriend, he supposed. After all, she fell behind.. people deemed her too useless and she got sacced. He'll never forgive the councilmen for their 'justice'; there was nothing 'just' about what they did to her. He felt like that moment when he saw the light in her eyes go out would haunt him for the rest of his days. He tried, he tried so hard to persuade them, prove to them that she was worthy to live. That she had so much to offer the world, as she had offered him. She was the sweetest thing he had ever known.. all gone.
He snapped out of the sad thought when he heard his mother come out of the bathroom. He could use some cheering up, perhaps she would agree to making his favourite treat today; chocolate chip cookies, with colored sprinkles. The ones he liked when he was little. It wasn't so much the flavor, but rather the memory of happier and unburdened times that made him feel better.
As she walked down the stairs, the question he feared came "And, what did they think about your paper?" "Well, um, they said they still need to read and grade it, so I won't hear about it for a while I guess." "Oh, okay hone.." ...
He heard his mother talk, but everything slowed down all of a sudden. The TV looked like a blotch of colors moving in slow motion, his mothers voice seemed far away. He tried to speak, but nothing happened. He kind-of felt his head fall back into the chair, but couldn't do a thing to stop it. In the distance he faintly heard screams.. "Sant..." "SA!!!" Before everything went dark, he saw something - someone move towards him, realizing it must be his mother. He saw nothing but heard some faint noises, he remembered them as words, but couldn't decipher what they meant. Realizing he suddenly forgot, words, who his mother was, who he was...
A sudden brightness overwhelmed all senses, burning lungs, painful head... Screaming out and desperately trying to breathe. She opened her eyes and for a moment thought "huh?" and then remembered nothing. Looking up, she saw two big white round things, with blue rings and black holes.. strange, but familiar at the same time. | 2015-03-04T06:09:48 | 2015-03-04T05:23:41 | 99 | 31 |
[WP] Around the world, various hell gates are open. Demons are pouring out of them, wounded. Satan himself appeared on television, "Something has invaded hell. Humanity, we need your help!" | "I would remind you of the words of your poet Mark Twain, But who prays for the Devil? Who, in two thousand years, has had the common decency to pray for the one sinner that has needed it most? The threat the Elder Race poses to Hell is dire, and will spread unless our three realms show a united front. These are dark times that will test all of mankind. As Lord of all Hell, I ask you know, show yourselves to be a greater being than I could ever be. Show grace on poor sinners, that we may accept what we once were foolish enough to spurn."
Satan stepped down from the podium, the dozens of cameras in the UN zoomed in on his face, trying to remain stoic but nearly failing. When he had appeared he was a nine foot tall monster with goat legs and horns, but now was in the guise of an old man, stooped, bent, withered, and a tired. He had been campaigning for a year now, begging the humans to send aid to the demons of hell, asking their forgiveness, asking the establishments of refugee camps on Earth.
As soon as he stepped down he was swarmed with people.
"Lucifer!" cried out a woman. "You saved my son! You banished his disease, please, take me with you!"
"Lucifer! You found water where no water could be found! Our mission group baked you sugar snaps!"
The calls were unending and all the same. Small miracles done in the name of charity and goodwill. Scores of cults had sprung up around him, but he turned them all down, and said the only true and unending grace came from God Above. He would no longer be the Prince of Lies, not while the Elder Ones tore apart his realm. He had seen the folly in his ways.
Once he was off the stage, some politician came on and footage was played of an Elder One, video taken by Mephistopheles with a camcorder gifted to him by Norway. The Elder One was an enormous worm hundreds of miles long, and it tore apart the ramparts of hell and crushed minor hellspawn without a second thought. The humans were horrified, and rushed to ratify the next proposed refugee camp. Lucifer waved off his well wishers and made it to the back wall and disappeared into the crowd that was stuck watching the video.
"Behemoth looks healthy," said a voice at his right, a voice that buzzed right by his ear and managed to resemble the sound of teeth dragged across ice. "You must have fed him for centuries to get him that big."
"It was not hard," Satan said back. "He has had nothing to rent in an age."
"Then this has been a long time coming."
"We had to wait for the right moment. They leave their Church, turn away the old teachings. Most didn't believe I existed. Those that did thought I was some spurned lover. My turn as Milton has done my image wonders."
"Why didn't you use Leviathan instead of Behemoth? He's bigger."
"Leviathan looks too familiar. We had to convince them The Elder Ones were something beyond any of our comprehension." The two were silent a moment, and they watched Behemoth tear the Tower of Chains up from its foundation and swallow it down a monstrous gullet, a thousand rows of teeth gnashing, a hundred black eyes watching for its next prey. The humans shrieked in horror.
"The big boy certainly looks like he's having fun."
"Oh yes," said Satan. "Just wait till we bring him up here."
Then the voice became a form, and the form was a man standing beside Lucifer, with a proud and powerful look about him but just a hint of fear in his eye.
"We will stop you, Lucifer. Just as we have time and time again."
"Michael, I assure you, you are free to try." | "The Hellgates have opened. Humanity, we need your help." Came from the television, repeating constantly on the emergency broadcast channel.
Marcia, the lovely old lady who lived at Apartment 28 with her cranky husband George, yelled "George, come here! Something funny is happening to the TV again!" from the comfort of her chair in front of the TV in their snug lounge room.
From the hallway Marcia heard the sound of heavy footsteps and her dear, faithful husband George limped into the lounge room with his walking stick, irritated, his bald head shining.
"God damn technology, what happened to the good old days were you brought something and it didn't break for years?" He grumbled as he made his way across the lounge, only to trip on Marcia's discarded slippers and fell to the floor, limps flailing about uselessly.
With a cry mid-fall, he released his grip on his cane and watched helplessly as it soared through the air, spinning in circles.
Right into the television.
It hit the television in a shower of sparks. Marcia screamed in fright.
"George! Oh George! Darling, are you okay?" She said, slowly getting out of the chair in painful, jerky movements.
"M'alright dear, just a tumble. Now where did my cane...oh curse it!" He said, spotting his cane sticking out of the now blank and silent television, now shooting out occasional sparks.
"Oh George! Whatever are we going to do?" Marcia said, now standing, favouring her left side.
"You go have a coffee dear, I'll go fetch us a new television from the store." George replied, now tugging his cane out of the TV to no effect.
"Oh blast it! I'll go ask the boys next door to get this out!" George mumbled angrily as he stomped out of the lounge room into the hallway, jerking open the front door and slamming it shut as he left.
Marcia was left in her semi-demolished lounge room, gazing about her, shell-shocked. She limped over into the kitchen, putting on the kettle and picking up the phone. She dialled in the number of Tricia, her best friend.
A scream answered her, begging for help over the sloppy wet sounds in the background, causing Marcia to drop her mug in fright. Abruptly the begging and crying stopped, replaced with an animal-like growling and hissing. The phone hung up. Marcia stood there, shocked.
"Must be broken, it's exactly like George said! Technology never lasts now." She mused, bending over and picking up the remains of her mug.
Behind her, the front door opened, followed by heavy footsteps.
"Are you alright dear? The knee playing up again?" She called over her shoulder, pouring her coffee into her mug.
The walking stopped. Something felt wrong. She felt warm breath on her neck and heard growling and snorting instead. She slowly sat down the cup. Turning around slowly, she prepared to face a giant dog of some sort. 'Now Marcia, remember what they taught you in school! Never run away from a dog!' Nothing could of prepared her for the sight awaiting her.
A monster stood there, towering over her, horns nearly touching the roof and a great wound in it's side. George hung from it's mouth, pale and lifeless. With a scream, she tried to run to the door, only to be stopped by the monster. With a grunt, it grabbed her around the waist and tossed her out the window.
She screamed all the way down the three floors, abruptly cutting off as she hit the road below. She laid there, life draining out of her body as she saw chaos in the streets around her. More monsters chased people around, pouncing on their backs and tearing at their necks with their great teeth. As her vision dimmed, and Marcia died, she heard one thing clearly amongst the chaos.
"The Hellgates have opened. Humanity, we need your help"
Little did we know that help would be the eradication of the human race, devoured by the millions of demons pouring out of the Hellgates, fleeing whatever made it's way into Hell. The human race died, and the demons prepared to make a final stand on the battleground that was Earth.
* First time posting here and well, showing my writing anywhere haha. Criticism is appreciated!
| 2015-08-02T08:54:27 | 2015-08-02T08:23:32 | 80 | 21 |
[WP] You are a world-class programmer who has died. God agrees to allow you in to Heaven on the condition that you work for him while he debugs the human body. Write the patch notes for the next version of humans. | *Homo* v. 1.5 release: *Homo modernus*
**New features:**
* Improved and sustained acuity of visual sensory systems. They should no longer wear out as quickly.
* Female models now have access to facial hair growth.
* In order to facilitate numerical reasoning, an arithmetic logic unit has been included in the frontal lobe.
**Bugfixes:**
* Fixed an issue where memory systems would report a new experience as having happened before.
* Fixed an issue where the immune system would incorrectly respond to nonthreatening foreign substances.
* Fixed multiple issues where the immune system would incorrectly attack other native systems, causing significant damage.
* Fixed an issue where sensory systems would produce unintelligible output while asleep.
* Fixed an issue where the male reproductive system would identify various foreign objects as being suitable to mate with.
* Fixed an issue where memory systems would report a new experience as having happened before.
* Fixed an issue where cell growth restrictions could be ignored, causing uncontrollable cell growth, leading to severe damage to nearby systems and potentially full system shutdown.
* Fixed an issue in some models where lactase production would continue past physical maturity.
**Additional notes:**
Multiple bodily systems are no longer supported and will be removed from subsequent models, including:
* Appendix
* Wisdom teeth
* Coccyx
**Previous patch notes:**
v1.0 [*Homo habilis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_habilis)
v1.1 [*Homo erectus*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_erectus)
v1.2 [*Homo heidelbergensis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_heidelbergensis)
v1.3 [*Homo neanderthalis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neanderthal)
v1.4 [*Homo sapiens*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_sapiens) | Brain:
* Laughing now always produces a sound. You should no longer experience laughing without making noises and looking like a retard while your mouth hangs open and your head turns red.
* There was a strange interaction with natural poisons like alcohol, THC or tobacco; Instead of triggering a defensive behaviour to prevent you of further poisoning yourself it triggered endorphines. Now the correct reaction is triggered: Fear
* Loss of short time memory fixed. You will no longer forget, why you went to the kitchen. There is still no fix for the "have I turned of the oven" -bug. Stay tuned for the next update.
* Replaced the feeling of *"having nothing achieved in its life"* with an increased urge for sex (see sexuality). Middle aged men should now feel better about themselves.
* Fixed a bug which caused forgetting the unified language, which is preinstalled in all humans. Instead of learning *cultural languages*, *babyspeech* is available to you once more.
Sexuality
* Fixed several bugs concerning *love*. The desire for a longterm relationship in male humans has been replaced by the urge to mate with as many female humans as possible, just as it is common for other primates.
* To counter the femals' lesser interest in constant pregnancies while fulfilling the males wish for sexual intercourses, homosexuality is now a baseline trait for male humans.
Eyes/Vision:
* Eyelashes should no longer get stuck in your eyes; They have been removed.
* Enlarged the spectrum of visible light. There was no real reason to limit the human eyesight to a small bandwith of the electromagnetic spectrum. Enjoy sour x-ray vision!
Skeleton:
* To prevent your little toe from harm while running into furniture in the night, your big toe and small toe have changed places. You might want wo wear your shoes the other way around, now.
* Teeth can now regrow. A single adult tooth will take about 8 month to regrow.
* There is a survey on our website for an additional set of arms. Please take your time to tell us what you think!
Organs:
* Appendix removed. It caused to much trouble in the past. You might want to find a new word for the appendix in your papers.
* Instead of farting, the gas in your guts will now be released as burps like intended. Some customers mentioned it is still smelly. If this bug persists please let us know. | 2015-08-25T08:53:32 | 2015-08-25T08:47:07 | 746 | 21 |
[WP] Arriving at the medical clinic at night. You notice that the waiting room is empty and smile. Weird, the reception desk is empty, but you wait. After a minute the printer on the desk churns to life. A piece of paper slides out with one horrifying line. "You have been exposed, don't leave" | A tired smile finds my face as the hospital doors open to nothing short of a miracle: an empty waiting room. Between a three-year-old with strep throat and a lapse in insurance, today has not been the best. I pull my tired Maggie along, grateful the babysitter could stay the newborn at the last minute.
"It smells funny," she whines with a croaky voice. I brush her light brown curls away from her sweating face, my hand lingering to check her fever. Still very warm.
"Hospitals are like that," I reply, trying to comfort her and myself. *Where is the receptionist?* "They make it extra-clean here so everyone can be safe from germs," I rattle on, but now my mind is wondering *why* this place is empty. I glance around, peering down the hallway. Maggie leans on me and tugs my shirt while my hands drum on the countertop.
Breaking through the silence, I hear the ancient printer whirring and sputtering to life. It buzzes and cranks and pushes a crisp piece of paper out. Curious, I peek over the counter and see the message in bold black letters.
**"You have been exposed. Don't leave."**
I roll my eyes. *Haha, good prank,* I think sourly. Meanwhile I've got a sick kid with a fever...
But that's when I notice it. The stench. Not the normal too-clean hospital-stench...this smells more like burned hair and old onions.
"Hello?" I cry out. My momma's-got-this-under-control facade is slipping. Grabbing Maggie's sweaty hand, I pull her along down the hallway to the double doors. Instead of pushing through them, I find they are locked. I rattle the push-bar with frustration.
"Momma? Look." My girl pleads with fear, full-on pulling my shirt now. I hear the worry in her voice and kneel to meet her eyes. My gaze follows her pointing arm and I see what I guess is the source of the stench.
Inky black liquid seeps from between the floor and walls. My vision begins swimming with the smell, now. I lift Maggie into a tight hold against me and stand shakily. Her small arms and legs wrap around me as she buries her head into my shoulder, equal parts tired and scared. I make for the exit, expecting the fresh air to swoop in.
Another locked door. *What the hell is going on?*
Panicking now, I sit Maggie onto the counter, but draw back from her in horror. The little girl with plump cheeks and a winning smile is now saggy and wrinkled. Her once-brown hair is stringy and grey, her bright blue eyes sunken and droopy. I look down at my hands to find knobby knuckles and thin, mottled skin.
In teary defeat, I pull Maggie close again and scroll through my phone to find my husband's number. She shivers against me and clutches my shoulders. The phone rings on the other end as I make what might be my last call.
| I look at my zipper. My goods aren't hanging out. I wasn't exposed in that way, and I was guessing, but it was just a guess, that they didn't mean me stealing a candy bar in 5th grade or telling my girlfriend she didn't look fat in those jeans. I suppose that only left my work as a hitman. I didn't think it was much of a secret though, but it wasn't well known to the population at large.
The front door explodes. I climb over the reception desk. People in armor come pouring in. I don't even have a gun. I have shoelaces and a belt. They unload on the place, shooting at nothing in particular. I always thought muzzle flashes were beautiful though yet still gaudy. They reload, and it's my turn. I leap over the desk and wrap my belt around someone's throat. They still reload. I grab his sidearm and start shooting. Twelve of them? The room is too small for that many. I fire. I only have 8 shots. I make them count and grab another gun along the way and finish off the rest of them except for my shield with the belt around his neck.
"Who sent you?"
I am actually curious. I just wanted to get something for my IBS. It acted up all the time on the job, and I just wanted to do something about it. The bloating and the stomach aches were the worst.
"We're LAPD, dumbass."
"You just lit up the place? Didn't say anything, didn't announce yourself as police. You're dirty at best."
I finish him off just as Shang Li walks through the door in an all white suit. His hair is ridiculously quaffed. He looks like a cartoon character. This asshole never quit. One comment about his hair three years ago, and he can't let it go.
"Tommy Tanaka, good to see ya." He says in a ridiculous California accent.
"This is over the top, Shang."
"You kill cops. You fry. I just wanted you to know who did this to you. This was what you get for cheating on my sister."
"These aren't cops." I pause. "I didn't cheat on her. She's a nut bar. That's what this is about? That's bit-"
"Don't finish that word."
I raise my gun and shoot. He's too fast and dodges the bullets. I take my belt off the man's neck as Tanaka kicks me in the back. I stand and face him. The blood from the room has spattered his perfect white suit. I hear sirens approaching. He cranes his head. He hears them too. I strike with a kick to chest. He blocks it and punches me in the balls. Then, he kicks my back again. Showing up at all was a foolish move. I still hold the gun in my hand.
"Stand up."
I wipe off the prints quick. I notice the flashbangs on the cop's vest. I pull the pins. I turn around and address him and toss him the gun.
"Catch!"
He does, more out of instinct than anything. I run to the reception desk. I saw a door outback. Tommy fires the last round at me. The flashbangs blind him. My arm hurts. It bleeds. I bust out the back door as a police car cuts me off. I throw up my hands. I may just get away from this yet, if my ex's family doesn't kill me first. | 2015-08-27T08:08:51 | 2015-08-27T06:31:46 | 346 | 27 |
[WP] You accidentally call the FBI in place for a pizza shop and attempt to order your favourite pizza with toppings. Coincidentally, the FBI uses pizza language as a means of code. | I tossed my bag onto the couch and flopped down onto it myself, letting out a long groan.
God, I'm never pulling another double shift again, I thought. Fuck the money.
I stared into the darkness of the kitchen, fifteen feet away. I stared for whole minutes. Fifteen feet. Might as well be fifteen miles, I thought, sighing and digging in my pocket for my cell phone. No way I was cooking tonight.
I opened up the web browser on my phone to search for my usual pizza place-- what was that number again? I rolled my eyes. Something was up with the wifi. I scrolled through my recent calls. Which of these was it? Let's see, I ordered pizza last week, so it must be...
Whatever. I dialed the number in hesitantly. Let's see... 556... 05... 43? Yeah. Yeah, that's it. I hit the call button.
After half a ring, they picked up. Nice and quick. "Fabio's pizza."
Fabio's? I thought. Isn't it Gino's? Whatever. "Yes, could I have an order for delivery?"
"What's your location?"
"Ah, it's 884 Lebanon Street."
"Confirmed. Go ahead."
I almost laughed. Confirmed? "Yeah, I'd like a large pizza with pepperoni on half, and buffalo chicken on the other half. I'd also like an order of wings. Extra bleu cheese, pretty please." My mouth dropped open, and I blushed. God, did I really just say that? It just slipped out. "Um, that-- that'll do it," I said awkwardly.
"Package en route," the guy said, and hung up.
I looked at the phone. Who talks like that? And he didn't even give me a total. I forgot my embarrassment and clicked on the TV. I scrolled through Netflix. Maybe an episode of Scrubs while I waited? I scrolled through the list of episodes...
My eyes fluttered open. I pushed myself up off the couch, and saw light streaming in through the windows. "Aw, fuck!" I spat. I must have slept right through the delivery guy's call. Slept through the whole night, as a matter of fact. I looked at my phone. Well, Jesus, no missed calls. I sat there in a funk for a long moment, trying to figure out some way of looking at this where I wouldn't be pissed off. I wasn't that creative.
I would get up and take a shower a little later. For now, I just scrolled through some articles on my phone, trying to take my mind off of it. At least the wifi was working again. I noticed one news story kept popping up: some general or something getting assassinated in the Middle East, over in Lebanon. I sighed. I guess life's a bitch no matter where you live. | "Hello," the woman on the other end of the phone said back to me, "how can I help you today?"
"Yeah, can I have a large pepperoni-" I started. Someone in the background asked me to pick up a meat lovers instead. There was a short argument, "On second thought can you make it half pepperoni and half sausage."
"Are you confident?" She sounded nervous. I couldn't understand why.
"Yeah I want that pizza."
"Sir, would you like soda too?"
"Yeah, I think we definitely need Coke," I said eyeing the bottle of chase that had been stolen by basically everyone. We'd brought two bottles, but we were already running out.
"Hol-" she began, "yes as fast as possible sir."
"Yeah I'll pay cash at the door okay."
"Hold tight sir we are on our way." She sounded desperate, panicked even. I didn't know what was going on but if they were going to be stressed about a pizza, it might as well have been mine. I turned back to the rest of the party. Beer pong looked like it was somewhat open. I walked over there to see if I could slip in for a game.
About ten minutes later there was the sound of sirens outside. I shushed everyone, "don't worry it's not late enough that they are going to kick us out, just a friendly reminder I think," I pointed out to my girlfriend Jess as she came up to me. She seemed satisfied with my explanation and sat down on the couch with one of her friends. I went to grab the door.
I didn't need to; the door was kicked in, and I was shoved back against the wall. I smashed into it and shook my head, "Woah-woah-woah," I started, "What the hell is going on?"
"That's a match for the voice," came a female voice from the other side of the door. The same man who had kicked the door in grabbed it and pulled it off of me, "what's your name?" the woman asked.
"Jeff," I stuttered, "what's going on?"
"Jeff, what's the code?" she asked. She walked into sight; she was a complete bombshell, but her tits were ruined by the fact that she was carrying an assault rifle, "I'm not fucking around, what's the code?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know," she took the gun and pressed it hard against my forehead, "You called for this bullshit if you're who you claim you are you'd better give me the code in ten seconds."
"What the fuck."
"Ten."
"No seriously."
"Nine."
One of my friends cut in, "You can't just do that, he has rights."
"Eight."
"I was trying to order a pizza!" I shouted. She suddenly pulled the gun off of my forehead.
"What?"
"I wanted pizza."
"Y-you thought you were calling for pizza?" She repeated what I said.
"Yes, I thought I was calling for Pizza I'm sorry."
"How did you get the number so wrong."
"I'm drunk," I admitted, "I'm only 20 but I'm drunk, and I'm sorry."
She pulled the gun away from me and put it down to her side. Everyone was silent for a while, "Let's go, guys," she finally hissed. | 2015-11-30T16:25:52 | 2015-11-30T16:18:28 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] Choose an idiom (e.g. "stone-cold killer"). Write the story that caused the phrase to be used literally and therefore introduced it into the language.
Idioms can be from non-English languages also if they work well | In a land far away, there was a young prince that had a weakness.
No mater which plant they were from, seeds made him terribly ill, and for this illness no cure existed.
When this fact was discovered by the court doctors, his father, the king, sent out guards to burn all farms to the ground. No one was to use seeds again in his kingdom.
Harbinger of an age of hardship and misery, the prince was demonised in the streets and the villages, he became the shadow under every child's bed, the name whispered by every storyteller.
In the far edge of the kingdom, there was too a young man whose parents' farm had been ravaged by the flames. He too knew the reason for his family's pain and with fire in his eyes way back when, he had promised:
"The Prince shall die."
He worked hard for many years, got close to the aging king as a soldier, then a general, a knight then an advisor.
And in his pocket rested always that last handful of beans that as a kid he saved in the hopes for a better time to come.
Came the day for a banquet, the young prince's marriage, and ever an honour the young farmer was called to the head of the table.
Seeing the time come, he took out the old beans and held them in the shadows over the young prince's soup.
It was then when a servant came forth with the main course. In his haste he clumsily bumped into the young man, making the beans fly all over the table.
The king saw the beans and without thinking twice he unsheathed his sword and slayed the assassin.
The servant, henceforth, was shunned by the people in villages, streets, in brothels and inns and the reason was clear: he had spilled the beans. | “I’m going to need a Memory potion today, good sir.” I leaned against the moldy wooden counter, then thought the better of it when it threatened to give way beneath me. The smell of old, rotting wood, amongst other unpleasant odors, invaded my nose.
“Oh, I do believe I have a few of those left.” The old man stood slowly from his stool, straightened his threadbare robes, and shuffled over to the shelves behind him. He lingered over a few different glass containers, and finally selected a tall one containing a glowing red liquid.
“Do I have to pay extra because it glows?” I smiled. The necromancer did not.
“Hmm. I probably should. If you never use it, it would make an excellent night light.” He snickered, still barely cracking a smile. “But no, it’ll just cost you an arm and a leg.”
I laughed and retrieved my coin purse from inside of my leather overcoat. “Ha, never heard that one before. Seriously though, how much?”
The old man frowned. “I have a project I’m working on. I happen to need an arm and a leg.” He leaned over his own counter towards me, his own frail body not putting much tension on the failing wood. “Of course, it doesn’t have to be your arm and leg. The two could belong to someone else.”
“Is this in jest? I can give you plenty of gold, and then you can pay some other poor sod to give up some body parts, or ‘find’ some for you.” I rolled my eyes. “Simple business practices.”
“But, I need an arm and a leg, not gold.” A look of confusion passed over the old man’s wrinkled face as he pondered his options.
“Look, I need this potion, but I’m not killing anyone for you.” I slapped my entire coin purse down on the counter. “There’s enough to buy three slaves in the Narrows. Do the arithmetic.”
I took the potion and headed for the door before the old man could protest much further. “And for the gods’ sake, light some vanilla candles in here, and maybe spend some money on that rotting counter. It’s people like you that give small businesses a bad name!”
[/r/cwall81](http://www.reddit.com/r/cwall81) | 2015-12-10T06:50:00 | 2015-12-10T05:15:54 | 43 | 11 |
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